Chapter 2

                                    

                                          
Draco learnt to keep his distances. When he was in front of Harry- it rarely occured unless it was dinner- he was to be absolutely quiet. The few times Draco tried to warm him up, the small brushes under the table during meals or with subtle scooting closer on the bench as someone else sat beside him. Harry just shoved him back in place, firm enough to stop him for the rest of the time but not rough enough to hurt him. At least, not physically.
                          
Most of the time he spent in the library, Harry's library. The books were very different from what he had in Slytherin, and there seemed to be plenty of them, enough to last Draco for a decade at least. Harry only entered once or twice a week, and most of his favourite books- Draco reckoned- were in his office, so it was a good spot. When Draco wasn't reading, he did his own potions research. There weren't any places that were offered to him for experiments, neither were there any ingredients, but those thoughts held the least significance in Draco's mind. 
                          
While Harry was cold and unrelenting, his friends tried to be inclusive and inviting. He became close to Hermione rather quickly, who also liked to spend time in the library when she wasn't doing other work. With the others, they tried to explain to him the castle's whereabouts, their culture and practises, mostly to distract him from Harry. 
                          
Sometimes, however, Draco managed to get some information out of them when he prodded hard enough. Once, Ron admitted that Harry tried to file for a divorce daily, and the rest deemed Draco too calm when he took the news. To be fair, he couldn't get mad at Harry for trying to get out of something he wanted no part in. Harry didn't seem like the most compliant of people, and Draco guessed he was forced into it since the first second they met. It hurt, but still. He just wished Harry would smile at him a little. 
                          
Probably the worst part of this was the fact that Harry was disturbingly attractive. His messy hair- Draco figured it was impossible to tame by now- gave off an impression that he didn't care much about his appearance. And his eyes, they glared at Draco so dangerously, seemingly about to eat him alive everytime, yet the green was just so mesmerising. They were framed by long, dark eyelashes, making them look like shining emeralds. So scary, intense and beautiful. Not to mention that the cool green clashed perfectly with his golden tanned skin that showed off all the dips and curves of his muscles.
                          
That's why it so happens that Draco ends up freezing every damn time Harry turns to face him. And it was stupid, so incredibly stupid to have a little fluttering crush for your own husband. Except Harry never cared to look at his direction if not for glaring to put him in place. 
                          
It became almost a nightly affair, where Draco would try to coax himself into sleep and somehow find a tear running down his cheek.
                          
***
                          
"Come in." James said to the knock on the doors, half prepared for sleep. Harry slipped through the door, holding a thin file that James knew all too well about. "Nope." He sighed, pointing at the door for him to leave.
                          
"You haven't even heard what I wanted to say yet." 
                          
"But I already know what you want to say, and the answer is no, Harry, no matter what time of the year it is. It's a no." James snapped. 
                          
"But dad-"
                          
"Don't even think about using that tone on me. You're not a child." Harry's frown deepened. "How many times have I told you, you cannot expect us to push Draco back to the Slytherin Kingdoms. You're not even trying to fix your marriage-"
                          
"What's the point of fixing something that wasn't even meant to be there anyway? You may as well just remove it entirely and save all the pain that comes later." Harry said impatiently. "You don't get to rule my life, dad. You're not living my life, I am."
                          
"Have you even tried talking to him?" 
                          
"If he agrees to divorce, would you too?" Harry perked up visibly at that. James just sighed. "Your pride is more important than my happiness now?" As his voice got louder, Lily's could be heard saying 'James!', her voice muffled through the bathroom doors.
                          
"Don't worry your mum." James scolded. "I'll never agree to your divorce. You can dream on."
                          
"I wish I wasn't your son!" He hissed before slamming the door shut loudly. Lily shuffled out quickly, body wrapped in a bath towel. 
                          
"I told you to speak to him nicely. See now?" She glared at her husband angrily. James just turned around and sunk into the bed, humming in some sort of acknowledgement. "I didn't carry him for nine months just so we could be failed parents!" 
                          
"You're overthinking. It'll be okay in a month's time, you'll see."
                          
***
                          
"... you understand, right?" Harry asked into the silence. He told his friends he wanted to be alone, not exactly allowed in terms of royal (safety!) rules but he got his way. Buckbeak grunted in reply. Hedwig chirped angrily as the hippogriff jerked in head without warning, perching herself steadily on Harry's thigh instead. 
                          
"Both of you will." He whispered. His fingers stop strumming the guitar, instead gently petting Hedwig. Her feathers were all ruffled in the chilly evening. It felt like minutes although Harry knew it was at least a few hours by now, considering he has retold his story multiple times. His fingers felt numb from pressing down on thin strings for too long, his legs stiff and lips so dry they were cracking. 
                          
"You'll take care of yourselves for a week, yes?" Harry needed reassurance. Hedwig leaned into his hand, rubbing back affectionately in an attempt to comfort her owner. Buckbeak gives something which Harry assumed was a hippogriff version of a nod. He lay down on the grass, back stretched out to provide Harry ample leaning support. 
                          
Leaning against Buckbeak was slightly uncomfortable, but the warmth was too inviting to ignore.