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Draco Malfoy came to school wearing Slytherin green ear cuffs.
They were in the shape of snakes, twisting back and forth around the edge of his ears, a brilliant shade of green with jade diamonds encrusted into their eyes. They were works of art, and looked way more expensive than anything Harry has ever held in his hands before, including the Dursley’s fine china that Petunia insisted was worth more than the house.
Harry couldn’t stop looking at the way the snakes curl at their tails, flicking in towards Malfoy’s inner ear in a way that almost looked uncomfortable.
“Hey, mate,” Ron said in annoyance through a mouthful of food, drawing Harry’s attention but not his gaze. “Have you even been listening to what I’m saying?” Harry didn’t respond, watching the way Malfoy laughed and threw his head back just a little, the candlelight bouncing off the diamond eyes and practically sparkling. “Are you watching Malfoy?” Ron asked indignantly.
Finally, Harry turned his full attention to his friend, cheeks going pink at having been caught. “He’s wearing ear cuffs,” Harry explained, shoving a scoop of food into his mouth to avoid having to say anything else for a moment.
One of Ron’s eyebrows rose in suspicion, his face becoming a little more pinched. “Okay, so that means you’re staring at the git why?”
Harry shrugged his shoulders and dropped his eyes to his plate, pushing his food around with his fork absently. “They’re pretty. The ear cuffs.”
Ron’s mouth hung open with mashed food still inside, part of which fell from his mouth and onto his plate in a disgusting fashion. He seemed to realize how gross his actions came across, because he grabbed his napkin and wiped at his mouth.
“Are you hearing yourself, Harry? You just used the word pretty. To describe Malfoy.”
Ron spat the name like it left a sour taste on his tongue, and Harry’s shoulders hunch up a little more towards his ears.
“I know, but it’s true. How would you describe the cuffs if not pretty?”
Ron did a brief glance in Malfoy’s direction, nose wrinkling in distaste. “Expensive and show off-y.”
“I don’t think that’s a word,” Harry commented, shoving a spoonful of vegetables into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. Ron waved him away, not willing to let Harry’s commentary distract him from making his point.
“Whatever they are, the word pretty should not be used in context to describing anything about Malfoy. And don’t let him or anyone else hear you call him that, either. It will only bring more trouble around for the both of us.”
Harry didn’t respond, his eyes down on his plate as Ron started chatting about the latest Quidditch game he’d read about. He kept stealing glances up at the Slytherin table, and the twin snakes glittering on Malfoy’s ears.
Something was wrong with Malfoy.
Something, of course, other than the fact that Malfoy was a complete arse.
Harry had spent an increasing amount of meals watching the Slytherin boy at his dinner table, noticing that he always seemed to be a beat behind his friends. He was always the last to laugh at their jokes, and his eye contact is a little too intense for someone his age. Harry wasn’t sure what to make of it.
He wanted to talk to Ron about it, but Ron always rebuffed the topic anytime Malfoy came up, and it only got worse when Malfoy stood them up in the duel.
Harry decided that it was just something he was going to have to keep to himself until Halloween rolled around, when Hermione officially became their friend.
They were sitting in the Gryffindor common room working on their potions essays when Harry decided to casually bring it up. He set his quill down gently, glancing briefly at Ron, whose forehead was scrunched in concentration and paying them no mind. “Hermione,” Harry started carefully, though Hermione hadn’t lifted her eyes from her parchment quite yet. “Have you noticed Malfoy seems to be… Strange?”
The last word had her looking up, her brows furrowed as a bead of ink bubbled at the tip of her quill and splashed down on her essay. Hermione didn’t seem to notice, her gaze flickering between Harry and over his shoulder, fidgeting slightly in her seat. “Strange? What do you mean? I think he’s perfectly normal.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, lips pressing into a firm line. Before he could respond, though, Ron looked up from his essay, shaking his head a little in disbelief. “He’s a git, Harry, just like I told you. That’s all there is to it.”
Harry shook his head, feeling frustration bubble under his skin. “I know he’s a git, Ron, but there’s more to it. He always seems a step behind, and the way he watches people is kind of creepy, don’t you think?”
“I haven’t noticed,” Hermione said quickly, ducking her head to continue writing, spacing her words carefully over the ink drop on the page. Her response had Ron snorting, his essay forgotten in favor of the conversation in front of him.
“You? Not noticing something?”
“I don’t notice everything,” Hermione bristled, shooting a glare at the redhead. “I think Malfoy just takes pleasure in being a nuisance, and that’s all it boils down to.”
The conversation stalled after that, and the chance to revive it disappeared the moment Fred and George entered the common room, and their essays were put on the back burner, along with Harry’s observations. Hermione continued to shoot looks in Harry’s direction, though her face burned red whenever Harry caught her looking, and he knew she was hiding something.
He didn’t get a chance to ask about it again.
Their second year is just as chaotic as the first, though Harry was beginning to hate his title of ‘The Chosen One’ and all the trouble it seemed to bring. Lockheart might have an obsession with him, no one believed that he wasn’t the heir of Slytherin, and every day Professor Snape’s hatred for him only seemed to grow with no end in sight.
When Hermione suggested brewing a Polyjuice potion to see if Malfoy was the true heir of Slytherin, Harry was thankful for the distraction. He was eager to be someone else, between being the beloved chosen one and the snake-whispering Heir of Slytherin. Plus, it gave him a chance to find out more about Malfoy’s behavior, which Harry had become attuned to. Malfoy’s words drawled together in a way that came across as condescending, especially when he got worked up into a fuss messing with Harry and Ron, but it even happened when he answered questions in class, no matter the professor.
Not to mention the occasion where Malfoy and Harry had argued with one another on the Quidditch field after finding out Malfoy’s father had bought his son’s way onto the team. Malfoy had looked so smug standing there, the twin snakes still ever present on his ears, gleaming in the sunlight. Harry had wanted to rip them out of Malfoy’s ears and punch him in the face, but he didn’t know why it rattled him so badly.
The situation had turned worse, though, when Marcus Flint had the gall to call Hermione a Mudblood, which Harry, admittedly, hadn’t known what that meant at the time. Ron had been ready to fight, and had attempted to hex Flint, but with his broken wand, the spell had backfired, leaving Ron puking up slugs.
The whole of Slytherin team laughed at them as Harry and Hermione attempted to get Ron up and out of there before he could give the Slytherin team the satisfaction of watching him continue barfing up disgusting slugs. As they were retreating, Harry caught the slightly unnerved face of Malfoy as he tapped one of his teammates on the shoulder and asked him what had been said.
So, yes, Harry continued to find Malfoy’s behavior odd. Pretending to be Goyle would be the perfect opportunity to seek information about his odd behavior, as well as those fascinating snake ear cuffs Malfoy was obviously so proud of.
