Chapter Text
Draco’s POV:
“Draco!” called out a shrill voice. “The chauffeur has been waiting for half an hour outside. You were supposed to be done with your luggage days ago! I didn’t even have time to check if you have your toothbrush or your—”
Narcissa Malfoy’s speech was cut short by the sudden passing of her son in a hurry to leave the family’s property.
“Don’t worry, Mother, the housekeeper checked my bags a million times already,” said Draco with annoyance in his voice. How annoying was it to have a mother sometimes? “I’m going to miss the shitty plane now. Shouldn’t have let that woman check my bag one last time. Can’t believe that the school forces me to sit in the basic economy cabin. I’m going to end up in between two sweaty fat ladies and a weeping child.”
The teenager’s impatience was palpable, and his words were clearly full of utter disgust. One would probably ask why he would even choose to go on such a trip if he cannot even handle a couple hours in a seat that isn’t served champagne and oysters for a little snack.
Draco’s sweaty hand was already on the doorknob, waiting for something—or more like someone—to wish him goodbye before he leaves for this new continent, America.
“Is Father already at work? Isn’t it a little early?” asked Draco, with hope to say farewell to him before his departure.
Narcissa let out a sigh and closed the distance between her and her son, putting a calming hand on his shoulder.
“He had an emergency at the company, but I know he really wanted to see you before you—”
Once again, the woman wasn’t able to finish her sentence. Her hand had had the opposite result and only made her son more tense as he turned his body away from her.
“No need to lie like that, I know he doesn’t care,” declared Draco with his eyes closed.
Without another look behind, the young man closed the door of the luxurious penthouse and took the lift to reach the ground floor, where the chauffeur was patiently waiting for him.
Without even the need of indicating where he wished to get to, the man in the driver’s seat left the parking lot to get to Heathrow Airport.
In the silence of the black BMW, Draco couldn’t help but look out the window and wonder if he had made the right choice to go on this student exchange.
He always dreamed of seeing America, New York being at the top of the list of cities he craved to see with his own eyes. His family had brought him all across Europe, but he wanted to see something new. His father, Lucius Malfoy, sadly didn’t share the same opinion. He was so certain that Europe is the superior continent and that no countries out of its borders are worth stepping in. Whether it’s the most beautiful landscape in Asia, the highest mountain in Africa, the cutest animals of Oceania, or the urbanity of America, nothing was worth seeing.
And that is why he decided that this specific school trip was worth it. This would be the only way for him to visit this new place before he’s an adult, the only way that his father would let him go, even if it took a lot of convincing. Numerous talks about how this could help Draco in his studies and maybe even learn new business techniques from those Americans were needed to finally get a “yes” from his dear father.
But this wasn’t any school trip; this was a student exchange.
Draco would have to live constantly with a person that he was not in control of choosing. He had thought a countless amount of times about what type of person he could get, imagining the worst scenarios possible: a fast food addict that farts in his sleep; a boy-crazy girl who will kiss his forehead while he’s asleep (though the possibility of this is quite small due to the fact that except if they are missing people from the same gender to match the student with, everyone should be paired with someone of the same gender); or, in the worst case, someone poor.
He couldn’t even bear the idea of having to live in a filthy, penniless, mediocre household for a week and a half, and then being forced to bring them with him to London and lodge them. He would for sure give them the guest room that’s in the basement where they stock the cleaning supplies.
The time had flown at the speed of light, and the chauffeur was already dropping him off at the airport. From afar, Draco could see the silhouettes of his fellow students, probably waiting for the latecomer.
The group of teenagers were all in their school uniforms. Draco looked down at his attire, which was composed of straight pants and a black overcoat. Clearly, he hadn’t gotten the memo from his private institute that he wasn’t allowed a minimum of fashion choice.
“Mr. Malfoy, who told you you were allowed to wear casual clothes today? May I remind you that this is a school trip and that you are supposed to represent your institute,” said Professor McGonagall. “The use of the uniform also makes it easier to spot the students in a crowded environment.”
“Well, you have my fabulous hair that makes it quite easy to spot me!” declared Draco arrogantly and full of pride. His hair was a sort of trademark to him.
Half the students rolled their eyes at Draco’s claim, and the other half chuckled lightly in amusement. Their classmate was one entertaining boy.
Even if the airport was barely crowded, he couldn’t stop complaining about the short queues. Patience was definitely not one of Draco’s best qualities, his father often pulling out a few hundred pounds from his pocket to give to whoever was blocking the way. As much as he was excited about going away without his father for once, he already missed his daddy’s money and benefits.
