The next day at breakfast,
Professor Dumbledore announced that Professor Lupin would no longer be able to
teach at Hogwarts. For the remainder of
the year—and until a replacement could be found—the first through third years would
not be receiving Defence lessons, the fourth and fifth years would be taught by
Professor McGonagall, and the sixth and seventh years would be taught by
Professor Snape. For the most part, the
student population were aggrieved by this news, but Harry was disappointed to
hear a few choice comments made concerning how irresponsible Dumbledore had
been to let Lupin return in the first place.
No more Professor Lupin for Defence lessons, and Harry couldn’t imagine that
decision being reversed, ever. All he
had to look forward to was spending more time being taught by Snape. I hope somebody applies for the job soon, he
silently pleaded. But knowing how hard
it had been for Dumbledore to find Defence teachers in the past, Harry wasn’t
feeling too optimistic. Harry wondered
what Remus would do, now that he had to leave Hogwarts for a second time. Harry knew Remus’s job prospects were not
good at the best of times. But with the
news that the werewolf could potentially be brought out at any time of the month,
Harry realised that there would be very few options available. He hoped Remus would be all right.
All conversation concerning
Professor Lupin was brought to a sudden halt as whispers of “Malfoy’s got a
howler” spread across the hall. While
those around him turned to stare at Malfoy in eager anticipation, Harry looked
over uneasily to see Malfoy’s face steadily loosing its colour.
“DRACO MALFOY!” A raised female voice that oozed with venom
echoed around the Great Hall.
“Do you think that’s his mum?” Ron asked in a
half-whisper. “I wonder what’s he done.”
Harry just shrugged his
shoulders, and carried on listening to the message—which wasn’t a difficult
task: the volume ensured that every single word came out crystal clear. His gaze was still focused on Malfoy, trying
to work out what Malfoy could’ve done to earn himself a howler from his
mother. After all, Malfoy hadn’t been
contacted by any of his family in months.
“I HOPE YOU REALISE JUST HOW
MUCH YOU HAVE DISAPPONTED ME! AS IF
SAVING THAT WORTHLESS SLIME, HARRY POTTER, WASN’T BAD ENOUGH! LITTLE DID I KNOW THAT YOU COULD STOOP EVEN
LOWER!”
Harry could see Draco
frowning hard as the howler continued, “AFTER FINDING OUT YOU WERE FRIENDS WITH
THAT LITTLE CREEP I MANAGED TO KEEP MY SILENCE.
BUT I AM SICKENED TO KNOW JUST HOW INTIMATE YOU HAVE BECOME WITH
THAT POTTER BOY. THIS… ‘RELATIONSHIP’
WITH HIM IS UNACCEPTABLE!”
Harry jerked his attention
away from Draco’s shocked expression, to be confronted with the table of
Gryffindors staring at him in surprise.
In the background Narcissa’s parting remark could be heard, “YOU DISGUST
ME, DRACO. YOU ARE NO LONGER MY SON!”
Silence now descended upon
the Great Hall as the howler burst into flames in front of an unsettled Draco
Malfoy. He looked at no one as he stood
up from the table and rushed out.
“Now I’d like to buy a drink
for whoever pulled that practical joke on Draco Malfoy!” Ron said as he started
laughing at the absurdity of it all. He
looked over at Harry expecting him to join in.
Harry looked down and refused to make eye
contact. He could sit here and laugh it
off, make out that it was a big joke—that would be so easy to do. But he couldn’t abandon Malfoy. Malfoy had now officially been ostracised
from his family; this was what he had feared the most: completely losing his
relationship with his father. Harry knew
what it felt like to be alone, not to have any family outside of Hogwarts that
cared about him. And as he had told
Harry before, Malfoy needed him; now more so than ever. This had happened because of their
connection, and from the beginning, Harry had said that he would still be there
for Malfoy if it ever got out. It was
time to face up to other people’s reactions, to be honest come what may.
“I’ve got to go,” he mumbled
as he stood up and hurried out after Malfoy, ignoring the confused calls from
the other Gryffindors.