They’d just gotten through the frankly painful interaction of getting into the Slytherin common room, and Malfoy brought them a newspaper, detailing how Arthur Weasley was getting in hot water after the whole flying car incident that Harry and Ron had caused. His eyes scanned their faces, almost studying their reactions, and he looked just as on edge as he did normally. This was not the way Harry had expected him to act with his friends.
“What do you think?” He asked after he’d given them sufficient time to read the article. “Father just sent it to me this morning. It’s amusing, isn’t it?” Malfoy asked, and if Harry wasn’t constantly picking apart Malfoy’s mannerisms, he wouldn’t have picked up the way Malfoy seemed to be seeking confirmation from the two of them.
Harry and Ron forced a laugh, and Malfoy seemed to relax a little, though his eyes continued to drift between the two of them, barely looking anywhere but at their faces. Their mouths in particular, and it was a little unnerving.
Ron, however, didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy trying to keep his temper as his eyes flicked over the article.
“What’s the matter with you, Crabbe?” Malfoy asks, and that tension is in his jaw again – when had Harry realized that Malfoy often carried tension there?
“Stomach ache,” Ron responded quickly and straightened his posture a little, wrapping his arms around his stomach in an attempt to sell his story.
Malfoy huffed, and his eyes flicked to Harry briefly as he leaned back in his plush chair. “Well then perhaps you should go up to the hospital wing. You could check out all the students there, see if there’s been any more unreported attacks. It’s odd, you know, that the Prophet hasn’t reported on these attacks yet. I suppose Dumbledore is trying to keep it all hush-hush in fear that he’ll be sacked. Father’s always said Dumbledore’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to this place.”
The words ignited fire inside of Harry’s stomach, and he just barely caught himself before he could contradict Malfoy. In the moment‘s pause, he noticed that Malfoy’s gaze flitted between the two of them quickly again, and his jaw clenched when he didn't get a response from either of them.
“What’s the matter with you two?” He demanded, and his words slurred together slightly as if he was losing his composure. His volume rose with his agitation, and Harry couldn't stop his tongue.
“What’s with the snakes?” He asked before his brain fully formulated saying anything at all. Beside him, Ron tried to subtly jab him with his elbow, and Malfoy blanched at the question, heat rising to his cheeks.
“I already told you, they’re a family heirloom,” Malfoy murmured, and his gaze slid away from them both for a few seconds before reluctantly coming back to them. One of his hands absently reached up to brush against the glittering snake cuff, readjusting it in a nervous factor.
Ron cleared his throat to try and steer the conversation back on track, but it isn’t until he started speaking that Malfoy’s eyes come back towards him, and back towards his mouth, specifically. “So who do you think is behind the attacks?”
The brief moment of nervousness rolled off Draco’s shoulders, and he shook his head in irritation. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t know? And father won’t tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened, either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it’ll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing: last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a- a-” Malfoy hesitated, and winced slightly before continuing to speak, “Mudblood died. So I bet it’s only a matter of time before one of them’s killed this time.”
Ron clenched his fists tightly, and his tone was biting as he responded. “I bet you’d like that, huh? If someone like Granger died?”
This time Harry had to elbow his friend, and watched the way Malfoy’s throat bobbed at the question, sucking on the inside of his cheek. “Yeah,” he said finally, and while the answer riled Ron up further, Harry could see the reluctance behind his words. The obvious lie as his eyes shifted away.
Very odd behavior indeed.
Their third year brought Harry something he wasn’t expecting.
Family.
It came first with Professor Remus Lupin, whom Harry quickly grew close to with their Patronus lessons. Later, it came in the form of his godfather, Sirius Black, whom Harry would much rather live with than the Dursley’s.
But before he found this family, he ran into his Dementor problem. Malfoy seemed to get a kick out of replicating his passing out, and while it annoyed Harry to no end, he watched as Malfoy fell over time and time again, but he never committed enough to close his eyes as he flopped, his gaze immediately scanning for reactions.
Hagrid’s first class turned out to be a disaster. Malfoy made another passing out impression, though his smile wasn't quite as malicious as those around him, and his acting came across to Harry as more taunting than cruel. Desperate, even.
Harry did his best to ignore his classmate as he’s selected to interact with Buckbeak first, and it went perfectly. Hagrid was pleased, and Harry was just happy to remain unscathed in the presence of the majestic and frankly terrifying Hippogriff. Hagrid opens the class up to take their own turns, and Malfoy stepped up with Crabbe and Goyle.
“This is very easy,” Malfoy snipped, voice louder than what would be considered appropriate, even for a taunt. Buckbeak had bowed for Malfoy, and now the boy was petting him, nose wrinkled. “You’re kind of an ugly brute, aren’t you?” He asked nonchalantly, but that was all it took.
Buckbeak attacked, and Malfoy fell back screaming, clutching at his bleeding arm. The class fell apart after that, as Hagrid took Malfoy to the hospital wing, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to their common room now that the class would not be continuing. Hermione was fidgeting, biting her lip as she glanced back at the portrait entrance they’d just come into.
“You think he’ll be alright?” She asked, and Ron scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“‘Course he will. Madam Pomfrey can mend cuts in about a second,” Harry answered before Ron could think of something insulting to say. “I wonder why he insulted Buckbeak, though, after Hagrid specifically told us not to.”
“He probably thought he was better than all of us and the rules wouldn’t apply to him,” Ron snorted, but his words only seemed to make Hermione more agitated.
“That’s not true! Maybe he just didn’t hear when Hagrid told us not to insult them.”
“Hagrid said it loud enough that Malfoy should have heard, even over his snickering,” Ron shot back, and Hermione was quick to change the subject.
Harry couldn’t stop thinking about Malfoy as they ate dinner though, and wondered how the boy had missed Hagrid’s warning.
Harry does his best to ignore Malfoy and all of his childish antics, including the stunt he’d pulled during the Quidditch match.
He does, however, take the opportunity to mess with Malfoy and his goons at Hogsmeade. To be fair, Malfoy started it, as he usually does.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione are climbing up the hill to check out the Shrieking Shack, when Malfoy approached them from the other side. Malfoy’s eyes widened a little in surprise, but when Crabbe nudged him and pointed towards the two of Harry’s friends, Malfoy threw on a sneer that didn't quite pack the heat Harry would expect.
“What are you doing? Suppose you'd love to live here, wouldn't you, Weasley? Dreaming about having your own bedroom? I heard your family all sleep in one room -- is that true?”
His words are aimed for Ron, but his eyes immediately seek out Crabbe and Goyle’s reactions instead of their intended targets. His shoulders relax a little when his friends laugh, and Ron looked ready to pounce, but Harry had a better idea.
Dressed in his invisibility cloak, Harry crept behind the three and scooped up some mud. He waited for Malfoy to start speaking before he chucked it at his classmate, and it splattered right into his pristine white-blond hair. Malfoy looked rightfully shocked as he turns, looking for the perpetrator, but he of course couldn't see Harry.
