Macchine da Guerra

Attrazione?

Draco's vision suddenly tunneled at the sight of the scar on the other man's forehead. Inwardly, his heart lurched as he recognized the pair of familiar green eyes behind the blasé ebony glasses. There was no doubt about it; Harry Potter was standing, just as flabbergasted as Draco, his one-time nemesis, right in front of him. Years of control led Draco to slowly release the tension in his body while simultaneously masking his nervousness. Throwing on the icy Malfoy façade was easier than Draco would've thought, but then again Harry always did inspire him to exceed his own expectations. Picking up the old mask, he began to straighten up and placed his old smirk on his face. As Draco shoved down his emotions, Potter's became more prevalent. His face had turned a fantastic shade of bright red, which was of great contrast to his darkening eyes, and his fists were clenched white. Draco thought he should diffuse the situation, and quickly, before the idiotic Gryffindor made a spectacular scene.

"Calm down, Potter!" he drawled, the tone was enough to noticeably elevate the other man's temper and complexion. Draco had to fight the incredible urge to keep pushing his buttons. 'Old habits die hard, apparently,' he mused. "Must you always make a scene? I know my presence is quite a surprise to you and, as you obviously noticed, quite a staggering picture of masculine beauty on top of it all, but there is no need for fisticuffs or frivolous er...'stick' waving." He hoped that Potter would have caught the wand reference. It would not be his ideal birthday wish to get caught by Aurors.

"Malfoy?" It appeared to Draco that Potter's brain seemed to be lacking some serious components required for cognitive function. 'Nothing ever changes with him,' he jibed. Just as he was about to point out his recent observation Potter reached out with Seeker-honed quickness, snatched Draco's drink from his grasp, and downed it in one go. He hurriedly left a bill on the bar and walked out the door before Draco could blink. 'What just happened?'

Sparing a glance at Pansy, Draco realized he was now alone. The brunette was engaged in conversation with another beau and, judging from her body language, his night was about to improve dramatically. Draco's evening, however seemed shot. Glancing down at his empty glass, still warm from the heat where Harry's lips had insinuated themselves, he let his fingers play over the rim absently.

Draco's eyes reached the door that had allowed Potter's escape. He walked out the door, empty tumbler still in hand and began to make his way home. The coolness of the night air had no effect on his stupor. The noise and vivaciousness of the brasserie faded in the distance. Most scenes in his life that involved the raven-haired Gryffindor ended this way, why should it affect so adversely now? The questioned nattered at him from the back of his mind as he plodded on in the fetid summer night. The streets began to blend together as Draco unconsciously extended his walk home to allow more time for the question to pester him. Draco had always brooded over things best when on his feet. Lucius used to jibe that Draco's brain ran like a hamster wheel; forward motion needed to produce work. In reality, the repetitive motion turned off his consciousness and allowed his subconscious to take over the primary thought waves.

"Potter?" He repeated the name to himself over and over again, as if it were some sort of interrogative mantra in which the answer lay hidden in the word. Draco's mind, apparently hell bent on destroying the last vestiges of sanity left over from the war, began to form a question for every mention of that name. 'Where have you been?' 'What have you done, since the war?' 'What did you do during the war?' 'How did you stay alive?' There seemed to be endless fuel for his mind to form these surreptitious queries for the non-existent Boy Who Lived. Each question confused him more and more. Each vague hard-fought answer led to the same question. 'What is it about Potter that incites you to care?'

Could it be that he was unconsciously gratefully for the boy ending the war and allowing him to return to life as normal? Well, that was definitely plausible enough. He had endured minimal hardship during the war, but that was mostly due to the new environment and the lack of power that came with the Malfoy name...before the end of the war. No, it seemed to be something more than that. Draco's steps echoes off the shops that lined the streets. He never noticed street names or what streets he walked down when he reached the end of the one he had been on. He reached the end of an alley that seemed to empty out onto the bank of a river lined with stone steps along the bank. Nearing the edge of the first steps he finally noticed the chill of the night air.

'How late is it?' The question jarred his thoughts from the current train of thought and he began to notice his surroundings. 'Lost and unprepared, some Prince of Slytherin you turned out to be, Ferret!' The secretly used nickname was a staple of Draco's when he wanted to be reminded of the humiliation of being caught unawares. Searching up and down the banks he spotted the figure of a person sitting down on one of the steps near the water's edge. As he neared the figure he noticed the moon glint off a surface near the figures eyes and all the feeling drained out of his face. His steps skidded to a halt and stumbled to make his way up the stairs back onto the relative safety of the street.

"Oi, who's there?"

The query hit the fleeing Slytherin like a shock and his face scrunched up in frustration as he recognized the voice. 'Merlin, how the hell did I manage to stumble on Harry effing Potter twice in once night! What's he doing here?' Fighting off the butterflies in his stomach that had materialized at the realization of the person who sat before him, his shoulders slumped in a dejected manner and he slowly turned to face the Savior of the Wizarding World again.

