Chapter Text
“You’re awfully loud for an assassin,” Draco drawled.
The manor was quiet and empty, his parents were out on a trip to who-knows-where. Draco rolled his eyes inside. They've been like this since his graduation from Hogwarts. Something about “you can take care of yourself now, Draco.”
The new-found adulthood and the absence of the two domineering presences in his life were the reasons why he had decided to get up and walk to the greenhouse, book and wand in hand, during the dead of the night. He was trudging through the lines and lines of ferns, his mother had been particularly fond of them as of late, when he heard rustling just a little bit to his right.
A few seconds ticked by, no one answered. Draco didn’t relax, he was sure of what he had felt, but still continued on his journey to the tea table at the side.
Finally, finally, he had reached the small table and sat down on one of the two chairs accompanying it.
Draco was five pages into his new potions book when he heard rustling once again. Starting to feel annoyed, “I can hear you, you know,” Draco tried, slapping the book down to the table and standing up.
A few seconds of nothing went by. Draco moved to sit back down on the chair. However, a voice stopped him. “How do you know I’m not being loud on purpose?”
Left. Draco whirled to the side that the voice could be heard loudest. He saw nothing but ferns and trees.
Draco’s mind began to work. Shoving back the alarms ringing in his head telling him to run, he fell back to his natural sarcasm. “Well, that makes you bad at your job, doesn’t it?” He quipped.
Draco waited, hand gripping the wand on its holster. He isn't sure what he plans to do with it. Merlin, he doesn't even know if he can handle this person. So he waited.
Then the most ridiculous thing happened. A chuckle came from the other person.
Okay, they’re definitely somewhere on his left. And upwards? Flying? He scanned the general direction and spotted a shadow on one of the branches of the tree there.
Now staring at the shadow directly, Draco felt more at ease.
Draco was only kidding when he assumed the person was an assassin. Although it’s not impossible, with the seats his father has on the Wizengamot, no one would be stupid enough to enter Malfoy Manor.
“You’re funny.” The person reacted, pulling Draco out of his thoughts.
Right. At least they have a sense of humour. Draco squinted his eyes at the person, but only got to see a hint of green eyes when the moonlight hit the person’s face briefly.
Green. How many people in wizarding Britain have green eyes?
“I try my best,” Draco said back. Then, after swiping his tongue over his lips and a beat, “What do you want?” he added.
The shadow fell down to the ground with a soft thud. Draco whipped his hand out from under his robes, wand in hand. “Stop. Stop there,” he warned.
A snort. “Alright, alright,” the person sighed. They had their hands up placatingly. Too calm for someone at wand-point.
Draco looked at the shadow through slitted eyes, suspicious. What kind of assassin—
“Love, I'm here for your head,” the shadow confessed casually. Draco shuddered.
“But," the shadow added quickly as if to appease Draco, "I got distracted,” the person declared. The person stepped forward.
Draco stabbed the wand forward as a warning again. The action seemed to work as the person stopped on their tracks.
"By your cute little face," the intruder finished saying.
The assassin got out of the tree’s shadow and is now under the moonlight though. So Draco saw the person more clearly, they were tall, about half a foot taller than himself. Only the coat they wore prevented him from identifying more clues to the person’s identity.
Draco pointedly tried to ignore the tattoos seen on the person’s forearm, revealed as the coat they wore rode up their arms when they put their arms up, still placatingly. An owl?
“Is that how you thank a person who saved your life?” the person asked- no teased. The killer had the corners of his lips up when he spoke, obviously finding the situation amusing.
Draco’s eyebrows knitted together. “The nerve you have,” he bit back. The person only gasped as if offended, but with a smile still on.
No one spoke for a while. The silence only brought more anxiety to Draco. Suddenly hyper aware of his utter lack of a plan for a situation like this, Draco’s heart picked up its pace.
His mind started going into overdrive. What was he going to do? Should he try escaping by force? Would he even win in a duel? How else would he escape if not?
At this point Draco’s free hand started digging into his own palms — a habit he acquired sometime during his stay at Hogwarts, and a habit his parents were working hard to stop. It was grounding.
“You mutter when you read,” the person shared, finally breaking the silence. Draco’s eyes snapped back to the person. When had his eyes trailed off?
“And you make these weird faces and move your arms a lot, like you’re personally affected by the text- what is so interesting about a potions book?” they added.
Draco didn’t know what to feel first. He felt embarrassed, he thought he’d snuffed out that habit of reading so animatedly. He felt annoyed, the person didn’t have any right to stare long enough to recognise that. Besides, he didn’t think he read that long.
The emotion must’ve shown up in Draco’s face - another thing Draco is embarrassed about, he’s a pureblood, he mentally slapped himself, no we’re over that - since the person chuckled again.
The laugh got cut short though, as another emotion passed through Draco’s face. Dread. His heart fell. He'd been watched long enough for the person to see his recently resurfaced habit. Is this even the first time?
Not knowing what to do next, he adjusted the wand in his hand, getting the grip more comfortable and tighter before he answered, “Everything, actually.”
