Work Text:
By the time Dumbledore's opening speech ended and the lavish start of term feast began, Draco was sitting at the Slytherin table, his gaze sweeping over the noisy Great Hall again and again, but he still could not see Harry Potter appear.
Also absent were Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor, and Professor Snape, their own Head of Slytherin. This practically confirmed Draco's worst suspicion. The professors were dealing with those two missing troublemakers.
Draco unconsciously poked the tender, juicy roast steak on his plate with his silver fork, as some vague, fragmented memories gradually pieced themselves together in his mind.
He vaguely remembered that in his previous life, there had been such an incident.
His father Lucius had made a great fuss about the Weasley family's illegal use of a Muggle object, bringing Arthur Weasley before the Wizengamot, nearly costing him his job at the Ministry and saddling him with a fine that almost emptied the family vault.
At the time, his attention had been entirely focused on finding ways to cause trouble for Harry, and he had not paid much attention to the Weasley family's troubles.
Now that he thought about it, the so called Muggle object was surely that flying wreck of a car he had seen from the train. Draco felt everything suddenly become clear and transparent, and at the same time a wave of helplessness washed over him.
"Draco." Pansy Parkinson's rather shrill voice came from beside him. She asked with concern, "Do you have no appetite? Or did the steak offend you? The poor thing looks like it is about to be poked into minced meat."
Draco came back to himself and realised his plate was indeed a mess. "No, it's just..."
He really had no appetite. He frowned, pushed the plate away, and stood up from the long table. "I think I left something in the dormitory. Enjoy your meal."
"But your luggage, Dobby already packed it for you, didn't he?" Pansy blinked in confusion. "What could you have forgotten?"
Theodore Nott, who had been eating quietly, slowly wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin. His blue eyes glanced at Draco, his tone flat. "Perhaps our esteemed Malfoy heir is still worrying about those two 'stupid birds' that almost hit the train?"
"What stupid birds?" Pansy looked utterly baffled. "What did you see on the train?"
Draco could not be bothered to explain further. He turned and left the noisy Great Hall, leaving Pansy's calls behind him.
The castle corridors were much quieter than usual. Most students were still enjoying the feast. The portraits on the walls, however, were unusually lively, crowding at the edges of their frames, chattering excitedly, their voices forming a blurred echo in the empty stone corridor.
"Did you hear? Some students flew a... well... iron box? Through the sky! Two first years, I think. They will definitely be expelled this time! A disgrace to Hogwarts! Seen by a group of Muggles! In broad daylight!" A plump lady in a powdered wig covered her mouth with her fan and whispered to a knight in the next portrait.
"Such a violation of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy! Expulsion, immediately! No discussion!" A knight in medieval armour waved his fist indignantly, his horse pawing nervously beside him.
"Definitely expelled!" A gaunt witch hiding in the shadows giggled with glee. "I bet it was those rule breaking Gryffindors!"
"It was that Weasley boy! I have always said, their family is so poor they cannot even afford a decent broom, so they tinker with dangerous Muggle junk!"
These vivid, maliciously speculative, gleefully scandalised comments buzzed around Draco like flies. He kept his face stiff, quickened his pace, and headed toward the dungeons, toward Professor Snape's office.
He pushed open the cold wooden door, and a unique smell of potion ingredients and aged dust rushed to meet him.
Professor Snape stood behind his desk, his back to the door, his black robes hanging like bat wings.
Snape turned slowly, his black eyes like two bottomless swamps. "Mr Draco Malfoy... if I recall correctly, at this hour you should be in the warm, comfortable Great Hall, enjoying your... no doubt exquisite dinner, rather than hovering at my office door like a lost Niffler."
Even Draco, a student Snape usually tolerated, could not get a kind look at this moment.
Draco immediately put on his perfect good student mask and bowed slightly. "Professor, I am sorry to disturb you. It is just that... on the train to school, I saw something... well... unbelievable."
He chose his words carefully, cautiously watching Snape's expression. "I thought perhaps it might be... helpful with what you are currently troubled by."
He walked to Snape's desk, his gaze sweeping over an open copy of the Daily Prophet on it, which prominently displayed a huge headline and a blurry photograph of a car, about the incident of multiple Muggles witnessing a flying car.
He was about to describe it in detail when the door behind him was pushed open again with force.
The caretaker Argus Filch's perpetually resentful face appeared in the doorway. He was panting, his cloudy eyes barely hiding his glee.
He stepped aside, revealing two boys covered in dust, robes wrinkled, heads hanging low. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley!
