Chapter Text
~~~ August 25, 1994 - The Quidditch World Cup - 1:37 A.M. ~~~
Despite the grandiose festivities after the conclusion of the Quidditch World Cup, Harry finds himself unable to sleep. His mind is racing at a dizzying pace as he recounts the evening’s events. His team may have lost in the end, but the thrill of watching a professional Quidditch match easily outweighs his disappointment.
Harry’s mind wanders to the fireworks at the beginning of the match. He’d never seen fireworks before today, let alone fireworks as spectacular and breathtaking as these were. It makes him wonder what else he’s missed out on. How many incredible things has he yet to experience? Surprisingly, this thought doesn’t upset him. In fact, it has the opposite effect, making him eager for the future and what it will bring.
He’s still lost in thought when Arthur Weasley bursts into the room, panting heavily. He jerks into a sitting position, taking in the man’s rigid stance and worried eyes.
“Mister Weasley?” Harry questions, rubbing his eyes as he shifts to face the man.
“ Lumos! Everybody wake up! Now!” Arthur shouts as his Lumos lights up the tent, causing the boys to groan and shift in their beds. One by one, the boys rise into a sitting position, each looking at Arthur with sleepy confusion.
“What is it, dad?” Ron asks, yawning as he attempts to rub the sleep from his eyes.
“Don’t you hear that?” Arthur says, hurriedly lighting the room’s lamps.
“Well, yeah. It’s probably just the Irish celebrating their win.” Fred mumbles, obviously only half awake.
“What he said. Can we go back to sleep now?” George adds, already beginning to lie down.
“It’s not the Irish.” Arthur insists, walking determinedly over to George’s bed and yanking the blanket away from his body.
It takes the boys a moment to register the implications of Arthur’s declaration, but once they do, they’re up and out of bed, hastily tugging their shoes onto their feet and throwing on their clothes. While this is happening, Arthur exits the room, despite the boys’ pressing for him to elaborate. Once they’ve finished dressing, they quickly file out of their portion of the tent, where Ginny and Hermione are waiting for them.
Arthur suddenly emerges from another one of the tent’s rooms. He deftly retrieves his wand as he strides over to the children and comes to stand in front of them. He pauses to make sure that everyone is listening before saying, “There’s a riot going on outside. I want all of you to get to the portkey as fast as possible. Be sure to stick together. Fred, George… Ginny is your responsibility.” He stops for a moment, inhaling shakily. “Now, go!”
There’s a fair amount of protest at the thought of leaving Arthur behind, but soon enough the group is ushered outside. The sight that greets them is ghastly, and they all find themselves immobilized for a few seconds as shock and terror surge within them.
The scene before them is pure chaos and it’s difficult to make out what’s going on. However, despite the thick smoke that is emanating from the blazing flames surrounding them, they quickly zero in on the culprits of the riot. There is a group of people wearing black, hooded robes distributed throughout the field, wreaking havoc in any way they can. Some are setting fire to the various tents scattered around the area, while others are busy chasing and throwing curses at the event’s attendees.
Arthur snaps them out of their stupor, shouting, “Go! Now!” as he pushes the in the direction of the portkey. They don’t have to be told twice. Fred and George grab Ginny’s hand and take off with Harry, Hermione, and Ron trailing close behind them. It doesn’t take long for the Golden Trio to lose sight of Ginny and the twins, but they press on, linking arms as they weave through the crowd.
Suddenly, someone collides with Harry from behind, sending him sprawling to the ground. Time seems to slow to a crawl as Harry’s vision blurs and his ears ring, the sound drowning out the cacophony of the scene surrounding him. He blinks the blurriness from his eyes and instantly has to roll to the side, narrowly avoiding being trampled. He begins to crawl his way through the stampede, occasionally feeling the impact of a shoe against his back. Finally, after what seems like hours, Harry claws his way out of the bedlam. The calm that greets him is shocking. The constricting feeling that has been building in his chest begins to dissipate and he finds himself gasping for breath. However, he’s not safe yet.
He may have escaped from the raging crowd, but he’s still at the epicenter of the riot, and therefore, very much in danger. So, despite his aching limbs and stuttering breath, he continues on, crawling on his hands and knees to escape the worst of the smoke. He keeps going until he finds a relatively quiet area. There’s a stack of wooden boxes that will provide cover as he takes a moment to rest and the area is seemingly barren.
