Chapter Text
Slytherin, Fourth Year Dorm
Stupid potter, Malfoy thought to herself, standing in front of the mirror and doing her lashes. Stupid potter..
Of course, it did not escape her mind that she was thinking of Potter while trying to make herself pretty..
Stupid potter, she thought, pecking her lips for her wizarding lipstick.
She sighed, looking down at her vanity. How apt of her to get a crush on a boy like Potter.
Sometimes she’d cry about how stupid it was, and how stupid she was being – wallowing in self-hatred was always her forte when she had free time.
Well, anyway.. time to go to class
Malfoy’s secret spot on the Fifth Corridor.
None of her spells worked. “Garh,” she said, twirling her wand. “Why won’t you work?”
It was so unfair. She had all of this energy and potential and she just wanted to put it to use. She felt her tears start to come again. It was only when she was alone she could get her emotions out – she couldn’t practice anywhere else.. but this was her safe spot, a secluded alcove and practice room behind a painting of a 15th Century Curonian wizard, Borislav.
Never let tears show – something she always learnt from her parents.
Now the tears were really starting. Why couldn’t she just be better?
That was when the hidden door opened and someone came in.
“Who’s there?” she said, imperiously, even through tears.
She turned around only to see her crush and school rival, Potter, step in. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
“Oh it’s you,” she said icily. “Got nothing better to do than creep around?” she said, twirling her wand.
Potter looked frozen in a state of shock. He had never seen her cry. Stupid, stupid – she hated it when people saw her cry – she felt so embarrassed, down to her bones – and disgusting – she scrunched up her face.
“Potter, get out,” she said. She turned her wand in her hands. An idea came to her head – and the anger under the surface of her tears – at being embarrassed and feeling so disgusted at herself, like she was drenched in sweat and smelled. “Or I’ll hex you, Potter,” she said, gripping her wand with tight white fingers now. She almost wanted to stomp on the ground. Why was she being such a little girl? She might like Potter, but – he deserved it, the stupid fool.
Potter instinctively reached into his robes for his wand. “Relax, relax – Malfoy, I’ll get out–”
But before he had finished, she had already sent a hex off in anger. Probably too fast, she thought. But sometimes her emotions took over. How dare he come to her spot when she felt this disgusting – she wanted to lash out and claw him.
Potter deflected the spell, only for it to hit her favourite glass cabinet on the wall and shatter it with all her books.
The tears came more, unbidden. No no no – it was all going wrong – that – she had collected those books over years, that was her favourite space.
“Potter,” she grinded, wanting to say an expletive. “I already warned you to get out. Why – why are you – why are you not leaving? Are you not afraid?” she said, anger warming with her tears. “Do you think I’m some sort of ‘easy peasy’ girl? Part of your fanclub, huh? Tri-wizarding champion – ”
Potter stared at her with his wand in his hand, not knowing what to do, clearly.
“Do you want me to hex you again?” she said, much louder.
“I doubt you could win,” he said.
“Ha,” she laughed. “Scramalorous!” – and this time the spell worked, and out of her wand came twisting ropes, ready to wrap around his feet – only for him to deflect it again, and a real duel started.
Now this was fun – this was flirting, she thought unbiddenly, but quashed that down, though she did like violence..
But here she was alive, as she felt her magic surge within the core of her being, express itself in sparkles and fantasies and hopes and dreams and angers and tears. Her emotions were finally in control – always during adrenaline. She didn’t feel disgusting at all anymore – now she felt like a heroine, defeating this stupid, ugly blood traitor. He didn’t even know his heritage –
A spell sparked against Potter’s shield and crushed the lamp hanging on the wall. She’d repair it later – right now, she just had to win..
That was until the other spell set her book cabinet on fire.
She gasped, holding her hands over her mouth
Potter had seemed to stop their schoolyard duel too.
“I – I –,” she said, suddenly the adrenaline leaving her, and Potter had seemed to feel this too, watching her warily. Why did she inspire such hatred? Her only light was to flirt with that hatred, at least get him to be violent towards her – but somehow, for the first time, she felt this was too much. She didn’t like at all how Potter looked at her, after having seen her vulnerable, crying – she didn’t like it at all, and something inside of her teared up.