"Wand away, Potter. No one here but a lone serpent, surely not enough to alarm the famous Harry Potter." The words were uttered with the same familiar acidity of their past. Cautiously, Draco showed the sitting figure his empty palms and waited. He saw the other man start a bit at the sound of his response. Draco smiled at this realization, he obviously was an unexpected visitor, but his elation dimmed as he remembered he was not in possession of the upper hand in this situation either. Who had he been expecting? Was he seeing/meeting someone? The emotional response he felt from the last question surprised him. Hot anger warmed his cheeks as frozen envy chilled his insides at these thoughts, but why?

"What do you want Malfoy?" growled Harry, but Draco could tell that most of the venom had been diluted in that statement. His shoulders slouched, the act managing to make him look incredibly tired and forlorn, the emerald gaze never even sought Draco's pale face. He looked like he had just received a shock. 'Maybe, he expected me to be dead?'

"Well? Did you just follow me here to pester me? I'm sure even a Slytherin has-been refuge has more to fill his schedule than hunt me down for some fun." Harry sounded tired and resigned. Draco almost apologized and left him...almost.

"Has-been! I am many despicable things, Potter, but that is definitely not one of them." He had to work to keep the pomposity out of his voice. He was seeking answers, not an argument. "If you must know, Pansy took me out tonight for my birthday. She decided on the Snitch, but we didn't know you were the culinary mastermind behind the endeavor, so you can stop imagining that I'm stalking you."

"Well, one would wonder sometimes, gauging our behavior back at Hogwarts." A rough laugh escaped from Harry's direction much to Draco's surprise. He had heard Potter's response to his many quips over the years, but laughter in any way, shape, or form was not one of the expected responses. Unable to stop himself, an image of the both of them dueling at school in third year flashed into his eyes. Remembering the emotions and competition between the two that had once been so much a part of his everyday life was an unexpected comfort. Before Draco could ponder the preposterousness of this moment between them, he noticed Potter had stopped laughing and was now looking at him with a very blank expression.

"What Potter? Is it so audacious that we share a laugh? I mean you were-," but he was interrupted.

"Culinary mastermind, really?" he stammered. "Was it really that good?"

"Oh don't tell me Dumbledore's Golden Boy has a low self esteem!"

"Well you are a posh son of a bitch, if anyone knows anything about a bloody over-the-top lifestyle, it would be you!" Draco watched as Potter's slightly tanned cheeks began to take on a fairly noticeable red tinge. He must have hit a nerve. However, getting a jab in lacked its familiar feeling of victory. On the contrary, it made Draco feel wan and tired. His shoulders slumped, emulating the other man's posture. That's what the body language meant, resignation and exhaustion. They had both lived through too much fighting.

"Hold on, Harry. That was...rude of me. I a-apologize. I don't want to waste my evening fighting with you." The apology was out of Draco's mouth before he could stop it. There was a noticeable relaxation in his shoulders as he saw the other boy release the anger and return to his slumped position.

"I don't want to fight either...ever! I no longer have the nerves for it." Harry exhaled in a long breath. He suddenly looked many years older and very exhausted. They both were tired of the fighting. The constant war had drained them both equally. He saw Potter slowly close his eyes and remove his glasses as if their presence pained him. "You wanna drink Malfoy? Merlin knows I sure could use one." Draco looked up and saw something in Potter he had never seen before; a smile directed at him. Not to be outdone he smiled back and quietly extended his hand in acceptance. Well, acceptance and to get the lingering sod off his haunches and on his way to the store.

* * * * * *

The two men resumed their positions by the river. They had since acquired the company of a few bottles of white wine which Harry had insisted on paying for since it was the insufferable Slytherin's birthday and all. A travesty which Harry had made sure to play up considerably due to Draco was now older than the smaller brunette. The two had walked to the local pub and back to the river in relative silence. Both were afraid to speak lest the other should get upset. Hence, the tension in the air made its presence well known.

Draco was the first to resume his sitting position, but Harry took a moment to look across the river to the darkness that enveloped the other side. There was a far away look in the other boy; the look appeared to mix the glare of a seasoned sniper and the wistful gaze of a seer. The resemblance to Dumbledore's gaze was uncanny. Draco took the chance to scope out Potter in the moonlight.

His body appeared the same; however Potter's range of motion denoted some minor leg and torso trauma, the kind that stems from bones being broken and re-broken. 'What happened to you? What have you had to endure?' Tearing the thought from his brain was almost painful, but he did not want to start that motion of thought again. Instead, his gaze moved up to Potter's arse. An impish grin lit up Draco's face.