Someone was in the
Room of Requirement last night, he realised. But who would have the opportunity to get
in contact with Narcissa Malfoy? Evidently someone who has contacted her
before; she already knew about us being friends… Harry could only think of
two people, other than Dumbledore, that knew about their friendship: Snape and
Luna. The idea of Luna was laughable;
Snape on the other hand… But after spending five years of being paranoid about
Snape and then finally coming to accept that he wasn’t playing for the other
side, Harry was reluctant to believe he was responsible. But what else would explain it? He suppressed a shudder at the further
thought of an unknown someone spying on one or more of his meetings with
Malfoy.
Seeing Malfoy up ahead,
Harry shouted out to him.
“Malfoy, wait!”
“I need to be alone right
now,” Malfoy stated blankly as he stopped walking and turned to face
Harry. He looked utterly dejected; the
muscles of his face were held tightly and highlighted an early growth of worry
lines across his forehead; his eyes were dull, but glistening as if he was on
the verge of tears. Harry felt his heart
wrench at the sight of Malfoy in such a state.
“I understand, but just
remember that I meant what I said before.
I don’t care if everyone knows, I’m not going anywhere.”
Malfoy gave a small smile around the tenseness of
his features, and Harry couldn’t resist pulling him into a firm embrace. They stood there for a few moments, clinging
to each other as if they couldn’t survive any other way. Finally Harry relented, and he relaxed his hold
slightly.
“I’ll see you in Potions,”
Harry murmured against Malfoy’s hair, inhaling deeply and breathing in Malfoy’s
musky scent.
“That’s if you survive until
then…” Malfoy said in an ominous tone.
Harry leaned back and
glanced over his shoulder to see what Malfoy was looking at. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Millicent, and Ginny
had arrived at the far end of the corridor.
All of them were shocked, mouths agape, eyes wide—all apart from Ron,
who just looked furious. Harry felt his
stomach sink to his feet.
“Good luck, Potter,” Malfoy said,
drawing back from Harry’s arms and giving him an encouraging smile.
“Thanks, I think I’ll need
it.”
Leaving Malfoy to go on his
way, Harry walked up to the other occupants of the corridor and steeled himself
for the inevitable confrontation.
“Tell me I didn’t just see that, Harry!”
Ron said heatedly as Harry approached.
“Can we not discuss this
here?” Harry asked, trying to stay composed as he felt his heart beginning to
race. He motioned in the direction of
Gryffindor tower.
“I’ll bet you’d rather not
discuss it at all!” Ron’s voice was cold and haughty, sending an unpleasant
shiver up Harry’s spine. Harry couldn’t
see any traces of the loyalty that Ron had shown towards him in previous years. The distant look on Ron’s face reminded Harry
of the time when his name had been placed into the Goblet of Fire, and Ron had
refused to believe that Harry didn’t do it himself. That same barrier had now been instantly
erected.
“Just wait until we get back to the common
room, Ron,” Hermione said, in an effort to calm him down.
Millicent walked off towards the dungeons,
and the rest of them walked up to the Gryffindor common room enveloped within a
heavy silence. The entire way, Harry
could feel Ron’s eyes boring into the back of his head. In an effort to lighten
his ominous mood, Harry imagined Malfoy sarcastically humming The Death March
and let that fill the anxious void in his head.
As soon as they had stepped
through the hole behind the portrait, Ron rounded on Harry.
“What the hell is going on, Harry?”
he asked indignantly, his face flushed with anger, eyes narrowed, and teeth
bared.
“You heard the howler, Ron!” Harry heard himself
snap back automatically, irate that Ron was being so pompous about it. He could understand Ron being upset with this
sudden revelation, but this was unreasonable.
Harry didn’t want the conversation to go like this, but he found it hard
to hold back when Ron was being such a reactive arse. “I’ve been seeing Malfoy.”
“But… that howler… that was
a joke; it had to be a joke…” Ron pleaded in disbelief. His expression stiffened further when he saw
that Harry was not relenting. “How can
you be such an idiot?”
“So I’m an idiot. Are you going to oust me, just like you did
with Dean?” Harry asked accusingly, and he immediately wished he hadn’t.
“You’re the one who’s been
lying to us, Harry,” Ron pointed out, giving Harry a penetrating frosty glare.
“Maybe because I knew damn
well how you’d react…” I still can’t tell them about Malfoy getting the Dark
Mark. I promised I wouldn’t, and he
hasn’t said otherwise. Harry
couldn’t understand, after all they had been through during their time at
Hogwarts, why they wouldn’t trust him, why they refused to accept that he was
capable of making his own choices, choices made for good reasons. I could mention that Dumbledore knows that
Malfoy’s changed… But why should I have to? Why should they trust his judgement
and not mine? And they’d want me to say how Dumbledore knows, which leads me
back to the Dark Mark…I don’t want to risk them guessing.