The next few minutes were very satisfying as Harry tormented the three of them, throwing mud and sticks at Malfoy’s goons. And then he lobbed a snowball directly at Malfoy’s face. He turns, though, at the last second, and it hit him in the ear. Malfoy gave a cry as his hand clamped over his ear, fingers scrambling to grasp onto the green snake resting there and yanking it off, shaking it vigorously to try and rid it of the snow.
The panicked look in Malfoy’s eyes makes Ron laugh, but Harry can feel his stomach churn a little at the sight of Malfoy urgently wiping his gloved fingers over the body of the snake. The frantic movements don’t line up with the situation, and Harry doesn’t understand what’s wrong with a little water on the snake, even if it is a Malfoy heirloom. Surely it could be repaired if the water discolored them or something of the like.
It’s only made worse when Goyle bumps into him, grabbing his upper arm to drag him back down the hill and away from their invisible assailant, and the snake slipped from Malfoy’s fingers and down into the snow at his feet.
“No!” Malfoy shouted, and his voice squeaked painfully as he yanked free of Goyle and dropped to his knees. He used both hands to shuffle through the snow, searching for the snake cuff. He was in a full blown panic as he scrambled to find his missing item, and Harry stood frozen in spot as Goyle and Crabbe run away. Malfoy’s breathing is rapid and heavy, and his jaw is clenching as he mutters curses to himself, a couple rising in volume as he wrestles through the snow.
Ron laughed as Malfoy struggled to find his jewelry, but Hermione came over quickly and dropped down by his side to help him search.
It took her only a few moments to find it, and she pressed the snake into Malfoy’s trembling hand, her face pinched in concern. Malfoy looked up to her, and Harry’s stomach dropped when he spotted how close to tears the other boy was, how tight his expression was strained. Hermione touched Malfoy’s shoulder briefly, and then they both stand. Malfoy raced down the hill after his friends, and Hermione stormed over to where Harry was still standing.
“Shut it, Ron,” she snapped as she passed her friend, then gave Harry a rough shove as she approached. Harry stumbled backwards, stepping on the end of his cloak so it tugged off his head. “That wasn’t nice, Harry!”
She shoved him again and he toppled over, landing in the snow on his arse. “Hey! I didn’t mean to hit him in the ear! It was supposed to hit him in the face! Besides, it was just a little snow, I’m sure it didn’t hurt his precious ear cuff.”
Hermione’s face twisted angrily, but she didn't say anything else, only turning and marching back to the village. Harry and Ron exchanged a confused glance, then quickly followed after her. Harry didn't understand why she was so upset – it wasn’t like he’d done any damage to Malfoy’s snake, right? He didn’t understand how he could, but he felt uneasy for the rest of the day whenever he caught sight of Malfoy, who was missing the cuff on the ear Harry had hit.
It reappeared the next day, but the guilty feeling didn’t leave Harry.
Fourth year proved to be the hardest year so far.
Harry had a wonderful time attending the Quidditch World Cup, but the aftermath that followed still woke him up with nightmares. During their escape from the Death Eaters terrorizing the Muggles, Harry, Ron, and Hermione got separated from the rest of the Weasley family. Ron had tripped over something, and Hermione had cast a lumos so they could actually see.
From behind a tree, a figure emerged, and the twinkling of two jeweled snakes sparkled in the low light. Malfoy approached them, eyes darting around and looking more on edge than Harry had ever seen him.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” Malfoy insisted, though with the way his gaze settled on Hermione, it was clear who he was talking to.
“Hermione can handle herself,” Ron snapped as he struggled to get back on his feet. Harry grabbed his arm and helped him up.
“They’re terrorizing Muggles,” Malfoy continued as if Ron had never said anything at all.
Harry bristled a little at that, a sneer curling on his face. “Hermione is a witch,” Harry argued, but again Malfoy ignored him the same as Ron. It was frustrating for Malfoy to not even glance in their direction, too busy watching Hermione intensely.
“Ron’s right, I can handle myself,” Hermione said loudly, taking a step closer towards Malfoy, and Harry’s forehead scrunched suspiciously. Malfoy’s gaze flitted towards Ron, eyes straining to make him out in the dark before quickly back to Hermione. He hesitated, then nodded.
“Be careful. You shouldn’t be out here,” he repeated.
“Why are you even out here?” Ron spat, and when Malfoy didn’t even turn his head, he gave the other boy a rough shove. “Why are you even out here?” He repeated, getting into Malfoy’s face.
Malfoy’s expression twisted uncomfortably as he took a step backwards, rubbing at one of his ears with his fingers. “Get out of my face, Weasley. Shouldn’t you be with your father, anyway?”
“Where are your parents?” Harry asked, puzzled when Malfoy didn’t even act like he’d heard. Frustration welled in Harry’s chest, and he bumped Malfoy away aggressively with his shoulder as he grabbed Hermione’s arm. “Come on, we need to go.” Malfoy didn’t say anything further, taking a step back and watching them continue deeper into the woods.
Harry waited until they were several meters away before he glanced back, and all he could see was the bright hue of Malfoy’s hair and those damn snake cuffs.
They never talked about that meeting with Malfoy in the woods again, despite how strange Harry found Malfoy’s behavior. He’d always thought that Malfoy was strange, right from their first meeting, but he’d learned to stop bringing it up around his friends, as they found it annoying and tried to discourage his thoughts. But every instance with Malfoy seemed to be more and more convincing that Harry was onto something.
Malfoy had barely responded to anything they had said, and Harry was pretty sure it wasn’t just to irk them.
Malfoy seemed to be only slightly less insufferable in school so long as he wasn’t anywhere near Harry and his friends. But it didn’t take long for him to start trouble again. “Weasley! Hey, Weasley!” Malfoy called through the hallway, his voice so loud it attracted almost all the attention of the students in the vicinity. Malfoy winced slightly as dozens of eyes turned sharply towards him, but came over to the trio quickly, Goyle and Crabbe trailing behind him.
“What?” Ron snapped, crossing his arms as he stopped to give their classmate attention.
“Your dad’s in the paper, Weasley!” Malfoy continued, voice still slightly too loud for the situation, though he caught Hermione’s sharp, warning look and seemed to lower his volume. “Listen to this!” Then, he proceeded to read directly from the article detailing the most recent blunder of Ron’s father. “Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It’s almost as though he’s a complete nonentity, isn’t it?”
Malfoy’s eyes flicked up from the paper to Ron, his tone haughty while using that condescending slur he so often used. Ron grit his teeth, but Malfoy didn’t seem to realize his growing aggression.
“And look, there’s a picture, Weasley!” Malfoy continued, flipping the newspaper so they could see. “Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn’t she?”
“Malfoy,” Hermione hissed loudly, and Malfoy’s attention snapped over to her in confusion. “Enough.”
“Get stuffed, Malfoy,” Harry shot back almost at the same time Hermione spoke, and Malfoy’s eyes flicked between the two of them. “C’mon, Ron.”
“Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren’t you, Potter?” Malfoy continued, though seemed less sure of himself. “Then perhaps you can see what I mean?”
Harry bared his teeth at Malfoy, and the other boy seemed a little surprised, head tilting slightly in confusion. “You know your mother, Malfoy? That expression she’s got, like she’s got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?”
Malfoy’s face flushed, and his expression hardened a little. “Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter.”
“Keep your fat mouth shut, then,” Harry retorted, then turned his back, starting to trot off with his friends, irritation still rising at the interaction. Who did Malfoy think he was, commenting on Molly Weasley that way?
“Oh no you don’t, laddie!” Professor Moody shouted as he raced as fast as he could down the hall with his limp. Harry turned again, and saw that Malfoy had his wand halfheartedly raised in Harry’s general direction, but he honestly didn’t look as though he had any intention to use it.
In the blink of an eye, Malfoy disappeared, and there was the sound of three little clinks as his wand and both of his snake cuffs fell to the ground. Instead of Malfoy, there was a little white ferret in his place, shivering as it stood there in shock.
The entire hall went silent and still as Moody approached. “Did he get you?”
“No,” Harry answered truthfully.
“I don’t think he actually did anything,” Hermione chimed in, looking at the tiny ferret worriedly.
“Leave it!” Moody snapped at Hermione, and she flinched back at the rough tone of his voice.
The professor limped over towards them, and the ferret Malfoy gave a squeak of fear, torn between fleeing and rushing over to his fallen items. “I don’t think so!” Moody shouted, lifting his wand and pointing it at the small creature. The ferret rose nearly to the ceiling before it fell and smacked against the ground, then was lifted a second time before it could right itself.
“I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back’s turned,” Moody growled as he bounced the ferret up and down, smacking it repeatedly against the ground despite it’s pained squeals.
Harry stared open mouthed as he watched the animal-Malfoy bounce around, limbs and tail flailing in distress. He didn’t want to watch, and he shifted his gaze to the ground, where Malfoy’s wand and glittering snake cuffs were still on the ground. He knelt and picked up the twin snakes he’d watched in Malfoy’s ears for the better part of three years now. They were heavier than he’d expected, but just as pretty up close as they had been far away.
There was a slight buzz to them, though, that Harry hadn’t been expecting. The same kind of buzz that Harry associated with Muggle vehicles, phones, and electric mixers. It felt strange in his hands.
“Never - Do - That - Again,” Moody continued, punctuating each word as the ferret smacked into the stone floor.
“Professor Moody!” Came McGonagall’s appalled voice from where she’d just descended the stairs.
Moody paused his torment, the ferret suspended in midair and squirming wildly while continuing to squeal in terror. “Hello, Professor McGonagall,” he greeted, then bounced the tiny animal against the ground and higher into the air.
“What— What are you doing?”
“Teaching.”
“Teach— Moody, is that a student?”
“Yep,” Moody responded nonchalantly, continuing his torment.
McGonagall’s eyes widened, and she dropped the books she was holding to get out her wand, and a second later, the ferret was once again Malfoy. “No!”
Malfoy was trembling, eyes darting frantically around the room and taking in all the expressions of the onlookers. Some were whispering and chuckling, but many were also staring, like Harry, in object horror at what they’d witnessed. Malfoy’s face was stained red with heat, and his eyes were wide and watery.
His eyes darted to the two green diamond snakes in Harry’s hands, then flickered up towards Hermione.
“I’ll do that, then,” Moody insisted after his and McGonagall’s argument about his methods of punishment. His eyes darted back to Malfoy, who hadn’t moved since he’d been transfigured back into himself, and was still curled in on himself, his eyes back on the cuffs Harry was holding. “Come on, up, Malfoy.”
Malfoy didn’t move, didn’t react, didn’t give any indication that he’d even heard the professor.
“Come on, up,” Moody barked a second time, quickly losing whatever patience he had left. Malfoy glanced from Harry’s hands to the adult as Moody approached, grabbing him roughly by the upper arm and dragging him to his feet. Malfoy winced as he got his feet under him, and his gaze was on Moody’s face now. “Now, your Head of House’ll be Snape, will it?”
Malfoy hesitated, licking his lips nervously. “Snape? Um…”
“It is Snape,” Hermione cut in almost urgently, and Malfoy’s attention darted to her as Moody’s head turned in her direction. “His head of house is Snape.”
Moody grunted softly in approval, then knelt down to retrieve Malfoy’s fallen wand, shoving it into his own pocket. “Come, then, and we’ll see what Professor Snape has to say about this.”
Malfoy’s eyes were on the two cuffs in Harry’s hands, and he hesitated before taking a step towards his classmate. Moody growled and yanked Malfoy back, nearly causing the boy to lose his balance. “I don’t think so, boy. You’ve done enough to Harry Potter for one day.”
Malfoy’s stare was getting a little more frantic as he shifted it between Moody and Harry. “But I need-”
“Enough!” Moody shouted, losing his temper. “You think just because you’re a bloody Malfoy that consequences don’t apply to you?”
Malfoy flinched as spit flew from the professor’s mouth and splattered his face, and he looked towards Hermione with a panicked look in his eyes.
“Professor,” Harry interrupted, approaching the two of them. “These are his.” He held out the twin snakes, rubbing his thumb gently over their jeweled bodies. They hummed under his touch, only raising Harry’s curiosity about them. Malfoy breathed out in relief through his mouth and reached for them, but Moody scooped them up before he could.
“Thank you, Potter. Come, Malfoy.”
Malfoy gave a small whimper as the snakes disappeared in Moody’s large fist, but he had the sense not to argue as he was marched down the hall in the direction of the dungeons, limping almost as badly as Moody was.
Harry stood frozen in place, hands still up and open in offering of the jewelry, watching the two of them go. Hermione came over a moment later, touching his shoulder and looking at him worriedly. “Are you okay, Harry?”
He looked over at her, shaking out of his stupor and letting his hands fall back to his sides. “Yeah, I’m fine. Moody’s really intense.” It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say. He wanted to ask why Malfoy had glanced to her so many times. Why he’d been acting stupefied after the incident. Sure, he’d been treated cruelly, but it seemed odd that he hadn’t acknowledged half the things Moody had said to him, especially when he was already in so much trouble.
Harry couldn’t get the look of relief Malfoy wore after being offered his snake cuffs out of his head, and he wondered not for the first time what the story was about those. Harry had never had a family heirloom before, but the way Malfoy treated them seemed a little more extreme than Harry would think was normal.
Umbridge made fifth year a nightmare.
Harry still hadn't recovered from the revival of Voldemort in the graveyard the previous year and the death of Cedric,and to make it worse, Umbridge quickly put a stop to any kind of fun that could ease the rising tension amongst the weary cohort. Harry honestly wasn't sure how he would've gotten through the year if he hadn’t let Hermione talk him into teaching Defense classes in the Room of Requirement.
