Chapter Text
Draco had plenty of practice keeping his mouth shut before he came back to Hogwarts for eighth year. He’d made a resolution of sorts, to talk to himself and only himself, as protection from people that hated him. Of course, if this had been any other year, Draco would’ve simply hexed them and been done with that.
Now, known as a former death eater and the son of a death eater, he wouldn’t be surprised if his glancing at someone ended in a scuffle, where anyone except him would come out on top.
For the first two days, Draco avoided people well and managed to not piss people off too much. His head was always down, and anytime people approached him, he left fairly fast. Everything was going great.
Alas, not speaking wasn’t ever his forte evidenced by what was currently happening. Actually, what was happening? Draco barely kept his breathing under control and tried not to reach for his wand at the sight of so many angry faces directed at him. Draco hadn’t done anything. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Everything always had to be taken from him, ever since he came to Hogwarts in first year. Or maybe that was what he deserved from the beginning. He’d been an arsehole. Draco pissed off an abundance of people, but that was also all due to his stupid mouth. Which was his fault really, he should’ve been able to figure that not speaking would be best. No one would talk to someone who wouldn’t talk back, Draco would try harder next time, avoid more people. After all, he wasn’t good at anything, so he’d have to learn to be able to keep quiet, good at restraining himself.
There wasn’t anyone to do this for him, Pansy hadn’t come back and neither had Blaise or anyone else either. But that was his fault too, his reputation was worse than theirs and after all he’d done, did he really deserve company or comfort? No, Draco decided, he didn’t. It was all meant to happen like this because of no one but himself.
“Malfoy. Malfoy! Mal-”
He could hear someone, and well he supposed he could see them, even if things were getting kind of blurry. Ugh, was he crying right now? Draco tried not to blink, as that pulled the tears out faster.
Perhaps they’d curse him and everything would be over, for now at least. Actually, once that thought had come to him, Draco supposed a little bit of pain wouldn’t be bad. Exactly how he should be treated. If only he had something… well he still had his wand.
The people trying to talk to him or something hadn’t taken it, hadn’t touched him really, and now that his wand was in his hand it wouldn’t be too bad to use a spell on himself, right? Surely, the crowd that seemed to have gathered would appreciate harm coming to one of the dark lord’s followers.
Voldemort, he tried to remind himself. Oh, he’s getting off track now. What spell does he use now? Draco could take a page out of their little golden boy’s book and Sectumsempra himself. Yes, that would do, except then he’d have to speak. Though this would be for the sake of making them happy, wouldn’t it? Acceptable enough.
Pointing his wand toward his arm, Draco began to speak. “Sectu-”
Quickly cut off, he scowls at that damn Saint Potter for taking his wand. Hello? Did the git really have to keep attention on himself all the time? Draco hums, he didn’t exactly deserve the glory of harming a Death Eater. Even if the Death Eater was himself. Draco guesses this is just standard hero boy behavior.
“Stupefy!” This was that stupid hero boy again, shouting the wrong spell. Damn him, couldn’t help Draco out, even now?
-
Oh. Why was Draco in the hospital wing? He doesn’t remember being injured. No spells were cast on him, right?
Clearing his throat, Draco stared up at the ceiling. It really was quite boring. It could use some green, as that was a symbol of health, nature and happiness. Nothing else, of course.
Draco sat up, itching to get out of this bloody room. Unfortunately, this alerted Pomfrey, who walked over to him. She began to speak to him, though the words passed right over him, lingering for less than seconds. Draco followed whatever instructions she had to give mindlessly, congratulating himself for not speaking the whole time. He deserved the mental applause he’d supplied himself with, after all he currently excelled with the very task that brought him here anyway.
However, once Pomfrey finished with her job, she didn’t let him leave either. Apparently his ‘concerning’ behavior required the presence of headmistress McGonagall. Draco didn’t think he was that great to be around, especially when not talking, so how come all these people suddenly need his attention?
“Mr. Malfoy, you’re feeling better, I hope?” She clearly wanted a response, but Draco wished he would get away with a nod, so he attempted.
McGonagall simply kept her eyes on him. Okay then, if anything he says angers her, it’s her own fault.
“I’m fine, per usual.”
“Well, that’s wonderful. I’d like to discuss what happened, now.”
“Alright.” See? He’s being very non-antagonizing right now.
Yet, the headmistress pursed her lips at Draco. What’d he even do? “That was meant as an invitation to explain, Mr. Malfoy.”
Draco scowled–not pouted– at her. “Well you didn’t say that, did you?”
McGonagall heaved a sigh like he was a particularly loud baby disturbing her train ride. Rude. “I’d like you to explain what happened.”
“...A person got upset with me.” That sigh came again, this time more like a cat knocked down her favorite pillow.
“Details, please, Mr. Malfoy.”
“I don’t remember, Headmistress,” one of his finest talents, truly, saying words with as much malice as he could muster.
She looked worried then, so Draco couldn’t enjoy how amazing he was. “What do you mean by that?”
Draco shrugged, wow, his father would hate to see this, “I remember there being some escalation, then me trying to cast, and Potter taking my wand, and-” he paused and frowned at this, “Did I ever get my wand back?”
The Headmistress ignored his very reasonable question, “And, what?”
“And Potter Stupefying me.” That prat. He had to steal the show, and he didn’t even finish it properly.
McGonagall, concerned nonetheless, questioned him. “Is that really all? You don’t remember who this scuffle occurred with, or what it was about?”
Well, that did sound like something he ought to know, being at the center of it and all. “I don’t remember. But if whoever else was involved remembers, I didn’t do anything.” Or maybe I did, Draco thought.
Draco faced that worried frown of McGonagall’s, and it seemed to deepen, if possible. “What do you mean, ‘or maybe I did?’”
He did not mean to say that part out loud, and he said as much so, but he got a “Answer the question, Mr. Malfoy.”
“I was a Death Eater, so…” Anything would’ve been a good reason to attack him, really. Draco swung his legs back and forth on the hospital bed, only possible by how far from the edge he sat, and it felt uncomfortable. At least he wasn’t short.
McGonagall wasn’t satisfied with her questioning, even though they’d been here ten minutes. There was so much Draco could’ve done in this time, say comb his hair, or demand Potter give his wand back, seriously, that git had to have some kink for taking Draco’s wand.
She looked at him, “I wasn’t aware that gave students the right to cast whatever spells they wished on you. And I seem to recall telling all of the students not to get into any duels or things of this sort. I gave a whole speech, Mr. Malfoy.”
Draco felt like she was begging for praise on her speech, honestly it wasn’t that good if Draco only remembered the gist of it. He couldn’t quote a single sentence. “It was a lovely speech, Headmistress.” There. Now she’d finally leave him alone as he wanted his wand back.
McGonagall’s frown lessened, “That wasn’t the point. The point is, regardless of their feelings there shouldn’t have been any scrimmages.”
“Of course not, I simply meant I saw why they did what they did.” Draco moved his legs onto the bed, who knew if you exercised your legs they’d get tired? Someone should’ve told him this.
The Headmistress sighed, “Well, I suppose you can rest, if you come to me with any information you remember later.”
Draco nodded, “Where’s my wand? Don’t tell me Potter’s grubby hands still have it!” That would be very disrespectful, he was an injured wizard, and his wand was in the hands of someone he didn’t like.
McGonagall didn’t respond. Draco stole her frown and used it as his own, “Hello? My wand?” She walked out. Rude. Truly, the hospitality in this place was non-existent.
And to make his day worse, Potter came in, his face also marred with a scowl.
Draco sneered, “What’s with all the frowns? My face is a work of art you should be thankful to see.” Draco did not mean to say that. Well, he did, but he was also supposed to be not speaking.
Potter didn’t even respond, just like McGonagall. Is this a gryffindor thing? Draco was the non-verbal party here!
“Potty, I hope at the very least you brought my wand.” Potter came all the way here to piss him off and he didn’t have Draco’s wand in hand? Blimey, manners are all around today, aren’t they?
Potter actually spoke now. “Oh. Right.” Potter pulled Draco’s wand out, and walked closer to hand it to him. Ew, was he trying to contaminate Draco?
Carefully, making sure not to touch Potter, he grabbed his wand. Draco was glad to have his wand back, however Potter had the audacity to keep standing there.
Draco, resigning to his role as the only person who could carry a conversation, spoke, “So, is it some kink of yours to steal my wand, Potter?” There, Potter could get angry now and leave.
Potter’s face scrunched up, but if anything, instead of a step back, he moved closer. “What? No!” The prat still didn’t say why he was even there, so Draco had to speak for him.
“This is the point where you turn, alternate which foot you lift up and exit. Unless, seeing me so engaged in a battle makes you want to kiss my feet, rather than using your own.” That was a well executed statement, Draco thought to himself. Of course it was, this was Draco he’s talking about.
“Does it happen a lot?” Was what he got instead. Truly, eloquent, with an abundance of detail, the layers so enriched Draco could only aspire to reach such poetry.
“What? People kissing my toes? No, you’d be the first. No need to get jealous there.” Draco grimaced, it doesn’t sound fun, people’s lips on his feet. So many germs exchanged there, it wouldn’t be good for his skin.
Potter’s scowl got worse, he couldn’t be that jealous of people who didn’t exist, could he? “No. The people attacking you!”
“I wouldn’t know, it’s only my third day back, not nearly enough time to gather data and make a conclusion.”
“Stop fooling around, Malfoy.”
Draco wasn’t even doing anything! Did Potter really think Draco would know the answer to this? “Are you volunteering to be my bodyguard or volunteering to make it happen more often?” He would like to know the answer to this, in order to make more calculations on who to avoid.
Potter hesitated. Wow, Draco really was good at this. “..No. Neither of them. I wanted to know if people were giving you a hard time over being a Death Eater.”
“They probably want to. Many people died in the war, it wouldn’t be shocking.” Draco didn’t see why they were having this conversation. What’s done is done.
Potter stalked closer, glaring at Draco like he attacked himself. And he tried, really. “You’re not responsible for every death!”
“But I am for many! I let them into the castle! Those were my actions, those are people dead because of me.” Draco glowered right back at Potter, standing up from the bed.
“You didn’t intentionally kill them!”
“Didn’t I? I knew what I was doing. I just didn’t care as long as I got out of it alive!” Draco took the wand that’d been returned to him minutes earlier, and pointed it at Potter, intending to make him step back.
Potter snarled defiantly, and stepped closer, fallaciously. “And you went on trial for it! What more could they want?”
Draco on the other hand, inched back, pathetically, moving more toward the wall. “I went on trial, and got off unscathed, thanks to you! There’s practically nothing, except the ministry keeping a closer eye on me, and public scorn.”
“That should be enough!” Potter shouted, throwing his arms out rather ungracefully.
“Well, it’s not! And really, if you want this conflict to be over, there’s only one thing you have to do, to get it over with quickly.” He smirked slightly.
Potter sauntered forward, leaning into Draco’s face angrily. “What? What could possibly change their minds, if they are so rooted in their thoughts as you say?”
“You could always Sectumsempra me, Potter. Surely me being in the hospital wing for something more serious would be good enough.” Draco’s wand is nearly against Potter’s throat, and his hand shakes a little, and Draco recalls other times his wand was pointed at people. He can feel the Dark Mark.
Potter blinks, gaping at him, shock covering him as if someone Aguamenti’d a bucket of it on him. “..What? What do you mean? I’m not doing that!”
“It’s the solution to all the problems! I get punished, you and them get revenge, what more would they want?” Draco scoffs at the worry that begins to shape Potter’s face.
“That- That’s not how it should be!”
“It’s how it is.” Draco had plenty of times to come to terms with this himself.
Suddenly, Pomfrey comes in, “Mr. Potter! What are you doing to my patient?”
Potter turns quickly, “Nothing!”
“Out, out!” Draco watched as Madam Pomfrey shooed Potter out of the room, feeling smug. He sat down on the bed once more.
Draco listened to Pomfrey and answered all the questions she had for him. Once she finishes, he gawks, when he is notified that McGonagall requested that even if he was in good condition, that he stay there for protection.
Draco did not need protection, and besides who said people who wanted to attack him wouldn’t come to the hospital wing. Kids got hurt all the time, especially with magic! Draco had been a Death Eater, if anything, people needed protection from him.
Pomfrey finally left, and Draco sulked, bored and lonely. Honestly, not a single one of his friends could’ve come back? Whatever, at least they’re happy. What can he do here?
Chapter Text
Draco blinked his eyes, glaring at the light illuminating his room. Who woke him up? During a perfectly good dream about- Well, he doesn’t remember what it was about. But it was something good.
“Who’s there?” Draco hissed.
“It’s me, um, Harry.” Opening his eyes again, he realized it was, in fact, Potter. Potter had his own wand in hand, lumos glowing at the tip of it. Potter was also staring at Draco with his green eyes, waiting for a response.
Draco scoffed. “What the bloody hell are you. doing?”
“I wanted to talk to you, and, and I have classes later.” ..Is he an idiot? Literally anytime after class would be fine. Actually not fine, because Draco never wanted to see him.
“Wow, you’re just all over me, aren’t you, Potter? Beginning to regret not shaking my hand in first year?”
“No! Well… Maybe?” Draco paused and stared at Potter, who seemed to have confused himself. Okay then?
“Couldn’t you have visited when I wasn’t dreaming?” Potter couldn’t do that, but that’s Potter’s problem, not Draco’s.
"How would I know when you’re dreaming?! You know what? Nevermind. Anyway, uh, how are you?” Potter shockingly hesitated a lot tonight, and he really should be better at not hesitating, having defeated a Dark Lord and all.
“Let’s not do small talk, Potter, I’d really rather not.”
“Um, okay. I wanted to know why there aren’t more slytherins back this year? Or at least the ones you were friends with.”
Merlin, Draco misses his friends now, perhaps they would’ve spared him from this conversation. “Probably the fact I was a Death Eater, the fact many Slytherins were Death Eaters, or they didn’t want to be here, after a war.”
“I guess when you say it like that I sound stupid.”
“Don’t worry, Potter! You always do.”
“So…”
“You can leave at any time, Potty.”
Silence happily responded to him for the fourth time that day. Were his questions really that difficult? Whatever, Draco closed his eyes and willed sleep to take him.
“Malfoy!” That bloody prat. Now he wanted Draco’s attention?
“What, Potter?” He practically snarled in response to the whispers that could’ve used a little work. Honestly, how hadn’t Potter been caught?
“Sorry! I just wanted… Um, will you answer my questions if I come back later?” Potter worried at his lip, hopeful yet determined. Very Gryffindor. However, Draco did not make a habit of agreeing with people, specifically Gryffindors, of the brown or red haired variety.
“No.”
“Please, Malfoy. I want a good year,” Potter began, preparing for a tangent. Draco cut him off while his mouth remained open.
“That’s your own problem isn’t it? You could stay out of my business if you wanted to.” With an exaggerated eye roll, an effect of the lack of sleep Potter was enforcing upon him.
“Yes, well… I don’t like seeing people bullied, alright?”
“Still your problem, Potter. “
“...Just answer my questions? Please?”
“Fine,” Draco reluctantly agreed, if only at the prospect of getting some sleep with Potty gone.
“Thank you! Uh, goodnight, Malfoy.”
Draco, didn’t deign him with a response, finally exercising his masterful skills, as he watched Potter whisper Nox and disappear. How did he do that?
-
Potter came back again, before dinner, as he should've for the first time. Draco only knew it was supper because Pomfrey, unlike certain people, always answered his questions because Draco was a lovely boy. Pomfrey didn’t say that, but Draco knew she thought it.
“Hey, Malfoy.”
Draco didn’t respond this time either, because he could, and now he had the winning streak of not talking.
“Malfoy? You said you’d answer.”
“Answer your questions, yes, but not statements.” Draco genuinely sucked at this, not opening his mouth and forming words game.
“You knew what I meant! Fine, fine… Why were you going to Sectumsempra yourself?” Seriously? Potter didn’t cast it this time either?
“...Because then a Death Eater would be punished so we could all have a bright pink party.”
“Didn’t we talk about how people shouldn’t be ‘punishing’ you?”
“Sure.”
There was more of that lovely silence Gryffindors loved to sprinkle into their conversations.
“Potter.”
“Yes, Malfoy?” Potter sighed, as if Draco’s existence was the worst thing he'd experienced.
“I still think you should throw a bright pink party for me. It could be a ‘congratulations! You’re not a Death Eater even though you still have the dark mark’ party.”
“Alright, Malfoy, maybe one day.” Potter scoffed half-heartedly.
Okay, Draco thought through all the words they exchanged today. There wasn’t nearly enough insults or threats of violence.
“I hate your weasels and I think that Gryffindors are idiots.” There. Rather tame, Draco kindly kept soft.
Potter just looked thrown off. “...No one said you didn’t? And those jeers were weak for you, Malfoy.”
“Are you bullying a patient right now? I’m fatally injured and here you are slandering me and laughing at my expense.”
Potter stared at him so Draco tried some more mocking words.
“Weasley is rather dull, he has the intelligence of a non-transfigured doorknob. Granger must do all the thinking for your lot, with you and him combined.”
This got a slight reaction out of Potter.
“Hermione does not do all the thinking, and Ron and I are plenty smart!” Sweet toenails of Merlin, is Draco getting weak? That’s the only reaction he could yank from Potter? Maybe he’s getting old. Eighteen isn’t that old, right?
Apparently, Dracos frown showed on the outside too. “Malfoy? Are you good? You’re being nearly nice now.”
Ew, was that alliteration intended? Fine, who is he kidding, Draco loves alliteration. The rest of that sentence, on the other hand. “That’s a violation of my character, Potter. I’m simply tired, you took away a crucial amount of my beauty sleep.”
“Cool, Malfoy. I, I have to go now,” Potter looked concerned, which was rude. Why was everyone concerned for Draco today?
… “Get out, nitwit.”