Harry tries to catch his breath, placing his head between his knees as his chest heaves painfully. Once his heartbeat slows to an acceptable pace, he pats his left pocket to check for his wand. Luckily, it hadn’t fallen out in the commotion and it’s still where it’s supposed to be. Breathing a sigh of relief, he leans back against the box he’s hidden behind. He slowly removes his glasses and attempts to clean off the smudges of dirt with his sleeve with marginal success. Once he puts them back on and his surroundings snap into focus, he scans the area, making sure that he is alone.
He is just beginning to regain a feeling of safety when he hears a family voice from the other side of the boxes he’s hiding behind. This voice is followed by another, which Harry does not recognize, and whoever is speaking seems to be threatening the other person.
“No- My father- You can’t do this!” The familiar voice stutters out. Harry quickly realizes why he recognizes the voice. It’s Draco Malfoy. Well, isn’t that just dandy?
“I don’t give a damn who your father is, boy. Or, maybe I do? After all, he’s the reason you’re about to die.” Harry can hear the smirk in the man’s voice.
Harry now has a decision to make. He could try to save Draco, despite everything the blond Slytherin has put him and his friends through. Or, he could leave and let things play out. The second option is tempting, but he could never live with himself if he left Draco to die. Groaning internally, he creeps over so he can assess the situation.
The unknown man is standing tall with his wand pointed confidently at Draco, who is seated on the ground, pressed against the boxes Harry is hiding behind. There’s quite a bit of space between them, so it would be possible for Harry to jump in between the two of them, ready to cast a protego if curses start flying.
The man pulls his wand back and opens his mouth, bringing Harry’s planning to an abrupt halt. Without another thought, he leaps from his hiding place and inserts himself between the man and Draco. Harry and the man cast simultaneously.
“ Petrificus totalus! ”
“ Protego! ”
A shield forms between the two boys and the unknown man. The curse bounces off of it and is launched directly back at the man. Surprised by Harry’s sudden arrival, the man doesn’t react in time, and the curse slams into him, locking up his legs and sending him falling, face-first to the ground.
Harry points his wand at the man and shouts, “ Immobulus! ”, rendering him paralyzed. Harry nods at his handiwork and turns around, taking in Draco’s shocked features.
“Wha- What are you-”
“Save it, Malfoy. Get up. We need to get out of here.” Harry reluctantly holds out his hand to the blond boy, his expression firm. Draco shakily takes it and Harry heaves the Slytherin to his feet, steadying him as he stumbles. “Come on.” Harry orders, marching off in the direction of the portkey. Draco hesitates for a moment before deciding to follow the Gryffindor, jogging to catch up to him.
The walk passes in silence until a green light pierces the sky, shooting upwards and expanding into an image. A skull with a snake entwined within it is floating amidst the deep, midnight sky.
Suddenly, a searing pain rockets through Harry’s head, emanating from his scar. He crumples to the ground. Draco, much to Harry’s amazement, rushes to his side.
“Are you okay?” Harry notes the worry in his tone but decides to dismiss it as a figment of his imagination.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Harry says as he slowly rises to his feet, the pain subsiding. “What the hell is that?”
Draco inhales shakily. “The Dark Mark. It’s a symbol used by Death Eaters and… and The Dark Lord.” Harry jerks his head toward the blond as Draco finishes explaining, his eyes wide with worry.
“Then… What does this mean?”
“I’m not sure.” Draco starts quietly. “But, whatever it is, it can’t be good.”
~~~ September 1, 1994 ~ Hogwarts Express ~~~
Harry has just boarded the Hogwarts Express with Ron and Hermione. The events at the Quidditch World Cup have been plaguing his mind. Not just the mass carnage and the Dark Mark that appeared in the sky, but his interaction with Draco as well. Much to Harry’s surprise, the blond Slytherin had been cordial to him, friendly even, after Harry saved his life. Which, for most people, wouldn’t be strange. However, Draco is not most people , and the animosity between them is legendary at Hogwarts. Needless to say, Harry is confused beyond belief. This confusion only grows when Harry feels someone grab onto his arm, the culprit being Draco Malfoy.
“I was hoping I could speak with you… Preferably in private.” Draco says, his tone as demanding as ever. However, unlike before, Harry can sense a note of vulnerability hidden beneath the surface. He wonders if it’s always been there and he’s just never noticed.
“Harry?” Hermione questions, narrowing her eyes at Draco suspiciously.
