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Harry Potter is back at Hogwarts. It’s the five years reunion since the end of the War.
He hadn’t felt like dressing up (robes just wasn’t his cup of tea) so as he now strode into the Great Hall for the first time in four years he is wearing his favorite muggle attire. A pair of black, skinny jeans, a loose t-shit with some band's logo on it, sneakers and a simple but stylish leather jacket. He had finally had his eye-sight fixed a few months ago and had dumped his glasses. Because, let’s face it, they were horrible.
This relatively new sense of fashion had been acquired during a year of economics-studies at a muggle university, along with a preference for classic rock and, what Hermione called it, –for Harry- “a completely different type of sass”.
And, yeah, the year spent away from the wizarding world,the fame and all the pressure of being the-boy-who-lived-twice might have changed him a little, but Harry himself thought it only for the better. He had had time to get to know himself, his likes and dislikes, who he was when no one knew who he was and expected things from him because of it. All resulting in making him more confident and, yeah alright, maybe a fair bit cockier.
As he walks into the Great Hall he is greeted by a whole bunch of old friends, classmates and acquaintances. Zacharias Smith says he barely recognizes him and the Patil twins assert that he looks quite dashing. He smiles and shakes hands and hugs the ones he is comfortable doing so with and thinks that, all in all, it’s quite nice to be back.
He is just taking a moment to appreciate it when he hears a familiar drawl behind him.
”Still can’t find a pair of trousers that fit, can you, Potter?”
“Whatever do you mean, Malfoy?” Harry says with a smile before turning around to face the Slytherin. The blonde is the picture of wizard propriety and Harry is suddenly a bit jealous at how he somehow manages to make the steel-gray formal robe he is wearing look perfectly natural.
”Aren’t those jeans a little tight?”
“Yes, that’s the point” Harry deadpans.
Draco raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “And that is not, oh I don’t know, uncomfortable?”
“No. Because they’re not too small even though it may look that way. They are the exact right size, which make them feel more like…. a second skin, rather than constricting. And they really show off my arse. See?!” Harry explains in a completely innocent tone and turns his lower body in Draco’s direction.
“Why would I want to look at your arse, Potter?” Draco drawls in the most bored way he can muster and firmly keeps his eyes on Potters face.
“Well, you spent so much time doing it during Quidditch that I just figured you appreciated the view,” Harry says with a, for a Gryffindor, terrifyingly cheeky grin.
Neville, who just happened to be passing by, choose that exact moment to stick his head up over Harry's shoulder yelling “BURNED!” while snapping his fingers. Totally out of character.
Draco is stunned for about two seconds. Then he answers angrily ”What!? Are you insinuating that I … I… I should hex you from here on to next Thursday for that!” His voice rising steadily.
Harry, happy to have gotten a rise out of Draco yet again, gives a smug little laugh and then continues. “Yes, perhaps you should. Or perhaps I’m right and you did keep flying behind me just to check out my behind.” And that is when he notices the rosy tint on Draco's cheeks and his laughter dies.
“You weren’t, were you?” he says, not sounding so confident now.
“No,” Draco bites out, but the pink on his face intensifies by three shades and his eyes drop to the ground.
Hopping hamsters, he's embarrassed. Draco bloody Malfoy is actually embarrassed.
The fact that he is actually able to tell from Malfoy's facial expressions is not something he doesn’t notice.
“You WERE!” Harry almost shouts and Draco shoots him an angry/scared glare.
“You were,?!” he almost whispers this time and the look in the blonde's eyes says it all.
He had been. He really had.
Harry notices that his chin is hanging halfway to the floor and snaps his mouth shut. Then he starts to feel bad. Contrite, he starts to stutter “Look, Mal…. I… I’m sorry. Okay, I... I didn’t know. Well, I sort of suspected but… I’m...”
And that’s all he has time for, because Draco has turned on his heel and is stalking away from him. His shoulders squared and his head not nearly as high as he usually holds it.
Gosh, what have I done?
“Malfoy! Wait up. I’m sorry, okay?!” he says as he jogs after the blonde. But as soon as Draco notices he is being followed, he disappears around a corner.
As Harry rounds said corner to catch up he finds himself in a frontal collision with a pair of third year Hufflepuffs. When they've recovered their balance and mumbled apologies have been shared Harry asks: “Have you seen a blond guy come through here?”
The Hufflepuffs stares blankly at him.
“He is about this tall,” Harry gestures with his hand somewhere slightly above his own head. “Looking furious and thoroughly embarrassed…!?” He raises his eyebrows questioningly as if that’s a perfectly reasonable description.
“Ehm… No, sir. No one’s been here, sir.” One of the black and yellow clad students answers him shyly.
“That’s okay. I think I might know where he's going, thanks anyway,” Harry says with a smile, leaving the two Hufflepuffs gaping after him as he starts making his way towards the seventh floor and the Room of Requirement.