"Now who's staring at whom, Malfoy?" Harry's gaze was still focused across the river, but his observation had caused Draco to startle the bottles. Their noise produced better proof of guilt than a barrister could. He sneered at his perceptive drinking companion and busied himself with opening one of the bottles of wine. He handed a glass to Potter, avoiding his eyes through the whole exchange.

"It's...it's actually really nice to see you again Draco. Outside of Hogwarts, I mean."

"Likewise, Potter." Draco wasn't sure if he had heard the surprised tone in Potter's voice or if he had imagined it.

"You're not drinking?" The question was laden with surprise. Harry's eyes reflected mild surprise at this unexpected realization.

"Mon Dieu, my dear Gryffindor, is it so unheard of that a Slytherin with as much class as I could abstain from alcohol once in awhile?" Draco scoffed in faux offense. Slowly, he looked at Potter and grinned. "I was already drinking before your presence graced that dive you found me in. I prefer Scotch to wine anyway." With that he pulled out a bottle of the amber liquor amid the one unopened bottle of wine. Unceremoniously, he produced the cup he nicked from the bar. The cup Potter's lips had touched. He paused momentarily in thought then poured in three fingers, tipped his glass to Harry, and drained the glass, eliciting a shocked glare from his contemplative drinking partner.

"Is that what they taught you in your reptilian house, or was that just how once stays warm in those drafty dungeons?" Draco's eyes snapped up to Harry's.

'So the Golden Boy could be sly as well.' Draco was impressed. His grin widened. 'This might actually be enjoyable.'

"Speaking of house extracurricular activities, was Gryffindor's specialty breaking and entering or just all affronts to one's privacy?" Draco's eyes narrowed as he took on the persona of some 1950's private eye. He pretended to tip his fictitious hat at the gobsmacked brunette. Waving aside the seeking glance his question evoked he just winked at the Potter and said through his sly leer, "You're not the only one who has a knack for keeping tabs on people."

Harry took a large gulp from his goblet to ease his nerves. Draco saw the moonlight catch on his pale throat as it moved up and down to swallow the alcohol. 'Gorgeous,' he thought. The thought did not startle him as much as it did earlier, but it made the butterflies in his stomach more agitated than they were already. 'So there it is there Draco. You like him. He's your oldest and best rival, the very antithesis of your existence, and you like him, how bloody typical of you.'

"Earth to Malfoy, you in there?" Harry's fingers snapped mere centimeters from Draco's nose and startled the bullocks off him.

"Hmm, oh sorry. I was off?" The lull the ensued led Draco to refill his own glass and top off Potter's. He got to his feet and began to walk towards the water. He caught the confused look that he received as he moved away from their seats. He was enjoying the silence and waved his pack of Dunhill's at the other boy to explain the sudden need for distance.

To his surprise, Potter got up and fished out his pack of Gauloises and, putting one to his lips, lit it. Draco followed suit and took a pull. The flavor of the tobacco mingled with the Oban in his glass. "So, when did you start putting nails in your own coffin, Potter? I never thought such a 'frivolous, disgusting, habit' would appeal to someone of your sensibilities. Well, that and I'm sure Granger would've shoved the whole pack up you arse while lecturing you about the hazards of lung cursor."

"Ha, it's cancer you git, not cursor." With that Potter collapsed into a fit of laughter. Draco, uncomfortable with his faux pas, busied himself with his smoke until he heard the the laughter stop. "Sorry Malfoy, it's just that usually only Ron is dense enough to mix those up and Hermione would have killed me if she saw me..." Draco heard the voice hitch with emotion and saw the orange dot of Potter's cigarette waver in the dark. Potter rapidly retreated back to their spot and retrieved his drink which he emptied just as rapidly.

As he heard Potter clear his throat Draco sprang into action. He drained his glass as well and moved to the bottles and grabbed the wine to refill Potter's glass. The other man nodded in thanks, but tensed when he felt Draco's hand on his shoulder. Not wanting to make things worse, but not knowing what caused this behavior either he elected to remove his hand with just a single reassuring pat.

Lifting his own glass to the heavens, he silently toasted the souls lost or otherwise damaged by their stupid war. "Out of every 100 men, ten shouldn't even be there, eighty are just targets, nine are the real fighters, and we are lucky to have them, for they make the battle. Ah but the one, one is a warrior, and he will bring the others back." Heraclitus' quote whispered from Draco's mouth seemed to issue forth in a stream of color. Potter spun around and grabbed Draco's lapels. Pure rage was visible behind the tears.