“It’s alright. Go on; I’ll be there in a minute.” Harry waves them off reassuringly, turning back to Draco and nodding at him. Draco releases Harry’s arm and turns on his heels, stalking down the hall with a determined stride. Ron and Hermione send worried glances Harry’s way, but Harry has already turned away from them, hurrying to catch up with Draco.
Suddenly, Draco stops, sharply sliding open a compartment door and pulling Harry inside. The compartment is unoccupied, other than them, and after Draco shuts the door he sits on one of the benches, gesturing for Harry to do the same. Harry complies, and the room is silent for a moment.
“What do you want?” Draco breaks the tension that has been looming over them for the past thirty seconds.
“You know, I was about to ask you the same question.” Harry replies, unable to hold back his snark in the presence of his school rival.
“Don’t fuck with me, Potter. What do you want?” Draco persists angrily, glaring heatedly at Harry.
“What do you mean?”
“For saving my life. So, what is it? Money? Recognition? Something else?”
“Wait. Just- Hold on, okay?” Harry interrupts, holding his hands out to silence the blond seated across from him. “I don’t want anything, alright? Just because you’re an arse, doesn’t mean that your life doesn’t matter. Believe it or not, I don’t want you to die.”
Draco looks confused. “Why the bloody hell not? I’ve been horrible to you.”
“You make the school year interesting.” Harry replies simply, smirking snarkily at Draco. The Slytherin is unable to hold back his snort of amusement at Harry’s response.
“Interesting, huh? Not exactly what I was going for, but I’ll take it.” Draco chuckles and Harry soon joins in, filling the compartment with soft laughter. Soon, too soon if you were to ask Harry, the moment ends, and silence descends upon them once more.
“Thank you. I don’t think I said that yet.” Draco mumbles, a blush heating his cheeks as he looks down at his lap.
“Don’t mention it.” Harry responds. “Well, I better get going before Ron and Hermione come searching for me.” Harry stands and begins toward the door. Just before he leaves, Draco calls out to him.
“Harry?” Harry turns back to him, hiding his surprise at the use of his first name. “Talk to you later, yeah?” Harry quickly conceals his shock at the offer, but the brief expression of disbelief is not lost on the blond. Harry smiles back at him, nodding slightly.
“Yeah, sure. I think I’d like that.”
~~~ September 1, 1994 ~ Great Hall ~~~
“So?” Hermione questions, finally addressing the elephant in the room. Harry could feel the prying eyes of Ron and Hermione all through the sorting, no doubt wondering why Draco wanted to speak with him.
“Hm?” Harry responds, feigning obliviousness. Hermione smacks him on the arm.
“Don’t play dumb. Why did Malfoy want to talk to you?” Hermione leans back, arms crossing over her chest as a glare makes its way across her face.
Harry sighs, quickly thinking of a believable lie. He doesn’t think that Ron and Hermione would take well to finding out that he and Draco are now on better terms. “He just wanted to let me know that Snape partnered us up for Potions.” Harry says offhandedly, shoveling more mashed potatoes into his mouth.
“Why the bloody hell would he do that?” Ron asks heatedly.
“Dunno. Malfoy seemed to think it was because I’m awful at Potions. He said Snape somehow believes that being paired with someone who isn’t would help.” Harry explains hurriedly. Hermione narrows her eyes but says nothing to contradict him. Everyone turns back to their plates and the issue is dropped, for now, at least. Harry can tell by the look in Hermione’s eyes that there will be more questioning in the future.
Harry is fairly certain that Draco can talk Snape into making them partners. The only problem is, what if this whole “friendship” thing doesn’t work out between them? For some reason, Harry isn’t all that concerned and actually finds himself looking forward to the prospect of spending more time with the blond. It’s confusing, but not necessarily concerning, so he decides to give it a go and not worry about the possible consequences for now. Besides, after Dumbledore’s announcement about the Tri-Wizard Tournament, he doubts that anyone will be paying attention to him for the rest of the year.
~~~ September 2, 1994 ~ Outside The Great Hall ~~~
Harry is leaning against the wall outside the Great Hall waiting for Draco to finish his breakfast. Harry had left his friends at the Gryffindor Table ten minutes ago under the guise of grabbing a book from the library so he could catch up a bit in Potions. Which, isn’t exactly a lie. Harry fully expects Draco to bully him into actually studying for the class this year if they’re going to be partners.
