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“Come off it,” Harry smiled back.

“I’ll be seeing you, Potter, I’m sure,” Malfoy said, standing up from the table. He rest a hand on Harry’s shoulder for just a moment. Harry reached up and covered Malfoy’s hand with his own, a gesture that felt oddly intimate, but that he had been unable to stop. Malfoy’s eyes had widened, but he didn’t pull away.

“Yeah. I’ll see you,” Harry said, remaining at the table. Harry released his hand.

Malfoy had nodded and walked away. That was the last time Harry had ever seen him.

Harry clasped his hand over his mouth, trying to place the pain in his chest. Malfoy had never been his friend. They would likely have never had been friends. So why did the fact that there was no chance of reconciliation making him feel sick?

Three years before

“How have you been getting on?” McGonagall asked, having brought Draco to her office for their daily meeting.

“Fine, I suppose,” Draco said. It was much easier to speak, now that he didn’t have that damned mandrake leaf in his mouth, not that he spoke much anyway. It had been his third try, as the last two times, the full moon had come on a cloudy night.

“Where are you now, in the process?”

“Waiting for an electrical storm,” Draco said, his eye glancing towards the window as he spoke, hoping perhaps he could speak one into existence.

“And your wand, it’s working well?” McGonagall asked, her gaze falling to the wand on her desk.

He nodded. She had had it reregistered under a false name as that of a tourist, so Draco could carry on performing magic without drawing suspicion. He wouldn’t have pinned Minerva McGonagall to be a woman with connections like she had, but he supposed connections came with being headmaster of Hogwarts.

“Good. Now, let’s just hope whatever form you take isn’t too outlandish. I know it’s not under your control, but I really hope you’re something I can explain away, although with Hagrid on grounds, there’s very little I can’t come up with an excuse for. That, and you won’t be Hogwarts’ first unregistered Animagus,” she added, though she seemed a little nervous.

He suppressed the urge to say he would be happy as anything other than himself.

Draco smiled at her, shifting in his chair, noting he was getting remarkably good at holding his tongue. Death really changed a person, he supposed.

Chapter 2

Present Day

The house elves clambered around the kitchen in a sort of organized chaos that Draco had grown accustomed to. He was sat at a dining table with the head elf, Tibsy, discussing the day ahead of them.

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