“I– I–,” she said. “This was my special space,” she said, quietly, looking at the books on fire, almost a whisper. “I liked it.”
Potter once again said nothing.
Now the tears she felt behind her eyes might come out, as the adrenaline abated to a lull. No, no – that was not going to happen. She quickly picked up her book bag from the chair and went out past Potter, hair flowing in the wind, leaving in the cabinet the books that she had collected, now destroyed beyond magical repair .. even her favourite novels.. No..
Something was so wrong about this, when she felt her inner heart rift. She had just assaulted him this time – this wasn’t a fun fight, where they both made fun of each other, where she would edge him on – this was just her being disgusting and then taking it out on him..
“I’m sorry,” she had said, whispered, when she passed Potter with her hair flowing.
She wondered if he had heard it.
Herbology, Fifth Greenhouse
Malfoy showed up to her detention in Herbology. So much for illegal experiments.
She went over, put her hair in its protective hat, and started clipping the Luciferious plants. At least here she felt some semblance of peace.. She had often seen magical wizards make tea in a peaceful way.. to her, this reminded her of that..
That was of course, until her detention partner stepped in.
It had been two weeks since her mock duel with Potter, and she had turned it over and over in her mind.
“Oh, it’s you,” she had said, without emotion.
Potter looked scared. Boys.
“Come on,” she said. “Help me with clipping this.”
It surprised her too that she was so practical – she supposed that must come from her upbringing. Pretend nothing happened.
“No, –” she said, looking over at him doing it absolutely wrong. “Not like that, Potter.”
He had come to her left side, and was failing to cut the rose buds at all, which would both blow up in their faces.
“Give me that,” she said, holding out her hand for the scissor. And – oddly, he gave it to her, without any spat.
No fighting, no ‘keeping-the-scissor’, no comments of hatred? Not even any slurs?
This was so odd, she thought. The awkwardness of their last meeting had resulted in this?
That was when she realized she wasn’t moving, just holding the scissor in her hand.
Potter looked at her expectantly.
Right, she thought.
She did want to talk about it, wanted .. some kind of resolution.
Well, better late than never.
She reached over to the left, making sure her perfume reached him – not because she liked him, but because she was vain.
“I had collected those books for a long time, you know,” she said, testing the waters.
“I’m sorry I walked in on you,” Potter said, suddenly – warm? What in the –
Malfoy almost tripped over and fell head-first into Potter’s luciferous plant.
What?
“You’re apologizing?” she said, surprised, confused, with an eyes-wide open look, looking up at him.
“I mean, you did hex me first Malfoy,” he said, some of their rivalry back. “But I didn’t want to destroy your stuff…”
“Well,” she said, snappy – “you came into my private room, a girl’s room – what were you doing there anyway?” she said. “Wanted to get a look?”
She did not just say that. What. Oh no.
She kept her head facing the plant – she was too embarrassed to look up at Potter.
“No, no – I was trying to get to the secret corridor on the other side –,” Potter said, and she did feel a strange note in his voice, but that was probably just her delusional side.
Malfoy turned her head to face him, and actually smiled at his reaction. She felt lithe, the way she was looking up at him, rose buds behind her. “Oh, really?” she said. She pensively looked away. “Hmm..”
She turned back to cut his roses for him. “Well,” she said, wanting to apologize but not having the bravery, “you certainly didn’t act like it..”
This was such an odd conversation. They’ve never spoken like this, Malfoy thought. It was kindling all sort of things within her – it felt different from just fighting. Good, in a certain way.
Malfoy knew she had a crush. Probably because she was so fucked up.
“Why did you start hexing me in the first place, anyway?” Harry said. “Also, I can cut those roses just fine–”
“No you definitely can not,” Malfoy said. “And I hexed you because you were in my space –,”
“How can it be your space? The castle is hundreds of years old –”
“Well,” Malfoy said, but then suddenly almost laughed. Laughed! From Potter? She truly was delulu. “Well – well – it’s … it’s the right of the Malfoy family, you see…”
“What?” Potter said, picking up on her laughter too, but not letting it out. “Anyway, look – Malfoy, this doesn’t matter, I’m sorry I destroyed your books … and walked in on you crying…”
“I was not crying!” she said, indignant. “I was – writing poetry.”