It’s the only thing Harry has to look forward to, though he should have known it couldn’t last forever.
When Dobby arrives to warn them, he knows deep down that it’s already too late. Still, the members of Dumbledore’s Army flee in every direction, and Harry hopes that most of them won’t get caught. He thought he might get lucky enough to escape until Malfoy stepped out from behind a dragon shaped vase.
His eyes were wide, and those damn snake cuffs caught Harry’s attention helplessly before Malfoy’s hand fisted in the front of his robes and yanked him behind the vase. “You’re not going to be able to outrun her,” Malfoy hissed, his words slurring worse than usual as he peeks around the vase nervously. “She’s going to catch you.”
His tone implied that he’s trying to be quiet, but his voice was simply too loud to be a whisper, so Harry shoved a hand over the other boy’s mouth to silence him. “Shh,” he insisted, and paused as he realized this was probably the closest they’ve actually been to one another.
Malfoy’s breath was hot against his palm, his eyes watching Harry intently, dipped under Harry’s nose to stare at his mouth. Harry has always found his mouth-staring strange and unusual, but right there, it suddenly hit him what it might mean.
Malfoy was staring at his mouth like he wanted to kiss him.
Harry almost started laughing at the realization. Malfoy stared at everyone’s mouths, and Harry wondered how many times he’s followed through on those desires. How many people has he kissed while staring like that, and why did that thought have Harry’s stomach twisting?
Heels clicked towards them through the now empty hall, rushed and urgent, and Harry tenses. Malfoy, though, doesn’t react, staying perfectly still under Harry’s hand, eyes still focused on his lips.Harry doesn’t want to think about this new realization of his right now, especially while they were supposed to be on opposite teams for this situation.
After the incident with Moody the previous year, Malfoy had been subdued and his torment had lessened significantly, much to Ron’s delight. Even this year, whenever Umbridge showered her attention onto him, he didn’t seem interested in the same way he would have in the previous years. Instead of delighting in the power he could have over the other students, he seemed to drag his heels in participating.
Harry would have expected Malfoy to turn him into Umbridge right now, but the boy is as quiet as a mouse.
Their hiding place is not very good however, and Umbridge found them the moment she passed the vase. Her hand gripped tightly onto Harry’s arm, yanking him away from Malfoy with a triumphant gleam in her eyes. “It’s him!” She cried in delight, then turned her gaze towards Malfoy, who was still slumped against the wall. “Why didn’t you alert me right away that you’d had him?”
Malfoy winced slightly, but he didn’t have a response. Umbridge tsked unhappily, then reached over and grabbed harshly onto his ear. Her thumb dug into the body of the snake cuff, pushing it uncomfortably into his ear in a way that made Malfoy gasp and cry out in pain, squirming to get away.
“Both of you will be coming with me,” she demanded, and dragged them both down the hall, ignoring every noise that tore from Malfoy’s mouth at her cruel grip. She led them straight to Dumbledore’s office, where the Minister of Magic himself was waiting for them.
Harry’s heart was hammering in his chest as they ascended the stairs to the office, but he couldn’t stop watching Malfoy twitching and whimpering. “You’re hurting him,” Harry snapped, a snarl curling on his face. “Let go of his ear.”
By Umbridge’s shocked expression, Harry’s outburst seemed to startle her, for she let go almost immediately. Then she bristled, grasping Malfoy’s upper arm tightly, but the relief was written across his face as he rubbed his ear against his shoulder soothingly.
The scene that unfolded in Dumbledore’s office was chaotic, as was the following few weeks. The school took a turn for the worse without Dumbledore there, and Harry felt like life had hit rock bottom. He no longer had anything to look forward to, and with a lack of activities to keep him busy, his mind kept going back to when he and Malfoy had been hiding behind the vase in the hall.
The way Malfoy had stared at his mouth.
“Do you reckon Malfoy fancies men?” Harry asked Ron and Hermione one day while they were in the library studying. Hermione simply lifted her head, forehead scrunched, but Ron choked on his own spit, his eyes wide.
“Pardon? Why would you think that?” Ron asked, shaking his head in disbelief.
Red flooded Harry’s cheeks as he shrugged, sheepishly glancing away for a moment before he turned back towards his friends. “When we got caught for the DA, Malfoy had been sent to round us up, and he pulled me into a hiding spot instead. And the whole time he was just staring at my mouth. In fact, I’ve seen him staring at everyone’s mouths for a long time now. Almost like he wants to kiss them.”
Hermione’s face was also beginning to blush, and suddenly the textbook in front of her was more important than the conversation at hand.
“Yuck!” Ron gagged, shivering. “Please tell me he’s not been looking at me like that, mate.”
Harry was barely paying attention to the redhead, eyes narrowed at Hermione. “You know something,” he accused, and Hermione tried to sink further into her chair, propping her book up to hide her face behind. Ron gasped beside Harry and reached over to snatch the book from her.
“Hey!”
“You do know something!” Ron insisted, holding the book out of reach when she tried to reach across the table and take it back.
Hermione huffed and leaned back in her chair again, realizing it was fruitless to try and get the book back. “It’s not my place to tell.”
“Yeah, right,” Ron retorted, setting the book down on the table in front of him. “It’s Malfoy we’re talking about, you can tell us what’s up.”
Seeing her opportunity, Hermione snatched her book back off the table and huffed another time. “If you want to know so badly, you can ask Malfoy yourself.” She opened the book a second time, and the conversation was over.
Harry did not ask Malfoy.
Instead, he continued as though that day had never happened. As though Malfoy had never tried to hide him from Umbridge. As though Malfoy hadn’t stared at him as though he wanted to kiss him.
Malfoy was no longer tormenting any of them, though Harry spotted him talking to Hermione on occasion. Harry wondered whether the reason Hermione had been so reluctant to answer Harry’s question that day had been because the two of them were hooking up. Harry didn’t want to think about that.
Things came to a head when Harry had his vision about Voldemort and Sirius in the Department of Mysteries. He became frantic after that, and his plan to contact his godfather was half assed at best, but he was so desperate that his friends come with him anyway.
On their way to Umbridge’s office, they ran into Malfoy, alone again without any Slytherins flocking him. Malfoy’s eyes settled on Harry as he bit his lip. “What are you doing?” He asked, but Harry didn't have time to deal with it.
Instead, he grabbed Malfoy’s arm and dragged him along with them. Hermione helped him get into Umbridge’s office, and Malfoy didn't protest as they enter, and Harry rushed for the fireplace. He didn't know how long their cover could last.
While Harry was busy trying to get information out of Kreacher about Sirius, things truly began to fall apart. Umbridge and the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad found them, and several Slytherins were looking at Malfoy in disgust. Hermione was growing hysterical beside Harry, but all Harry can focus on is Sirius, and whether he was being tortured this very moment.