-
“Malfoy, why… Why do you think everyone still holds a grudge over the war?” Potter asked, once again while Draco could be sleeping. Sleeping is vital!
“I don’t maybe because people died, Potter. Possibly because their loved ones and a bunch of others died over the- over Voldemort! A maniac who thought he was better than Muggleborns even though he was a half-blood, who thought he should live forever,” Draco huffed, glaring at the other boy.
Potter glared right back at Draco. “I know that! Trust me, I know. Dumbledore, George, Dobby, Fred, even Hedwig! I’ve gotten over it and I was at the center of the bloody war!”
“Are you over it? Or are you just telling yourself that?” Draco closed his eyes as he laid on the bed, wishing this was all a nightmare.
“Don't tell me how I feel! You’re obviously not over it yourself, are you?”
Draco’s eyes snapped to Potter, “Pretty hard to get over it when you’re viciously attacked!”
“You weren’t even injured! What you were going to do to yourself is far worse than anything that sixth year did.” Okay, Potter might have a point there, but Draco was not letting him win.
“And? What of it, Potter? Some things must be done to satisfy the people.”
This angered Potter for some reason. Maybe Draco hadn’t lost his skill, he just tried too hard sometimes. “Stop doing that!”
“I’m not doing anything!” Draco scoffed.
“You’re distancing yourself from the problem. What people, Malfoy? One person hurt you. One! No one else has done anything!”
“But they want to.”
“And many people also want to be filthy rich like you. Yet, they’re not! I think you haven’t gotten over the war, that you can’t handle your perfect little self making one mistake!”
“One mistake? You call that one mistake? People died over it!” Draco sat up now, swinging his legs off the bed to face Potter.
“Fine, it was a really fucking big mistake! But-”
Draco cut Potter off right there, “But, what? What, Potter? What do you-”
“I was saying that plenty of people made mistakes during the war. We’re not exactly trained for it, you know!”
“People like you still made the right choice when it counted!”
“Voldemort was threatening your-”
“Don’t bring up my family! And fine, he was threatening my family, but he also threatened the lives of anyone who disagreed with him. I’m not special!”
“You’re really not! Here you are though, acting like everyone wants to kill you.” Rude, Potter truly had no manners.
“You believe everyone is delighted with a Death Eater allowed to roam free?”
“Of course not! I believe them to be capable of exercising some self control.”
“They have to let out their anger somehow!”
“Why are you trying so hard to justify them?”
“I’m not.” Draco used immense calm, in contrast to his tone previously.
“You are! You’re excusing their bad actions but not your own.”
“Well, whatever they do is better than what I did!”
“They can’t assault people! This shouldn’t even be an argument!”
“Then don’t argue, Potter.”
“Fine. Remember that regardless of what you do, everyone’s actions are still their own.”
“I think you’re the one who needs to remember that.”
-
Potter returned days later, so Draco immediately taunted him. “Back again, Potter? Come to admit I was right?”
“You’re not always right, and you certainly weren’t last time.”
“I won the fight!”
“That was a squabble at most, Malfoy. Anyway, that’s not why I’m here.”
“Why is it you keep coming back?” It was kind of weird.
“Because I’m such a kind person keeping you company.”
“That’s bollocks and you know it.”
“It’s called a joke, maybe you and the other Slytherins didn’t make funny ones, so you can’t recognize a good one.” That’s not true, Draco was hilarious.
“Get to the point.” See? Draco can speak peacefully with people. He wasn’t good at it, but it was possible.
“Alright. Well, basically, McGonagall told me to keep your wand and now she asked for it, so…”
Draco glanced at him, gaze laced with suspicion. “Really? That doesn’t seem very likely.”
“What? I broke rules all the time!” Potter scowled at him, indignant.
“No, I meant the part where she told you to keep my wand, imbecile.”
“Very creative, that one. Did you spend all day thinking of it?” Potter stood up, and held his hand out like Draco would give him his wand.
“Fuck off! Give me proof she told you to keep my wand.”
“Proof? Where the hell do you expect me to get proof? I don’t record every conversation I have!”
Draco squinted at him, “What?”
How was Potter as confused as Draco? “What?”
Potter is an idiot, did he ever think? Like, forming thoughts, all on his own, without prompting? “I mean- Okay, have you forgotten you’re a wizard?”
“No…? You’re not using Legilimency on me!”
Ugh, another thing Draco wasn’t excelling at. Why didn’t they talk about his talents?“Don’t worry, I’m terrible at that anyway. There are other ways, however.” Draco said this like a wand was held to his throat.
“We are not using a pensieve.”
Potter seriously disagrees with everything Draco says. “I guess you’re not getting my wand, then.” He grouched.
“I could tell McGonagall that you stole it or something.” Potter could only do that if it was true, so…
“Fine.”
-
Potter came back, again, at night, per usual. But this time he returned Draco’s wand.
“Do you know how creepy it is that you only come here at night?” Draco had begun to ponder this during his boring life, with no wands or friends.
“Um.” Potter furrowed his brows, perplexed.
Draco insisted, sitting up on the bed because it was weird talking to someone standing while laying down. “No, really. Only visiting when everyone is supposed to sleep is bizarre.”
“I do it so people don’t ask questions.” Potter said this slowly, as if Draco was the unreasonable person.
“And if someone were to come here at night and see you speaking to me, would that not be stranger than it would be in the daytime?”
“I suppose?”
Draco nodded resolutely. “Well, since you’re here, making me lose sleep, play me in chess.”
“Do you have a board?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m not good at chess anyway, so we could do something else?”
Draco glowered toward him, fiddling with his wand. “There’s nothing to do here. I could be dreaming but you messed up my sleep schedule.”
Potter looked flustered then, “Sorry about that.”
“You should be. I need my beauty sleep.” Draco maundered, and stood up from his bed.
Potter, typically, couldn’t let Draco enjoy anything. “Where are you going?”
“Anywhere but here.” Draco felt severely tempted to hex Potter, but he didn’t, lest some people have a fit over it.
“Aren’t you supposed to stay here for a reason?” Astute observation, Potter. Ten points to Gryffindor.
“Well, they never did tell me in much detail.” Draco sighed and somehow mixed in a snicker.
Potter was utterly transfixed on the noise, and Draco sent a disturbed face toward him. Potter spoke up, “Did you just laugh? At yourself?”
“Yes, funny people do it all the time. I’m sure your red haired friend can relate.”
“Uh, did you also call Ron funny? Are you ill, Malfoy? I thought they were keeping you here to prevent attacks.”
“I am not ill and I didn’t call the Weasel funny. My jokes are far superior to his deplorable jabs. What are you talking about?” Perfect, gaslighting Potter should be fine. Draco shoved past Potter and into the hall, marching in a random direction.
“Alright, Malfoy. You shouldn’t leave though.” Potter eyed him, unconvinced, whilst following Draco.
“We’re already outside of the hospital wing. Scared, Potter?”
Notes:
I feel like I’m messing up their personalities… Maybe I write too unseriously. Anyway, I think I’ve written Draco as really immature, and Harry, I feel like I’m writing him alright. The scary part is writing Ron, Hermione, and Harry talking. It's like I haven’t spoken to a friend in weeks.
That's for next chapter though.I tried.
Chapter Text
Draco began to ascertain why this was a bad idea. Really, perhaps this time he should’ve listened to Potter. If anyone caught them, they wouldn’t be happy to see a Death Eater roaming Hogwarts. At night.
Draco also should’ve had a plan, instead of becoming Gryffindorish. Simply a product of his lack of sleep, he thought, treading his way through the halls, apprehensively, though he wouldn’t show it, particularly when Potter looked the part enough for them both. Draco really needed to get a better sleep schedule. He struggled enough with sleep while Voldemort was in his home, honestly.
Well, Draco figured walking through the halls was better than simply sitting around with Potter, who really should stop visiting him.
“Why do you come here so often?” Draco wondered aloud.
“What- To the hospital wing?” Potter guessed, glancing at Draco.
“Yes, where else?”
“I don’t know, maybe you’d forgotten that I’m a student here. You are injured, after all.” Potter snarked, smirking slightly.
Draco scoffed back at him, scowling at Potter’s smirk. “I’m not injured, or ill. They’re simply looking out for my safety; can’t have their best student harmed.” Draco turned a corner because he could.
“To answer your question, I don’t know.” Potter whispered.
“Really,” Draco sighed, looking skeptically at the boy with a glowing wand in hand.
“Yeah, at first, I wanted answers, and currently, I’m just bored.” Splendid.
“So, you got a taste of my delightful company and decided you couldn’t live without it?” Draco drawled, picking up his pace a bit.
“That’s not what I said at all, are you barmy?” Potter was steps behind him, glaring.
“Perhaps.” Draco admitted, under his breath, slowing down a little.
Potter’s glare morphed into confusion, highlighted by the furrowing of his brows.
“What?”
“What?” Draco simpered, a little, at the look on Potter’s face. It appeared as though he were attempting to lay an egg the size of a Hippogriffs’.
Silence came after that which, if Draco was being realistic, made creeping through the halls less fun and more unnerving.
Draco grumbled in effort to keep the conversation going. “Well, don’t stop talking now.”
“Since when did you want to hear me speak?”
Draco was not going to dignify that with a response, and unlike fools who said that statement out loud, he took the action.
Not a great idea, because that brought back Draco’s biggest enemy, and if silence wasn’t hard to maintain or disquieting, he could shake hands with it and they’d become best of friends. You know what? Potter didn’t have to speak, Draco could do it.
“I despise the word responsible. If it were a color it would be an appalling Gryffindor kind of red, possibly even with some yellow, and the word would be a better place if we all used accountable or something instead.”
“What?”
“Honestly, why do we use a word with not only an o, but a p in front of it. It would be tolerable without the p. For-” He was very rudely and abruptly cut off.
“Malfoy, what the fuck are you saying?” Potter complained incredulously, coming to a halt in the middle of the hall.
“I’m talking about the word responsible. It couldn’t have been that difficult to follow, although I may have overestimated you. I always was extremely eloquent.” Draco grudgingly paused as well, staring at Potter. He didn’t bloody well desire walking through these halls alone.
Potter didn’t let up and persisted, “Why?”
“Why have I overestimated you? I haven’t a clue.” Truly, Draco must have let lack of sleep catch up to him.
“No, why are you telling me about your thoughts on the word?” Potter seemed quite frustrated. As if any moment he would begin gesturing along with his words.
“Would you prefer my knowledge on Valerian sprigs? I concluded that the color and feeling words have would be a topic you’d be interested in.”
“Why?”
“Valerian is known for its healing properties, and in the 16th century, it was used to treat-” Draco was brusquely cut off again. What’s wrong with Valerian?
“Malfoy! Please do not give me a lesson on Valerian.” Draco felt this was a strange interaction, Potter yelling at him in the middle of the night. It was only strange because it was the middle of the night, and Potter was trying not to be loud, and was failing yet succeeding at the same time. A talent, really.
“What do you want me to say then?” Draco stared at him. He wanted to walk and not deal with this. Bringing Potter along was a bad idea.
“Nothing?” Potter sounded like he meant this as a statement but he changed his inflection at the end, so Draco could only toss a galleon to decide. Well, he’s not doing that.
“Not an option-” And he was cut off. Again. Draco missed Blaise at times like these. He never cut Draco off this often.
Potter looked more irritated. Lovely. “Don’t. Why are you so loquacious today?”
“Monumental words, Potter. Did you read a book today?”
“Just answer the bloody question!” This time Potter did, in fact, gesture with his words. Draco was practically a Seer.
“Alright. I’m often loquacious. Not with you, though.” This was true, he loved to talk. To people who listened, of course.
“Why?” Draco opened his mouth to speak, but Potter didn't care, “Everytime I ask why, you don’t give a reason!” Potter did ask why a lot.
“...I don’t like the silence.”
That was adequate, it answered that burning question of his.
“What? Why?” Okay, what the fuck? Draco couldn’t grasp how Potter kept asking why.
“Take your answer and run with it. Never look back, Potter.”
“Malfoy, are you sure you're okay?” Potter’s green eyes were burning with something. Draco wasn’t sure what, and he didn’t care.
“Yes. May I continue with my trip now?” Very polite.
“Answer my other question.” The growl that came with Potter’s statement was decidedly not polite. Alright then, Potter would get his answer.
“Fine. I don’t like the silence because it feels like a Bowtruckle tickling between my toes.”
Draco finally got Potter to get over it this time, because the prat didn’t even speak this time. Perhaps Draco would regale Potter with his enthralling tales.
Draco did not smile to himself, as he turned around to walk. “Since that’s over, I think lotion should be reworked somehow. It’s nice at first, but then it gives a weird feeling after being on your hands, and it’s rather strange how it leaves you shiny… Certainly there’s some type of lotion that doesn’t do that, no? I feel it would be much better than others, and that if it does exist, why don’t they take a page from the perfect lotion book? Do you think that at the cost of it being perfect, it would smell bad?”
“What the fuck?” Potter whispered, lower than before, and raising his voice a bit, continued, “I don’t know. I think you’re just extremely picky. And if the lotion is that bad, don’t use it.”
“Like I want dry skin? Really, Potter? Lotion is essential. You do know that skin is an organ, right?” Draco scrutinized Potter at that.
Potter looked right back at him, incredulously. “Of course I know that. I’m surprised you do.”
“Why wouldn’t I know that?” Draco was literally second in their year. He should be first, except Granger.
“Well, none of the core subjects include the human body.”
“No, but I’m no idiot.”
Potter smirked slightly. “Are you sure about that? Have you really, taken a moment, thought about your actions, then decided you weren’t an idiot?”
“Clearly. I spend an appropriate amount of time thinking about myself. Do you?”
Potter looked torn between yes and no. Yes, he decided he wasn’t an idiot, but no, he didn’t spend time thinking about himself.
“I honestly hate canapés. They taste nice, depending on who made them, and they look nice enough. I dislike the idea of them.”
“What? Ron and I liked them at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. What’s wrong with them? They’re like perfect servings.” Ugh, is Potter adding personal anecdotes now? What is this?
Draco huffed, “They’re not right.”
“But you said the looks and tastes were fine, what could possibly be wrong with them?” Potter’s eyebrows were furrowed, as people’s eyebrows constantly were around him. One of his abundant talents.
“The concept, Potter.”
“That makes no sense! Maybe we should go back to the hospital wing.”
“Fine,” Draco said, turning around, “I’ll go back. Nice talk, Potter.”
Potter turned with him, following. Draco was not that cool, however inflated while simultaneously deflated his sense of self worth was. “I’m coming with you.”
“Why? Afraid I’ll find a new Dark Lord to follow?”
“No, I just want to make sure.” Of what? Draco didn’t speak this time because he spoke enough today. For now.
Merlin, the walk back was short. Did they spend that long in the same place?
Notes:
Hi! I already finished the next chapter but I'm not publishing it until tomorrow.
It's Harry's point of view.
Chapter 4
Summary:
Harry's point of view, in snippets.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Harry was trying to enjoy his eighth year, after his poor experiences the past years. He was planning on a good year, with good grades, and good moments.
He loved Hogwarts, so he figured without being constantly attacked, the year would be mundane, and perhaps fun. Some calm. So, Harry spent his time doing things he liked, and studying because Hermione wouldn’t be helping him as much this year. He and Ron would make sure they’d do fine sans her assistance.
Until his studying had been interrupted by yelling. Okay fine, maybe Harry had been on a study break and was roaming the halls, but he earned a few breaks, defeating Voldemort and all. And well, perhaps Harry could’ve simply ignored it, but… Alright, this was kind of on Harry.
He shoved through the crowd, which was pretty small if he thought about it, and took in the scene in front of him. There was some kid, Harry couldn’t care for their name, especially after seeing Malfoy there.
Despite how unsmart people say he is, Harry wasn’t stupid. He could tell that Malfoy wasn’t in the moment, otherwise he would’ve started sneering at Harry. The kid yelling at Malfoy wasn’t an eighth year, because Harry would have recognized the few that returned.
Harry spoke up, “Malfoy. Malfoy! Malfoy!” Based on how the guy looked at Harry and didn’t say anything, he figured something bad happened, and if that wasn’t enough-
“Sect-” Harry looked on in surprise, and Malfoy ignored him and cast that spell, only Malfoy’s wand was pointed at himself instead of his opponent.
Rapidly intervening, Harry said Expelliarmus, and just as quickly followed it with, “Stupefy!” Which may not have been the best course of action, as it led to Malfoy falling to the ground, unconscious and unarmed, surrounded by people, one of them being the person at the center of this.
Harry had stepped toward the core, planning to interrogate everyone when he’s interrupted.
“What’s going on here?” Somehow, McGonagall had heard about this mess, and stormed her way through the crowd, and now that Harry’s thinking about it, it looks bad when Malfoy’s unconscious, and Harry’s still holding his wand, surrounded by people.
Harry speaks up after there was a short pause. “Profess- Headmistress, I mean, that kid was doing something to Malfoy.” He stopped there kind of awkwardly, not knowing how to go on.
McGonagall eyed him, like he hadn’t defeated Voldemort and was simply a kid standing in the middle of a conflict. “Why do you have his wand? Nevermind. Mr. Malfoy needs the hospital wing, and you,” she gestured toward the person who Harry thought started this mess, “and you, Mr. Potter, will come to my office.
Harry sighed, so much for his nice day, and trailed after her. Glancing at the kid, he wondered who they even were.
Trudheon, Harry learned their name, went through the tale of how they provoked Malfoy, who didn’t speak back, which Harry found strange. The git loved to talk. Then. McGonagall requested what Harry saw, so he provided her with a summary of it all.
McGonagall had spoken with him and the kid, Trudheon, Harry thought, and now she wanted him to stay behind, wonderful. More time taken out of his day for this issue.
“Mr. Potter, I’m wondering how involved in this you were.”
“I literally just told you.”
“Without interference from Mx. Trudheon.”