“Don’t you dare try getting out of this, Harry
Potter!” Hermione chastised. “The
biggest problem here is not you being gay, it’s not even you being with
Malfoy—although I can’t even begin to understand why you would want
to—but it’s because you kept this from us.”
“Are you mad?” Ron
spluttered. “This is Malfoy
you’re talking about? Of course a huge part of the problem is because
it’s him!”
“He’s changed, Ron,” Harry
tried weakly.
“Yeah right, and
You-Know-Who has started doing weekend charity work.”
“So just because you don’t
believe it, he’s not allowed to change?
Is that it? Well, it’s great that
you’re so willing to give people second chances, Ron.” I’ve got to calm
down, Harry reminded himself. I
won’t get anywhere if I keep reacting like Ron does.
“Malfoys don’t count… This is why you’ve been telling me to stop
hassling him, isn’t it?”
“Yes. You’re the one who’s always starting the
fights nowadays; he doesn’t.”
“That doesn’t
mean you should trust him, let alone date him!” Ron said adamantly, his upper lip curled up
in distaste. He then looked at Harry in
incredulity as he realised something else.
“I bet you haven’t really lost the Marauder’s Map, have you? You lied about that, as well—just so you
could hide your dirty little meetings with that slimy…”
“Ron this isn’t helpful,”
Hermione hastily interjected before Harry was able to retaliate.
“But it’s true!” Ron
insisted in a sulk.
“Why did you keep this
quiet, Harry?” Hermione asked, after giving Ron a withered look.
“You heard the reaction he
got from his father,” Harry knew this didn’t explain everything, but he
couldn’t think of anything else to say.
He wasn’t prepared to have to deal with this today; he felt as if he
should have had a speech drawn up ready in order to make his case.
“Harry, after all we’ve been through, I would’ve
thought you’d be capable of trusting us more than that. Just think of all the times we’ve stood by
you in the past. I can’t understand why you’d
have so little faith in your friends,” Hermione said, looking perplexed. “Just what has he said to make you hide this
from us?”
“I… I made a promise… There
are things that I still can’t tell you,” Ron scoffed at this. “I guess you’re just going to have to trust
my judgement on this.”
“We’re supposed to trust
you?” Ron spluttered. “After you’ve been
keeping secrets from us for… just how long has it been going on for,
Harry?”
“A while…” Ron glared at
Harry for trying to side step the question. “Since not long after Christmas.”
“Bloody hell!”
“Remember who his father is, Harry,”
Hermione said before Ron could add anything further. “Lucius Malfoy hates you. I hardly think getting friendly with his son
is a sure fire way to making yourself safer.”
“He’s not Lucius…”
“No, he’s just a
mini-Lucius, and a really bad imitation at that,” Ron taunted. “You’ve seen
how much he tries to copy his dad.
Bloody sickening the way he sucks up to his own father—I suppose it’s to
get him in practise for when he finally has to suck up to Voldemort…”
“You don’t know what the
hell you’re talking about,” Harry said sharply, feeling a bit taken aback by
the force of emotion he felt, emotion triggered by the way Ron was talking
about Draco’s relationship with Lucius.
“Well, why don’t you fill me
in on what’s really going on then?” Ron asked, raising his voice
excessively so that he was nearly shouting at Harry. “Oh, no, sorry, I forgot. You can’t.
You’ve promised Malfoy that you’d rather keep his secrets than keep
your own friends… Have you forgotten
what Wormtail did to your parents?”
“Malfoy’s nothing like Peter
Pettigrew!” Harry spat back. “And this
has got nothing to do with my parents!”
“You don’t know that,
Harry,” Hermione said as softly as she could, trying her best to defuse the
situation. “Just because he’s not openly
causing trouble, it doesn’t mean he’s not up to something. How do you know he’s not going to do the same
to you? Maybe your trust is just a
little misplaced.”
“I know things that you
don’t, and I trust him because of those things,” Harry stated resolutely. “My opinion is not going to change just
because you don’t like him.”
“Millicent still thinks
he’s…” Hermione began, but Harry was not prepared to hear another Millicent anecdote.