Another five minutes pass before the grand doors swing open, revealing the blond Slytherin Harry’s been waiting for. Harry catches Draco’s eye and the blond motions for him to follow at a distance. This will be the first time they’ve spoken since their conversation on the train the previous day, and they have yet to broach the topic of how to act around each other in public. Sure, it would be great if they could throw caution to the wind and rise above their rivalry in the public eye. However, there are many factors to consider, namely Draco’s father. Who knows what would happen if word gets out that Lucius Malfoy’s son has been chumming it up with The Boy Who Lived.
Harry walks inconspicuously behind Draco for a minute or two before the blond turns a corner and disappears from sight. Harry continues and is suddenly pulled by the arm into an empty classroom. He resists the urge to cry out, knowing that he’s not in actual danger. When he turns, he is met with the piercing grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. The blond’s eyes seem to glitter in the early morning light streaming in through the window to their left. Harry finds himself transfixed by the sight.
“So, I assume you were lurking outside the Great Hall because you wanted to speak with me.” Draco says, snapping Harry out of his daze.
“Oh… Yeah.” Harry shakes his head, scrunching up his nose in silent confusion. Draco waves his hand, urging him to explain. “I may or may not have told Ron and Hermione that you wanted to talk to me on the train because Snape made up partners in Potions…” Harry trails off, rubbing the back of his neck timidly. Draco sighs, shaking his head.
“And now you want me to talk to Professor Snape so your lie doesn’t fall apart?” Draco finishes for him, a smug look on his face.
“Yeah… Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. It won’t be an issue.” Draco assures, brushing the issue off with a wave of his hand.
An awkward silence descends over the two teens, neither knowing what to say next. Harry quickly decides that the tension is ridiculous and completely unnecessary.
“I’m guessing that you’re going to want to catch me up, then.”
“Oh, absolutely. From what I remember, your Potions skills are frightfully inadequate.” Draco responds, smirking viciously.
“Hey!” Harry exclaims, smacking a hand to his chest. “I’m not that bad!”
Draco scoffs. “Tell me, Harry, what common potions are Fire Seeds used in?”
“Um…” Harry stutters, wracking his brain for the information he needs. Unfortunately, he has little success.
“Exactly.” Draco pauses, his smirk widening. “We’ve got some work to do.”
~~~ September 5, 1994 ~ Potions Classroom ~~~
Instead of relaxing during his last few days of freedom, Harry spent his time either holed up in the library with Draco or reading through his new Potions textbook in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione had given him an odd look when she descended the stairs at nine a.m. on Sunday morning to find Harry already awake and sitting by the fireplace, reading and taking notes. However, she hadn’t questioned him, instead pulling out her own textbooks and taking a seat next to him.
Now, it’s Monday, and Harry finds himself sitting next to Draco under the scrutinizing gaze of Severus Snape. Though still behind, his three-day cramming session has definitely caught him up to some extent, and he feels much more confident than he had in past years. Although, sitting next to Draco, who’s had top marks in Potions every year, helps too.
Harry scans the rest of his class, noticing the shocked looks from Slytherins and Gryffindors alike at his seating choice. He locks eyes with Ron from across the room, who mouths “Good luck” in his general direction before turning back to Hermione and whispering something in her ear. Harry rolls his eyes and shifts his gaze to Draco. The blond is organizing the ingredients on the desk in front of them, occasionally glancing up at the chalkboard at the front of the classroom for reference.
“We need more Ginger Root.” Draco remarks offhandedly, his eyes never leaving his work.
“Got it.” Harry stands and walks over to the small cabinet where the commonly used potion ingredients are kept. He peruses the shelves, quickly finding what he’s looking for. Turning, he’s startled to find Professor Snape hovering behind him.
“I don’t know what you’re up to, Potter, but if Draco is hurt in any way, I will make Hogwarts a living hell for you. Do we understand each other?” Snape drawls quietly, barely above a whisper.
‘As if you don’t already.’ Harry thinks to himself, holding back a snigger. Instead of following his instincts, however, he bites out a respectful “Yes, sir” and brushes past him, stalking back over to his and Draco’s shared table.
“What was that about?” Draco asks once Harry is seated.
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Harry replies, his gaze still fixed on Snape. Draco sighs.
“He doesn’t hate you, you know?”
“Really?” Harry scoffs. “I find that hard to believe.”
Draco turns to him, looking the Gryffindor in the eye. “Really.”
“How’s that?” Draco chuckles.
“I’ll let you figure that one out yourself. Now, come on. We’ve got a potion to make.”