"Professor! I have brought them!" Filch's voice was sharp with excitement. "These two lawless little wretches! Driving a flying car! Crashed into the Whomping Willow! Look! Look at what they have done!"
Harry's glasses were askew, his robes covered in dirt and grass. Ron looked worse, his red hair like a bird's nest ravaged by a storm, his face still pale from shock.
Snape's face instantly turned darker than his robes. He snatched up the Daily Prophet from the desk, swept around the desk, and glided silently and swiftly to the two trembling boys like a giant bat.
"Do you know how many Muggles saw you?! The Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery! The International Statute of Secrecy! To you, are they just waste paper?!" He almost slapped the newspaper in Harry's face, his finger stabbing at the report. "Seven! At least seven clear sightings!"
Then he turned sharply to Ron, his voice low and dangerous. "Weasley, you should count yourself lucky. Lucky that you are not a student in my house! Otherwise, I promise you, you would be the first person in Hogwarts history to be expelled on the first day of term!"
Ron squeezed his eyes shut in fear, his face even paler.
Then Snape slowly, like a predator locking onto its prey, turned his gaze to the trembling Harry, his black eyes fixed on him. "And you, Potter..."
Draco saw Harry's emerald green eyes widen in terror, like a frightened deer. He almost pleaded with Snape, his voice trembling. "No, Professor... no... we had a reason..."
This development was wrong!
An alarm blared in Draco's mind. Perhaps in his previous life, because Harry was a Gryffindor, Professor McGonagall's protectiveness had saved him from expulsion? But now Harry was a Slytherin, and in the hands of an enraged Snape, he had every right to expel him directly!
Draco saw that when Snape looked into Harry's pleading green eyes, the cold expression on his face seemed to inexplicably flicker for a moment with an extremely subtle softening and hesitation.
This was an opportunity!
Draco immediately stepped forward smoothly and spoke in a clear, respectful tone. "Professor, perhaps Potter and Weasley really did encounter an irresistible difficulty. Why not hear their explanation first?"
Snape's gaze snapped to Draco, his facial muscles twitching, almost green with anger.
He buzzed, squeezing the words out through his teeth. "I do not know, Mr Malfoy, when your relationship with Potter became... so 'harmonious'? That you would begin defending his reckless, foolish behaviour?"
Just then, the office door was pushed open again, and Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall walked in.
Professor McGonagall's face was livid, her lips pressed into a stern line. Professor Dumbledore, with his long silver beard and blue eyes behind half moon spectacles, still looked calm and profound, as if he had merely come to a ordinary tea party.
Snape strongly demanded severe punishment, even hinting at expelling the two, but Dumbledore gently and firmly stopped him. In the end, after Professor McGonagall also expressed the view that expulsion was too harsh, though she was angry, Dumbledore made the final decision.
The wise old man did not scold them much. He only looked at the dejected Harry and Ron with those blue eyes that could see through people, then said in a tone as light as if discussing the weather.
"Well, I think the children have been frightened enough. Mr Filch, please take Mr Weasley to the hospital wing later and have Madam Pomfrey check him. As for Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy... you may go. The feast in the Great Hall should not be entirely over yet. The lemon sherbet tarts today are quite good."
The three of them, as if granted a pardon, almost stumbled out of that suffocating office. Ron seemed extremely depressed. Even when they reached the fork leading to Gryffindor Tower and the Slytherin dungeons, he was still muttering to himself, utterly distraught. "My mum is going to kill me... she is definitely going to kill me..."
Harry clearly feared causing Ron further hurt and stayed silent until Ron's dejected figure disappeared up the moving staircase. Then he let out a long breath and turned to Draco.
"Thank you." Harry said softly, his green eyes full of sincere gratitude. "Just now... thank you for speaking up for us."
"Don't mention it." Draco said dryly. "I would thank you more if you caused less trouble, Potter."
Harry began to tell him about the bizarre experience. The room at the Dursleys with iron bars on the window, the strange little elf that appeared in his bedroom, and the inexplicably closed Platform Nine and Three Quarters...
"Wait." Draco heard a familiar name and interrupted Harry. "You said that little elf... what was his name?"
Harry looked at Draco strangely. "Do you know him?" Then he seemed to think of something, his expression became extremely dejected, and his voice lowered. He asked cautiously, "Draco... during the holiday... did you write to me?"
Draco was still immersed in the shock and anger of Dobby's betrayal. Suddenly asked this by Harry, he abruptly remembered that before the holiday, he had indeed casually promised to write to Harry.