“I was studying, then I decided to take a break. After that I heard yelling, saw the crowd, spotted Malfoy at the center of it, and tried to get his attention. Malfoy wasn’t listening and went to cast Se- A spell. I stopped him”
McGonagall saw right through him, though Harry didn’t do the best job of hiding it. “What spell?”
Harry sighed, “Sectumsempra.”
“What does that spell do?”
“It lacerates the target.”
“And Mr. Malfoy was going to use it on a seventh year?”
“No! Um, he was going to cast it on himself.” Harry realizes, after his outburst of no, that it’s probably just as bad to use such a spell on yourself.
“Himself? Did he say why?” McGonagall’s frown married her face at this point. All they needed was a ceremony.
“No, he didn’t speak a word the whole time.”
“That is very concerning… Do you still have his wand?”
“Yes?”
“Give it to me.”
Harry dutifully hands the wand to McGonagall, letting her do her job eventually, she hands it back for some reason.
“Keep it for now.”
Harry had absolutely no intention of doing such a thing, lest Malfoy come for him, and he did not want to deal with that, but he nodded. McGonagall should know him better than this.
“You’re dismissed.”
“Thank you, Headmistress.” Harry smiled at her, exiting fairly quickly. Once he left the room, he realized McGonagall also exited and was headed toward the Hospital Wing, meaning he couldn’t give Malfoy his wand. Yet.
Taking a detour to his room to retrieve his invisibility cloak, Harry found one large, shiny fault in his plan. He wouldn’t know when McGonagall finished speaking with Malfoy, plus his friends were likely looking for him.
Heading to a bathroom near enough to the hospital wing, while still not very far from the library, Harry grinned at his brilliant plan. You know what? Even better plan! He’ll just tell McGonagall that he also wanted to know what happened, which he did, partly.
-
Well, that went better than expected… Harry didn’t get hexed or cursed, his friends weren’t brought up or insulted, and he got answers. Not enough answers, but some. Also, speaking of his friends, Harry was not telling them about this, they’d have to find out themselves.
Walking back to the library, Harry decides to give up on studying, favoring chess with Ron, despite the fact that he was almost certainly going to lose.
Now, despite this, Ron still crowed victoriously, as he did all the time. Not all the time, actually, only when Harry or whoever else was being annoying.
Speaking of annoying, Harry thought. Malfoy was rather curt. Wasn’t he supposed to be decorous? What did Harry even do? Help him? Malfoy was also extremely stupid, people couldn’t do whatever they wanted. Aurors were supposed to worry about that. Actually, Harry was going to go back to the hospital wing. He still had more questions, and Malfoy could suck it because the git practically owed him.
Harry saved him, twice, so he should be getting thanked. According to everyone else, at least. If only random girls didn’t go up to him.
Ron roused Harry from his thoughts, “You alright there, mate?”
“Yeah, just thinking about how when we go to the Great Hall, people will come up to me again.”
“It’s alright, Harry, all you have to do is snog one of them and the rest will start crying. Simply solution, really,” Ron joked, shoving Harry.
Harry scoffed, “Then, the Prophet or some other article will be on about it for months, and whoever I snog will think we’re gonna date.”
“Not seeing the downside there. Everyone stops talking about the war, and you get a date? Win-win situation there, innit?”
“I suppose.” Harry thought a little more, all he had to do was date someone, and dating is good, right? Maybe he should-
“Please don’t actually consider it, Harry.” Ron gulped, looking worried. Harry smiled a little, then threw a chess piece at Ron, who glared at him and fumbled to catch it.
“I wasn’t! Kind of.” Harry amended, when Ron just looked at him.
Ron grinned, “Great! Hermione wouldn’t be happy about that.”
“Oh, that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to tell her about your brilliant plan.”
“You wouldn’t! Come on, mate. Remember how I’m your best friend?”
-
Harry did not tell Hermione, and he didn’t snog any girls. Or boys, for that matter. However, what he did was talk to Malfoy.
Over the past few days, Harry visited Malfoy. Which was weird. He only meant to get some answers. Harry really didn’t mean to start enjoying Malfoy’s company.
And he didn’t! Harry was only beginning to, he didn’t actually enjoy it. Yet. Also, Ron and Hermione weren’t aware of it, so Harry was doing good.
Malfoy had managed to get Harry to go on a walk with him, where they talked more. Honestly, they talked a concerning amount these days. Their conversation was technically civil, but not quite, Harry thought, lying awake in bed.
Malfoy seemed to be going slightly insane, but at least he didn’t say the ‘m’ slur anymore, so that was good? When Harry brought up Ron, Malfoy didn’t start talking about blood traitors or anything so that was also good. He was still an irritating prat, but at least he didn’t talk about such tense topics.
The war wasn’t really mentioned, ignoring the Dark Lord part.
Though, that begged a question. Why was Malfoy afraid of silence? It didn’t make sense. There were far scarier things.
Notes:
This chapter is exactly the same length as the last one, 1499 words.
Chapter 5
Summary:
Harry rolled his eyes and kicked at Ron’s still crumpled form. Ron groaned in response, “I can’t believe you’re making us talk to the ferret instead of sleeping.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Harry, are you alright? You look pretty tired… Have the nightmares come back?” Hermione asked, worriedly, looking up from her food.
Ron opened his mouth while chewing, ignoring Hermione when she rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah, mate.You know, if you need anything I’m here, right?
Harry trusted his friends. Really, he did. However, he didn’t exactly want to be questioned right now. Which meant he was not going to mention Malfoy. He also didn’t want to worry his friends, but that was unavoidable.
“No nightmares… just having a hard time going to sleep.” This was true. Kinda, but that was as good as it’d get.
“Alright, but if this keeps up, you should get it checked out. It’s not healthy.” Hermione continued, Ron nodding along to her words.
“I’ll be fine, really, ‘mione.”
“Now that we’re done fretting over Harry like usual, do either of you want to lend a hand to your best friend, and give me one of your essays?” Ron entreated, a hopeful look on his face, because while he may not get answers every time, he could occasionally get something from Harry.
“Cheating again, Ron?” Harry laughed.
Ron objected immediately, pointing his fork at Harry. “It’s not cheating! It’s using my resources to help me gain knowledge. I haven’t a clue about this essay.”
“I could just give you some reccomendations.” Hermione countered, sighing, because they had this debate at least once a month. Different outcomes each time, of course. Ron never gave up on asking, which was good.
“But then I still have to read all the books! At least give me a prompt.”
“It’s our final year! Do the work yourself for once.”
“I always do because you never help me other than throwing five books at me.”
This time, Hermione ignored him. “Did you guys hear about those kids attacking Malfoy? Well, I know you did, Harry, but they haven’t given up apparently.”
“How do you know this, Hermione? Where do you even get this information?” Harry inquired, before shoveling food into his mouth.
“It’s called talking to more than two people every day.” Hermione jested.
“Hey, I talk to several people a day!” Ron retorted, and Harry chimed in with agreement
Hermione raised an eyebrow at the both of them. “About?”
“Uh…” Harry thought, drawing a blank.
“Quidditch, chess, and… and other things.” Ron spoke confidently, then slowed at the end.
“See, Harry? Ron, if you only talk about games, you don’t get any information!”
Ron quickly refuted her claim, putting down his bite of food that was precariously balanced on his fork. “I didn’t say we only talked about games! The other things category is miscellaneous stuff. That’s like the whole point of conversations, talking about random things. Why would I bring up every thing I’ve ever spoken about?”
“Yeah, that’s also what I meant by ‘uh’.” Harry asserted, knowing full well that was not in fact, what he meant.
Hermione knew it too, and so did Ron. “Sure it is. Back to the original topic.”
“Must we talk about Malfoy? There’s so many other things in the world. So many!” Ron whined, glowering at Hermione, who simply smiled back.
Harry would have agreed except he had no room to talk. He looked between them, “‘Mione, what are we even supposed to say? It’s not exactly surprising they’re not giving up.” Malfoy had done a lot of resentful things in his past seven years.
Hermione was not the least bit deterred. “Yes, I know, I just wondered if you had any idea what they’re planning. Whoever decided to duel him was stupid, there’s plenty of other things like-”
Ron interrupted her, begging them to stop the conversation, or change it. “There has to be some other topic for gossip! We talked about Malfoy enough in sixth year. That git is not important to my life in any way.”
Hermione glanced at him, eyes ablaze. “Don’t interrupt me Ronald! As I was saying, wouldn’t it be a better idea to slip him a potion?”
“Hermione, don’t tell me you’re part of the people plotting.”
“Of course not! Malfoy’s still in the hospital wing, and I’d never kick someone while they’re down.” She said, offended, as if she hadn’t trapped a person in a bottle.
Harry stared blankly at her. “You’re going to trap him in a jar like you did to Rita Skeeter.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. That was fourth year! I’m much more creative than that now, besides Malfoy isn’t even an animagus.” Hermione scoffed, glaring at him.
“Please do much worse,” Ron grinned at her, joining back into the discussion, once again through a mouthful of food.
Harry sighed, looking down at his food. He hadn’t even mentioned Malfoy to them, and yet somehow, they were talking about him. Malfoy would probably be flattered at the prospect of having their attention.
Neville turned to them, “...Why are you talking about keeping people in jars? You’re in school.”
“Well, this school happens to be where the person in the jar was when they got trapped in a jar.” Harry smiled, very innocently.
“Many things happened in this school.” Neville seemed concerned, glancing between the three of them. Everyone should be concerned, actually. They’re children who lived through a war. They were at the center of it.
Ron did not care in the least, “Don’t worry, Neville. You’re not the person getting trapped in a jar.”
“No one’s getting trapped in a jar!” Hermione hissed at him.
“Because you’re going to do worse.” Ron shot back.
Neville, for some reason, looked less concerned.“Don’t be shy, tell me your plans.”
Hermione glared at the three boys, “There are no plans.”
“Yet.” Ron and Harry said in unison, and Neville squinted at Hermione. For a second, he seemed like he was going to question it more, but then, he stopped squinting.
Neville, “So what were you talking about, if there are no plans to trap people in jars.”
All at once, Ron scowled, “Malfoy” while Harry played it off in a completely normal tone, “Nothing important.” Hermione readily answered, “How idiotic whoever dueled Malfoy was.”
Harry threw toast at Ron, but it just landed on his plate, so Ron picked it up and ate it. Harry glared at him, and grabbed himself a new piece of toast.
Neville responded to Hermione because she was the only one who actually told information. “Who dueled Malfoy?”
“Some kid.” Harry groaned.
“How didn’t you hear about this?” Hermione asked.
Neville shrugged. “I don’t care about conversations held by other people.”
“This one was held by other people until you joined it!” Ron protested
“Can’t I be concerned for my friends after a war?”
Hermione ignores them, “Anyway, Neville, I was telling them about how it would’ve been more practical to do it subtly. They were a seventh year, so they’re held more responsible for their decisions. Making a spectacle means they get caught, and if you get caught, you don’t finish the job.”
“I think you’re taking this a little too seriously. Didn’t Malfoy go on trial?”
“Yes. Though he did plenty of things, like attempted murder, torturing people, also, have you forgotten what he did before the war? He isn’t exactly a good person.”
“So, you think he should’ve gone to Azkaban.”
“No, I think he shouldn’t be back at Hogwarts. It’s-”
“If he wasn’t allowed at Hogwarts, what would he do? I agree, Malfoy’s an arse, but, with no opportunities, what would he do? ‘Mione, people are not going to be jumping at the prospect of hiring an ex death eater whether he was at N.E.W.T. level or not. Besides, the ministry would probably strip him of his rights if he gave someone a tiny hex.”
“Harry, the ministry keeping an eye on him isn’t nearly enough! There’s seven years worth of things he’s done that should’ve gotten him in trouble before now. Do you really think he deserves a good job?”
“What happened to rights for everyone? You think because a kid did what his father wanted him to do, he has less worth than a house elf?”
“Fifteen is more than old enough to think for yourself!”
“We were still listening to Dumbledore’s instructions then! If he did change his mind who would he go to?”
“Why are you defending him?”
“If I don’t, who will?”
“What does that mean? You know how he was more than the rest of us!”
“Which is why I’m defending him!”
“Guys! This is why I said we shouldn’t talk about him. Why are we dwelling on this? What’s done is done!”
“Really, Ron? Less than two years ago you wouldn’t have said that!”
“Less than two years ago Fred wasn’t dead! At some point, you realise, no matter what you do, you can’t bring someone back.”
Hermione remains glaring at the two of them, before storming off. Harry sighed and turned to Ron.
Ron glances at the spot Hermione left, “Look, mate, I hate Malfoy as much as she does, but I don’t think it’s worth it to try to get revenge. What could we do that’s worse than living with Voldemort? Anyway, for someone like him, I’m sure public scorn is more than enough. ”
Harry stands up, gesturing for Ron to do the same, and they prepare to leave, heading to class. “Just because I defended him, doesn’t mean I don’t hate him. I only defended him because he went on trial. The ministry hates him, and no one’s going to hire him. His life is shit now.”
-
Harry tried getting Hermione to talk to him, but she wouldn’t even talk to Ron. That was, until classes had ended.
“Harry, I’m sorry. It’s just.. I don’t like people getting away with hurting others.”
“He’s not-”
“I know. In my opinion, he deserves worse. But I get what you were trying to say.”
“Thanks.” Harry paused thinking for a second, “Actually, I have something to talk to you guys about.” So Harry began the tale of how he spoke to Malfoy, almost every night. He told them what they talked about, what they did, and of course, the time Malfoy convinced him to walk around the castle at night only to do nothing.
“Hang on, weren’t you already walking around the castle at night if you were in the hospital wing?”
“Technically.”
“Harry, are you sure you should be doing that? It’s clearly bad for your sleep schedule, and is it so important that you talk to Malfoy? It’s your final Hogwarts year! Study and get good grades.”
“I do! My grades are perfectly fine, thank you.”
“Still, spending all that time with Malfoy is a little concerning. Is that why you’re defending him? Did he give you some sad story?”
Oh, that was what Harry left out. “Well, Malfoy is sort of suicidal.”
“What?” Ron gaped at him, shock extremely evident on his face, and Hermione mirrored him.
“Why?”
Harry frowned. “He didn’t really tell me, but when we argued about the random attacks on him, he kept saying he deserved it. And he tried to use Sectumsempra.”
“On you?” Ron was worried about him.
“No, himself.” Harry said with a straight face, and earnest tone.
A puzzled expression took over him. “You’re not taking the piss here, are you?”
“I’m not. This is what happened. If you want, you guys can come with me this time.” Harry huffed, throwing a quill at Ron. Now that he thought about it, they throw stuff at each other a lot. He needs to come up with something else.
“You’re going again?” Hermione raised an eyebrow.
Ron looked at Harry like he was mental. “No thanks.”
“Yes, I’m going again. It’s part of my routine at this point.” Harry glared at Ron.
Ron appeared to need to let out the biggest shit of his life. “Please don’t go again.”
Hermione acknowledged them both. “Shut up, Ron. I-”
“Why are you bullying me, ‘Mione? Don’t you love me?” Ron lamented, putting his head down with a groan. Hermione patted his shoulder.
“Yes, Ron. However, your statement was unnecessary. We both know he’ll go anyway. I’ll go. What time?”
“Fine, I’ll go, too.”
Harry stared at the ceiling as if it’d reveal the answer. “I don’t know. Anytime? But I normally use my invisibility cloak to get there, I’m not sure you guys will make it.”
“It’s fine, I have a way.”
“Yeah, Harry, are you underestimating us?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, wow, you know you wouldn’t have made it through the war without us.”
Harry rolled his eyes and kicked at Ron’s still crumpled form. Ron groaned in response, “I can’t believe you’re making us talk to the ferret instead of sleeping.”
Notes:
This was fun who's ready for a Draco and Hermione vs Ron and Harry?
✌️ It's really going to be Hermione vs Draco vs Ron and Harry, if you consider who's working with who.
Chapter 6
Summary:
“Is this a nightmare?” Draco asked, looking at the Weasley, Granger, and Potter standing across from him. What the fuck.
“It’s one for both of us, trust me,” The Weasel replied, glaring at his two friends. Wonderful. Three Gryffindors, one slytherin. Three war heroes, one Death Eater.
Notes:
Okay, I lied it's not time for Hermione vs Draco vs Harry and Ron, yet.
Took awhile bc the moment I posted last chapter I burnt my finger 😟😟✌️
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Draco was having a lovely day. Spectacular, even. He practiced dumb spells, wrote letters to his friends. He did school work, and it was enjoyable and interesting. Potter hadn’t visited him the past few days, so he prepared to sleep. It was going to be perfect.
He was half asleep, when he heard whispering, so he sat up.
Why the fuck are uninjured Gryffindors in the Hospital wing in the middle of the night?
“Is this a nightmare?” Draco asked, looking at the Weasley, Granger, and Potter standing across from him. What the fuck.
“It’s one for both of us, trust me,” The Weasel replied, glaring at his two friends. Wonderful. Three Gryffindors, one slytherin. Three war heroes, one Death Eater.
“Right. Potter, was my company so pleasant that you had to invite your friends along?”
“I thought you said he was self-deprecating now,” Weasley muttered, as if Draco’s ears had stopped working. Being the wonderful person he was, Draco didn’t even acknowledge it. They sat in silence for a minute before Draco spoke up.
“Why are we here sitting in silence when I could be sleeping?”
“Never thought I’d live to see the day where I agree with the ferret twice.” Weasley once again agreed with Draco. Why was he even here then?
“Good question!” Potter chirped, like the fucking maniac he was.
“Yes, while I know there’s so much to praise me for, what’s the answer to the question?”
Granger cut to the chase. Finally, no more beating around the bush. Draco did love that muggle expression, ever since he was forced to read some muggle literature. It really was strange that the Ministry thought that was the important part of his punishment, but he did enjoy it nonetheless. Muggles were interesting.