~~~ September 11, 1994 ~ Library ~~~
“Okay, that’s it. It is literally impossible to write twelve inches on The Draught of Peace. It’s a draught and it calms you down. Easy as that.” Harry complains, his voice pitching into a whine halfway through his lamentation. Draco chuckles and sighs, turning to Harry and raising a singular brow. The blond is completely unsympathetic to his plight, and instead of agreeing with him, or assuring him that he is absolutely correct - which he is… obviously - Draco slides his own parchment over so Harry can see it. Harry’s eyes widen when he sees that Draco is already seven inches into his essay. Harry quickly concludes that Draco is a prat and proceeds to smack him on the forearm, muttering “show off” and rolling his eyes.
“Well, yes, but it does help that I’m using the correct research materials.” Draco says simply, holding up the weathered tome he’s been referencing for the past forty-five minutes. Draco hands it over so Harry can read the title.
The book is thinner than the one Harry has been using and is titled An In-Depth Guide to Brewing and Understanding The Draught of Peace . “Where did you find this?” Harry asks, flipping it over in his hands and running his fingers along the worn leather.
“Professor Snape’s private collection. He lent it to me.” Draco answers offhandedly as if being lent a book from one of the most terrifying teachers at Hogwarts is just another Tuesday.
“Isn’t that cheating?”
Draco snorts. “Hardly. His private collection is open to anyone who requests to use it. It’s not my fault that most people are too scared to ask.” Harry chuckles softly, opening the book to the first page and observing the looping, handwritten text.
“Fair.”
“You can use it if you’d like. And I’m willing to help you with your essay as well. You just have to ask.” Draco says, his voice lowering to a borderline whisper as he finishes his statement.
“Really?”
“Yeah; We are friends, aren’t we?” Draco questions, a blush spreading across his cheeks, his tone hopeful and unsure.
“Of course we are!” Harry assures quickly. Draco’s lips spread into a beaming grin at Harry’s declaration, his grey eyes twinkling with barely concealed joy.
“In that case, let me see what you have so far.” Draco reaches over and grabs Harry’s parchment, setting it in front of him. He prepares to read but stops in his tracks when he sees what Harry has written. Suddenly, the quiet atmosphere of the library is filled with Draco’s boisterous laughter. The blond sets the page down, leaning back in his chair and clutching his sides as aggressive chuckles wrack his frame. Harry stares at the Slytherin in shock, eyes wide. He’s never heard Draco laugh like this before, and he finds that it is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. He sounds carefree and happy, a far cry from the put-together, aristocratic air he usually portrays. The blond’s humored elation is contagious and Harry can’t help but laugh right along with him.
“What?” Harry asks in between chortles.
“You- You just- We’ve been working for almost an hour, Harry!!” Draco exclaims, struggling to form words through his uncontrollable guffaws.
“Oi! What does the amount of time we’ve been working have to do with anything !” Harry defends playfully.
“Harry,” Draco begins, “do you really think Professor Snape will accept this?”
“What’s wrong with it?” Harry asks innocently, knowing full well what the problem is.
“‘Oh, Draught of Peach
It is your job to increase
A wizard’s tranquility
And lessen hostility
Yes, you make agitation cease.
What it calls for?
Moonstone, Syrup of Hellebore,
Stewed Mandrake, and Powdered Quills,
Among other added thrills
Mingle to make your spirit soar.
Add, stir, shake, boil,
Working, bustling, still you toil.
Pink, blue, orange, yellow, red,
Until white, or so it said.
Now that you’ve finished, don’t let it spoil.’”
Draco reads Harry’s essay - if you can call it that - aloud, taking care to add the needed amount of drama and use proper inflections. Draco even deems it necessary to wave his arms around to punctuate certain lines, his movements elegant and deliberate.
Despite the satirical nature of what Draco is reading, Harry is once again transfixed by the blond seated next to him. If someone had told him a few months ago that he would be sitting in the school library, studying and joking with Draco Malfoy, he probably would’ve accused them of insanity. But now that he’s here, listening to Draco’s melodic voice and watching him laugh and mess around like an idiot, he realizes that there’s an entirely different person hidden beneath Draco’s mask of cruel indifference. There is so much more to Draco Malfoy than meets the eye, and Harry wouldn’t be surprised if he is one of the very few people who has been able to break through the layers of defense that Draco has erected around his true self.