"And just who do you think 'the warrior' is Malfoy? Hermione and Ron? What about Neville, or Cedric, or Dumbledore, or even Snape? I couldn't bring any of them back!" Harry's knees, no longer able to support him, gave out and he fell to the pavement at Draco's feet. Sobs issued unchecked from this poor boy at his feet. Angry sounds uttered by many survivors of the past. Forlorn heroes, alone; their friends stolen from them by evil and malice. Their mettle was tempered and heated by these losses, but the rest of them: mistreated and not whole never to be the same. Draco silently raged at this injustice. The savior of his world, now alone and broken, unloved.

'Not unloved,' thought Draco ruefully.

"Harry? My words were folly, I'm sorry. Here let's have another drink. Maybe I can make up for my callousness." Draco stooped to get the bottle of wine and joined his companion on the ground.

Lighting another cigarette, Harry sat in silence sipping his drink and looking over the water. Draco sat with him in silence, allowing Potter to regain himself. Something bad had obviously happened to Granger and Weasley, but what? And why hadn't he heard about it? Although they could never be referred to anything resembling friends, Draco had kept tabs on the deaths of students in their year. Everyone knew about Cedric's death during the Triwizard Tournament, but Neville had been a shock. The deranged fool had spent his days hunting down Bellatrix Lestrange and seeking to avenge his parents, but that was pure idiocy. It was said that the volume of his screams had cracked the very stones imprisoning him. She dispatched him slowly and the Dark Lord had displayed pictures of his body in the Prophet. Similar fates had befallen the Creevey and Patil siblings who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. There were more losses, many more, but Draco did not want to recall them all. It hurt too much.

"Where have you been all this time? Why did you just leave your side?" Harry's voice had lost its rage, but the croak from his crying was still there. Draco had been waiting for this question, but he was still not ready to give the answer.

"I was in Prague, banished from England by my late father, tucked away where I could not longer be a burden on the family name. It was either that or death. I was sent there shortly after I committed a terrible act of betrayal."

"What did you do?"

"Not now Potter, I would rather not discuss it now."

"Oh, okay. Ummm...So what did you do in Prague?"

"Study mostly, I also played piano for an inn in the arts sector."

"Study?" There was a small hint of derision in his voice. Draco chuckled as he remembered Potter's feelings about study habits and school.

"Just because some of us here were not stellar students doesn't mean that others do not want their hard won knowledge to be lost by disuse." The drawl had returned, but Potter laughed. "All right then, what have you been doing to keep yourself busy?"

"Cooking and keeping out of sight."

The response sparked many questions in Draco, but he chose to skip them. There had been enough mention of the war.

"Hey, Draco?" Harry, obviously a light weight, was slurring his words a bit.

"Hmm?" Crap, maybe Potter wasn't the only inebriated party present.

"How did you get involved in opera? You have a really great voice, but I don't think I ever heard it before tonight."

Draco was glad it was dark; he hated it when he blushed. 'Here it goes.' "I was walking home from the bar one night in Prague and I was singing a song that reminded me of you." The realization of what he said slammed into Harry like a full forced stupefy.

"Wait, wait, wait! You liked me? But you made it know to everyone that you hated me. We spent years in school being enemies. You lying Slytherin git! It...you...why..." Draco closed his eyes as he waited for the accusations or the rage again, but they never came. Potter's voice just sputtered out and left them both sitting in silence.

"Harry, I do like you. In school, I just about obsessed over you, but I couldn't let it out. My father would have killed me if he knew I was gay, and after our third year, I was sure you would too. If I ever told you, that is." Now that he had started, the words flew out of Draco's mouth in a flurry. "You were against everything I thought I stood for, everything my family was, yet I knew it all along. I don't know if it was or is love or lust, but it's something. I've spent so long hiding it that now I don't know what it is."

'Merlin, now you've put your foot in it.' Every second of silence made Draco regret his statement even more. 'Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.'

Draco turned to face his silent companion. The moonlight behind Harry made his emotions hard to distinguish. Throwing caution to the wind, Draco hesitantly took a step towards him. When Potter did not move he took a few more and suddenly he was standing right in front of him. Being so close to Potter made his pulse quicken and the smell of sandalwood emanating from him was more intoxicating than the alcohol. Leaning in close to his ear, he whispered, "Harry? Are you okay?"

He was just standing there with his eyes closed. There was no readable expression on his face. 'Ahh, rejection,' Draco thought. 'So many years dashed in an instant.' He turned to pick up his bottle and leave to sulk elsewhere when Harry's eyes opened. His green gaze riveted Draco to the spot. There was no malice or anger there, just questions. 'His eyes are so beautiful' though Draco. He was so entranced that he didn't hear the question posed to him, he only saw the eyes move as he spoke.

"M'sorry, what was that?"

The eyes crinkled as Harry laughed shyly.

"I asked what the song was?'

"Okay, but you can't laugh. It was Nessun Dorma from Puccini's Turandot."

"Never heard of it, but I would love to sometime." The eyes blinked bashfully. Draco realized that they were flirting, much to his surprise.