Granger was speaking to him, it seemed. Oops. Though, she was looking at Potter as she said it. “-him wrong.”
“Wait. What happened? I wasn’t listening.” If it were only Potter, Draco would’ve divulged the fascinating thought.
“Basically, Hermione thinks that people should attack you.”
“I didn’t say that-” She started.
Draco rolls his eyes. What happened to not beating around the bush? “Well, she’s right, isn’t she?”
“Are we sure he isn’t faking it?” Weasley yawned, getting into an adjacent bed.
Draco scoffed, glaring at all three of them, which was weird since he had to shift his gaze. He pulled the blanket around himself. “What, want to give me veritaserum?”
Granger seemed to think about it before shaking her head. Draco spoke first.
“You do know some people can resist it, right?
“What if we asked you whether you could resist after giving it to you?” Potter proposed, and Weasley sighed, despite the fact that he held a pillow over his eyes, to block the Lumos that both Granger and Potter were casting.
Granger was already prepped to counter him. “If he could, he’d say he couldn’t, but if he couldn’t, he’d said you couldn’t.”
“Even if it were possible for that question to work, Potter, it all depends on whether I believe it. If I think I can resist it but can’t I would think I could resist it so I’d say I can.” Draco was not going to let Granger beat him.
Potter drooped, his wand pointing toward the floor for a moment before he remembered it.”So Veritaserum is extremely unreliable and practically useless.”
Draco soughed this time. Unimaginative Gryffindors. “Well, I wouldn’t say useless. Say you wanted to embarrass someone. Using it would be fine for you whether it works or doesn’t, unless you get caught. Alternatively, you could play some games with it. The only problem is it’s controlled by the Ministry.”
“Why does it sound like you’ve thought about this?” Potter and Weasley both looked concerned and if Draco were paying attention, he would’ve known who said it.
“Because I just thought about it? What, did you think the words spilled from my mouth without my brain involved in a single part?”
“What if people aren’t immune to it and just need more potion?” Weasley asked, moving to lay the wrong way on the bed, propping his feet up on the pillow that had been on his face.
“We said resistant, not immune.” Granger corrected.
Weasley hummed before responding sleepily, closing his eyes for longer than necessary as he blinked. “Well, if they’re resistant, use more of the bloody potion.”
Surprisingly, Granger didn’t even criticize him for sleeping in the presence of someone she didn’t trust. Gryffindors do have restraint after all. “What if you use too much on someone who can’t resist?”
“They tell secrets for longer? Or worse secrets?” Potter chimed in.
“Then give them the antidote… Weasley might be onto something here..” Draco thought, replicating Weasley’s action of closing his eyes longer than needed. Honestly, how wasn’t Potter tired? Did he do nothing all day?
“But the potion is resisted through Occlumency.” Granger eyed both of them.
Draco waved his hand flippantly and gracefully at her. “That’s only one way! Besides, how exactly can Occlumency block it?”
“What?” She blinked at him, as if she’s shocked he had the audacity to ask how Occlumency blocked it. Which wasn’t what he meant, thank you very much.
Glaring at her, he rephrased it.“What are the mechanics of it?”
“Good point… “ Granger conceded.
“Wait, Occlumency is a fake layer of mentality or something like that. Which means the person using it knows it’s fake… right? How else would you know whether someone’s an Occlumens? And Veritaserum is about what they believe. So, for Occlumency to work against Veritaserum, you’d have to believe it’s real, right? So how can you use Occlumency to counter Veritaserum?” Weasley came back with another astoundingly well thought out point.
“Wow, look at you guys getting along! Let’s not talk about this.” Potter glowered at them, like he wasn’t the one who assembled them here on this fine night.
“Forgive me for being an intellectual, Potter. At least Weasley joined it with a… decent point.”
“Hurt you to say that, did it?” Weasley guffawed, even though he should be asleep by now. Asleep!
Draco grit his teeth. “Yes, in fact.”
“Isn’t there a reason we’re here?” Potter protested again, this time impacting the conversation. They didn’t spend ten minutes discussing something unimportant to the main topic. Bollocks, that meant they’d be here longer.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t listening when it was said why.”
Granger stared at him. “Do you think you deserve to be at Hogwarts?”
“What does it matter what I think? No matter the answer, people don’t like me and that’s that. It’s lucky enough that I’m not in Azkaban.”
“Should Death Eaters be around children?” The only one who seemed to care about this topic pressed.
“Why are you asking me like I’m the pinnacle of proper morals? No, I guess. Riddle me this, should eighteen year olds be around children? No, but Hogwarts is still eleven to about that age.” Can she shut up now?
Weasley spoke again. Was he not asleep when Draco mocked him? “True.”
“Weasley, stop agreeing with me.”
“No, Ron, keep agreeing with him so you become friends, then you can come to the hospital wing with me every night!” Potter looked gleeful at the prospect. Creepy, honestly.
However, there was a more pressing matter.“Who the fuck said we’re friends, Potter? Because that’s what you implied.”
“You invited me for a stroll around the castle.” Why is Potter phrasing it like they’re to chums? That was not what happened.
“There were no invites! I left and you followed.” Draco objected, throwing his pillow at Potter. His Pillow then hit the floor, so Draco began mourning the item, and stared at it, and at this moment, he imagined he was a muggle. A sad life, the ones they live. To think, they have to machine wash things. They really had ‘pillow fights’? Draco then Accio’d and Scourgified it.
“You literally kept pace with me the whole time.”
“Potter, I will brandish my memories in front of all of you with a pensieve if necessary.” Draco said, with a completely straight face, even though he absolutely would not be doing that anytime soon.
Weasley was still awake. Splendid. “Harry, I just want you to know, even if I were friends with the ferret, you won’t catch me here in the middle of the night again.”
“Thank you, Weasley. While you’re at it, can you prevent Potter from coming too?”
“Nope!” Bollocks, the git was clearly not a fan of his, even after all this bonding.
“Fuck you. I don’t regret that Weasley is Our King song.” Unfortunately, Weasley chose now to fall asleep. What happened to Draco’s good day? Why must Gryffindors ruin everything?
“Can we stay on topic for one fucking conversation?” Potter begged, and at some point he’d taken off his glasses. Huh.
“No.” Weasley and Draco chorused. They’re not even friends, how does that happen?
Draco wonders if Potter will get angry if he tries to make Granger angry… Worth a try, as all his plans were. “Certainly. So, do you need anything, or can I sleep now?” Not saying anything obvious.
“Depends. Do you regret what you did, or do you regret that you got in trouble?”
Clearly, they thought Draco would answer with the first one, which is stupid because why would they doubt him, then?
“Of course I regret that I got in trouble,” he said, just to watch all of their faces twist with anger. Well, Potter’s face was both confused and angry. A beautiful combination. Draco continued, “Who wouldn’t? Think about it.”
“You haven’t changed a bit then,” Granger spat, whipping out her wand with a vengeance. It would’ve been scary, if he hadn’t lived with Voldemort. When she started to move closer, Draco quickly thought differently.
He was still going to piss them off.
“You Gryffindors see things from one side. The people you hurt are still people, no?” And again, in an attempt to rile Potter up, he added, “Like when you used Sectumsempra on me, Potter. That can cause scarring, you know? Pain inflicted on bad people is still pain inflicted. You just don’t care.”
“I care-” Potter began indignantly, like what he said had importance.
“Do you? Anyhow, the way I see it, we’re all bad people?”
Granger gasped scandalously. Well. It was a very neutral gasp and he honestly couldn’t tell what it conveyed. “How are we bad people? You-”
“Good effort, Granger. I said ‘we.’” Draco may have said that too aggressively for someone trying to keep their head down. Fuck this. Actually, ever since Potter started harassing him, Draco became less quiet. That tosser. Breathing in, because according to the mind healer the ministry forced him into seeing, breathing is good for reining in emotions. Draco might have to admit she was right about this one. This time at least. Usually, it didn’t work. “You trapped someone in a jar. You also permanently scarred Marrieta Edgecomb.”
“Malfoy, how do you even know this?” Potter demanded, for some reason standing beside his bed. And Weasley’s as well.
“I’m a Slytherin. We know things, especially things we shouldn’t.”
“I wasn’t aware that was-”
“Shut up, Harry. Please.”
“Thank you, Ron.” Granger slowly put her wand away, and Draco stared. You should never put away your wand in front of people you distrust, unless they’re in no position to attack you. “Malfoy, I did those because they were doing things that were wrong.”
“Do one wrong thing, and people can do whatever to you?”
“No!” She said horrified, as if she hadn’t implied it.
“I get you needed your little club,” he sneered at this part, “but permanently scarring people over it? That’s not really being the epitome of good and kindness. You are just as bad as me.”
Weasley’s face flushed angrily, and it was quite unflattering. His hair was red enough for the rest of him. “Hold on! She did it to save all of us! What’s your excuse?”
“I’m sorry, what you’re saying is that if I do something to save someone, I’m good? Perfect! I did it because Voldemort is a fucking psychopath who was going to kill my family if I didn’t do what he wanted. Look at that! Now, we’re all good people. Shall we hold hands and prance through flower fields now?” Draco finished with an angry gesture, glaring at Potter and Granger, not Weasley, since he was in bed. Draco blinked, and realized. Merlin, he was dreadfully bad at keeping his temper in check and being quiet.
Granger glared right back, while Potter appeared to be pondering. Granger spoke first, naturally. “You had other options.” She announced, and this was why he wasn’t interested in girls or gryffindors. No sense of self preservation! Couldn’t she quit while she was ahead?
“Did I? If I tried to switch sides, that wouldn’t have turned out well. And no, I couldn’t have just not become a Death Eater at all. Younger me was rather eager to follow in my father’s footsteps.” This was embarrassing. And awkward, he’s sitting on a bed, Weasley next to him, with Granger and Potter across from him. This couldn’t be his life now. Crabbe did not die for this, he thought, which then turned into him trying not to cry. Draco did not blink, as he learnt through experience, blinking back tears doesn’t work, and tries not to let grief swallow him.
It appears Draco has made a breakthrough, when not a single Gryffindor opens their mouths. All that he needed now was to start shutting his own mouth.
Weasley speaks through a yawn, “Now that we’ve had this lovely debate of good vs evil, are we done?” And he agrees with Weasley. Again. This is like twin flame stuff, which was not good. Thank the fourth crease in Salazar’s toe, that wasn’t true. Pansy, Blaise, Greg, anyone, he thinks, send help.
Weasley is, sadly, ignored.
“Granger, please leave and take your boyfriend. Potter, too.”
Granger narrowed her eyes. “One more question.”
“Fine.”
“Why’d you take the Dark Mark?”
“I don’t know, Granger. The thought of torturing people delighted me. That’s a joke. Because it was either my family or theirs. I chose the one that suited me, considering my Father had the mark already, and I was stupid. Go away.”
“Wait! Malfoy, I have a question.” What happened to the last question?
“What?”
“Why don’t you like silence?”
“I just prefer the screams of tortured people. Also a joke.” Draco laid down and pulled a blanket over his head, while Weasley did the opposite.
The trio looked pained, from what little he could see. “Please stop joking about that. Wait, no, I mean, stop joking about that right now. It’s unsettling.”
“It also devaulizes the lives lost.” Granger glares. Scary lady.
“Alright, fine. I hope you never come back.” They do leave, finally.
In a small corner of his mind, one Draco heavily guards, he thinks, rather gleefully, that he upset Potter.
Notes:
I wrote this twice with to versions because I went off track in the first one so I wrote one on track, but I thought Hermione and Draco would definitely go off track. In this context, at least. So, I combined them!
Please comment i beg of you i need feedback please if you comment itll make my day ☹️
Chapter 7
Summary:
“How would you know? You don’t know me.” His jaw clenched, and Draco blinked back any emotion.
“Yes, I do!” Potter insisted on shoving his wand up at Draco, as a demonstration of his pathetic lack of control.
Draco corrected him. “No. You know the worst of me.”
“That’s enough.” Potter remembered himself, and put his wand down, stepping back. He didn’t put it away, however. Why did this always happen? Not once did Draco take out his own wand.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Harry Potter was back. Why was he always here? Doesn’t he have like a billion other people to talk to, instead of Draco? At least it was morning.
“Malfoy.” Potter growled, as if Draco was the one to seek him out. His nose wrinkled, Draco had done enough of that in his past years.
“What, Potter?” Draco started, then snapped his mouth shut. Today was the day he mastered this.
“Why did you purposely antagonize Hermione?” Potter demanded, while Draco stared at him. He didn’t move. Draco simply watched Potter, watched as he clenched his fists, as Potter’s face contorted.
“Well?” Potter demanded furiously, and Draco realized how worth it not talking was. He thought it would make people ignore him, not make them angrier. This could be fun. He didn’t even have to do anything. Draco inwardly smiled.
Potter began to rant. “Hermione spent all night researching psychology or philosophy or something, then this morning, she demanded that she come back to talk to you. She has a whole argument curated already! Plus, Ron said he also wanted to come back for some reason. I don’t know why he wants to come, but it’s probably to watch Hermione annihilate you in an argument.”
Immediately, Draco responded, “Just say my company is more pleasant than yours, Potty.” Salazar, he was bad at this. It’s fine, Potter already hates him, there’s nothing he could really say to make it worse, he muses.
“Oh, now you’re talking?”
“Yes. I had a plan of ignoring you the whole day, but I impulsively had to take this risk. It was the Gryffindor thing to do, you know? Also, don’t worry about your friends, I get out of here tomorrow.”
“Brilliant.” Potter grimaced, before, “Wait, why were you ignoring me?” Draco, luckily, did not feel compelled to reply, and smirked at Potter. Then, his smirk dropped as he remembered something.
Draco began to go through his bag, which he only had because they made sure he did his work, searching for a quill. Paper too, of course.
Potter looked at him, puzzled, but only watched. Draco glanced up from his writing, raising an eyebrow in question.
“What are you doing?”
Deliberately, Draco dragged his gaze from Potter, to his quill, then back at Potter. Ha, he didn’t speak to Potter twice in a row! He was getting better already.
“I know you’re writing, but what?”
This time, Draco didn’t bother speaking or signalling to Potter. Finally, Potter huffs and storms out. He’s granted with some silence, so he begins to write more.
“Did you know there are Wrackspurts in here?”
Draco jerked to a stop in his writing, and looked up, brows furrowed, to see Luna Lovegood. Was this his life? The only people who talk to him are people who helped Potter through the war. Lovely.
Draco continued to gawk at her, refusing to respond. He had many questions these days, and Luna, in her frivolous manner, only added to it. What was a Wrackspurt? He swept his gaze around the room. What do you even say to someone who was held captive in your house? Someone who fought on the opposite side of war than you? The Golden trio didn’t count, he very much enjoyed being an arse to them.
Luna looked at him, and he looked at her, and for some reason they were having a staring contest.
“Hi, Lovegood?” Draco said, frowning at the lack of confidence he had.
“Hi, Draco,” she said airily, “How are you? I think you’ll be okay, the only constant in life is change. There’s been a lot of Wrackspurts around lately.”
“Right… And those are?” Draco made a face at her, and ignored the wise words she’d given him.
Lovegood was an interesting person, based on the way she held her goggle things out to
Draco, like he knew what they were. “Invisible.”
“What?” He asked, gently pushing them back to her. Lovegood put them on. Alright. Draco was mildly surprised she could fix them behind her ears, given her straggly hair.
“They’re invisible and also float. Have you been unfocused? They can do that. I hope you don’t have Wrackspurts.” Draco would’ve thanked her, if he had a clue about what she’s talking about.
“I don’t know? Do you feel it when Wrackspurts make you unfocused? Is it, like, a distinct feeling?”
“Of course, though it doesn’t hurt. They zoom into your ear. Don’t worry though, the Wrackspurts do it for fun. You can always expel them with positive thoughts,” she said absently, as though she explained it a lot. Lovegood walked closer to the bed.
She pulled out… Something, and placed it on Draco’s head. It looked like a ring of teeth, and he felt vaguely unsettled.
“Okay. Lovegood. Do you explain this a lot or something? Also, what are these?”
“Oh yes,” Lovegood blinked, “No one ever knows what Wrackspurts are. They’re very real. Those are teeth, silly.”
Draco gulped. This was a situation. He almost prefers Potter to this. Almost. “...From what? I’m not exactly for animal cruelty, despite everything.” He tried to joke, failing miserably.
Lovegood seemed offended, but slightly, because she didn’t care for what people thought. Or that’s what it appeared like, until Draco squinted at her. Somehow, she was completely relaxed. If only Draco could master this. Lovegood still smiled at him, “Don’t be frothy,” and Draco had to take a moment. “Dabberblimps don’t need teeth.”
“Two things, Lovegood, two. What in both the wizarding world and muggle world does ‘don’t be frothy mean? Also, who mentioned Dabberblimps?”
“It’s a creature that lives in water. They don’t need teeth.”
“Lovegood, what does this have to do with the teeth?”
“Everything.” She didn’t expand, but floated through the room.
Draco sighed. “You know what? I’m calling you Luna now.”
“Umgubular Slashkilters-”
“Hold on. Start from the beginning. What are Dabberblimps?”
At some point, while he and Luna were discussing various creatures, Potter walked in, so naturally Draco let Luna talk.
“Oh, hello Harry.”
“Hey, Luna. Malfoy.” Potter kept his eyes on Draco. Weird. Draco was gorgeous, but
Potter never cared before. Draco narrowed his eyes.
If anyone but Luna had been there, an awkward pause while they waited for Draco to respond would’ve slid right in. Instead, “I was telling Draco about Flounaks. They’re cute, don’t you think?”
Draco nodded his agreement, glancing back at Potter, and sighed, but didn’t speak.
“What are those? You’ve never told me about them!”
This time, there was awkward silence, because Luna laughed at him, and disregarded his statement. “Isn’t the crown I gave Draco divine?”
Draco reeled back only the tiniest bit, so it went unnoticed. He reached up to touch it, since he’d forgotten it was there.