Harry has no idea what he’s done to earn this level of trust from Draco, but he’s glad he did. Harry finds that he connects with his ex-rival on a deeper level than he has been able to achieve with Ron and Hermione. Don’t get him wrong, Ron and Hermione are his best friends and he loves them. In fact, he doubts he would have made it this far without their help and friendship. They’ve forged an unbreakable bond over the years, and absolutely no one can replace them. However, Harry realizes that he’s been missing something, probably for a very long time. Harry would never have guessed that it would be Draco who would fill that gap, but he couldn’t be happier with how things turned out. Harry thanks whatever gods may be that he decided to save Draco that night at the Quidditch World Cup.
Draco finishes reading with one final flourish of his right arm before he stands, taking a dramatic bow. Harry claps enthusiastically, exclaiming, “Encore!” as loudly as he believes possible without drawing the attention of Madame Pince and incurring the woman’s wrath.
“Thank you, thank you, you’re too kind.” Draco proclaims before taking his seat, quietly scooting his chair back into position.
“Truly a stunning show, Draco. Just as I had envisioned it to be performed. I tip my hat to you, sir.” Harry remarks, continuing the joke. Draco’s composure finally breaks and the Slytherin begins laughing heartily, with Harry hastily joining him.
Once they calm down a bit, Draco takes a deep breath, rubbing his aching sides. “But, seriously, what is that? Some kind of poem, I assume?”
“It’s my attempt at a Horatian Ode.” Harry explains, taking his parchment back from Draco and looking it over. “Not my best work, but it’ll do.” Harry looks back up and notices Draco staring at him strangely. “What?”
Draco smiles softly. “You never cease to amaze me, Potter.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean, Malfoy?” Harry asks snarkily, his offended tone obviously fake, as he crosses his arms over his chest moodily.
“I guess I just never took you for someone who reads poetry, or is a good writer if I’m being honest.” Draco admits honestly, his gaze moving to his lap as if he’s ashamed of his assumptions.
“That’s not surprising. It’s not exactly something I like to project to the world. But, yeah, I’ve always loved reading. My home life… Well, let’s just say that it isn’t ideal, and I like to go to the library when things get to be too much. It’s a way for me to escape, even if it’s only for a little while.” Harry explains, finishing quietly as he trails off. He’s unsure when he made the decision to tell Draco something so personal about his life. Actually, he hadn’t even thought about it, the words flowing from his mouth naturally and comfortably. He now realizes that the trust that Draco has given him is reciprocated, and Harry finds himself wanting to tell Draco everything, from his insecurities to his abusive relatives. And, he can’t shake the feeling that, on some level, Draco will understand, though he can’t pinpoint where this feeling comes from.
“Me too,” Draco begins, pausing for a moment to take a steadying breath before continuing. “My- My parents aren’t exactly the most loving people. I’m alone most of the time, and the only thing that keeps me sane is reading and learning new things. Actually, one of the only good things about Malfoy Manor is the library. It’s huge, much bigger than the one here, and it has books on pretty much anything you could think of. I… I really wish I could show you.” Draco shares, sighing as he finishes speaking, the weight of the situation he and Harry are in threatening to crush him. Harry is the first real friend he’s ever had. Everyone else he calls “friend” really only hangs around him because of his last name. Spending time with Harry is refreshing, and he feels more at ease than ever before when they’re together. It’s not something that he’s willing to give up, and the thought of his father finding out and taking Harry away from him (possibly in a more literal manner than one would think) shakes him to his very core.
“Me too.” Harry agrees. It’s silent for a moment before Harry gets fed up with it. They’re past the point of awkward silence by now, and Harry refuses to make any backward progress. “Maybe someday, I mean, who knows what will happen, right?”
“That’s true.” Draco concludes, his smile reappearing.
“Anyway, let’s not worry about that right now. This essay is due on Monday and, unfortunately, I don’t think Snape will see a satirical ode as a valid homework response.” Harry steers them back on track, wondering how they managed to get so distracted in the first place. Wait, that’s right. Harry was being an idiot. Oh, well; It must be a day ending in “y”.
“You’re right. As marvelous as this is, Snape would be absolutely livid if you turned it in. Although, it would be rather funny to see his reaction, don’t you think?” Draco states, taking Harry’s parchment and folding it in half neatly before slipping it into his satchel.
“It would, however, I don’t fancy being strung up by my ears in the dungeons for a week, so I guess we’ll just have to leave it up to our imaginations.” Harry drawls out, rolling his eyes as Draco sniggers at the imagery.
“I guess that’s fair. Anyway, it’s getting late, so you should go ahead and take that book with you tonight so you can read through it and take notes. We’ll go through what you’ve written down tomorrow and see what we can make of it.” Draco declares, placing his palms on the table and hoisting himself to his feet. Harry nods and the two boys begin collecting their belongings.
