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“Pig! Get back here!”
Malfoy, who obviously thought Ron was speaking to him, turned around with a raised brow.
“Not you, Malfoy, the owl.”
“This one?” Malfoy asked rhetorically as Pig landed on him.
“What the fuck?” Ron replied as Pig nestled against Malfoy's shoulder—Malfoy, because he apparently went absolutely bonkers before eighth year, pet the small owl with two fingers.
“He's yours, Weasley? I thought you had that older one.”
Ron blinked, shutting his mouth on the instinctual retort as he realized Malfoy was serious.
“Not since end of third year.”
Malfoy nodded as though that answered a question and said, “He's a good owl.”
With absolutely no idea what to say, Ron's 'yeah' was a lot more delayed than he expected it to be. Seeming unsure himself, Malfoy nodded and shooed the bird off his shoulder to go back to his owner.
“Listen, Malfoy,” Ron started before Malfoy could walk away, “if you continue to be—not such an asshole, I guess, and apologize... People might, you know, think you just grew up and realized what was right.”
“And you're here to extend that chance, Weaselbee?”
“That's on you, you pointy git,” Ron replied, “Also—'Weaselbee' is a terrible insult.”
“I'll tell you a secret, Weasley,” Malfoy replied, and Ron was surprised to find himself more interested than not about what Malfoy was going to say. “I'm not actually all that clever. Took me two years to figure that one out.”
Ron snorted a laugh, and in reply Malfoy just shrugged, a little rueful. Pig, then, after circling the two of them, landed on Ron's shoulder.
“I'll see you tomorrow, Malfoy,” Ron said after attaching a letter to Pig.
“You too, Weasley,” Malfoy replied. “And, you know, I'm sorry. For everything.”
And then he left the owlery.