Potter went back to openly gazing at Draco, “It’s,” he cleared his throat, “uh, unique?”
Luna hummed, “There’s Dahminaster in the room.”
Draco tilted his head, “Luna, you’re going to have to make me a list. Was that the one that-”
Both him and Potter froze, as Luna looked caught off guard. Nearly imperceptible, but Draco was good enough to see it, and Potter froze for a different reason. If the light flush of his cheeks was anything to go by. Probably angry that Draco is friends with Luna now. Or, that Draco spoke to Luna and not him.
“Lists are boring, I’ll give you a chart.” She then appeared to wander off. It was fascinating.
Potter stood there. Draco sat. Potter needed to get a hobby. Surely he has friends. No words were exchanged, so Draco picked up his quill again.
Maman,
I hope this letter finds you well, of course. I’m doing well, considering I’ve been in the hospital wing for weeks. I’m not even injured, but they’re going to allow me to resume regular classes tomorrow.
Potter keeps talking to me. It’s rather creepy, he visits at night, purely to bother me. But the joke’s on him, I’ve figured out to annoy him without doing anything. If I do it enough, he’ll leave, surely.
Last night, he brought Granger and Weasley. And even more disturbingly, I agreed with him! Multiple times. Me, agreeing with Weasley is unheard of. Contrary to what I said before, I might be going mental. Not only Gryffindors, but Luna Lovegood too.
The food in the hospital wing is the same as all Hogwarts food. Bland. Could I persuade you to send me anything with flavor? This is utterly dreadful. Did you-
Potter cleared his throat, “It was nice of you to humor Luna.”
“Humor her? Malfoys don’t humor people, Potter.” Bollocks. How did Potter always manage to get him to talk one way or another? Maybe Draco needs a plan.
Potter, rather awfully, doubted him. “Right, and you’re telling me you’ll listen to her seriously about Wrackspurts and Nargles, but not Hermione about the war? Nevermind, that does sound like you, because ‘Mione’s a muggleborn.” Way to spoil a guy’s day. Draco didn’t need to have a good day anyway.
“No, it’s because the War’s already happened so what am I meant to do? Am I supposed to beg the Ministry for more punishment? You know what? If you get Granger to say it to my face, I’ll do it. Good bit of fun?” Draco threw his quill, after trying to aim around Potter’s glasses so it would poke the tosser in the eye. While it did throw Potter off, considering he expected wand attacks, it unfortunately didn’t hit his eye, so they remained the same pair of green eyes they’d always been.
“Brilliant. Now you’re trying to harm me without your wand, “ Potter mutters, bending over to pick the quill up ungracefully. Everyone knows you should squat down to pick stuff up, Draco thought, wishing he had another quill out. Potter tossed it back at him, not even bothering to aim with the intention of hitting Draco, “I’m not going to let you go to Azkaban. I thought that was clear the first time!”
“Why would it be clear? We’re not friends, Potter.”
“That’s pretty evident, Malfoy.” Potter tried to emphasize Draco’s name as much as he did Potter’s, but ended up looking like a Flounak, much to Draco’s dismay. At least Draco was better at this. It was sad how short his list of talents were.
“Bye, Potter.”
“Who said I was leaving?”
“The only other person in this room,” Draco lamented, laying down on his bed. Did people come here to flaunt their world saving skills or something? On the one day, he summoned the energy to write to his mother, Potter came in twice, and Lovegood visited. At least Luna was fun. Draco yawned before sitting up again; there was no way he was going to lay down in front of Potter, of all people.
“Sometimes… Sometimes I think-” Potter had started, sounding an awful lot like he was preparing to rant to Draco.
“No,” Draco glared. “Talk to a mind healer, not me.”
“A what?”
Draco honestly didn’t know how anyone was this stupid. His statement was rather clear. “A mind healer? Potter, you may not have been raised in the wizarding world, but you’ve been here for nearly eight years. Eight. You mean to tell me that out of all the advice and wisdom Granger imparts on you, she didn’t tell you about mind healers. Or Luna, for that matter. Aren’t you friends with her? She seems like she’d tell you advice like this.”
Potter looked irritated, and his hand went to his wand before he stopped. Lovely, such manners. “Can you stop monologuing and get to the point? What’s a mind healer?”
“Don’t muggles have mind healers? Surely they have to,” Draco frowned.
Potter’s ugly little green eyes were focused on him. In many cases, such as ones involving authority figures, glasses could add to the intensity of the glare. Potter’s case, on the other hand, was completely different. “Shut up, and tell me what a bloody mind healer is!”
“It’s pretty, clear, isn’t it? Context clues, Potter. They heal your mind.” He pauses. “I’m sure I read some muggle books with mind healers.” Draco muttered this part to himself, ignoring Potter.
“A little more detail would be nice.” Potter’s growl was undignified.
“Well, what they do is help you with mental health. My mind healer said I had some acronym I don’t remember.” That was a lie. Draco knew exactly what the acronym was, but he wasn’t telling Harry Potter, defeater of Death Eaters, about it.
“Why would I need one of those?”
Everything out of the Gryffindors mouth was stupid. “For health. Mentally, of course.”
Potter, shockingly, had a genuinely confused look on his face., and crossed arms. “Yes, but why me?”
“Are you okay? You went through a war. I don’t think your mental health is all that good, hero boy.” Draco taunted, standing up, just because he was taller than Potter.
Potter took the bait, this time whipping his wand out. “You say that like you’re seeing a mind healer.”
“Was my previous comment unclear? I remember mentioning mine.” Draco scrunched up his face.
“You’re not seeing one willingly.” Potter seemed so sure of himself.
“How would you know? You don’t know me.” His jaw clenched, and Draco blinked back any emotion.
“Yes, I do!” Potter insisted on shoving his wand up at Draco, as a demonstration of his pathetic lack of control.
Draco corrected him. “No. You know the worst of me.”
“That’s enough.” Potter remembered himself, and put his wand down, stepping back. He didn’t put it away, however. Why did this always happen? Not once did Draco take out his own wand.
“Not nearly enough. No matter how badly you want to believe it, people aren’t one thing. Is knowing only the good parts of someone knowing them?”
“Yes!”
Rolling his eyes, Draco refuted Potter’s claim. “So you’re saying I know, say you’re girlfriend, Ginevra Weasley? I know some good things about her, I’m sure.”
“Ex-girlfriend. And, of course you don’t know her!”
“And you don’t know me.”
Potter stormed out, so Draco collapsed on his bed. If there was anything he knew, it was that he was absolutely knackered, and that he wouldn’t finish his letter to his mother. Also that he desperately needed to stop talking to Potter.
Notes:
Guys i just want to write their relationship why are they so difficult 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔😭
ALSO WHY AIS MY PUBLICATION DATE ALWAYS AAY JUNE 4TH IS THIS NORMAL
Chapter 8
Summary:
Hermione was thoughtful. “A mind healer… I’d forgotten about those!”
“You, forgetting something?” Harry and Ron both looked at her. Hermione forgot things, only sometimes.
She rolled her eyes, “Yes, that’s how the brain works. I can, in fact, forget stuff.”
Chapter Text
Harry stormed out of the Hospital Wing. Malfoy, of all people, was lecturing him on mental health. Fucking git, all Harry wanted was a good year. Harry tried to be nice to Malfoy, mostly but clearly that wasn’t working. It wasn’t like Malfoy made an effort. Harry was just trying to help him! Finding time between classes or during classes to visit Malfoy was not easy.
Harry went in the direction of the library, where Ron and Hermione were studying. This was one of the only chances they had to all hang out together, sadly. He would’ve been, too, if he hadn’t taken the long way. The long way was going by the Hospital Wing to see Malfoy. To laugh at him, of course.
“Went to see Malfoy again, Harry?” Hermione frowned, questioning in her tone and eyes.
Ron spoke up from across from her, “Honestly, mate, he can’t possibly be doing anything devious there!”
Harry scowled at both of them. They keep bringing it up. “That’s not why I go!”
“You go for his company? An Ex-Death Eater’s company, over your best friends’?” Ron demanded, shock coloring his face. Putting down his quill quickly, as if he were delighted to have a chance to stop studying.
Harry glowered harder, “I go for answers!”
“Harry, I’m sure you have plenty of answers by now. You can’t let this get in the way of your studies!” Hermione might have been right, considering he went twice already, but Harry wouldn’t admit it.
“I’m fine, ‘Mione. Besides, you can’t be talking. You drafted a whole argument against what he said, and had previously spent an hour talking to him!” He accused, taking out his books.
Ron responded in Hermione’s defense, and his own. “And I said I wanted to go back, but I didn’t swap studying for that git!”
“Anyway, he told me he needed a mind healer.” He stared them down, daring them to continue with what they were saying before. Harry also wanted to know what that even meant, since Malfoy’s explanation held little information.
Ron blinked at him incredulously, slamming a book shut in astonishment, earning ire from Madam Pince. “You’re taking advice from him? But yeah, probably mate.” Harry rolled his eyes at him.
Hermione was thoughtful. “A mind healer… I’d forgotten about those!”
“You, forgetting something?” Harry and Ron both looked at her. Hermione forgot things, only sometimes.
She rolled her eyes, “Yes, that’s how the brain works. I can, in fact, forget stuff.”
Harry decided it was time to get to the point. “Will one of you just tell me what a bloody mind healer is?”
Hermione bit her lip, “It’s like… You know therapists?” Harry nodded, and she continued, “It’s that, but the wizarding version.”
“So.. he’s saying I’m crazy.”
Ron objected, “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with going to a mind healer!”
“Really..?” Harry picked up a quill, twirling it between his fingers, while looking at Ron doubtfully. Her
Ron nodded seriously. “Yeah, most of my family go to one. I go to one.”
“And you never thought to suggest it to me,” Harry said flatly. His best mate, and he wasn’t even told about this?
“I don’t exactly go around telling people to go to one.” Ron sighed, like Harry was being ridiculous.
“Malfoy does.” Harry grumbled.
Ron attempted to raise a brow and barely achieved it, causing Harry to laugh. “He’s Malfoy, of course he does.”
“‘Mione, why didn’t you tell me? Also, are you sure he’s not calling me crazy?” Harry turned to his other best friend.
“I told you, I forgot. I’m very busy, and no, I’m not sure he wasn’t calling you crazy, but he’s not wrong.” Hermione scoffed, somehow working at the same time.
Harry glared at her, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You went through a war.” Hermione stated without looking up.
Harry’s eyes practically burned with the intensity of annoyance. “Yes, I know.”
Hermione flipped a page of a book, before putting her quill down and focusing on him. “You probably have PTSD, and even if you don’t, going to a mind healer wouldn’t hurt. I should go to one, really.”
“Brilliant.” Harry put his head down with a groan. He had an argument with Malfoy over it, just for his friends to believe him. Harry sat up and piled his things into a stack, “I’m going to sit with Luna.”
“There’s no need for that,” Luna said, sitting down next to Hermione, out of nowhere. Harry slumped back down in his seat.
“Hi, Luna.”
“Hello, Harry. How was your talk with Draco?” Hermione and Ron glanced at her in confusion. Or, at least, Harry though Ron did.
“You speak to Malfoy? And call him by his first name?” Ron asked her, curiously.
Hermione was curious, in a less relaxed way. She prodded for answers. “Weren’t you held captive in the manor?”
“Yes, but Draco’s nice.” Luna took out some paper, but no books.
“Right. What do you even talk about?” Ron continued, holding back a snort.
Harry took this as an opportunity to cut in, “Apparently they talked about magical creatures.”
“Yes, Draco was rather curious about Dabberblimps. I think he’s scared of them,” Luna mused. “I gave him a crown made of their teeth.” Harry smiled at the reminder of the crown, Malfoy never did take it off.
“I see why he was scared.” Ron grimaced at Luna.
Luna stared at him, tilting her head, “Why? Dabberblimps don’t need teeth.”
Ron wasn’t convinced. “Then why do they have them?”
“Why do you have an appendix?” Hermione argued back at him.
“Don’t be silly, Hermione. Appendix aren’t real.” Luna smiled serenely at Hermione.
“Yeah, don’t be silly,” Ron teased, wiggling his eyebrows and Hermione. Harry chuckled, seeing the look on her face.
Harry faced Luna again, hoping to get sympathy he didn’t get from Ron and Hermione. “I never answered your question, Luna. It was terrible.”
“Some things are blessings in disguise.” Her smile didn’t drop, and she borrowed Harry’s quill to begin writing on that paper of her’s.
“Yeah? Well, this wasn’t one of them, Luna,” Harry whined.
“Why?”
Ron interjected, smirking, “Harry’s just mad that Malfoy gave him advice.”
“No, I’m not!”
“Whatever you say, mate.”
It was quiet after that, and Harry was grateful. He loved his friends, but sometimes they were a bit much. Harry also thought their company was nice whether they were talking or not. Besides, some time to think to himself was nice.
Malfoy was a menace, and for some reason he wanted to go back, but Harry needed to focus on school more. He hadn’t picked a career choice, after he decided against being an Auror, so he settled for taking as many classes as possible, for more options. This, however, meant he had a lot of work. So much, he had nearly as much as Hermione.
Harry wonders what Malfoy picked. Something that either makes a lot of money, or has the least amount of actual work. Or maybe something different. With Potions, or Charms. Harry could do something with Potions, in theory. He did fine in sixth year. Maybe Harry could do something in Potions. Whatever Malfoy would do, Harry could probably do better, with practice. Harry refocused on his assignments, but now, he couldn’t help but think about it.
He opened a textbook, grabbed his quill, and took notes.
Harry managed to focus quite well, considering that by the time he needed to head to a class, he’d finished several assignments.
*
Harry had finished dinner early, so he could talk to Malfoy. It wasn’t his fault! Harry just couldn’t forget his curiosity. He needed to know what Malfoy chose.
Harry marched toward the Hospital Wing, after ignoring Ron and Hermione’s concern. He debated using his cloak, but the worst he’d get would be an annoyed Pomfrey. Hopefully.
“Harry!” His name was shouted in a voice he didn’t recognise, “Is that you?”
Harry turned to the girl, “Er, yes? Who are you?”
“I’m Merrion Cy! Uh, I wanted to say how thankful I am.” She grinned, twirling her curly blond hair. He looked between her and her friend.
“Okay..? For what?”
“The battle! I-” Harry stopped listening as the girl droned on and on, her friend nodding along, or adding anecdotes. He did, hear one, slightly screamed thing, “I’m in love with you!”
“Congratulations?” He quickly turned around and sprinted away. Why didn’t he bring his cloak? Ever since, well, everything, random people went up to him. Thanking him, congratulating him, and in some cases, confessing their ‘love’.
Harry burst into the Hospital Wing, startling Malfoy who was doing work. “Hi, Malfoy.”
Malfoy stared at him impassively. Is he really giving Harry silent treatment? Again? What’d Harry even do?
“Sorry, for getting angry, I guess.”
Malfoy resumed writing.
“I have a question.” He waited for Malfoy’s gesture, insisting that he continue. “What job do you want?”
Malfoy arches a golden brow, as if to say, ‘are you offering me one?’
“I just mean, what field are you going into? Are you going to be a Potioneer, or something?”
Malfoy turned and faced him, pushing back his hair only slightly, keeping it neat. He sighed, “I’ll take whatever job I can get, Potter.”
“What?”
Malfoy didn’t respond again.
“Isn’t there a job you want?” Malfoy looked up, only to blink at him. Harry scowled. He could practically hear the demeaning tone.
“My bad. I kinda forgot the whole Death Eater thing.” Malfoy made a unique face Harry couldn’t even begin to describe.
They sat there in silence for about ten minutes. Well, Harry stood a bit before sitting. It was peaceful. No fighting, no yelling… just quiet. And Harry tended to appreciate it, but Malfoy didn’t seem bothered either.
Notes:
😭😭 I was writing this but then two of my frienda were messaging so 👍
It's nearly time. The drarry can almost commence, according to my outline. Soon... soon...
Chapter 9
Summary:
He glanced at his textbooks which lay on the floor. Merlin, Draco loved learning, or he used to… Now he felt nothing; he was detached from the whole thing, and that was paired with the exhausted state he was constantly in. Draco dragged himself over to his work, but once he was halfway to the desk they had been so helpfully provided with, he sank to his knees.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Draco was happy to be out of the hospital wing. Ecstatic, even. Except in every class they had together, Potter sat next to him. Granger seemed to have taken a page from the same book, seeing how in the classes where there was no Potter or Weasley, she sat next to Draco.
Worse, Draco didn’t even bother to stop, following his attempts to not cause conflict.
To think, he had gone from being popular with all of slytherin, to no one at all. People didn’t even want to sit next to him during meals. If he’d acted as his father would prefer, Draco would’ve stopped the gryffindors. He would’ve kept talking, kept pissing people off. Technically, Draco didn’t need to speak to that.
His presence was enough. Hearing his name was enough. The Malfoy name was laughed at, and he felt as if his father had ruined his future. Except, he’d really done that to himself. Draco let himself down, he didn’t have to follow his father. Why couldn’t he be brave enough? ‘You were just a kid,’ his mind healer said.
As if Potter wasn’t a kid. Like Granger and Weasley weren't. Lovegood was younger than him.
It didn’t matter anyway, because he wasn’t going to get hired anywhere. Potter really should’ve left him in the fire. Everything would’ve been simpler that way, for everyone, they wouldn-
“Malfoy? You good?” Shockingly, it was Weasley asking that, bringing Draco back to his reality of the eighth year common room.
Draco choked out a hysterical laugh that got caught in his throat halfway through, and grabbed the homework he was supposed to be working on. He headed to his room holding back tears.
Draco pushed open his door, and closed it behind him. He stood there for a moment, trying to catch his breath, even though it felt that each time he inhaled, air was moving farther and farther away. He scratched at his left arm, Draco could feel the dark mark burning.
