Chapter Text
"So, let me get this straight. You've been getting closer to the Slytherins while we weren't looking these past few weeks."
"...months," he corrected slightly, looking away when Ron glared at him.
"That's not funny, Harry!"
"I know, I know... but don't you think things are calmer in class? They're partly nicer because they like me. I mean, I would never have gotten to replay the game against Hufflepuff without that!"
"And all the gifts," the redhead suddenly understood. "I thought you ordered clothes and stuff, but it was them!"
"Yes, it was them. I haven't worn anything yet, though. I should do that, to reward them," he thought aloud.
"Are you serious?"
"It would be a shame not to do anything with them," he argued pragmatically.
Ron was still grumbling about his carelessness before seeing all the gifts he had received, examining specifically but with great caution the Phoenix feather, the inkwell, the two bracelets, the brooch, the ring, and the cufflinks.
"Harry... this is expensive. Really expensive. My parents inherited things like this or received them when they were young. They're Pureblood items."
"Well, most of my benefactors are Purebloods."
"... Okay, just make sure these things aren't enchanted with dark magic before you use them."
"Good idea, I'll do that next time."
"Next time," Ron sighed. "Because obviously you've already tried everything on?"
"I had to check if the clothes fit me," he justified himself, once again extremely pragmatic. "There were fitting spells, I think. Everything fits me perfectly."
The redhead sighed, letting himself fall dramatically onto his bed.
"Goyle, huh? Who else?"
"A few from our year, and I admit I aspire to have them all."
"You're hopeless, Potter."
"Hopeless but effective, Weasley."
His friend had to agree and looked at him with a calculating gaze. Harry knew that look. He had something in mind.
"Try to get Malfoy then, maybe he'd stop insulting Hermione if you asked him to. It really hurts her when he calls her a Mudblood."
Harry grimaced. Malfoy? That might be asking a bit too much.
Ron burst out laughing when he saw his reaction and got out of bed, patting him on the shoulder.
"Hey, Ron!"
"Yeah?"
"Not a word to Hermione, okay?"
"No way, Hermione will know everything before we even get to breakfast!"
If he no longer needed to hide... so be it! As he got dressed that morning, Harry put on a shirt and trousers that were probably worth more than all the shabby clothes in the rest of his trunk, and dared to add cufflinks. Parkinson had good taste, they were understated and therefore perfect for him: he did not feel ridiculous. He then put on a green sweater, a gift from Goyle to thank him for doing very well on a really difficult exam in Transfiguration, if he remembered correctly, and put on the rest of his Gryffindor uniform.
"You're doing this on purpose!" His friend accused him, struggling to keep from bursting out laughing.
He was doing it on purpose. It was time to make a little statement.
"What, you don't like my new style?" He teased, adding Zabini's brooch at the last moment.
When others had started sending him gifts, he had gone even further. Harry found it very funny. He had even had B. Z. engraved on the back of the jewel, this diva.
He caused a sensation, as expected, in the common room and then in the Great Hall, which is why he ended up covering himself with the thick Gryffindor scarf so that people would stop looking at him, but everyone had seen him. Except for the teachers, there was no one there except Binns and... oh my God. Snape. Harry had not seen him.
Snape, who must have been dying to give him detentions until the end of the year for his little escapade the night before.
The question was... what would Snape do now? Would he decide that Farley's punishment was sufficient, or would he keep a close eye on him from now on? Would he... talk to other teachers about it?
The Slytherin's face was full of mistrust when Harry looked at him. The Gryffindor felt as if he were being pierced by his gaze. As if he could read his mind.
He could not find out that he had been with Goyle, could he? Just the thought that he might know that they had walked together peacefully, talked quietly, and held hands...
The vague uneasiness that had gripped him and the almost physical pressure he felt in his head as he thought about it vanished in an instant, and Harry discreetly rubbed his temple.
When he checked that the Slytherin was not looking at him, he was relieved that Professor Snape was ignoring him again, but also curious. He looked particularly pale, did not he? He seemed almost nauseous and was pinching the bridge of his nose desperately.
When he was reassured that he would be left alone, Harry ate without worrying too much and went to class.
Parkinson's voice made him turn his head as the Slytherins joined the Gryffindors, waiting for the professor to arrive.
"You look handsome today, Potter, that's a change."
"Green really is your colour, you're clearly meant to be dressed in something other than rags or carnival colours."
Right behind Zabini, Goyle walked by without saying anything but stared intently at his sweater.
It might have seemed like contemptuous jibes. It was not. Everyone sensed it, more or less consciously.
"What's going on with all of you, seriously?"
Malfoy was largely ignored, much to Harry's delight, who turned happily to a late Flint who was running back from the dungeons with his things barely fitting in his bag.
"Hey, Potter!"
"What's up?"
"Is it true you're dating a Slytherin?!"
FARLEY, you damn gossip-
"No comment," he grumbled, looking away.
Flint shook him with a loud, almost hysterical laugh.
"You do realize that even with your dark skin, we can see you blushing, right? I didn't know you had it in you. This is going to be interesting."
"Go away, Flint, you're already late."
"It's Binns, you can't be late for Binns."
"Are you sure about that, Mr. Flint?"
"Good morning, Professor Snape, have a good day, Professor Snape."
The Quidditch team captain dashed off, skilfully dodging the irascible potions professor.
"What do you mean, Potter is dating a Slytherin?!" Malfoy exclaimed loudly.
Professor Snape saved him from answering by turning very slowly, with an almost threatening expression, toward the blond man, who immediately calmed down.
"Come in, we've already wasted enough time with Mr. Potter's... private life."
It was at that moment that Harry understood: Snape thought he had been honest when he told Farley he had a date. And the word had spread, at least among the older Slytherins... until today. Now all the Slytherins and even the Gryffindors knew.
So the other two Houses would know before nightfall.
Head up, Potter.
He pushed people aside and rushed inside.
Head up.