But he had spent the entire holiday busy with pure blood family banquets, researching blood curse potions, and trying to pry information from his father. He had long since forgotten about it.
He opened his mouth, about to find an excuse to brush it off. "Ah, of course..."
Something like the owl got lost.
Before the words left his mouth, Draco saw Harry's expression become even sadder.
The boy lowered his head, his voice muffled. "That little elf... Dobby... he intercepted and stole all the letters I received during the holiday! I did not get a single one!"
Draco was stunned for a moment, then a strange emotion surged up inside him, a mixture of embarrassment and relief. He almost instinctively let out a breath of relief.
Then he quickly changed his expression, putting on a Malfoy style look of arrogance and offence, drawing out his tone.
"Oh!" Draco drew out the word, his grey eyes glinting with amusement. "That is truly... a pity.
"I was wondering why you never replied to all those letters I wrote you, pouring out how much I missed you. So that was it... Potter, is this how you treat your friends? Making up a story about a mysterious elf intercepting letters, letting the other person wait like a fool all summer?"
Draco grew smoother as he spoke, as if he had truly suffered a great injustice. He enjoyed watching the guilt and anxiety deepen on Harry's face.
"No! That's not it! I really did not know!" Harry explained urgently, his green eyes full of sincere remorse. "If I had known, I would have stopped him! I was waiting for your letters the whole time! I thought... I thought you forgot, or..."
Harry was flushed red by his needling. Suddenly, he did something that caught Draco off guard. He stepped forward and grabbed Draco's wrist!
Draco was startled by the sudden movement. He felt the warmth of Harry's palm and the slightly sweaty touch of his nervousness.
He wanted to pull his hand back, but Harry's grip was surprisingly strong, holding his wrist tightly.
The extreme discomfort almost made the practised false smile on his face falter, turning stiff.
"I am sorry, Draco. I am really, really sorry!" Harry looked up, his emerald green eyes fixed on him without blinking, the clear apology in them almost making Draco's carefully woven lie utterly transparent.
"...I feel it, Potter. Your sincerity. As powerful as a troll." Draco said dryly. "Now, can you let go of me? I think the misunderstanding between us has been cleared up."
Harry seemed to realise only then that he had been too agitated. He quickly let go, a faint blush rising on his face, but his emerald green eyes still looked at Draco brightly.
Then he reached for the neckline of his sweater, hooked a thin silver chain around his neck, and carefully pulled it out.
The small crystal bottle pendant containing the golden potion was pulled out on the silver chain, swinging. In the dim firelight of the corridor, it glimmered with a warm, mysterious light.
"I have been wearing it. I treasure it." Harry looked up, his emerald green eyes meeting Draco's somewhat evasive grey ones. His voice was very soft, but exceptionally clear. "I wore it the whole holiday. The 'luck' you gave me... has been with me all along."
At that moment, the whispers of the portraits in the corridor, the faint noise from the distant Great Hall, all seemed to disappear, leaving only the crackle of the torches on the walls.
Draco was stunned, forgetting to react for a moment. Harry was standing very close. He could clearly see the tremor of the other's eyelashes, and his own somewhat flustered reflection in those green eyes. Something in the air seemed to grow thick.
An extremely complex, indescribable emotion seized Draco.
Not shyness or awkwardness, but a kind of... deep embarrassment and absurdity at finding himself in this almost tender situation with his "nemesis."
He could almost feel goosebumps crawling up his spine.
"Oh... boys..." From a nearby portrait, a witch in a lace nightgown holding a Persian cat said in an exaggerated, theatrical tone. "Quarrelling, apologising, holding hands, a token of love..."
That mutter brought Draco completely back from his brief daze. He said perfunctorily, "Oh, good. At least it kept you from being made into potion ingredients on the spot by Professor Snape."
He agreed verbally, but his mind was racing.
Maintaining this kind of friendly relationship with the Saviour seemed... not bad.
At least, if his father in the future, as in his previous life, was inevitably drawn once more into Voldemort's camp and ended up in prison, perhaps Harry Potter, with his status as the "Saviour" and his influence at the Ministry, could put in a word or two for the Malfoy family at a critical moment?
This utilitarian thought, like a cool medicine, instantly soothed all the discomfort caused by the overly intimate contact just now.
"Let's go, Potter." Draco watched Harry carefully tuck the Felix Felicis back into his collar.
"If we do not get to the Great Hall soon, I am afraid we will not even get the dishwater the house elves have so carefully prepared."