“What?” Potter said, and then laughed. “What are you talking about?”
Malfoy blushed. She liked it when he said that..
“Are you smiling?” Potter asked her.
“No,” she smiled. “That would be not very pureblood. Purebloods don’t smile,” she said.
“I’ve never seen you smile,” Potter told her, looking at her quizzically under his glasses.
“And you’ve never seen me cry,” she told him. “Look – I –,” she said, starting for some openness for the first time in her entire … thing … with Potter (did he know it was a ‘thing’? Did he have any idea of the effect he had on her? Hopefully not. Definitely not. Or she’d disappear on the spot out of embarrassment and turn into thin air.) “I – I was having difficulty with some spells… and I haven’t been feeling very good… that’s all.”
“What spells were you trying?”
“Er,” she said. “Hafidexerous?”
“Isn’t that only taught in seventh year?”
“It is,” she said.
“So – what’s the problem?”
“Uh,” she said, surprised at his kind tone. “Uhh..” (You were the problem Potter, I didn’t want you to see me cry.) “Well…I don’t know…” she told him, not used to talking about her feelings with – anyone. She turned to look at him more directly. “What were you doing there anyway? Secret corridor? There isn’t any secret corridor in that room.”
Potter looked at her, surprised. “You just have to turn the handle on the practice dummy and it leads you to the second floor.”
“WHAT?” she said. “I’ve been in there for years and I’ve never – how did you know that?”
“Er,” Potter said. “That’s a secret.”
She almost stomped her feet. “Nooo, tell me,” she said.
“I will not!” Potter said.
“Yes you will,” Malfoy said. “Or – I’ll – I’ll do something bad! To you!”
“I would win!”
“No, I would win!” Malfoy said, but somehow this banter was not aggressive the way it had been other times. “Remember when I almost pulled you to sit on that tree near the arboretum –”
“Yeah, well – you didn’t.”
“But that was fun, wasn’t it?” she smiled, light in her eyes, and now for the first time in a while she felt better, like herself. And then … her new feelings took over, her adolescent self with all of its energy and spirit. “I like talking to you like this, Potter.”
“Rather than hexing each other?” he asked.
“I like that too, don’t get me wrong… but you’re a good conversationalist, as my uncle would say… you’re not too bad,” she smiled. “But I do like roughing you up too. Maybe we should talk more,” she told him, not really realizing what she was saying.
“I would like to be friends,” Potter said.
“What?” she said, stopping with cutting her roses at all and turning full body to him. “You told me in first year you hated me –”
“What–”
“--and that we’d never be friends, and that –”
“--no I did not,” Potter said, while she was yapping.
“--and that my entire family was worth nothing, and completely insignificant to you, and that my requests for Parley were unreturned and inappropriate–”
“Parley?”
“--and that my resources and social standing were of no value to you, despite–”
Potter put his hands on her arms to stop her from yapping, and now she really was blushing.
“Malfoy, calm down.”
She sputtered “I am just saying the truth of what happened –”
“Relax, it’s fine.”
She stopped talking. But now this she really really liked - if only he would tell her more of what to do.
He removed his hands from her, way too soon. But probably because her arms were flying in a million directions before he had stopped her from yapping.
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Malfoy, but I would much rather be friends than fight you.”
“!” Malfoy thought.
“Absolutely,” she said, breathlessly. “I mean, yes. Yes. Yes, of course. Yes.”
Potter looked extremely surprised at her.
Had she said something wrong? Too many yes’s?
“Did I say something wrong?” she said. Wow, clearly Potter had unnerved her. To just directly ask if she had committed a social faux pas…
“I’m just surprised that you wanted to be friends at all – let alone so much.”
So much? “What do you mean so much,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Do you think I’m pining for your friendship?” she said, many many hours having pined for his friendship. She could feel her emotions were a bit too unstable from the shock of the situation…
“Not at all,” he said, and then she felt fine, and then elated – Potter and her friends!
“Does this mean we really are friends?” she said, almost jumping up on the spot.
“Yes, if you want to be –”
“Oh, very much so,” she said.
“Then we are.”
“I have the best idea!” she said, as detention ended. “We should duel.”