His attention did shift as Umbridge approached Malfoy, shaking her head, frustration etched into every feature of her toad face. “I’m disappointed in you, Malfoy,” she insisted, and Harry’s thrown further off balance as he sees the way Malfoy is watching her mouth, too. With that same expression he’d watched everyone else. The kissing stare.
Malfoy didn't say anything, likely realizing just how fruitless it would be to try and argue that he wasn’t part of any of this. How Harry had dragged him into this with no explanation.
“I assure you, your father is going to hear about this,” Umbridge continued, her foot tapping impatiently against the ground. Malfoy still didn’t react other than to clench his jaw a little, gaze still determinant on her mouth. A smile broke out across her face, hiding none of her usual cruelness and malicious intent. “You may think I’m a fool, Malfoy, but I assure you I’m not. I know.”
Quickly, she reached out and snatched both of the snakes from the boy’s ears, and Malfoy gave a cry of alarm. Umbridge held them just out of reach when he made a desperate attempt to get them back, but Theodore Nott grabbed onto Malfoy’s arms and wrestled them behind his back. Malfoy’s teeth were bared, and his eyes shone with a fury that Harry had honestly never seen in them before.
“Give them back,” Malfoy spat, wriggling in his former friend’s arms, but it didn't get him anything other than a tighter hold. “They’re not yours.”
Umbridge’s smile didn't dim as she turned the cuffs over in her hands, studying them. “I’ve known for awhile now, and let’s see how well you do without them. Oops!” She fake gasped as she dropped both the glittering snakes to the ground. They clinked against the floor and rolled almost in unison a few centimeters before coming to a stop. The entire room seemed to collectively hold their breath as they watched the jewelry settle into place on the ground.
And then Umbridge smashed them under her shoe.
They crunched audibly in a way that Harry wouldn’t have expected from their metal bodies, and he flinched as he watched the diamonds pop off under the pressure. Malfoy was shouting, but his words were so loud and frantic that no one could make them out. He struggled against Nott for several moments before giving up, slumping in place as he watched the snake cuffs pieces on the ground, eyes burning with tears.
Umbridge turned her nose up, spinning around to be in front of Harry once more as she continued to both berate him and interrogate him about who he’d been attempting to contact. Harry gave her as much attitude as he could muster, but his attention was split between her threats and the heartbroken expression still on Malfoy’s face.
He had no idea what Umbridge was talking about by knowing something about the cuffs, but every time he caught sight of the wreckage that was Malfoy’s snakes, a surge of anger streaked through him.
The same anger that followed him into the Ministry, and the same anger that led the night into disaster.
Even with the loss of Sirius, Harry still thinks about the look of fury in Malfoy’s eyes when his cuffs had been taken, and wonders why it bothered him so much.
Malfoy’s behavior became even stranger in sixth year.
He stopped hanging out with his Slytherin friends, though based on the previous year, Harry understood that they were no longer on the same side. Malfoy’s clear opposition to Umbridge had drawn a line in the sand.
Instead, he knocked meekly on their compartment door on the Hogwarts Express and popped his head inside. He looked tired, dark bags under his eyes, and Harry has to do a double take when there’s no glint of the snake cuffs on his ears. It looks so foreign to see Malfoy’s ears bare for the first time in five years.
His eyes swiped briefly over Harry and Ron, but settled on Hermione, who offered him a small, sympathetic smile and patted the seat next to her. “Join us.”
Ron’s eyes widened in surprise at the offer, and his mouth opened as if to protest, but Harry jabbed him sharply in the side, shooting him a glare that had Ron’s mouth snapping shut instead. Malfoy hesitated in the doorway a moment longer before sliding into the compartment, closing the door behind him and taking the offered seat.
He kept his eyes down on his lap with his shoulders hiked up to his ears, both to make himself sink further into his seat and to hide the missing snake cuffs. A tense silence passed over the four of them, and Hermione reached over to grasp Malfoy’s wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze that made Harry and Ron exchange a glance.
Harry thought again of the few times he caught them together, meeting in the library and in halls, and his stomach twisted thinking about whether there’s something going on between them. If Malfoy has acted on his kissing stare with Hermione.
Finally though, Malfoy lifted his head, shaking Hermione’s hand off his wrist gently. “I’m sorry about your godfather,” Malfoy said haltingly, gaze fixed on Harry. On his mouth.
Harry doesn’t know what to make of that.
“Oh,” he said, startled by Malfoy’s genuine tone, licking his lips nervously. “I’m sorry about your snake cuffs.”
Malfoy flinched slightly, and his gaze shifted away briefly before settling back on Harry. “I’m trying to get a replacement.”
Harry’s head tilted slightly to the side, eyebrows scrunching together. “A replacement? I thought they were an heirloom?”
He doesn’t realize his slip up until the words are already out of his mouth, realizing that Malfoy had never said that to Harry. Only who he thought was Crabbe and Goyle.
Luckily, the door opened before the conversation can continue, and Malfoy’s eyes are dragged to the movement and away from Harry’s rapidly reddening face. He never answered the question though, and didn't look as though he’d heard what Harry had said. For once, Harry is thankful for Malfoy’s strange behavior.
The year progressed with the same urgency as the previous years, but Malfoy’s strange behavior was still at the forefront of Harry’s mind. He was more withdrawn and quiet than usual, avoiding spending meals in the hall with everyone else and rushing to and from class without stopping to chat to anyone.
The circles under his eyes only got darker, and his hair went from a shiny white blonde to flat and unkempt pale straw. His eyes held a touch of franticness as he skittered through the halls and avoided everyone he could.
Harry tried to figure out what he was up to, and even tried to stalk his location on the Marauder's map, but Malfoy was constantly missing during these checks.
He tried to talk to Hermione about it, but she was tight lipped half of the time and worried for the rest. She was hiding something, but her concern for Malfoy was evident, and Harry knew she genuinely didn't know what was going on with him this year. Harry’s left to his own theories as he and Dumbledore began attending private meetings and his attention is divided between Malfoy and horcruxes.
It wasn’t until the end of the school year that Harry figured out the reason for Malfoy’s recent behavior. He had the Marauder’s map out and was searching for Malfoy’s name, expecting the boy to be in the Room of Requirement, but instead Malfoy was standing in a bathroom, with Moaning Myrtle beside him as company.
Harry hesitated for a moment, worried that confronting Malfoy and trying to demand information about what he was hiding would lead to a fight. Malfoy had been an ass in the past, but ever since the heartache Harry had witnessed with the destruction of his snake cuffs, he didn’t have the same hostility.
Harry tucked the map away and went to the bathroom.
He cracked the door open as quietly as he could and peered into the room. Malfoy was leaning over one of the sinks with his head ducked, shoulders shaking as if he were cold. But then Harry glanced into the mirror, and saw the tears running down his face. Actual, real tears.
Harry’s mind flicked quickly through every instance he’d seen Malfoy almost cry – when he’d dropped his snake cuff into the snow, when Moody had tossed him around as a ferret, and when Umbridge had stepped on his cuffs – but they didn't compare with the big, ugly sobs Malfoy was letting out here.