After a good hour, Draco was finally standing in front of his gate. He might have been trying his hardest not to show any signs of anxiety, but deep down, he was terrified. He will never have been so far away from his house or his parents; never had he lived with a stranger. So many new things were awaiting him, fear and eagerness filling him.
On his right, a woman called the people who were seated in first class to come to the gate first, and, like muscle memory, Draco stood up. Only after a few steps in the gate’s direction was he pulled by his coat by his professor.
“Sit down, Mr. Malfoy,” said McGonagall with a tone full of annoyance.
The boy sat down next to his teacher, not without letting out a deep sigh.
This was going to be really different from his other vacations.
On the same day, half across the world
Harry’s POV:
Harry Potter finally got up from his deep slumber with a loud groan. He blindly reached out for the old pair of glasses on his nightstand, and after a few taps on the wood, his fingers finally sensed the metal frames he was searching for. His bare feet traced the distance separating him from the bathroom next to the kitchen. Harry took his hands to his eyes to wash away the sleepiness, sadly without result. He definitely should go to sleep earlier, but yesterday he was way too agitated because of the student that was supposed to arrive the day after.
Once again, to wake himself up, he tried another technique, this time throwing frozen water on his tanned skin. This time, it had slightly more effect than the previous one.
“Oh gosh! I really need to fix that before I get to school…” mumbled Harry to himself while looking at the nest lying on his head.
It was no secret that his hair rarely ever looked neat, but if others would see what his mop looked like when he wakes up, they would never dare call his usual hairstyle messy. And so, Harry tried his best to maintain an appearance that would not look too stupid; he had to make somewhat of a good impression.
“Harry, you’re taking forever in the bathroom!” said a man’s voice through the door.
“I’m finished anyway, Sirius,” answered Harry as he twisted the handle and saw the face of the other man, who had been awake for a little more time than him.
Sirius and Harry have lived together for about ten years now; the older man waiting for the teenager to exit the bathroom in the morning was a recurrent event now. After his parents’ passing, his godfather had taken him in, even if he barely had the money to raise a seven-year-old. It was a cramped apartment out of Manhattan. They might not live the most luxurious life, but they were comfortable, and soon enough, Harry was going to get a job and help Sirius with the rent.
“I made coffee if you want some, by the way,” said Sirius, muffled by the door once again.
“The day you see me drinking this bitter liquid dirt is the day you have gone completely mad, Sirius!” yelled Harry with a mix of conviction and amusement. He really hated coffee.
The young man walked around the counter to get to the pantry where his absolute favorite breakfast was stocked (if it’s the only thing he eats, it’s easy to call it his favorite): Wizarding Cereals. Since he had grown his first teeth, basically every morning of his life had been filled with those specific cereals with a green-eyed and dark-haired boy on the box. They weren’t exactly special in any way; they were good, yes, but it was the story behind them that made him love them so much.
Lily and James, Harry’s parents, once saw those very cereals on the shelf in the supermarket, and they immediately looked at each other. They instantly found a great resemblance between the boy with a large wizard hat on the box and their young son at home. That day, they took back home the box of cereals, and his father started calling Harry “his little wizard.” Harry was smaller than the other boy, but his parents were convinced that he would look exactly like this in the future.
They weren’t wrong. At twelve years old, Harry was a moving copy of the cereal box.
That wizard was probably the closest his parents had ever gotten to seeing what their son would look like in the future.
Following his usual routine, Harry ate his bowl of cereal in a few spoonfuls and put his dark red coat on. He wanted to go see his best friends before meeting the newcomers from London.
“See you later with the European, Sirius!” said Harry loudly, turning his head before closing the door of the apartment behind him.
He instinctively took the stairs to go down; they were only on the third floor, and the little exercise of the stairs was worth more than waiting for an elevator that seemed to always skip his floor.
The exit door was pushed open, and the cold but comfortable warmth of the sunrays of spring welcomed him. New York maybe wasn’t the most “relaxing” place to live—always a taxi honking its horn nearby or a guy who took too many drugs lying on the sidewalk—but it was charming in its own way.
Of course, Harry also didn’t live in the cutest part of New York. You have to be Mr. Beast to be able to afford somewhere in those pretty and Pinterest-worthy places. Maybe he didn’t have a view of Central Park, but he had a view of a park, and that was worth something.
Harry took out his phone from his pocket now that he was outside and tried three times to open it with Face ID, but without success. It was getting old, and the camera was clearly struggling.
He texted Ron to know where he was at the moment.
“Wya rn?” sent Harry.
After a few seconds of waiting, a tinkling sound came from his phone.
“Hermione’s.”
“RU act dating her now?”