Shaking, he positioned himself on the ground. Fuck, was he dying? It was pathetic, his father was in Azkaban, where he should be, and yet Draco was going to die from nothing.
It hurt, his throat was throbbing and he could feel the pain of each breath. It was dizzying.
Draco felt the need to throw something, and he nearly did, but his hands shaking threw him off. He stared at them, feeling as though he weren’t experiencing it anymore, as if he were simply watching. Draco watched as he crawled his way to bed, struggling, and feeling trapped.
Just as suddenly as it came, it stopped. His breathing slowed, his heart didn’t feel as if it were trying to break through his chest, and when he reached up to his face to wipe away tears, his hands weren’t shaking as much.
Draco was left with the beginning of a headache nipping at the front of his skull.
He glanced at his textbooks which lay on the floor. Merlin, Draco loved learning, or he used to… Now he felt nothing; he was detached from the whole thing, and that was paired with the exhausted state he was constantly in. Draco dragged himself over to his work, but once he was halfway to the desk they had been so helpfully provided with, he sank to his knees.
Not immediately or forcefully, just a slow collapse. He had no desire to do anything at all, Draco could sleep right then. No, he needed to sleep, except he had assignments due the next day, and if he didn’t do this, there would be nothing. His chances were slim already.
Draco summoned a quill, took a hold of his homework, and began. Similar to before, he was oddly detached. He liked writing. Draco could remember countless times he enjoyed writing essays, but now he would rather stare blankly at the paper.
He did stare blankly at the paper. Draco hadn’t even completed the assignment when he decided to shove it all away, curling up to sleep.
He didn’t manage to actually sleep for a long time.
*
Draco groaned, casting a lumos as he struggled to make out anything in the darkness of his room. His back was wet with sweat, and Draco knew he had a nightmare. He tried to remember it, but the harder he tried the less he remembered.
He was grateful for it, almost. That meant he wouldn’t think about it anymore.
Draco sat up, turning his wand, illuminating the transfiguration essay he’d yet to finish. Dread creeped up his spine; if he hadn’t experienced that nightmare, it would’ve been too late. Thank Merlin, and anyone else up there for this opportunity, he thought, summoning his quill and getting to work.
*
This time when he woke up, it was another nightmare, however this one was about him not finishing the essay after all. He quickly sat up, reaching for his essay, and was delighted to know he had completed it.
Draco smiled ruefully to himself, a nightmare about something trivial, compared to ones about the war. Something normal. Anyone could dream about homework.
Draco put his textbooks in his bag, about to open his door, when he remembered. He hadn’t changed from his uniform from the previous day. Draco took out his want and cast a couple of spells on himself, before sighing.
He doubted his hair was in good shape, but sadly there weren’t personal bathrooms, only a shared one for the boys, and another for the girls.
Draco opened his door, and was nicely surprised when he noticed no one was in the hall. He went to the bathroom quietly.
Of course, it wasn’t empty, and standing at the sink was Potter. Honestly, who else would be there? Everyday, he saw Potter. At least there were other sinks.
“Oh! Hi, Malfoy.” Potter glanced up at him. Draco nodded, moving as far from Potter as he could get. He started on his hair, mostly straightening it out since he wasn’t washing it. It shouldn’t take long, but unfortunately for him, Potter wanted to talk.
“I’m so hungry,” Potter complained halfheartedly. Draco looked at him for a second, before ignoring him. It wasn’t like he could relate, since the thought of eating right now made him sick.
Potter smirked at him, continuing to talk as if Draco were even humoring him. “Do you reckon I’ll get away with forgetting to do my homework again?”
Draco scoffed. If it were anyone else he would laugh in their face, but Potter was the saviour so of course, he’d get away with it. He could not do any work at all, and maintained good grades until NEWTs came up. Somehow, Draco held off replying with exactly that. This time, Potter wouldn’t goad him into speaking.
Potter nodded to himself, “I miss Quidditch, but not a lot. Watching can be just as fun, you know?”
No. Draco did not know because watching people playing Quidditch is terrible in comparison to playing, and he’d gotten his fix of watching Quidditch in first year. Besides, it didn’t sound much fun this year; nothing did.
Draco wished he could exit the bathroom and be done with it, but he’d regret it if he didn’t brush his teeth, at the very least. And it was a bit out of order, washing his face after doing his hair, so really, he could skip that for one morning. It’d be fine.
Potter didn’t stop talking the whole time he was there, and even after Potter had finished getting ready, he stood there yammering on. If Draco weren’t tired maybe he would care enough to be grateful, since Potter was there to keep the silence away. It got awkward when Longbottom walked in, so Draco took that as a chance to escape. Others would surely be coming soon.
Stopping by his room to double check he had everything he needed, Draco hurried to the Great Hall. He was much too early, but it wasn’t like he was that hungry anyway, so he left and decided he should do more homework.
They got assigned so much of it now, and he hadn’t finished a lot of it last night.
Draco reached out to flip a page of his book, pausing when he realized Potter was standing there. Of course. He sighed heavily, turning back to his work.
“Why are you here?” Potter asked, sitting down. It was a little weird how Potter was constantly around him.
Draco waved his hand sharply at the textbook in front of him, and Potter reached for his wand for a second before stopping. Which was okay, he supposed, seeing as Potter hadn’t actually taken his wand out like he’d done before.
“Yes, but why are you doing work now? You could be doing literally anything else! You could, I ‘dunno, draw or something.” Potter exclaimed, frowning at Draco.
“When have I ever done that? You realize this is the last chance to get good scores on anything before getting jobs, yes?” Draco glowered, after he realized he spoke for the first time that day.
Fuck. Why did Potter always make him do this? He didn’t even respond to the taunts of his schoolmates yesterday.
Potter smirked at him, “Speaking now, are we? Also, you have hobbies, don’t you? Quidditch can’t be the only thing you do for fun?” Draco desperately wanted to keep the amount of times he spoke to one, but he also wanted to sneer at Potter, to retort that Potter had no room to talk.
He wasn’t even sure if Potter played anything else.
Potter’s smirk dropped slightly. Lovely. “Are you okay?” Ha, Draco was definitely okay with his father in Azkaban. Truly, his life was wonderful.
Potter didn’t say anything else after that, and for the first time in a while, he didn’t hate the silence. One could go as far as to say it was nice, but Draco wasn’t that person. Sometimes, Potter’s presence was nice, despite the fact that he was supposed to be doing work.
He didn’t hate Potter anymore, did he? Draco had to admit Potter was comforting, amidst everything. He didn’t exactly have friends, unless Potter was included. So he supposed he would let Potter keep talking to him. Maybe even sitting in silence, if he felt generous.
After a bit, Draco glanced up, puzzled. “Didn’t you say you were hungry?”
“Yes,” Potter said. He didn’t even bother with clarifying. Draco put his quill down.
Draco glared at him. “You must go eat then.” Potter was strange. If he was hungry, he should eat. It really couldn’t be healthy not to.
“You should eat too,” Potter insisted, glowering right back at him. As if Draco were unreasonable.
“No thanks, I mustn’t. I’m not feeling well. Eating in the mornings isn’t good for me.” He could feel nausea at the thought of eating. Draco picked up his quill again.
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!” Draco didn't bother looking up, since he could hear the determination in Potter’s voice. Was Potter ever not determined?
“Muggles say that. Wizards don’t have a stigma on whether one meal time is more important than others.”
“A what? How do you even know muggles say that?” Potter was confused. That was good, for Draco, at least.
“I’m a very complex wizard, Potter. I know many things. Especially things I shouldn’t.” He added, thinking back to how he knew… Certain things Granger had done. Weasley, and Potter too, naturally.
“Sure, Malfoy. Come eat breakfast.” Potter sighed, since he was still adamant Draco ate.
“No, not doing that.” Draco may be a coward, but he wasn't going to back down from Potter telling him to eat breakfast.
Potter frowned, “If you don’t go, I won’t go.” He finished this with a resolute nod. As if that would convince Draco.
“Suppose you’ll be hungry a while longer, then.” Draco hummed.
“Fine.” Fine.
Draco spent the next few minutes diligently working, while Potter sat there staring at him.
“Please, Malfoy, I'm starving. I can feel the hunger pain increasing with every second.” Potter pleaded, for some reason, instead of leaving.
“Should probably go eat then,” Draco punctuated this with the raising of an eyebrow.
“Come on.”
Draco heaved a sigh that started in the very depths of his soul. “Potter, will it satisfy you if I go watch you eat?” Notice how Draco was still being civil? Progress. Mother would be proud.
“..uh, I don’t know how I feel about that.” Potter was clearly caught off guard. Though, Potter really did seem to be always on guard.
“Wonderful. I'll do it then.” Draco collected his things and stood.
“You are joking, right?” Potter continued as Draco strode past him, “Right?”
“I assure you, my jokes are much funnier than this. Meaner too,” He whispered the last part to himself. “Staring at each other in the great hall brings back memories, doesn't it?”
Notes:
I posted a new drarry fic, You Are My Dreams.
The thing is... I'm still in the process of writing it. It could be multi-chaptered, but I don't know yet. But the first one isn't done yet, because i didn't know when to end it.
I think my writings gotten better. Shall I update the fic summary?
Chapter 10
Summary:
Malfoy sighs, and turns to Harry. Honestly, why did Malfoy always look like an angel? A fallen one, maybe, but an angel nonetheless. “Yes. You realize you’re in the wrong class?”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Ron.”
“Harry.” His best friend replied in the same tone of voice, both speaking quietly, since they were in class.
Harry frowned, “I’m doomed.”
“What?”
“I’m doomed.” Harry repeated, shoving Ron. He would push him off the seat, but this was a necessary conversation.
“I heard you the first time. What do you mean? Voldemort couldn’t kill you so you’re fine, I’d hope.” Ron glanced at him worriedly. Not what he meant, but Harry appreciated the concern.
“No, I’m not.” He lamented.
Ron waited for a moment before asking, “What’s wrong?”
“Malfoy,” Harry said, holding off on elaborating. He took some notes as Ron began speculating.
“Is the git getting on your nerves again? I thought you were getting on?”
“Too much, really.” Harry muttered, looking everywhere except at Ron. It was a wonder, really, how he had a class with Ron that neither Malfoy nor Hermione were in. Though, classes were strange this year, and eighth years were in classes with seventh years.
“What? Don’t tell me you fancy him,” Ron joked.
Harry didn’t respond, worry creeping into his gut.
“Harry. It’s Malfoy. The one you hated ever since you met him? The one who bullied all of us? You can’t be serious, the ferret?” Ron interrogated Harry incredulously, dropping everything to turn and face him.
“Unfortunately, I am.”
Ron inhaled rather loudly, and exhaled even louder.
“Good luck with that one, mate.”
Harry waited. “...That’s it?”
“I guess, what am I supposed to do? Scream and cry? Not a chance,” Ron laughed. “I’ll live with this information.”
“Oh.”
“Why’re you doomed anyway?” He spoke again.
Harry stared at him, eyes wide, “It’s Malfoy?”
“Yeah, well, that’s your fault, really.” Ron said.
“Thanks a lot, Ron, you’re so bloody helpful,”
“What can I say? I aim to please.”
Harry contemplated turning Ron bald. That red hair, all gone. Hermione probably wouldn’t like it. Ron either, but that’s the price he should pay, really. It would be more satisfying if he did it the muggle way.
“Mione’s probably a better help than me. Charm him or something,” Ron suggested. How does one even charm a Malfoy? Expensive gifts? That felt more like bribery. Besides, who said Malfoy was bent? Anyway, Hermione didn’t even like Malfoy.
“She likes him less than you.” Harry replied.
Ron shrugged, “Tough luck.”
.
.
.
“Give me your notes, it’s your fault I didn’t pay attention.” Ron said after the end of class, throwing his stuff into his bag.
“Whatever,” Harry looked down at his notes. They were… decent. Wait, “No surprise about me being gay?”
Ron blinked, brows furrowing, “What? Wait, I didn’t even realize.” He chuckled.
“I just told you I like Malfoy.” Harry stated flatly.
“Yeah, but when someone tells me they like someone I just think of their personality.” Wow… That’s nice. It made sense, when Harry thought about it. Gender isn’t the important part.
“Sometimes, I get why Hermione likes you.”
“You should get it all the time, seeing as you’re my best mate,” Ron smiled. “Why do you like Malfoy?”
“You really want to know?” Harry was surprised. He didn’t think Ron would want to talk about it.
“..Honestly? Yes.” Ron walked out of the classroom behind Harry.
“Well…” “He’s rather smart, isn’t he? And if you think about it, like ignoring everything, the ‘Weasley is Our King’ song was pretty brilliant,”
“Stop right there. You’re saying the song he made to make fun of me was brilliant.”
“Don’t worry, I also think the ‘Potter stinks’ buttons were smart too. I kind of miss how he was before this though, he was much more animated than he is now. Sometimes he doesn’t even talk to me.”
“Harry. Are you okay?” Ron slowly inquired.
Harry grins, “I’m joking. Mostly. Isn’t it nice how he’s friends with Luna?”
“That's what does it for you? Someone humoring Luna?” Ron exclaimed, trying his hardest to be quiet.
“He said he wasn’t humoring her!” Harry scowled.
“And you believed it? Just like that?”
“I didn’t! Besides of all the years we’ve known him, you think he’d humor someone?” Harry demanded, glaring at Ron.
Ron counters, “You said he’s changed. Maybe he does humor people now.”
“He doesn’t. Anyway, he’s not just beautiful. He’s… He’s exquisite!”
“Sure, mate.” Ron snorted, shaking his head.
“He is! Have you seen him? Didn’t you notice he stopped cutting his hair? It’s like below his ears now.” Harry insisted.
Ron scoffed back, looking at Harry incredulously. “Harry, his hair is literally in the most awkward length stage.”
“No. It’s like longer in the back, a little, at least, and it looks good.” Harry frowned, waving his hands wildly.
“Uh huh,” Ron nodded patronizingly. Harry did not like when people did that, they acted like they knew something he didn’t. Like they were older or wiser.
“Plus, Malfoy’s funny. You liked his jokes!”
“The one time I talked to him? Yeah, I guess.”
“You got along.”
“Alright, you don’t need to convince me. Hermione on the other hand…” Ron snickered, looking across the hall, where they could see Hermione’s bushy hair making her way through.
“Go away, Ron.” Harry hissed, shoving Ron.
Ron glared, “What? No, I wanted to see this.”
“Fine. So, Hermione, lovely day, isn’t it?” Harry smiled at her.
She raised an eyebrow, “What’s up Harry?”
“Basically… I fancy Malfoy.” Better to rip off the bandaid, right?
“He fancies him a lot!” Ron crowed. Fucking git.
“Shove off, Ron.”
Hermione looked between them, a frown overtaking her expression. “Harry, you do remember who Malfoy is, don’t you? The things he’s done?” Maybe it would’ve been better to ease into it.
“He’s changing!” Harry defended.
“But is it for the better?” Hermione pressed.
He responded instantly, conviction coloring his voice. “Yes!”
“And you’re sure of this?”
“Yeah, like I was sure of everything else you tried to tell me was wrong.” Harry said.
Hermione looked hurt, “Seriously, Harry?” At times like these, Harry wondered if he really was a good person. It reminded him of all the people that died to protect him. All the deaths that were his fault. He didn’t even feel bad for the comment like he should’ve. He opened his mouth to apologize anyway.
“It’s alright, Hermione. We can live with Harry’s questionable romance choice.” Ron interrupted.
Hermione turned to him, “I suppose.. But it’s Malfoy.”
“It’ll be fine, since it’s not like he’s dating Malfoy.” Ron reassured her.
“Yet. I really hope it’s yet.” Harry murmured, even though Ron and Hermione definitely heard him.
“Alright...” She said dubiously, frown still on her face.
Ron glanced at Harry in shock, “Harry, you don’t even say each other’s first name.”
“Oh. You know what was weird? Earlier, I was trying to convince Malfoy to eat breakfast, and then he said he would watch me…” Harry didn’t switch the topic. He tweaked it a bit.
“That’s why you were staring at each other?”
“Yeah, he didn’t eat anything.” Harry sighed, thinking back to before.
Hermione spoke next, “Maybe he wasn’t hungry?” He could tell she was trying to be supportive.
“He’s never hungry.” Harry scowled again.
Ron faced Harry and Hermione, walking backwards as he told the story, “Oh, Harry, that reminds me. Last night he seemed… strange. He was staring at his work blankly for a while, and when I asked if he was okay, he just laughed.” Ron bumped into someone, leading to a string of apologies.
“You asked if he was okay?” Hermione raised an eyebrow at him when he moved to stand next to her.
Ron looked angry at that, “Yeah? I’m not an asshole!”
“That’s not what she meant.” Harry attempted to diffuse the situation.
“Really? Then what did she mean?”
After a pause, Hermione conceded. “...Maybe it was what I meant. A bit. It’s just, normally you aren’t nice to people you’re angry with.”
“I’m trying to be better, remember?” Ron glowered.
“I know!” Harry figures they’re getting to the part where they kiss and make up. He faces away.
“Sorry,” He heard Hermione say after a few seconds. To Ron, or to Harry for their little kiss, he didn’t know.
Harry stopped as he caught sight of Malfoy.
“Harry?”
“Um, bye!”
As he hurried away, he could hear Ron mutter, “Kids these days.”
“Hey,” Harry tried, once he caught up with Malfoy.
“What, Potter?” Harry winced at the tone, but at least he got a response first try today.
“Uh. I was just wondering..” He pauses, trying to figure out something. “Do you think it’s a good plan to turn Ron bald?”
“Weasley? Why?”
“He annoyed me a bit today. Maybe if I shaved him bald without magic it’d hurt more.”
“Cut small sections everyday, so it looks like he’s balding. Start slow, then no one will think you did it. Spells for cutting hair are a bit noticeable anyway, so use one of those muggle skissors or something.”