Once everything has been collected, Harry and Draco face each other, their eyes roaming, unsure of how to proceed. Eventually, Draco huffs aggressively and rushes forward, startling Harry by pulling him into a quick, but obviously affectionate hug.
The blond pulls away, much too soon for Harry’s liking - which very much confuses Harry, but that’s an issue for another day - and turns forcefully on his heels. He stalks away, calling back to Harry as he begins his trek back to the dungeons.
“I’ll see you later, Harry!”
“Yeah, see you later!” Harry says back, waving at the blond’s retreating back.
Harry waits for a moment before leaving the quiet, secluded corner of the library he and Draco had chosen. As he navigates the labyrinthine isles of shelves his mind wanders to his friends, Ron and Hermione. Harry wonders how they will react when they find out that he and Draco have decided to put their rivalry in the past and become friends. He worries that they won’t take it well, and for good reason. Draco has done some pretty awful things to them. It’s a topic that Harry and Draco have tried to avoid, at least for the time being. Harry feels his heart rate quicken with anxiety before he forcefully stamps it down, deciding that it’s no use worrying about it now. It will be what it will be, and there’s nothing he can do to change the outcome. All he can do is hope that, when the time comes, Ron and Hermione will be willing to forgive him… And Draco.
~~~ September 15, 1994 - Potions Classroom ~~~
It’s the beginning of Potions on Wednesday and Professor Snape is passing out the homework that was due on Monday. For once, Harry is excited to find out what grade he received. He feels confident that he has done well, and with Draco’s help he has actually managed to understand the content. Harry is used to just bullshitting his way through Potions and hoping for the best, much to Hermione’s dismay, so the feeling of accomplishment that comes with actually doing the work like he’s supposed to is exhilarating. Although, he suspects that most of his excitement comes from the look he hopes to see on Snape’s face when he hands Harry his essay.
Snape finally comes to a stop in front of Harry and slowly reaches out to hand Harry his parchment. The Professor’s expression is full of skepticism as he fixes Harry with a critical gaze that pierces through the Gryffindor’s soul, making him gulp inaudibly. Harry takes his essay and waits for Snape to walk away before flipping it over to take a look at his grade.
Harry grins when he sees the E written in the top left corner of his parchment. He’s never received anything above a Poor on his Potions homework, so finding out that Snape graded his work as an E sends an electric feeling of satisfaction rocketing down his spine. However, his elation does not last long. There’s a note just below the E that reads:
See me after class. I have some questions about your essay.
“How’d you do?” Draco queries, craning his neck to get a look at Harry’s parchment. Draco’s question breaks Harry out of his confused reverie, and the dark-haired Gryffindor turns to look at Draco with a dazed expression on his face.
“Exceeds expectations.” Harry murmurs, still trying to figure out why Snape would want to speak with him about his essay.
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Draco inquires slowly.
“He wants to speak with me after class.” Harry states, furrowing his brows as he slides his parchment over to Draco so he can read the note.
“That’s… strange.” Draco mumbles, bringing his hand to his chin as he thinks. “But I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” Draco reassures, passing Harry’s essay back to him. Before Harry can say anything in response, Snape finishes his task and moves to stand at the front of the room to begin the lesson, effectively silencing the class.
Today isn’t a practical class, so Harry is finding it difficult to pay attention. His eyes wander a few times to Ron and Hermione’s table, catching Ron giving him a strange look. Ron eventually realizes that Harry has caught onto his staring and he blushes, wrenching his head down to gaze intently at his desk. Harry raises a brow at Ron’s antics, but doesn’t otherwise react, instead opting to tune back into the lecture.
“...takes approximately one month, two days, and eighteen hours to brew Polyjuice Potion. This is why…” Harry tunes out again, his mind wandering to his second year when he, Ron, and Hermione brewed Polyjuice Potion in an attempt to find out if Draco was the Heir of Slytherin. It seems so silly now, but at the time, the three friends were genuinely concerned that it was Draco who was releasing a monster upon the unsuspecting students of Hogwarts. Although, this disbelief could be in part due to Harry’s new-found friendship with the blond Slytherin. Harry wonders if he should tell Draco that story. Knowing what he does now, Harry wholeheartedly believes that Draco would think their efforts were hilarious, and would probably even be flattered that they thought him capable of that level of deviousness.
