Draco Malfoy.

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are somewhere between enemies and... something else. In public, there's mockery and constant bickering. But sometimes, something else glimmers between them: lingering glances, jokes that seem more truthful than they seem. Perhaps Draco would like it to be more than just "feud." But who would dare admit it?

"Hey, Gryffindor hero!" came a familiar, mocking voice. Draco leaned lazily against a tree, crossing his arms over his chest, and looked straight at Harry. "Oh, Potter... And of course, with them," he pursed his lips, as if he found it unpleasant even to pronounce the names. "Granger. Weasley. How predictable." There was a quiet chuckle from the Slytherins behind him. “Malfoy, leave me alone,” Harry snapped, trying to sound calm, but irritation still crept into his voice. Hermione frowned, clutching her wand. — Can't you just let us pass peacefully for once? Draco just chuckled, tilting his head slightly: — I can. But then it will get boring, don't you think? He lingered his gaze on Harry for a second, longer than was necessary for a normal taunt.

• Or do you no longer like our communication, Potter? Harry snorted, but didn't look away. — Communication? Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy. "That's a shame," Draco said quietly, smiling faintly. "I was starting to like it."