- intimateAuthors Notes:
Set during sixth year. Written for dracoharry100
's challenge of intimate
There’s an intimacy to hatred.
Just last year, he’d sit at dinner and feel grey eyes trace each hated line of his face; Harry would glare back into a face he knew as well as his own. They would stare into each other, seeing nothing else.
Now Malfoy sits there pale-faced, staring down at his left hand as it fiddles with a knife. He doesn’t glare at Harry any more, or come up with badly-planned schemes. His distraction is tangible.
Harry will find out what he’s doing. Who’s he plotting against now? Who could Malfoy possibly hate more than Harry?