Somehow that amused the person even more, if the their eyes lighting up indicates anything. What an odd person, Draco thought.
The person whirled to face the tree. They walked back to the tree and plopped down to the ground beside it.
Draco eyed the door of the greenhouse. He could probably make it if he pushed his legs hard enough. He cursed his younger self for not perfecting apparition earlier.
Draco almost missed it — with his eyes flicking between the door and the person — but the person tapped the ground beside them. Tapped as in mentioning him to sit down beside them?
Draco just stood there, convinced he saw wrong. He knew the assassin was a little…lost. But, surely, they weren’t that mad.
He got proven wrong when the person tapped the ground again, twice. Draco gave them his best “what the fuck” face but the shadow only snickered. “Come on,” they said.
Draco didn’t have a reason to do this. He really should just sprint out, call for help from the staff, and go to bed. Hope that he was indeed "interesting" enough for the assassin to not follow him, and forget any of this happened.
But as you have it, Draco is an idiot and the assassin was the most interesting event to happen in the last few months of his life. Hey, you really can't blame him.
He eyed the door one last time before walking towards the person, hand with wand still stretched outward. They could’ve killed him already but didn’t, surely they won’t start now?
That’s what he keeps on telling himself to justify his actions.
Okay, it’s Draco is driven by curiosity, sure, but he certainly isn’t stupid enough to actually sit beside a person who confessed he was there to kill him.
As if sensing his hesitation, the shadow reached into his coat. Draco stepped back.
This is it he’s going to get killed. All because of his dumb curiosity and obsession with the unknown. Really, it’s not a wonder he's not Ravenclaw. What was he thinking, not sprinting at first sight? Everything about the situation screams danger.
Draco turned around and was actually ready to sprint out of the greenhouse when the person pulled out their wand.
Bollocks.
Then there is rustling and a thud. Draco stopped on his tracks and peeked back. His eyes darted across the situation. The person was still sitting, but the wand they were holding was a few feet away from them now, just below some of the shrubs.
“I decided to not kill you, don't worry,” the person chirped with a smile, seen under the moonlight as they held their chin up, as if proud of their decision.
A few beats of silence passed before a frown replaced the grin the person was wearing. Draco realised they expected him to be grateful. He scoffed.
The person still had the gall to huff and cross their arms together. “Fine, at least sit here and tell me about that book,” the person said.
“Why would I do that?” Draco asked incredulously. The ridiculousness of this whole thing is starting to dawn at him now.
“Because you can’t resist not to,” the person declared. What? He was just thinking about that, how- Draco’s walls of occlumency rose quickly. Which he then realised was ridiculous, they haven’t locked eyes. Not since the person walked back into the tree’s shadow a while ago.
Draco hated that the person was right. Him and his insatiable curiosity. His parents were right, his curiosity will kill him someday. But he's won't reveal that out loud.
"Of course I can," Draco said with the most confidence he can muster. The person pointedly stared at him.
Then, after a few beats, the person revealed their hand out of their coat, angling to catch Draco's wrist. No, Draco thought, and plopped down on his own.
A few seconds passed before Draco realized what he'd done.
But tired, sleepy, and a little bit curious, Draco just gave up and started speaking.
The grin went back on the person’s face and they looked like they could be rolling.
“I’m Harry, by the way,” the person supplied, jutting his hand out and pulling his hood down.
Is that smart? Exasperation first crossed Draco's mind, but was quickly overpowered by intrigue.
Two things he learned about his grim reaper — sorry, former grim reaper — was that one, they were a man. They had sharp features, enough to cut a knife. Two, they were beautiful.
Merlin, he was gorgeous. Messy black hair in perfect contrast with his gleaming green eyes. Draco couldn’t decide whether he was lucky or unlucky that his (former) grim reaper was hot. Not that he wouldn't jump off a cliff before admitting that to anyone. Maybe Draco did have issues.
Thank Merlin Draco was in the shadows, his awe hidden safely out of “Harry’s” eyes. He swallowed. “Harry,” Draco said, waiting for an elaboration.
The shadow shrugged. “Just Harry.”
Draco hummed in acceptance. “Draco Malfoy,” he added. Harry looked at him pointedly. “You probably know that.”
And there they sat. Draco reading out theories and recipes about potions, answering questions from Harry here and there, and his former grim reaper listening intently with his full attention to Draco as if everything he was saying was the most interesting things he’d heard.
Draco’s words definitely did not trail off every time his eyes met Harry’s emerald ones. That, he didn’t do. He swore he didn’t but at the end of the night he knew exactly what shade of green the other person’s eyes were under every angle of lighting.
After hours and hours of quiet reading, Harry said goodbye claiming he has another job - Draco tried to not think of what that is but then again he would probably hear about it in the morning - and Draco went to bed.
Back in his sheets’ cosy embrace, he almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. He’s gone mad. He must be madder than he had thought if he actually read a book to an assassin out for his head . Granted, he decided to not kill Draco, but that man was still dangerous.
Why had he done that ? Is it really curiosity? Wait, more importantly, who sent the assassin?
Draco slept without answers that night.
But he dreamt of gleaming green eyes.