“Do you mean scissors?”
“If those are the little things that cut, like two knives sewed together, sure.”
“Screwed together? Don’t you use screws? It can’t be only muggle.”
“I don’t use them. I’m not exactly in the business of building things.”
“Me neither.”
“I know, Potter. Now that I’ve given you a perfect plan to use on Weasley, are we done here?”
“No!” Harry shouted. Malfoy looked at him, and they were stuck in a staring contest for a while. It was excruciatingly awkward. Harry quit first, “Uh, do you want to study with me?”
Malfoy frowned at Harry. It was weird, Harry noticed, How Malfoy’s eyes seemed to be more silver when he glared or frowned. They were unpleasant expressions, sure, but Malfoy never looked unpleasant. Malfoy sighed, “Perhaps my schedule is open, but why would you study with me instead of your perfectly good friends?”
“You can be a perfectly good friend! I mean, you’re already perfect,” Harry cried.
Malfoy gaped at him, “What?”
“Nothing! Nothing,” Harry insisted, looking away to hide his blush.
“Flattery will get you somewhere. If you want to go far, however, you could try begging or bribery.”
Harry blinked. “Huh?”
“I didn’t even use my finer vocabulary in that sentence, surely you can keep up.”
“Shut up, Malfoy. Do you want me to beg?”
“Bribery will suffice.” He deigns to respond, and Harry is grateful; at least he wasn’t ignored. Malfoy could’ve said no, or just walked away.
“What if I give you a sugar quill?” Harry offers.
Malfoy glances at him, “Try harder, Potter.”
“I’ll give you three?”
“I want seven.” The git says. Malfoy didn’t even eat that much, why did he want seven sugar quills. He didn’t have any friends there.
“Why seven?”
“I don’t know. Give me seven and I’ll go, Potter.”
“Okay, I’ll get seven. But you have to study with me first, I don’t have seven.”
“One now, the rest later.” Malfoy comes to a stop outside a classroom door, waiting for Harry.
“Alright,” Harry fishes through his bag until he finds it. A blue sugar quill. He holds it out to Malfoy.
Malfoy takes it solemnly. “I prefer yellow ones.” He heads into the classroom. Harry follows, ignoring the professor and the fact that this was the wrong class. Bad for his grades, probably, but who cares?
“Yellow what?”
Malfoy makes his way to the back of the class. “Sugar quills. Do keep up, Potter.”
“We’re basically friends now, Malfoy. Can’t we switch to first names?” Harry really wants to call Malfoy by his first name, after what Ron said.
“We could, but we won’t.”
Harry whinges, “Why not?”
“Saying Potter is fun.” Malfoy yawns.
“Please. You can still say Potter, sometimes but mostly use Harry.”
“No, I don’t believe I will.” Malfoy smiles. Not smirks, smiles. At Harry. It wasn’t a full smile, but a smile is a smile.
“I’ll give you more sugar quills!”
Malfoy shakes his head. “No, seven is quite enough.”
“Pink coconut ice?” Harry questions, desperate. If Malfoy called him by his first name, then he’d be accepting that they’re close. And if they’re close, he’s a step closer to getting Malfoy to like him.
“I do like those.” Malfoy concedes, taking his things out of his bag.
“So you’ll call me Harry if I get you some?”
“No.”
“Malfoy.”
“Potter, I want more. Not only sweets, but something else.” Malfoy looks at him for a moment, staring almost, before dropping his gaze down.
“You get my company!” Harry protests, pouting.
“No, thanks. Pink coconut ice and.. I don’t know. Find something. Actually, in addition to this, get me apple rings.” Malfoy decided to add more onto it. What was Harry supposed to do? What if Malfoy didn’t like what he gave him? Harry surrenders, worried that if he begged too much Malfoy would cancel studying.
“Fine. You’re still studying with me, right?”
Malfoy sighs, and turns to Harry. Honestly, why did Malfoy always look like an angel? A fallen one, maybe, but an angel nonetheless. “Yes. You realize you’re in the wrong class?”
“Yeah, but no professor’s going to care. I’m Harry Potter.” Harry smirks.
“Unfortunately, I’m aware.”
Notes:
Walking your crush to class is rizz, right?
Guys please comemnt im dying with my singular comment i tried really hard on this i promise
Chapter 11
Summary:
The room was filled only with the sound of scratching quills, which wasn't silent, but quiet. It was… quaint.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Draco–though he would never admit it–was looking forward to studying with Potter. Purely because he had no one else to talk to. Though, Draco may have finished all his work that was due soon, and had no interest in doing more work. He could simply talk to Potter about anything, like he did that night they roamed the halls. For a bit, anyway.
Potter surely wouldn’t care.
“Malfoy!” Potter exclaims, barging into Draco’s room. It was humiliating, truly, and not for the first time, he was grateful that they got their own rooms. Potter, per usual, looked like shit. Really, if you think about it, red was not Potter’s color. He had green eyes. Green. Direct opposites on the color wheel may be complementary colors, but they were not complimentary, in Draco’s opinion. They do bring each other out, but Potter just wasn’t pulling the look off. On the other hand, they were also the color of Flounaks.
Draco didn’t respond to Potter, yet. He got to witness Potter’s brows furrow in agitation like they always did when Draco didn’t speak.
“Come on, Malfoy.”
Draco pondered what to say, for a moment. “Did you know muggles also used to eat people?” Potter would probably love to talk about muggles.
Potter paused, hesitating before responding. Hesitation, from Harry Potter. Potter never hesitated to throw words or spells at him. “I- Yes? Wait, also?”
Draco let Potter’s words marinate for a bit before deigning to reply. “Yeah. It can’t be surprising that wizards did that.”
“I was a bit busy thinking of more pressing matters than whether wizards ate people. Hold on- Did they eat muggles? Or muggleborns? Or halfbloods?” Potter ruthlessly interrogated, reaching for his wand for what, the sixth time? Salazar.
“Of course not. Muggles were considered filthy, why would they eat them?” Draco scoffed, sitting on his bed, generously allowing Potter the desk.
Potter had a counter for this point, however. “People eat pigs, don’t they?” It was a decent one too, not that Draco would be caught admitting it to anyone.
Draco, once again, drew out the pause before conceding. “..Well, yes. Muggles are more like, what’s the bird? Pigeons? The ones they used to have use for before they switched up and decided they were filthy. They don’t touch pigeons, let alone eat them.” See? Draco was spectacularly graceful with muggle metaphors and muggle knowledge. Better than Potter, some would say.
“Why do you know what pigeons are? Did wizards use them to carry letters before owls or something?” Potter said, rudely disregarding Draco’s fluency, and degrading his hard earning knowledge of muggles, blaming it on wizarding history.
“No. Owls are magical. Pigeons are not. I know this because I’m intelligent.” Draco wasn’t going to beg for attention.
“Sod off,” this was literally Draco’s room. What was Potter on about? “Aren’t we supposed to work?”
Silence followed, filled with Draco awkwardly and shamefully avoiding Potter’s eyes. Well, his father would too. Now, at least. His mother wouldn’t, so he lifted his eyes, after a couple seconds of convincing them to move, and met Potter’s gaze.
Draco spoke, “...I finished it.”
“All of it?” Potter’s eyes widened, and Draco didn’t even need to be good at observing to notice it. Rude. Before the war, Draco was always a flawless student, exceptions being around Potter, Granger or Weasley. It was Potter’s fault, really.
…It was strange how Draco felt narcissistic or he hated himself, no inbetweens.
“Yes, Potter,” Draco spat. He turned away, doing absolutely nothing. Merlin, he needed a hobby.
Potter nodded and took out his own work, settling in. That glorious Gryffindor silence reigned. Draco combed his mind for anything to say, digging deep for a topic that wouldn’t offend poor little Potty.
“Lulu gave me a whole list of magical creatures,” Draco said.
Potter glanced up, “Who?”
“Luna? Creatures?”
“You mean imaginary ones?” Potter rudely chuckled.
Draco frowned, “Are you insinuating that I’m gullible?”
“Yes. You are,” Potter responded, much to Draco’s offense.
“That’s not nice.”
Potter snickered again. “I wasn’t exactly trying to be.”
“Wow, Potter. I thought you liked me. This betrayal leaves my heart as a burning spiral of hurt, I don’t think I’ll ever recover.”
Potter’s face flushed with rage, “Wha- I do like you! You know, as a person..”
“Okay? I don’t particularly care.” That’s a lie. Draco did, in fact, care. He now knew three people who liked him. Luna, Potter, and his Mother. He liked a total of two people on that list, and neither were Potter.
Of course, he hoped his father still loved him, but no letters to Azkaban were allowed. Draco wrote, naturally, but the letters were kept in a box. A locked one.
Potter snorted. “Sure, Malfoy. Hey, can I call you Draco even though I haven’t gotten the stuff yet?”
“No.”
“What are you gonna do about it?” Potter taunted. Draco, thanks to his practice, was able to respond with appropriate poise. Unlike some people.
“You’ll have to find out.”
“Alright. Wait, you won’t stop hanging out with me, right?”
“If that's what it takes,” Draco said loftily. “Moving on, I was going to talk about Dahminasters. Luna gave me a whole list, you know?”
“You asked for it, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I have a chart.” Draco stood from his bed, reaching for his bag. “I didn’t study it much, you know, because of school work and all. But earlier I saw Luna and she told me about some of them.”
Potter wasn’t even pretending to do his work now. “How many are there? No one can make up that many creatures.”
“Then perhaps they aren’t made up. Do continue working as I talk.” Potter did not go back to working or acknowledge what Draco said at all, waiting. It wasn’t Draco’s problem, so he left it and kept speaking.
“Dahminasters are so strange. They remind me of Nargles, except the infest rooms with something Luna couldn’t figure out, apparently. She told me they’re visible to everyone.”
“How has no one seen one?”
“They don’t know where to look. Potter, aren’t you supposed to believe in your friends? I know Luna and I are your favorite blonds.”
“Luna’s my favorite blond.” Potter stated, the prat he was. Hey, it’s really been too long since he said one of his brilliantly crafted names for the Chosen One.
“Shut up. Anyway, Flounaks. For the weirdest reason, they’re actually cute. They’re the ugliest things I’ve ever heard of, but they’re cute. They also crawl into living beings to eat their liver, but who doesn’t?”
Potter stared blankly. In shock, or in awe. Preferably awe. “...Malfoy. Are you okay? Mentally?”
“Clearly, I am something. Luna told me her favorite are Nargles, even though they’re thieves. They’re probably mine too. Potter, I told you I hated the word responsible, right? Well, anyhow, liable is a much better word. Do you ever wonder why some people have basic names? Like, I don’t know, Jack. It’s so basic. Parents realize they can name their kids anything, right?” Draco scoffed.
Potter was generating the audacity to counter Draco, “I’m not sure that’s great to point out. Someone’s going to name their kid water.”
“Too bad for that kid I guess. They can change their name.” Draco said apathetically.
Potter glared at him. For no reason too! “You know that’s expensive, right?”
Perhaps there was a reason. It wasn't Draco’s fault he was born wealthy. Still, if they really wanted to, they could.
“No, it isn’t. It’s around 45 galleons or so.”
“That’s pretty expensive to legally change your name.” Potter said slowly, as if approaching a Hippogriff.
“Then do it illegally?” Draco proposed. There. He beat Potter, like he always did. Okay, sometimes. Fine, occasionally.
“What?”
“Illegally changing your name is fine. Trans people do it sometimes. In muggle books, at least.” Draco cursed the moment he said it. This was why he was trying not to speak. Bloody hell.
“Wait. You read muggle books?”
“Don’t be daft.”
Potter gaped, definitely wondering what Draco meant since he simply asked for clarification on something Draco confirmed. A shame for him, truly. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I haven’t a single imperfection,” Draco lied to both himself and Potter. Forge it until you become it, or whatever muggles say. He was turning into a muggle. If Draco was still around when his father got out of Azkaban, his father would be appalled at the numerous muggles sayings he'd acquired. Merlin’s beard.
“Right,” Potter rolled his eyes sarcastically.
“I’ll have to cut my hair in a month or so,”
“No!”
“...What?”
“Don’t cut it! I mean, why would you want to cut it?”
“So it doesn’t get too long? Potter, do you have a thing for blokes with long hair?”
“No. A thing for blokes, sure, long hair? Not so sure.”
“So that’s a maybe.”
“Are you interested, Malfoy?”
“No, you don’t give your bribes soon enough. I’m waiting on more sugar quills, Boy Who Lied.” Draco was reminded of that muggle tale referenced enough times that Draco had to find it himself. The boy who cried wolf. Hey, whenever Potter cries, that one will be right there! Except Draco wouldn’t say it because someone would surely hex him for bullying a crying Potter.
“I don’t lie!”
“We all do.”
“All Slytherins, you mean?”
“Woah, Potter, what’s this? Slytherin propaganda? From the defender of the wizarding world? Are Slytherins not included? No wonder I’m the only eighth year student to come back.”
“Fuck off, Malfoy.” Draco had nothing else to say, so he sat down and decided he would finish writing a letter to his mother, and his father as well.
The room was filled only with the sound of scratching quills, which wasn't silent, but quiet. It was… quaint.
Notes:
Was writing latest chapter when draco thought “numerous muggle sayings acquired” and google docs wanted “numerous muggles acquired”
I have a few other fics you could read but they're pretty ass tbh
Anyway did we like the study date!!
I am a word of 5 letters and people eat me. If you remove the first letter, I become a form of energy. Remove the first two and I'm needed to live. Scramble the last three and you can drink me. What am I?
Chapter 12
Summary:
Granger interrogates Draco. Again. At least he makes Weasley and Longbottom laugh?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Lovegood was back. Times like these reminded Draco that he shouldn’t be in Hogwarts right now. Azkaban would be a better fit, no matter what the Chosen One thought. Draco remembers how he used imperio on people, and it made him sick. He could taste the vomit in his mouth, and swallowed it back. People hurt because of him. Even everything he’d said years prior.
And yet, for some odd reason, Potter, and his little dark lord defeating crusadors, kept talking to him. And hanging out with him. Draco could smell the disgust rolling off Gryffindors, Slytherins, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.
“There are a lot of Wrackspurts around you. You could always talk to someone,” Luna suggested. The girl was infuriating, no matter how oblivious or dimwitted she fooled Draco into believing she was, she’d whip an observation about him so disturbingly accurate he questioned his own skills.
He sighed, “They wouldn't understand, Luna.”
“Would it be nice for someone to try?”
“Those who try, try too hard. Besides, I had a mind healer, until he quit responding to my owls. The chances of me finding a new one are slim.” Draco answered, wishing they were anywhere else. Draco nearly always went to the library over the eighth year commons so unfortunately, he found Luna here instead of the peace and quiet.
“I hope you find a new one soon. How’d things go with Harry?”
“How- Is there anything you don’t know about?”
“Oh yes, many. I used to think Nargles were stealing my stuff. Harry seemed to enjoy it.” Luna did not care one bit for his attempt at changing the topic extremely subtly. However, had anyone been listening in, they would be outraged at the notion of Harry Potter stealing. At least, if that was the assumption they made rather than Death Eater Draco Malfoy conspiring with Hogwarts resident lunatic, plus something along the lines of him trying to convert Luna into the next Bellatrix.
“Luna. My dear Luna, you know I will not be answering your previous question.”
She sounded–and looked–dead serious when she began her next statement. “Would you prefer I implied things in a statement in order to get a response?” Ravenclaws. The cherry on the top of the metaphorical dessert, as the muggles say, was that all the while, her voice still remained almost airy and dreamy.
As Draco smirked, opening his mouth to reply, they were interrupted. If Draco were to guess before the interruption happened, he would say it was a Gryffindor. Surprise! It was.
“Luna, Neville's been looking for you. He said something about your made up creatures and claimed to need your expertise,” Granger announced. Brilliant. Bloody Brilliant.
Granger noticed him a second later, “Malfoy,” she said. Luna ignored the tense atmosphere and skipped off. How kind of her.
“Granger.” It was only polite to respond, of course.
She glowered, “Why are you talking to Luna?” Granger demanded, and someway, somehow she was intimidating even with her mess of hair, and lack of height. No one compared to Voldemort, as he often thought, but he wasn't going to say that.
“Well, Luna came up to me and began speaking, so I, kindly, spoke back. This is typically how a conversation works.” Draco wanted to scoff, but he was still being polite. He would've ignored and not said anything, but Granger would say it's because she's not pureblood. Which might have been true when he was slightly younger, much more naive, pretty idiotic, and a complete arsehole, but now was different.
He did understand why she didn't believe it, which is why he wouldn't be saying that to her. Ever.
Granger was clearly pissed off, her eyebrows so scrunched it had to be painful. “What are you telling them to get them to talk to them?” She demanded.
Draco had an inkling on who she was talking about, however, she literally sat next to him herself. Granger would not be doing that no matter how much Weasley and Potter begged, though she would feel bad about it or something.
“What do you mean?” He drawled, taking a second to mentally applaud himself, because he didn't even feel the anger begin to rise up this time.
Granger would not be taking his shit, “You know exactly what I mean. Luna, I kind of get. She's not exactly.. sane.” She whispered this part looking around as if someone would beat her up for it. “Harry, even though he has this weird obsession with you, wouldn't associate with someone like you. Ron, as well. They hated you! But now, they hang around you and expect me to tolerate it.”
Draco supposed the right thing to do would be to defend Luna. He wouldn't be doing it, however.
“I honestly don't tell them anything. You're more than welcome to take Potter's stalking position, and find out what we talk about for yourself. Also, Luna is perfectly sane. I haven't a clue what you mean by that.” Salazar. Whatever. It's not like he meant to say that.
“So, what, you bully all of us for years and suddenly you're a nice person who ‘enjoys’ talking to Luna? They forgive you for all that you've done? Seriously?”