“I’m well aware of Millicent’s opinion of
Malfoy!” he automatically snapped, his voice louder than he had intended.
“Don’t you dare shout at
Hermione like that!” Ron fumed. He had
squared his shoulders and clenched his fists, ready to lash out.
“Ron, I don’t need you
protecting me!” Hermione admonished. Ron
bristled and directed an icy stare at Harry for being the cause of friction
between himself and Hermione. “Harry, Millicent thinks he’s been involved in
something that’s been planned since Christmas—what if she’s right? What if
you’re a part of that plan? After all, he’s had you keeping secrets from your
friends. How do you know what he’s told
you is true? With all this secrecy, it’s
hard to believe he’s not working some elaborate scheme to set you up.”
“What makes you think you
can trust Millicent anymore than I trust Malfoy? Maybe it’s your trust that’s
misplaced,” Harry said, once more reacting on instinct, working off the
distrust and irritation he felt regarding Millicent and her continuous
slandering of Malfoy. Ron narrowed his
eyes at the way Harry spoke towards Hermione, still prepared to jump in and
defend Hermione if need be. “How do you
know that she’s not the one playing double agent?”
“Well, if you’d bothered to
get to know her…” Hermione started to say, and Harry had a distinct feeling of
déjà vu as far as this topic of conversation was concerned. Why does it always come back to her? This has nothing to do with Millicent;
this is about Malfoy and me.
“Yeah, I’m really going to
spend time talking with her when all she wants to discuss is how Malfoy is definitely
up to something—when I know he
isn’t!”
“Are
you really going to let him carry on talking to you like that, Hermione?” Ron
asked, having given up on getting anywhere with the conversation. “Because, if you are, I don’t want to have to
listen to it. I’ll only end up trying to
protect you, and you’ll end up shouting at me.
We’ll argue, and it’ll be over Harry.
And right now, I really don’t think he’s worth it.”
“Ron…” Ron didn’t wait for
Hermione to finish, but he stomped up the stairs towards the dorm.
“Fine!” Harry couldn’t
resist shouting after him, even though he knew that it was just childish to
persist.
Noticing the other
Gryffindors present in the room for the first time since the argument began,
Harry saw that they were all now hurriedly beginning to disperse in an effort
to escape the tense atmosphere that remained.
“I hope you know what you’re
doing, Harry,” Hermione said dryly before leaving to go off to her own dorm.
Harry stood there, unsure what to do. His bag was upstairs, but he didn’t want to
get it whilst Ron was still in the dorm.
But I’ve got to get it sometime; it might as well be now. He made his way up the stairs, and when he
reached the top, the door to the dormitory banged open, with Ron storming
out. Ron said nothing as he barged past
Harry, glaring. Harry plodded up to the
dorm, his legs feeling like lead. If
there had been any chance of regaining his previous closeness with Ron, he’d
totally blown it now. Bending down to
pick up the bag, a drop of salty liquid dropped from the end of his nose and
fell to the floor. Harry sat heavily on
his bed, burying his face in his hands and letting the tears run freely. He felt miserable. Why does Ron have to be so reactive? And
why did I have to let him get to me? Harry wondered. I guess I deserved all I got. I did lie to them—they have every
reason to hate me. At least I’ve still
got Malfoy.
The first lesson of the day
was Charms, the second of the week, and it seemed to drag endlessly for
Harry. Dean had called him over at he
walked into the classroom, and they had sat together—prompting Ron to throw
Harry a filthy look. Throughout the
lesson, he could feel his skin prickle at the way people were staring at
him. The only other person who had
spoken to him since the argument was Luna, who he had passed on his way down to
the classroom. She had tried to reassure
him that it would soon blow over. Right
now, Harry found that hard to believe.
Once the lesson had
finished, Harry didn’t bother to go outside for break, as he didn’t want to
bump into anyone—especially Ron. Instead
he made his way down to the dungeons and waited for Potions to begin. For the first time in his life, he was
looking forward to Potions, as he would get to see Malfoy. Malfoy had had the same idea about hanging
around the corridor by the lab, and so Harry had not been standing there long
before Malfoy trudged by. They smiled
and greeted each other with a warm hug and a brief, tender kiss before
squeezing into an alcove on one side of the corridor to sit down together.