“nahhh, I needed help with the science hw.”
“on a Saturday morning?”
“She was occupied all wknd. Only time she was available.”
Harry was pissed that his two best friends clearly had something going on, but at the same time he was happy for them. They were great for each other.
“Can we meet up at the school? I need to meet the person I’m matched with at lunch,” Harry asked.
“my wknd is just gonna be filled with school ig, but sure I’ll meet you there in 15.”
Harry closed his cellphone and started walking to the school. He would probably arrive a few minutes before Ron; he'd just wait for him on the bench they always sit on.
Fifteen minutes later
Harry was in deep observation of the bush next to the bench, trying to guess whether the little plastic thing under it was a used condom or a bag for dog poop. Whatever it was, he wouldn’t touch it willingly.
“Hey, Harry! Excited about your new little friend coming later?” asked a ginger head heading his way.
“Hey, Ron. Yeah, I don’t know. It’s kinda scary. What if the person’s a massive pain in the ass?” suggested Harry with concern in his eyes.
“The director loves you so much, I’m sure he wouldn’t pair you with some shitty guy. Dumbledore is so obsessed with you that it wouldn’t surprise me that he matched you with some London baddie,” said Ron with affirmation in his voice. “Though, the definition of a baddie to the director might be a man…”
“We’re not even sure if he’s gay, Ron. You shouldn’t assume things like that!” said Harry loudly.
The ginger rolled his eyes in annoyance. How could Dumbledore not be gay? Mrs. Longbottom had tried a few times to convince him to boost Neville’s history grades with a very provocative low-cut, and the man hadn’t even looked down a single time.
“Whatever. I hope you don’t get someone that you’ll like TOO much, or you’ll forget about your boring American best friend,” suddenly said Ron.
Harry scoffed lightly before answering, “That wouldn’t happen in a trillion years, Ron. You know it.”
The other guy simply nodded and started enumerating every little thing that Hermione had tried to make him understand. Harry couldn’t even follow his words anymore; he was mixing a bunch of subjects, and he couldn’t believe Hermione actually tried to get something in this big orange head.
But it was now the time to join the other students who were part of this exchange in the cafeteria. About twenty students he could majoritely recognize were here; none were close friends enough to actually go and talk to him at the moment.
Dumbledore was standing in the middle of all these teenagers and was instructing a few rules before the British arrived.
“Children, children, please look at me! The new arrivals are coming in a couple of minutes, and I want to repeat a few rules about this student exchange, so please open your ears,” started the director. “Please be very welcoming with them. They might be a little disoriented, and it is important for everyone to be polite and help them with anything. You guys aren’t barbarians. We will have a little activity after their arrival to get to know each other, then you will proceed to bring the person with you everywhere. You guys will now be inseparable.” He started walking away but remembered a little something before. “Some of you are matched with someone of the opposite gender, and you cannot have anything going on with them! I hope this is clear and that all of you understand that this is off limits.”
Many students, mostly guys, let out a great sigh at Dumbledore’s little rule. Harry didn’t really mind; he would actually prefer it if it was a guy. He just didn’t feel as comfortable with girls as with guys. What was he supposed to talk about with them—boys? Except Hermione, he had known her for so long that she was kind of just an extension of him now.
“I see them coming!” screamed one of the girls, Cho Chang, if he remembered well.
Like a chain reaction, a good part of the female population of this activity started jumping at the sight of the newcomers. Harry couldn’t see them because he was sitting in a corner, making it impossible to see the hallway they were arriving by, but he would guess that some of the European boys were of great taste.
A woman, who Harry assumed was one of the teachers in charge of the student exchange at their school, entered the cafeteria first. She took out a piece of paper where the name of every student was written with the person they were paired with.
The first few boys who were behind her stood next to the teacher and waited for her to tell them who they had to go see. They were indeed very good-looking.
“Mr. Dean Thomas, please welcome Mr. Viktor Krum,” said the woman.
The girls next to Harry continued giggling and trying to make eye contact with the boy who had just arrived. He didn’t look very British, thought Harry, but what did he know about European physical characteristics?
“Hello, I’m Viktor,” said the man coldly, with an accent that confirmed Harry’s earlier thought.
The teacher continued to inform the students about their partner for multiple boys. Then came a girl with dark hair.
“Miss Pansy Parkinson, you will be with Cedric Diggory,” informed the woman.
Harry hadn’t even realised that Cedric was in the room earlier. He liked Cedric; they had numerous classes together, and he would often help him when he didn’t understand the material.