“Granger. I literally did not even approach them, I'll have you know. Potter, came up to me. Then Luna. You and Weasley were simply dragged along by Potter. You could keep them both. All you have to do is tell them I bullied you or something and it'd no longer be a problem.”
“I'm not a liar, like you.” She hissed, wand in hand. Draco still remembers when she punched him. It seems she leans a little more towards her wand nowadays.
It's alright, Draco can spout accusations. “I may have been a liar, but you can't pretend you're perfect. Speaking of liars, you could say Dumbledore was one, wasn't he?”
Granger stepped forward, her glare intensifying, as she opened her mouth, Draco cut her off. “Didn’t he have the sword of Gryffindor? Surely, he could've figured out a way to destroy most of the horcruxes?”
“Why do you know about the horcruxes? How do you know? First, don't speak of what you don’t actually know. Dumbledore didn't know where the horcruxes were or what they were.”
“He had what, eleven years?”
“Actually, it wouldn’t have mattered either way. Harry would still have to be involved. He was the only one who could defeat Voldemort, so no matter what Dumbledore did or didn't know, the turn of events would still be similar. Besides what happened to being a good person? Now, you're speaking ill of a dead man.”
Draco stared at her. She clearly won the argument, unfortunately for him. If he didn't admit it, she'd probably hex him, or worse.
“Granger, I apologize. It would seem as though you've won this argument. Either way, the war is over and Voldemort is dead, so Dumbledore actually did good.”
Granger was pleased, he could tell by the way her eyebrows relaxed more. Maybe now he'd be left alone. Hopefully.
Weasley bumbled over, which is simply amazing. Instead of studying he gets to speak to Luna, then Granger, and now Weasley is here. Who knows, perhaps the Weaslette will appear.
“‘Mione, what are you doing? You said there wasn't going to be anymore studying today- Oh. Ferret,” Weasley said, glancing at him. “Hermione, you don't even like Malfoy, why are you talking to him?”
Granger turned to the Weasley with heart eyes, until he noticed Draco. Disgusting. Maybe they'd leave now.
“Just asking how he felt about Arithmancy,” Granger said coolly. Sadly for her, unless it was a dire matter she wasn't any good at lying. Well, it probably was good enough for Gryffindors. Maybe everyone except for purebloods. Actually, maybe she was good at lying and Draco just didn't think so because he knew the truth.
Weasley wasn't convinced, shockingly, “Right, so you weren't here to interrogate him.”
“Of course not,” Granger began, “I simply found Luna over here and Neville wanted to talk to her.”
“Yes, Weasel, it's true, as she came here purely out of the kindness of her little Gryffindor heart, to help Longbottom and question me about homework.” Draco said flatly, so it was in no way clear whether he meant it.
Weasley peered suspiciously between the two of them, when Luna came back with Longbottom in tow. This was such a great day. There were three Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw surrounding him. The only good things were Potter was not here, and neither was Weaslette.
“Oh, Hermione, did you finally decide to talk to Draco? He's so nice isn't he?” Luna asked, smiling at her. If it were from anyone else, it would sound mocking.
Granger grimaced, “Sure.”
Longbottom looked around the table, “Is there a reason we're all at a table with Malfoy?”
“Yes, Longbottom, there is. Granger was telling me this fascinating information about our Arithmancy homework. I think you should all leave and let her tell you all about it!”
Weasley nodded, “I agree, we should all leave now.” Granger seemed upset that her lovely interrogation was over, but delighted to get away from him. It wasn't like he forced her over here.
Luna did not care, “We just got here. Hermione could tell us all about it here and we could all discuss it.”
Rude. It was clear no one wanted to be here. Weasley didn't even want to be in the library. “Luna. No. Don't do this. I beg of you, don't.” Draco whispered. Loudly, to make sure they all understood how little he wanted to be here.
Longbottom raised his hand, “Hold on. I have a question that you could all answer. What's with you guys hanging around Malfoy? Did you hate him a week ago?”
“I see no reason to waste my energy hating someone,” Luna said, sitting on the table. Her feet had no shoes nor socks on them. Which was sad.
Weasley spoke next, “Listen mate, I have no interest in hating people right now. I also am not interested in talking to the ferret. Harry, on the other hand, is very interested.”
“I can confirm,” Draco said, looking at Longbottom. “Only Potter and Luna wanted to talk to me. The rest are simply following like little ducklings.”
Granger was outraged, “ I am not following. I still loathe Malfoy. I simply chose to be civil since Harry does not loath him.”
They all turned to her, watching her flush slightly, “What? Is it wrong to hate someone who called me a Mudblood?”
“No,” every single person said, and quickly looked at Longbottom.
“Well, okay then.”
Awkward silence filled the room for a bit, so Draco returned to his parchment and got to work, despite the fact he wanted to go lay in his bed and never wake up.
Longbottom started up a conversation, “So, has this been going on for long?”
“Don't worry, Longbottom, you're not too late to the party. Though, you are taking this well.” Draco began packing up his stuff as it was evident they weren’t leaving.
“Wait, I still want to know; why exactly has Harry been talking to you?”
“I have no idea, Longbottom. Please, feel free to find him a hobby.”
Weasley rolled his eyes, “He has a hobby; Quidditch. It's is only one. Well, that and stalking Malfoy.”
Draco scoffed, “Make him play Quidditch, then.”
Weasley laughed, right in Draco’s face. “No one makes Harry do anything.”
“Remember, you are all completely free to relocate to another table. Including you, Luna. Excluding you, Longbottom.”
“Uhm, why exclude me?” Longbottom asked.
“Good question.”
There was a glorious silence while they all stared at him, which he loved and hated. “So I can tell you all about my ongoing harassment from Gryffindors.”
“You know I am a Gryffindor, right?”
“Yes, but you're my favorite Gryffindor because you don't harass me.”
Weasley guffawed. Which was weird, so Draco made it evident in his expression that Weasley seemed mental.
Granger was indignant. “I don't harass anyone!”
“Of course, just interrogate. Run along now, Longbottom and I will be here.”
“When did I agree to this?” Longbottom inquired.
“Aren't you still curious?” Draco goads. It's been so long since he told a story to someone.”
“Yeah, but Harry could tell me.”
“I'm better at storytelling though.” He insisted.
“Well, now I've got to hear this,” Weasley said, plopping into a chair. Granger appeared to have an internal battle on whether to stay or not, but decided to, and sat next to her boyfriend. Eventually, they were arranged with Weasley and Granger on his left, and Luna and Longbottom on his right.
“Alright, Longbottom, are you ready? So, I was having a lovely time in the hospital wing after being Stupefied, when Potter sauntered in. He demanded I tell him all about what happened the moment I stepped in the school.” Draco insisted.
“He was desperate to hear the story. I tried to make him leave, telling him “This is the point where you turn, alternate which foot you lift up and exit. Unless, seeing me so engaged in a battle makes you want to kiss my feet, rather than using your own.”” Granger choked at this, while Weasley and Longbottom laughed.
“Potter gagged at the mere notion of this, naturally,”
“Thank Merlin," Weasley said.
“Shut the hell up, Weasel. So, I made him beg, before I finally obliged. He did not like his answer, unfortunately for him. He thought it shouldn’t have happened. I disagree.” Luna shook her head with light disappointment, though she was pretty amused.
“Potter, rudely, whipped out his wand. And no, sadly, it wasn't to one attached to his body,” Draco continued.
Longbottom gaped, Weasley paused, staring in disbelief. All the while, Granger muttered about how barbaric it was, and Luna giggled.
“Logically, I took out my own wand. Luckily, dear Madam Pomfrey interrupted. Then, Potter kept coming back and asking questions. Always during the night, too. Creepy.” Draco shuddered dramatically.
He pauses for a breath, “I tried many methods to rid myself of his presence. One night, he brought Granger and Weasley. Granger was furious of course. She also whipped out her wand, crudely, yelling at me. It was all rather unfortunate, these kids pointing wands at a hospital patient.”
This also caused Granger to flush, and brought another laugh out of Weasley. Honestly, he was easy to please.
“Weasley on the other hand, was so tired he slobbered all over himself the whole time. Potter- Speaking of him there he is.”
Potter walked to the table, looking around curiously, taking a seat next to Granger.
“Potter was basically just watched to be honest. Anyway, that was really sad.” He sighed, “ Not long after, I was freed from that dreadful wing. Potter didn't stop harassing me. You see, just the other day, he begged me to let him study with me.” They all stared at Potter, who slumped in his seat and glared at Draco.
“I made him give me sugar quills and more for it, of course. But, clearly, Potter is desperate for my attention, leading me to the conclusion, he fancies me.” Draco finished.
Potter's face was flushed, with rage, obviously. And Weasley was having a right laugh at his best mate. Granger looked deeply appalled, while Longbottom tried not to laugh.
Overall, today was a better day. Even though Granger was mad, and it made him miss Vince, Greg, Pansy and Blaise more, it was better than no one.
Notes:
Who's the king? I'm the king.
Jk idk i feel like crap rn you know those lovely period cramps but yay
Lowkey loved this chapter tbh tho i procrastinated it...
Turns out this was NOT the bromance chapterAnyway by reccomend me a fic or somehting
Chapter 13
Summary:
Draco gets threatened. Then he's friends with Weasley??
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Apparently, Granger was not done. Neither was Weasley. Which is why they were currently standing across from Draco, long after everyone else did whatever the fuck they did.
He really should not have said what he said to Granger before because based on the look on her face, she would be deconstructing him. Demolishing. Something along those lines.
Weasley had obviously begun calculating the route he wanted to take it, while Granger was deciding which facts he wanted to present.
Draco wasn't interested in any of this, so he stared at the wall. Then at the ceiling, then his hands. Great.
Granger seemed to have decided to speak first, “There’s not a single good thing I could say about you. You’re a cruel person, who only goes after people who can’t do anything back because you’re a coward. When kids were dying, who was cracking jokes and laughing? You. You were confident, for no reason. There’s nothing special about you. Azkaban is exactly what you deserve, but of course, you got out of it like everything else. There are very few times in which you got what you deserved. Consider yourself lucky.”
There wasn’t a speck of anger on her face, not anymore. She listed these as facts, nothing but the truth. Draco was inclined to agree, and simultaneously tempted to lash out,but everything was coated in a thick layer of apathy. He couldn’t muster the energy to even respond.
Granger and Weasley had more to say, and they communicated what was next through their eyes, like the couple they were. Draco swallowed, as painful as it was. He wouldn’t cry.
Weasley and his despicable red hair moved forward. “I never understood Harry's obsession with you.” Draco didn't either. Really, Draco didn't understand anything regarding the Golden Trio.
“But I did understand why he accused you of everything. You always were an asshole. For no reason. And no matter if someone tries to give you the excuse of ‘that's how you were raised’, you chose to be like that!” Weasley's face was red with anger, and his.. opinion of Draco..? It was louder than Granger's.
“You chose to continue bullying people. You chose to say slurs. You chose everything. And even if you didn't know better, you should've learnt. You had seven years! For seven years straight you chose to be a coward. A piece of shit. ‘Everyone is worth something.’ I think that's true. But worth comes from people caring. From love. Not money. Not whatever your father could do. Not from your pride, or being a pureblood!”
The worst part was it was true. Draco always had a choice, at least at school. Instead of spending time thinking up ways to piss off Potter, he could've studied harder. He could've had more friends. Closer friends. People who'd stay.
And it was utterly pathetic, how even when Granger was off being Heroic with Weasley and Potter, she still beat him in grades. She always did.
Weasley's anger subsided a bit more. “Harry likes you.” Granger glanced sharply at Weasley at this, and Draco wasn't sure why. “He enjoys your company. Even though all the bullshit between you he thinks you're worth something. So here's our point; if you hurt anyone-”
Granger interjected, “By anyone we mean anyone. Students, professors, people we know, and don't know.”
“And hurt includes rude comments, hexes, threats, etc,” Weasley continued. They were serious. They went into detail on what they meant, like Draco was an idiot.
Granger decided to end this little spiel of theirs, “We will take whatever action necessary.”
“Understood?”
“Yeah, sure,” Draco said, and really he shouldn't have said it like that. In that tone. With that face. But it was a little late, and he already felt sick with the recap of all his actions.
They eyed him distastefully, which, okay, you just ripped him a new one, threatened him, and now you're eyeing him distastefully?
Draco made a face at his own thoughts; maybe he hadn't changed as much as he thought. Fuck everything. Draco should just dye his hair and disappear into the muggle world.
How he longed to bang his head against the wall until he passed out or something.
“I appreciate you taking time out of your day to remind me that being here is a privilege,” Draco announced. Thank Salazar it didn't even sound sarcastic that time.
Weasley smirked, “Anytime, ferret!” He clubbed Draco’s back. Again, if someone killed him Draco wouldn’t be suffering through this right now.
Granger just sat down and pulled out a monstrously sized book, and despite the difficulty of their current work, there was no bloody way that was for anything they were doing in classes. Swot.
Draco stared at the Gryffindor couple who were for some odd reason, sitting at his table. This brought Draco delight and joy, so much that he was picturing someone with those lovely American muggle guns shooting him.
Weasley seemed similarly peeved.
Draco began to stand.
“Wow, Malfoy, leaving just because we're Gryffindor? And I thought we bonded that night.” Weasley joked.
Draco stared at him. Was Weasley seriously pretending to be friends with him? After that? Gryffindors are clearly insane.
“Shut up, Ron,” Granger hissed, she did not want to deal with Draco anymore. Probably. Or she just didn't want to draw attention.
Weasley patted her shoulder consolingly, “Can't a guy make new friends every once in a while?”
“Please tell me that's not what this is.” Draco blanched. No. Draco’s past actions were bad, but surely they weren't this bad. Weasley trying to make friends with him?
“So, mate, how's it going? Did you finish all your work? I swear they're trying to kill us with all this.”
“Yeah,” Draco nodded patronizingly, “sure they are.” Let it be known that Draco hates everything.
…
“Do you play chess?” Weasley scrounged up one last topic. This had to have been a last resort. Draco has no last resort.
“Smart people do,” Draco replied simply.
“I didn't know you were smart.” That's what Draco wanted to say. Bloody Weasley.
“I could say the same.”
“Are you good at it, though?” Weasley countered, smirking. Wherever Potter is, Draco hopes he knows that it's his fault Draco is suffering right now.
Draco sighs, “Better than you.”
“Prove it,” Weasley demands, upset at the mere thought anyone could beat him in chess. The ego of Gryffindors, honestly.
Draco scoffs, “You don't have a set right now,” secretly, Draco prays this is true because he could see Weasley whipping one out at this exact moment.
Thankfully, Weasley slumps. “What else are we supposed to do?”
“What do you mean we? You can go talk to your little Potter.” Weasley is so bloody weird. Draco hopes once this year is over he never sees any of them ever, though he knows he'll never escape Potter. Because of the Prophet, of course.
“Harry is busy,” Weasley says. Draco doesn't believe this because half of Potter’s friends are sitting across from him. Whatever. If Weasley wanted to talk to Draco, he would talk.
“The concept of anything is so strange.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everything exists out of nothing. We are made up of nothing. And these nothings can't be touched. That doesn't even make sense.”
Weasley stares blankly, and Granger still isn't listening, so it's just silence for a bit.
“This is why people are religious.” Weasley finally says which means absolutely nothing to Draco.
Draco hopes that isn't some kind of mental disorder. Weasley wouldn't be that rude to him, right? “They're what?”
“All those books you read and you don't even know about religions?” Okay, nevermind. Draco stares.
Weasley looks right at him and that's what they do for the next hour until Potter arrives.
“Hey, Hermione– Uh. Are you guys possessed or?” And Potter, bless his little saviour heart, is actually worried. His brows are furrowed just a little in the very center of his head, and his eyes are darting between them.
Weasley speaks first but doesn't break eye contact, “It's a staring contest!” He proclaims. Merlin, what kind of dumb game is that? Why would you possibly have a contest where you stare into each other's eyes. Gaze into their eyes, that's honestly a bit gay and– Oh, right.
Draco’s gay. But not for Weasley, thank everyone, including every little muggle out there.
“A what?” Potter says, just as confused as before, except now his face has gone more blank as he stares at Weasley uncomprehendingly, his concern long gone.
“Rest assured, Potter, this is not one of those abysmal staring contests Weasley speaks of.” Weasley snickers at him.
“Either way, what the fuck are you doing? Are you guys drunk?” Potter turns to Draco, then Granger.
Granger joins, “Somehow, neither of them have consumed any alcohol.” Pretty rude of her but Draco’s been worse, and heard worse.
“Shut up, Hermione,” Weasley attempts.
“You shut up, Ronald, you didn't even finish your work!” Loser, Draco thinks. Then realizes these are the only people who talk to him other than Luna, who is obviously a goddess or something.
“Weasley, it couldn't be a staring contest because it lasted an hour and you definitely blinked the most.” Draco says haughtily, disregarding whatever Granger said. Potter remains silent.
Weasley scoffs, “Liar.”
“Are you calling me a liar because I'm in Slytherin? Such discrimination.” Draco gasps.
Granger glares at him, “You really can't be talking.” Can't a guy enjoy five minutes without his never ending list of terrible life choices springing up?
“Shh, Granger. Shh.” Draco immediately felt fear trickle down his spine after he said that, but Granger was feeling merciful at that moment.
“No, it's because you're a Malfoy.” Weasley counters. Damn. Draco walked into that one.
“Weasley, I thought we were friends.”
“We are. Not.” Weasley says, chuckling at his own statement.
Well, at this point Draco has two friends.
Notes:
Hi happy septemebr i didn’t give up yall arent you proud ❤️
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Solemnad on Chapter 2 Sat 07 Jun 2025 06:41AM UTC
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RebbecaHasNoFriends on Chapter 2 Sun 08 Jun 2025 02:41AM UTC
Last Edited Sun 08 Jun 2025 02:41AM UTC
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Beombeom1 on Chapter 6 Mon 21 Jul 2025 11:47AM UTC
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