“How did it go with Weasley
and the others?” Malfoy asked, concerned.
“We argued about it for a
bit but didn’t get anywhere. Ron’s not
talking to me now.”
“I’m sorry. I bet there’s not a lot you could say to calm
them down when they hate me so much.”
“It’s not your fault… well,
not entirely,” Harry asserted. “They
just don’t understand why I trust you.”
“Didn’t you tell them about
stopping me from getting the Dark Mark?”
Malfoy was looking at Harry
with a puzzled expression. Harry felt
equally baffled by Malfoy’s question. “I
promised you I wouldn’t—you know that.”
A huge smile lit up Malfoy’s
face, and he placed both hands on Harry’s cheeks, pulling Harry in for a
smacking kiss.
“Potter, you’re fantastic,
do you know that?”
Harry just looked at Malfoy,
stunned. Did Malfoy really have so
little faith in people to expect everyone to be capable of breaking his
confidence whenever circumstances dictated?
“I automatically assumed,
when it came down to your friends finding out, you would have to tell them
everything,” Malfoy explained. “Not for
one moment did I think you would risk upsetting them further—just to keep a
promise you made to me months ago.”
“I’m not about to go back on what I said,
just to try and save my own skin.”
“You’d have made an appalling Slytherin
then.”
“The sorting hat nearly put me in
Slytherin,” Harry admitted.
“I’m glad it didn’t: being a Gryffindor
really suits you, Potter. You’re far too
decent to be ruined in my despicable house.”
Harry’s head swam at the unabashed
flattery, and he couldn’t resist leaning in to hungrily kiss Malfoy. Harry couldn’t wait for the evening to
arrive—when they would next be able to have some private time. Harry felt more than ready for Malfoy’s
little ‘manual’ request, and he was now getting quite impatient to take things
further. They broke off at the sound of
several footsteps and chattering. It was
some of the other Slytherin sixth years and a group of Gryffindors coming from
different directions along the corridor.
Harry and Malfoy sheepishly moved out from the alcove and followed them
into the classroom.
“You might have Harry fooled, but I know
what you still are,” Millicent hissed at Malfoy as they passed where she
had sat next to Hermione and Ron. Malfoy
just gave her a cold look and kept walking to a pair of empty seats on the
other side of the room.
Snape noticed that Malfoy and Harry were
sitting together, and he gave them a piercing look through narrowed eyes before
addressing the rest of the class.
“If you have been paying attention, which I
doubt, you will be aware that I now have the displeasure of teaching some of
you for Defence Against the Dark Arts.
As a result of this extra teaching position, I now have rather a lot of
work to prepare and organise over the coming weeks. Therefore, I require assistance with a few
things. I am certain that at least one
of you will ‘volunteer’ by giving me the opportunity to hand out a detention
this lesson…”
“Here we go again…” Harry muttered under
his breath.
“Shall I just paint a target on your head,
Potter?” Malfoy joked, giving Harry a smirk.
On the whole, Harry thought this was the
most enjoyable Potions lesson he had had all year—or perhaps ever—despite the
detentions received. To everyone’s
surprise, it was Malfoy who was the first to be given one—his first ever detention
received in Potions. During the lesson,
Snape had overheard them making arrangements to meet up during their lunch
break by the lake, and to Harry’s dismay, Snape had vindictively told Malfoy to
report for his detention at the same time.
Harry was also given a detention soon after, but this was to be taken in
the evening. Snape was making it very
obvious that he still did not approve of them spending time together. Harry thought of his earlier ideas about who
might have been in contact with Narcissa Malfoy. I can’t judge Snape’s involvement based on
what he’s like towards us in class, Harry told himself. Loyal or not, I wouldn’t put it past him
to just be reacting to his annoyance about Malfoy and me. And even if he could hide his own personal
feelings on the matter, I don’t think he’d want to be publicly seen as
sympathetic to Malfoy. Not being
able to think of anything constructive on the matter, he put it out of his mind
and instead concentrated on his work, enjoying the luxury of being next to
Malfoy. Working alongside Malfoy really
helped with his understanding of the lesson, and it was bliss to finally be
able to spend time in Malfoy’s company openly.