Moaning Myrtle was standing off to the side looking helpless, but not saying a word to him.
Harry pushed the door open fully as he stepped inside. “Malfoy?” He asked softly, and Moaning Myrtle gave a high pitched squeal before floating over to one of the cubicles and disappearing into the toilet. Malfoy didn't react until his head lifted slightly, and he caught sight of Harry in the mirror. He spun around quickly, wand raised defensively, but when he noticed that Harry wasn't armed, he dropped his arm back down to his side.
“Harry?”
His voice cracked on the word, and Harry’s heart did a strange flip in his chest at the sound. He approached slowly, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “Are you alright?”
Malfoy flinched slightly, and Harry watched his throat bob as he swallowed, his eyes staring down at Harry’s mouth again. “I don’t think so.”
The honest answer took Harry by surprise, and he blinked a couple times before he realized that Malfoy was being honest with him in a way he hasn't before. He wasn't brushing Harry off, nor was he closing himself off. He gestured towards the sink Malfoy had been crying over, and the boy turned to look where he was motioning to. “Why were you crying?”
Malfoy stared at the empty porcelain sink for a moment before his eyes returned to Harry’s face.
To his mouth.
He doesn’t answer the question, just stared at Harry’s lips with that expression he was quickly growing familiar with. He thought of all the times Malfoy and Hermione have spent together, and whether Malfoy ever acted on that stare. That urge. He wondered what it would be like to kiss Malfoy. Whether his lips would be as soft as they looked. Whether Malfoy would kiss back.
“What?” Malfoy asked finally, after an awkward silence had passed. Harry had almost forgotten his original question, but now there was a more pressing answer he wanted.
Instead of repeating himself, Harry lifted his hands up to cup Malfoy’s wet cheeks, tears warmed from his own skin, and drew Malfoy down for a kiss. The initial press of lips to lips included the salt of tears, and the surprised parting of Malfoy’s mouth as Harry kisses him for the first time. As Harry kisses for the first time.
It was incredibly awkward, especially when Malfoy doesn’t kiss back.
Harry cut the kiss short, his face flaming in embarrassment as he pulled back, soaking in Malfoy’s shocked expression, eyes almost comically wide. Harry swallowed thickly, wishing that the ground would open up underneath him and get him out of this situation. Why on earth had he made the first move?
“Uh–” The noise broke from Malfoy as he flounders for words, tongue instinctively licking his lips. “You kissed me.” The words were too loud, echoing off the stone walls of the bathroom, and Harry flinched as though he’d been struck. “Why, er, why did you kiss me?”
Heat crept over Harry’s cheeks, and he lifted his chin boldly, expression becoming accusatory. “You’re the one that kept staring at my mouth like you wanted to kiss me!” He insisted, voice hushed but sharp, hoping that no one passing by will hear their conversation. He does not want the whole school to know of his blunder.
Malfoy balked at that, making another few disgruntled noises. “I did not!”
His eyes were back on Harry’s mouth again, and Harry’s embarrassment faded quickly into anger as he bristled. “Yes you did! You’re doing it right now! You keep staring at my mouth like that!”
All at once, Malfoy’s confused expression cracks, and he’s laughing. Not just chuckling, but belly laughing, doubling over with them. The sound bounces off the walls, filling the space with noise and only making Harry’s anger and embarrassment grow. “Alright, well, I think I’ll just go,” Harry snapped and turned, storming off towards the door.
Malfoy didn't even seem to notice until Harry had a hand on the doorknob, his laughter sobering up somewhat as he realized that Harry was no longer with him. “Harry, wait! I wasn’t staring at your mouth wanting to kiss you.” He paused, and when Harry looked at him over his shoulder, Malfoy looked a little sheepish. “I was staring at your mouth because I’m deaf.”
It took a few seconds for the admission to really sink in, and then Harry let go of the doorknob to come back over to his classmate. Malfoy’s eyes darted instinctively back to Harry’s mouth, cheeks tinting pink as he recognized his own action. “You’re deaf?” Harry repeated dumbly.
“Profoundly,” Malfoy admitted, face growing darker. “I can hear loud noises, but hearing someone’s voice is pretty hit and miss, depending on the volume. It’s never enough to comprehend the words, though. Even with my hearing aids.”
Harry blinked a few times, frowning. “Hearing aids?”
Harry didn’t know much about being deaf, but one of his neighbors on Privet Drive was hard of hearing and used hearing aids. He was sure he would have recognized if Malfoy had ever worn anything similar to it.
“The snake cuffs,” Malfoy explained, shifting his weight between his feet. “My mother transfigured them to look like jewelry so that no one would know what they really were.”
“Oh.”
The information was a shock, and Harry’s head spun with the knowledge. The pieces in his mind were starting to slot together, clicking into place. The way Malfoy seemed to be a beat behind all his peers. The way he’d stare at peoples’ mouths to read the words they were saying. The buzzing Harry had felt when he’d held the snake cuffs in his hands – Malfoy’s hearing aids.
“I don’t understand, you talk so well for someone who’s deaf.”
Harry didn't realize how offensive his words were until they were already out of his mouth. His face burned and he continued talking to try and make it better.
“Sorry, I just mean that… Well, I guess how? And with the spells we’re learning in class. I don’t understand how you perform magic so well.”
Malfoy nodded in agreement. “It’s alright. My father wasn’t exactly thrilled when he found out I was deaf. He didn’t want anyone to know, so he put me in speech lessons. With a Muggle speech therapist, if you can believe it. There’s just a lack of such things here in the wizarding world. I worked really hard in my childhood to speak and act as normally as I could, to please my father.”
“Anyway, things really changed when I got here to Hogwarts. I had my hearing aids, but they were never enough to actually cover the gap. So I asked for help. From Hermione.”
Harry blinked owlishly. “That’s why you guys were always meeting up. Why Hermione was so defensive about you. She knew you were deaf.”
Malfoy nodded, and a fond look crossed his face. “I wouldn’t have been able to get through school without her. She took notes for me during the lessons. It was really hard for me to follow along when the professors wouldn’t face me the entire time they were speaking. None of them knew other than Professor Snape that I was deaf. He guessed pretty quickly and made sure I could follow along.”
Harry’s nose wrinkled at that, and he rolled his eyes. “Of course he favored you.”
Malfoy scowled back at him. “He’s the only professor to actively give me the aid that I needed. He’s the only one who worked with my disability without outing me to everyone else.”
“He’s still a twatty fucking wanker.” Harry mumbled, head angled away from Draco to keep him from seeing that. After a moment though, Harry softened and decided to move on. “Hermione helped you with classes, but how are you so good at magic?”