Some other boys started whistling at the pair. Cedric was the first person to be matched with someone who wasn’t the same gender as them, and it was with a pretty cute girl, kind of scary-looking with her eyebrow piercing and her dark eyes, but definitely not ugly.
While multiple people were laughing, the concerned boy didn’t look very comfortable with the person he was matched with. Harry accidentally made eye contact with him and tried a slight smile to show him that he understood his feeling. Harry guessed he also didn’t have a lot of things in common with girls.
After a few more minutes, everyone had a partner except Harry.
Dumbledore, seeing that there seemed to be someone missing, made a silent sign to the boy to join him.
“McGonagall just told me that the boy you are paired with had made a little stop at the bathroom before joining his comrades. He should be here at any moment,” reassured Dumbledore.
Harry nodded without much energy. He hadn’t even met the guy yet, and he already had a bad feeling about him. At least he knew it wasn’t a girl.
He was about to walk back to where he was sitting before when a flash of blond—if it wasn’t full-on white—appeared in his eyesight. It seemed like he was here.
The boy turned around to face the teenager arriving in the cafeteria by the hallway.
Harry didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t that.
Draco’s POV:
Draco felt so uncomfortable after the long airplane ride. The economy class wasn’t as clean as the first class, and now he was overly conscious about how disgusting his hair must look.
That’s why he had to do a little run to the bathroom to fix at least a minimum of his hair.
Now he was late for the little meeting with the other students, but it wasn’t hard to find your way in a school so small. How hadn’t he been told that the exchange was with a public school?
From afar, he could see the back of Professor McGonagall’s head next to the one of an old man with hair whiter than his, and a younger boy.
The boy was the only one facing him.
Draco was still a little too far to clearly see his face. He might need glasses like the boy who was waiting for him at the end of the hallway.
“Mr. Draco Malfoy! I thought you had lost yourself,” said McGonagall sarcastically.
Draco didn’t even bother to answer. He knew his teacher had enough of him always being late, but he had an emergency!
“Hello, young man, this is Harry Potter. You two will spend the next few weeks together,” said the old man who could have played a sorcerer in a medieval movie.
“Hey, nice to meet you, Draco,” said the boy politely—Harry.
He took a few seconds to inspect the entirety of the teenager in front of him before answering him.
Physically, he was clearly the opposite of Draco: dark and messy hair, tanned skin, glasses, shorter but still pretty tall, and very colourful eyes. He took particular attention to his clothes. They seemed pretty used and definitely not from designer brands, and just like that, Draco had classified him in the poor category.
“Hi,” uttered the blond boy.
Harry’s eyes slightly twitched at the brief and dry answer.
Draco wouldn’t even look Harry in the eyes. He was more interested in judging every other American student around him. They all looked middle class based on their clothes, mostly wearing clothes that Draco would wear to sleep, like hoodies and joggings. Harry might have been wearing the most deteriorated clothes at the moment, but at least he had jeans, just the slightest bit more appropriate maybe.
His eyes finally came back to Harry’s face. Not too ugly to look at, at least.
“Students,” said the old man, “please follow me and Professor McGonagall outside. There is a bus that will bring everyone to Central Park. I’m sure a lot of you are familiar with it, and I trust that you won’t get lost, so you can walk around, get to know each other, and show them anything you think is interesting in the area. The bus to take you back to the school will leave at 3 p.m.”
And just like that, all the teenagers around Draco directed themselves to the door leading outside, but he wasn’t moving. His entire being was concentrated on the boy next to his face—his glasses, specifically. They were slightly crooked, and Draco had to hold himself back from aggressively pulling them off of Harry’s face and fixing them.
“Uhm… Draco? Is there a problem?” asked Harry with confusion at the sight of Draco’s intense gaze on him.
“Yeah, with your face,” spat out the blond, suddenly deciding to walk away.
The bright yellow school bus awaiting them made Draco’s stomach flip. He wasn’t used to public transportation of any sort. His entire life, he had always had a chauffeur to drive him wherever he wanted to, and now he had to sit side by side with a boy he barely knew in an undignified mustard-yellow giant car.
Draco knew that when he signed up for this student exchange, he shouldn’t be expecting luxury, but America was currently treating him like a homeless man.
He took his courage in his hands and sat down on the greenish seats before Harry scooted next to him.
“URGH!” exclaimed Draco a few seconds after sitting down. “What’s that on my shoe!?”
“Calm down, it’s just an old gum someone left on the ground. Not a sticky monster licking your boot,” tried to reassure Harry. It wasn’t so out of the ordinary to step on someone’s chewing gum.
“Remove it!” ordered Draco, like Harry was a slave.