Even catching Ron and Hermione frequently looking over and whispering to
each other, or the fact that Snape seemed to be happy to use both him and
Malfoy for venom-target practise, didn’t dampen his mood. Being in Malfoy’s company left Harry feeling
relaxed, enabling him to concentrate on the potion he was making. He could focus on what he was doing, just
knowing that Malfoy was near and that they didn’t have to hide anything
anymore.
They reluctantly parted once more at
lunchtime, each to their own table.
Harry sat by himself at the end of the Gryffindor table. Malfoy did the same at the end of the
Slytherin table, facing Harry and occasionally throwing silly grins his
way. After lunch, they said their
goodbyes before Malfoy went off to his detention and Harry wandered back to the
Gryffindor common room. They would meet
up again in Transfigurations, after Malfoy’s Arithmancy lesson. Harry had a free period and was planning on
spending his time studiously avoiding Ron, who would also be without a lesson
to go to.
Back in the dorm, Harry bagged the books he would need
for his later Transfigurations lesson, and he rushed down the stairs to make
his way out of the Gryffindor tower. Ron
was sitting in the common room.
“Your boyfriend reckons that if it
wasn’t for you he’d be off playing Death Eater by now,” Ron said as Harry made
to walk past him towards the exit. Harry
stopped short.
“You’ve spoken to him?”
“It wasn’t my idea. He
cornered me, when I was on my way up here at the end of lunchtime. He told me you kept it quiet because you
believed in him; because you knew that was the only way he was going to accept
help from anyone.”
“I didn’t want to risk losing his confidence in me and going
back to Voldemort. Can’t you understand
that?”
Ron nodded his head reluctantly, and Harry cautiously sat on the
sofa opposite. “I guess so. That’s if he’s actually telling the truth
about the Dark Mark. Do you really
believe he was going to get it?”
“Yes,” Harry affirmed.
Ron didn’t look impressed with this one word answer, so Harry added,
“You didn’t see him, Ron, when he was supposed to be leaving. I really don’t think he could’ve faked his
feelings towards getting the Mark.”
“I still think you’re being a gullible idiot.”
Harry looked at Ron's expression, he didn't seem angry
anymore. Maybe bewildered or resigned,
but there wasn't the same venom that Harry had seen earlier. Harry smiled and gave a small chuckle in
relief. Ron smiled back before speaking
again.
"I couldn't help noticing in Potions that when Millicent
said she knew what Malfoy ‘still’ is he didn't exactly deny it."
"Was there any point?" Harry asked rhetorically. "No one would have believed him."
"I suppose that's true… Look, I don't want to argue with
you again, Harry. But I do have a couple
of questions going around my head."
"I'll keep my temper if you keep yours," Harry jested,
prompting a smile from Ron.
"Why did you have to start… dating him? If you're that
way inclined, why not Dean? That
would've been a shock, and I probably would have overreacted to that as well,
but it would've been better than this."
Harry looked at him in amazement, appalled that Ron was serious
in his implication that choosing whom you were attracted to could be that
simple. "Ron! That's like saying
you should go out with someone like Lavender, just because you're male, she's
female, and you're both straight."
Ron pulled a face at Lavender's name. "You don't fancy Dean then?" Ron
double-checked, a little awkwardly.
Harry just raised his eyebrows in response, unimpressed with the
question. "Do you realise that,
between you and Dean, Seamus is worried that it's got something to do with
him?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he was friends with Dean before the ball, and they
always used to sit together. Recently,
it's been you who Seamus has been sitting next to…"
Harry's burst of laughter cut Ron off short. Poor
Seamus, I've given him a complex! "Seamus certainly didn't have any bearing
on things! He's not my type,
Ron—although I think he's probably Dean's."
Ron seemed amused by this, but there was something else he
wasn't saying. Harry could see that Ron
was going over something in his mind.
Harry came to a sudden realisation.
"You're not my type, either, Ron. You don't have to worry about me jumping you,
or spying on you in the dorm."
"I never thought that you…" Ron began to deny, but
then he decided to change tack.
"What's Malfoy got that I haven't!"
They both chuckled, and Harry felt the remaining tension between
them dissipate.
"So, you've… kissed him?" Ron asked, his face
screwed up in disgust, a little unsure whether he wanted to hear the answer to
this one.
"Yes, I have. And
before you ask anything else, think how you'd feel if I asked the same about
you and Hermione."
