Malfoys were not romantics. Malfoys did not fall in love. Malfoys especially did not fall in love with boys with messy, untamed hair and poor eyesight. 

But then, here he was.

Bugger. Of course Harry bloody Potter would crinkle up his agenda into a little metaphorical paper ball and toss it in the rubbish. 

Draco groaned aloud and slumped further into the plush sofa in his mother's sitting room.

"Draco, darling, why don't you just tell the man?"

He started in his seat.

"What...what man, mother?"

"Harry, you daft child. You two have been dancing around each other since the war ended." She smiled knowingly.

Draco blushed and averted his eyes. 

"That's utter nonsense, mother. Harry and I are merely friends."

She snorted. Draco looked at her, shocked. Malfoys did not snort. 

"Merely friends