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The sound of glass shattering and liquids splattering on the floor filled the otherwise calm apothecary shop.
"Watch where you're going, Potter!"
Harry looked up, his mouth open in awe at the sheer rudeness. How dared he, when Harry was standing in his place, searching for the ingredients he needed for next week's class. " You bumped into me !"
Malfoy's eyebrow arched up, his expression disdainful. "That's not true," he said. "I was just walking, minding my own business – "
"And who's going to pay for the damage?"
The voice made both Harry and Malfoy look away from each other and in the direction of the speaker. It was an old-looking wizard, wearing stained dark robes, who was probably the owner of the little Hogsmeade apothecary. He looked at the both of them with an annoyed frown and gestured at the mess on the floor.
Harry pointed directly at Malfoy at the same time as the Slytherin pointed right at him too.
"He will!"
It almost sounded like they orchestrated the response. Which only made Harry angrier.
" Please , Malfoy. You've got such a large stick up your arse, it's a wonder you can go anywhere without bumping into anything."
"Maybe I'd like to have something else up my arse, what do you say, Potter? Think it'd be bigger than the stick I currently have there?"
Harry blinked and then stared at Malfoy, dumbfounded. Did Malfoy just?... " What ?"
Malfoy stared at him as if he didn’t believe what came out of his own mouth either. He then gave Harry a thorough look, bringing his eyebrows together, as if he was mad at Harry for their little exchange.
“Shut up, Potter,” he spat, and before Harry could retort, he turned on his heels and fled the shop.
*
Harry was still bitter as he entered Potions class the next morning. Pulling out the ingredients he purchased the day before reminded him of the awkward incident, and he couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Malfoy. The Slytherin seemed to be deliberately avoiding him.
Harry then did exactly the same thing, turning his attention to Ron and Hermione as he settled at the desk with them.
Professor Peterson started her class, talking about the complexity of the potion they were meant to be making. Harry found himself unable to focus. His attempt at avoiding Malfoy resulted in his thoughts – and eyes – constantly wandering in his direction. The fact that Malfoy seemed to be more successful than him at keeping to himself just frustrated him further.
A commotion at the other side of the class – where Malfoy was seated – had drawn Harry’s attention yet again in his direction. He watched, along with the rest of the class, as Parkinson got up and moved from her seat by his side. She sat next to a Ravenclaw student one seat away, leaving him alone, staring pink-faced after her.
Harry didn’t know what happened there; he decided he didn’t care either. He turned back to Ron and Hermione, fixing his attention on their empty cauldron.
He was vaguely aware that the professor was saying something, vaguely aware of movements around him. But he refused to acknowledge it, too busy denying himself from looking in Malfoy’s direction.
“Harry!”
Hermione’s harsh whisper cut through Harry’s resolve, and he looked at her. She was looking at him pointedly, and daring a glance around the room, Harry realized that almost everyone was now, for some reason, focused on him.
He blinked, returning into focus. “Uh – yes?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “The professor asked us to work in pairs, and, well, you didn’t do anything and now – “
“You gotta go work with Malfoy, mate.” Ron completed her explanation. “I’m sorry.”
Harry felt betrayed. Working in couples – and neither of them chose him. It didn’t matter that they were a couple now, and it made sense that they’d work together. He refused to acknowledge that it was actually his fault for not paying attention and not finding another partner. All his efforts – and now he had to work with the git.
Harry sent a glare in Ron and Hermione’s direction, ignoring the fact that they both looked genuinely sorry, and got up.
Walking to the other side of the room felt like standing in trial back when he was 15 - only much worse. He felt like he was walking to his doom.
Malfoy, still seated, looked just as horrified as Harry. It was a petty consolation to know that at least he won’t be the only one suffering from this arrangement.
He sat down.
“Okay, now that we’re all paired up, let’s start working on our potions. Instructions are on page 281 in your books.”
“Missed me, Potter?”
“Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Harry stared at Malfoy. Much to his surprise, the look on Malfoy’s face was as horrified as Harry’s.
But then he opened his mouth, and it was gone in favor of a flirtatious gaze. “Wouldn’t you like to find out?”
“Seriously, Malfoy, I don’t know what you’re playing at but – “
“Oh, keep it in your pants, Potter. He did the same with Longbottom just a moment ago.”
Pansy Parkinson’s voice made Harry tear his confused stare from Malfoy and look at her, instead.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but hearing him say he’d like to grab a handful of Longbottom’s arse made me think he needed some reflection time.”
“He – what – ”
“He’s almost as delicious-looking as you are, Potter.”
Harry returned his stare back to Malfoy, who now covered his face and groaned.
“Something’s definitely wrong with you,” Harry concluded. It was one thing for Malfoy to be extra annoying, and at first he thought it was just a new way to piss Harry off; but it looked more like Malfoy really had no control over what was coming out of his mouth.
He briefly wondered whether there was any grain of truth to his words, if he really thought those things or…
Harry felt his cheeks heat up and stopped that thought in its tracks. “You should go to the infirmary.”
“Come along, Potter, I’ll let you examine my – oh, bloody hell. I’ll go.”
Harry watched, confused like the rest of the class, as Malfoy picked up his books and hurried out of the classroom.
*
“So I heard that Malfoy’s weirdness ended up being some kind of messed up potion. Probably from when you two had the, uh, accident.”
Harry looked up from his notebook, forgetting all about the spell he was supposed to write about.
“He’s still at the infirmary, wearing it off. Apparently the mixed potions created some sort of truth elixir,” Hermione continued. She was smirking, supposedly still looking at her own essay. But Harry could see the glint in her eyes as she snuck a look at him. “Makes him say the first thing that comes to mind.”
“Oh,” Harry said, his thoughts swirling with the possibilities. Had Malfoy always thought these things about him?
“I just thought it might interest you.”
Harry blinked. Refusing to admit to anything.
“Oh.”