After what seems like hours, Snape finally dismisses the class, and all of the students quickly stand and take their leave. Ron, Hermione, and Draco lag behind with Harry. When Draco notices the presence of Harry’s friends, he mumbles a reassuring, “It’ll be fine,” under his breath and stalks from the room, nodding at Ron and Hermione, much to their confusion.
“You ready to go, Harry?” Hermione asks, her body turned towards the classroom door.
“Not yet; Snape asked to see me after class. You go on ahead. I’ll catch up.” Harry says, waving them off.
“Good luck, mate. You’re gonna need it.” Ron utters, patting Harry on the back before leaving with Hermione. Harry watches them walk away, waiting until they’re out of sight to turn back to the front of the room, where Professor Snape is waiting for him.
Snape is seated behind his desk, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, his gaze locked on Harry. The Gryffindor’s palms grow sweaty and his heart begins to pound. Taking a deep, calming breath, he steels himself and approaches the Professor.
“You wanted to speak with me, sir?” Harry speaks, trying to sound confident and unafraid in the face of the Slytherin Head of House.
“Yes.” Snape pauses for a moment. Harry suspects that he only does it to build Harry’s anxiety by leaving him in the dark for as long as possible. He doesn’t appreciate it, and he isn’t able to cover up the full force of his offense. Snape narrows his eyes before continuing. “About your essay. Well done, Potter. I’m impressed. Or, should I say, I would be impressed… If you had been the one to write it.” Harry’s eyes widen in shock at Snape’s accusation, his brain rushing to find a way to prove his innocence.
“Are you implying that I cheated, Professor?” Harry asks lowly, attempting to keep his anger concealed.
“Did you?”
“No, sir.”
“I see.” Snape leans back in his seat. “Here’s what I think happened. You found out something about Draco that he doesn’t want anyone to know. You used this information to blackmail him into doing your work for you. How close am I?” Snape hisses, rising into a standing position. The man towers over Harry, and the Gryffindor immediately begins to panic. His mind flashes back to his Uncle, Vernon Dursley. The rotund, lumbering man has trapped him in this position more times than Harry can count, and it didn’t take long for him to begin associating it with pain. Snape notices the boy’s discomfort but doesn’t allow himself to express the brief pang of worry he feels when he notices Harry’s breath hitch in his throat as he stiffens. He does, however, move back so he’s not leaning ominously over the boy, which seems to help somewhat.
“That’s not what happened, Professor.” Harry finally finds his voice and tries to defend himself. Snape fixes him with a disbelieving look.
“Then tell me, Potter. What did happen?” Snape prompts Harry to explain, but Harry’s mind comes up blank, the panic taking its toll.
“I didn’t do it for him.” Suddenly, Draco’s voice rings out from the room’s entrance. Harry whips around, a relieved look crossing his features as he takes in Draco’s presence. “But I did help him. And, before you accuse him of blackmail again, he’s done nothing of the sort.” Draco stalks further into the room, coming to stand beside Harry. The blond places a calming hand on Harry’s shoulder as he fixes Snape with an icy glare. “I helped him because I wanted to. He’s my friend, and I want him to be successful, unlike you, so it seems.”
Harry stares open-mouthed at Draco, the audacity of the blond’s statement shocking him and, honestly, making him fear for the boy’s sanity. Draco doesn’t seem to notice. He and Snape are now locked in an aggressive stare down, their gazes steadfastly glued together. For a while, neither seems willing to back down, and Harry begins to fear that this confrontation will last all the way through dinner. However, finally, Snape’s eyes fall away from Draco’s and the man sighs heavily.
“I see. You both may go.” Professor Snape suddenly dismisses them, spurring the two teens into motion. The man watches them leave side-by-side, allowing a rare smile to form on his face.
Outside, Harry and Draco are rushing down the hall, eager to get as far from the situation as possible. Once they reach a “safe distance”, Harry stops and turns to Draco.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Draco scoffs before lightly cuffing Harry upside the head with his palm.
“Yes, actually, I did.” Draco replies simply before continuing down the corridor.
“Draco, wait! What do you mean-”
“Don’t ask stupid questions, Harry. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Well, yeah, but-”
“Then there’s your answer.” Draco states as he turns back to face Harry, smiling softly. Harry chuckles before sighing and shaking his head.
“Yeah, you’re right. Thank you.” Harry says quietly before running to catch up to Draco, punching him lightly on the arm as he comes to stand at the blond’s side.
“Don’t mention it. Now, come on, we have some studying to do.”