“Hermione dedicated a lot of time to teaching me the correct pronunciation of all the spells. I honestly don’t know how she managed to find the room in her busy schedule to help me and still maintain her top grades.” Malfoy shook his head fondly at the memory, and Harry could feel something warm stirring in his chest. The idea of Hermione helping someone who, at the time, hadn’t deserved her time and attention only strengthened her character.
“You guys were friends,” Harry commented with a shrug, then hummed. “That’s why you were in the forest that night at the Quidditch World Cup. You were trying to keep Hermione safe.”
“My father and his friends would have terrorized her if they found her.”
“You couldn’t hear Ron and I,” Harry murmured. “It was too dark for you to read our lips.”
Cool fingers reached out and tilted Harry’s head up, until he was looking at Malfoy again. “Don’t mumble,” Malfoy chided, gaze flicking from Harry’s mouth and to his eyes, and then back down again. “Speak clearly.”
Color broke out on Harry’s cheeks at the command, and he swallowed before continuing to speak, repeating himself. “You couldn’t hear Ron and I, and it was too dark for you to read our lips.”
“You’re right,” Malfoy admitted, nodding approvingly. “I couldn’t see much of anything, and it was so loud.”
They lapse back into silence for a few moments, and Malfoy seems to realize his fingers are still cradling Harry’s chin, so he pulled back quickly, ducking his head for a brief moment. “Sorry.”
“You didn’t answer the question I asked before I kissed you,” Harry blurted before he can think better of it, because he was sure he’d say something else even stupider if he didn’t. Like tell Malfoy he’d enjoyed the touch. Or how he’d been wrong about Malfoy wanting to kiss him with those stares, but how Harry had enjoyed when he’d made the move.
“I didn’t know you asked one,” Malfoy admitted, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “I wasn’t looking at you when you spoke. Pretty sure I asked you to repeat yourself, but you were too busy kissing me to say it again.”
Harry’s face had never been so red before in his life, and his mouth puckered briefly because yeah, Malfoy wasn’t wrong.
Malfoy’s eyes were no longer red rimmed from crying, and the tears had long since dried on his skin. His mouth was curved just slightly towards the hint of a smile, and Harry thought that Malfoy has never looked better.
Harry’s eyes dropped down to Malfoy’s lips.
Malfoy didn't move, not even when Harry’s slightly shaking hands come up to grasp at his face again, the same way he had earlier. Automatically, Malfoy ducked his head so Harry could reach, his breath ghosting warmly over Harry’s lips. “You going to kiss me again?” Malfoy teased, his voice slightly too loud to be the whisper Harry knows he’s intending for.
Harry didn't respond. He knew Malfoy wouldn't be able to hear or read anything that came out of his mouth anyway with their close proximity, and he didn't want to admit it out loud.
So he just kissed Malfoy.
This time Malfoy kissed back, both of his hands fisting into the front of Harry’s robes. His lips were soft and plush, and they moved rhythmically against Harry’s inexperienced ones, and it was absolutely perfect.
They kissed for several moments, Harry pressing Draco until he’s backed up against the sink, one hand sliding down until it rests on Draco’s hip, fingers digging loosely into the fabric of his pants. Draco makes a soft noise into the kiss, and Harry breaks it to breathe against Malfoy’s pinkened face.
“Was I doing the stare that time?” Malfoy asked, and his mouth broke into a large smile. Similar to the ones when he would pester Harry and Ron in their first year.
Harry barks out a laugh and pulls back, punching Malfoy lightly in the shoulder. “Shut up, Malfoy.” He’s smiling, too, though, cheeks flushed warmly.
“You just kissed me twice. I think that warrants the use of my first name, don’t you?” Malfoy teased, keeping his posture somewhat slumped against the sink.
“Draco,” Harry murmured mostly to himself, getting used to how the name feels on his tongue.
Draco’s fingers came out again to lift Harry’s chin. “Don’t mumble,” he repeated, hesitated, and then continued. “Please.”
“Sorry.” Harry said the word slowly, eyes darting to the bare sides of Draco’s face. “What are you going to do about your hearing aids?” He asked, reaching out to brush careful fingertips against the shell of Draco’s ear. Draco’s head tilted slightly into the touch and hummed.
“Professor Snape is trying to figure something out for me. Mother and Father can’t get new ones for me under the nose of the Dark Lord, and they don’t want him to know I’m deaf. He’ll see me as worthless.”
Draco’s eyes dropped, and the smile he’d had only minutes before disappeared. “The Dark Lord is suspicious of me, but he’s given me an opportunity to prove myself to him. To earn his Mark on my arm.” Harry’s gaze flickered to the rolled up sleeves of Draco’s shirt, and the bare skin of his left forearm. “He wants me to complete his task, and tonight I acted irrationally and probably earned myself a death sentence.”
Harry paused, waiting for Draco to look up at him, but his head stays stubbornly angled down at the ground. Harry nudged his chin up the same way Draco had already done twice to him, his eyes soft and worried. “What does he want you to do? Is it why you were crying when I got here?”
Draco blinked once, twice, and then nodded. “He wants me to get Death Eaters into the school and he wants me to kill Dumbledore.”
All the air is punched out of Harry’s lungs, and all he can do is stare in horror as Draco’s eyes became wet again, and his face fell further into panicked anguish.
“Draco, please tell me you’re not–”
“I’m not going to do either of those,” Draco said hastily, and Harry sucked in a breath of relief. “I thought I didn’t have a choice, so I was working on a cabinet in the Room of Requirement. A Vanishing Cabinet, connected to one in Borgen and Burke’s, and I got it to work.” He paused, chewing on his lip. “I got it to work, and it became too real. So I set the cabinet on fire.”
The room dropped into silence again as Harry absorbed the admittance. Draco’s expression was still torn, as though he wasn’t sure he had made the right decision. Harry leaned forward to press a gentle kiss against the corner of Draco’s mouth. “You chose your side,” Harry whispered, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“I chose you,” Draco corrected, looking sheepish. “But now I can’t go home. I can’t go back to them. And I have no idea where to go from here.”
Harry took a moment to look Draco over. He looked haggard from the stress of the last year alone, but his expression was earnest, and his eyes still had a spark of hope in them. He saw now what Hermione had seen in their first year, when she’d helped Draco through school. Draco had been deserving of help back then because he’d asked for it, and he was deserving now, too.
“Let me help you,” Harry begged, the gears turning in his head, trying to figure out where to go from here. Who could help. He wasn’t sure if going straight to Dumbledore would be the best idea, especially with how secretive the old man was being of late,but he knew they could start smaller.
McGonagall would be a good place to start.
“Let me help you,” Harry repeated, cupping Draco’s face in his hand again until their eyes met, and he hoped that the determination currently building in his chest reflected in his gaze. Draco stared for several minutes, expression flashing with nerves before smoothing back out.
He nodded. “Okay.”
Harry grinned, nodding his head as well. “Yeah?”
Draco nodded a second time, and Harry wanted nothing more in that moment than to surge forward. “Yeah,” Draco breathed in confirmation.
And Harry kissed him.