“Uhm… no? Deal with that yourself. You could have just looked where you were putting your feet. It ain’t my fault,” said Harry.
“Do you have anything to remove it?” asked Draco with concern in his eyes, like if he didn’t remove the gum in the next minute, his foot would blow up.
“You think I just walk around with a gum remover knife?” responded Harry, his eyebrows frowned.
Draco groaned. This was going to be a hard few weeks.
He considered for a second asking for Harry’s crooked glasses to remove the gum, but he probably wouldn’t let him.
In a flash, a genius idea came to mind.
Draco furiously looked around for a girl with a hairpin. After carefully looking at every single lady’s head, he decided that he had to ask the single woman in this cramped space that he sadly didn’t hate—she being the only one with a hairpin.
“Pansy, I need your hairpin,” asked Draco with what seemed to be an attempt to do puppy eyes.
“Thinking about copying my beautiful hairstyle?” asked Pansy with a smirk.
“I am quite happy with my current hairstyle, even if it’s not at its best at the moment,” retorted Draco.
She then gave him the hairpin, and he didn’t lose a second to get to work with the gum under his foot.
“You’re actually gonna use HER hairpin for removing a gum? Don’t you feel bad?” said Harry.
“Nah,” answered the other boy.
A few attempts later, the gum was off his shoe, and he felt free again.
Harry’s POV:
After Draco’s wriggling next to him to try and remove the stupid gum, Harry quietly took out his phone and opened his group chat with his two best friends. He silently thanked Sirius for his last birthday gift, a privacy screen protector that blocked Draco from seeing what he was going to do on his phone.
“HE’S A FKING JERK!!!!” texted Harry.
“who,” asked Ron, who seemed to be the only one online.
“THE GUY IM STUCKED WITH FOR THE EXCHANGE!!! cant even handle a freaking gum on his SHOE! prob thinks hes a prince or smt”
“HELP YOURE FUCKED BRO”
“Harry, you barely know him. Maybe he isn’t that bad. You shouldn’t assume things about him when you only just met him,” resonated Hermione, suddenly online.
“ofc youre nice with him, he’s prob rich like you hermione,” said Harry.
No hate to Hermione, but she always seemed to be treating people who might be of higher influence or something better. Harry guessed that was the type of thing her parents, both pretty rich doctors, had taught her: grab every opportunity, and that included being nice to important people. Who knew what they could lead you to?
Before he could even see what Hermione had answered, he closed his phone and turned his head a bit to the left to check on his fellow student.
The back of his blond head seemed in great observation of what lay outside of the bus. His chin kept doing small motions back and forth to follow the buildings that were passing by at a great speed. His forehead was stamped to the window like he was trying to get through it.
He had forgotten that Draco was still a little tourist doing this student exchange to visit New York.
“That’s our stop, children!” screamed McGonagall so that the students in the back stop laughing loudly and start listening to her.
“Get up, you,” said Draco. “We don’t have all day.”
“Harry, my name is Harry, not you. Okay? And learn some manners. Ever heard of please? Or have you simply ever waited for more than 5 seconds in your life?” burst out Harry, who had had already enough of the spoiled brat.
Draco’s eyes shot open, having never heard such words being thrown at him.
“My father would have you expelled if he heard what you just dared say,” said Draco under his breath, but loud enough for Harry to hear it.
“Well, that daddy of yours must be just as pleasant as you,” retorted Harry immediately.
The blond pushed Harry further on his seat and slid in between his knees and the back of the bench in front of them in a fury. He let out a sound of displeasure and left the bus as fast as he could.
An old voice resonated in Harry’s ear, one he knew quite well. “I would recommend for you to follow Mr. Draco Malfoy. I would assume that his stubbornness will lead him to a path that will get him separated from everyone else, and we’ll never hear of him again.”
“That would be perfect, actually—not hearing about him ever again,” muttered Harry. “Dumbledore, why did you put me with someone like him?”
Dumbledore got up and started walking slowly to the door of the bus. They were only Harry and him in the bus now.
“You should have more trust in my matchmaking skills, Harry. I think there is a lot you could learn from this boy, and he, from you,” said Dumbledore.
The young boy could only frown his eyebrows in disbelief. What was his director on about? There was nothing working with the two teenagers, and they had barely spoken. It didn’t take much for Harry to understand that he was stuck with an absolute spoiled piece of shit.
His feet pushed against the ground to make him stand up without him realising it, and he was then outside, staring at the green Central Park.
From afar, he could see a pale blond head walking at a great speed in a certain direction, and Harry started running after him to close the distance between them.
“Draco! Wait for me!” screamed Harry from the top of his lungs.