"I have no intention of finding out about anything else
that you and he get up to!" Ron asserted, and then he began to fidget in
his seat, giving Harry the impression that another question was to follow. Harry wasn't disappointed. "So, if you and he are… well… you know…
how come he can't even bring himself to call you Harry?"
"I guess it's because he's always known me as 'Potter'—I
still call him Malfoy. He's been Malfoy
for so long now that it's hard to think of him as anything else."
"I know that
feeling," Ron said. Harry looked a
bit confused, and Ron explained.
"To me, the name of Malfoy has
always been associated with a complete git, and so it feels bloody unnatural to
think of him as anything other than a git."
"I meant I don't
think of him as 'Draco', and it would be dead weird if he started calling me
Harry. It's nice… it's just a 'thing' we
have. Like nicknames." And it was
‘nice’, more than nice, Harry realised, a way of relating that they shared
which made him feel connected to Malfoy.
And the way Malfoy sometimes managed to intone his surname was downright
naughty; Harry loved it.
Ron cringed at Harry's choice of description—the 'thing' that he
and Malfoy had—but sat there quietly, resisting the temptation to pick holes in
Harry's reasoning. "You two did
seem to get on really well, earlier.
I've never seen you enjoy Potions so much… But we're still worried about
you, Harry."
"Thanks, Ron; that means a lot to me. But you don't have to be so concerned. I've trusted him with a whole heap of
things. He hasn't let me down so
far."
"Even so… ever since we've been at Hogwarts he's had it in
for you. He's always been such a
wanker."
"I know, and he knows it, too. I think he's paid for a lot of the stuff he's
done, in his own way. And I know he cares
about me… You should have heard him last night—seeing me nearly get bitten by
Lupin freaked him out quite a bit."
"Last night, when you were supposedly wandering the corridors alone? So you were with him when
you found Trevor?"
"Please don't say anything, Ron. If anyone else finds out he was around when
Trevor turned up, they're bound to accuse Malfoy of setting it up."
"I wouldn't put it past him…"
"And six months ago, I wouldn't have put it past him,
either. I want to tell you more, Ron; I
want to explain it all to you. But I
can't, not without telling you personal things about Malfoy that I've got no
business telling anyone," Harry looked at Ron, pleading with his eyes for
Ron to accept this. "I don't want
you to hate me over this, Ron."
"I don't hate you, Harry, I'm just angry at how you've
handled it. I don't trust Malfoy, and
it's going to take one hell of a miracle to convince me he's changed—I still
agree with Millicent that he's probably up to something," Ron stated,
looking Harry straight in the eye.
"I don't think I can trust you completely at the moment,
either. But I don't hate you."
"I guess that's fair enough," Harry accepted, just
pleased that he and Ron were back on speaking terms—thanks to Malfoy.
"We'd better get going," Ron announced, grabbing his
bag and standing up.
"Transfigurations starts in a few minutes."
They walked together in a companionable silence. Harry understood that Ron still wasn't
comfortable with the ways things were, and he would probably take a long time
to get used to him dating Malfoy. At
least the friction from this morning had dissipated. When they arrived at the Transfiguration
classroom, Harry saw that most of the class were already waiting in the
corridor. But Harry couldn't see either
Hermione or Malfoy. They approached
Neville and Millicent, with Harry hanging back a few paces behind Ron, feeling
awkward in their company.
"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked Neville.
"McGonagall came and got her out of Arithmancy,"
Neville said. "They've found
Crookshanks."
"Malfoy was taken out ten minutes later," Millicent
added, pointedly staring at Harry as she said this. "So it seems he had
something to do with it."
"But you don't know
that for certain," Harry cautiously pointed out.
"You really are naïve to think you know Malfoy that
well—he's capable of taking absolutely anyone for a ride, Harry. You especially."
Harry held back from responding to Millicent's comment, not
wanting to risk an argument now that he'd smoothed things over with Ron.
The lesson was awkward, with Harry sitting on one side of Ron,
and Neville and Millicent on the other; Millicent insisted on making the
occasional dig. Ron and Harry carefully
kept any topic of conversation between them to the confines of the lesson. He hoped Malfoy was all right, that he had
been pulled out of the lesson for another reason. He knew Malfoy wasn't to blame for
Crookshanks' disappearance—after all, they had been together that evening. Dumbledore
probably wants to talk to him about the howler, Harry assumed. I'll be
able to speak to him after dinner, and then I can find out what's happened.