harry gets to hogsmede
The first Care of Magical Creatures lesson was held in a large, open field near the Forbidden Forest. The Slytherins and Gryffindors stood together in a loose group, waiting for Hagrid to arrive.
Draco stood beside Harry, looking thoroughly unimpressed as he examined his fingernails. “I can’t believe we have to take this class *outside*,” he muttered. “Honestly, what’s next? Rolling in the mud like common trolls?”
“I dunno,” Harry said, amused. “Sounds kind of fun.”
Draco shot him a horrified look. “Don’t *even* joke about that, Potter.”
Before Harry could reply, Hagrid finally appeared, looking excited as ever. He was leading a group of large, imposing creatures with fierce golden eyes and massive wings.
Hippogriffs.
Harry had read about them before—proud creatures, half-eagle, half-horse. Beautiful, but dangerous.
“Right then!” Hagrid boomed. “Who wants to go first?”
The entire class took an instinctive step back. Well. Almost the entire class.
Harry wasn’t sure if it was bravery or just stupidity, but his feet *refused* to move.
Hagrid grinned. “That’s the spirit, Harry!”
Draco groaned loudly. “Of *course* it’s him.”
Ignoring Draco’s dramatics, Harry cautiously stepped forward.
“Now, the thing about Hippogriffs,” Hagrid explained, “is they’re *proud* creatures. Ya gotta show ‘em respect. Bow first, let ‘em decide if they wanna let ya near.”
Harry nodded. He turned to face the large Hippogriff in front of him, its sharp golden eyes locked onto him. Slowly, carefully, he bowed.
The Hippogriff eyed him for a long moment. Then—finally—it bowed back.
The class let out a collective breath of relief.
“Good job, Harry!” Hagrid beamed. “Now, go on—give ‘im a stroke.”
Harry reached out, heart pounding, and ran his fingers gently through the Hippogriff’s feathers. The creature let out a pleased huff, nudging Harry’s hand slightly.
Draco scoffed. “Oh, *please*. That didn’t look hard *at all*.”
Hagrid grinned. “Want to give it a go, then?”
Draco hesitated for a fraction of a second before straightening his spine. “Obviously.”
Pansy grabbed Blaise’s sleeve. “He’s going to get *eaten*.”
Draco stepped forward, keeping his head high, and turned to face another Hippogriff. He gave a perfectly executed, aristocratic bow—one that was *just* a bit too stiff to be respectful.
The Hippogriff *did not bow back*.
Harry felt his stomach drop. “Draco, step back—”
Draco huffed. “Oh, come *on*. If it bowed for Harry, it should *obviously* bow for me—”
The Hippogriff reared back slightly, letting out a warning *snort*.
Draco froze. “Uh.”
“Back away, Malfoy,” Harry hissed.
Draco didn’t need to be told twice. He took a slow, careful step back, hands raised. The Hippogriff huffed again, ruffling its feathers, but—thankfully—didn’t attack.
Draco turned sharply on his heel and *marched* back toward the group.
“I *hate* this class,” he muttered.
Harry grinned. “You say that about *every* class.”
---
The castle was quiet, most of its inhabitants already asleep. But in the Slytherin dormitory, two boys lay side by side on Draco’s bed, speaking in hushed voices, their fingers lazily tangled together between them.
Harry turned his head on the pillow to watch Draco, whose silver-blond hair looked almost white in the moonlight streaming through the window. He looked… soft like this. Less guarded. Less sharp edges and more gentle curves.
Harry swallowed. “You know, you were *very* confident about that Hippogriff bow.”
Draco groaned, covering his face with his free hand. “We *are not* talking about that, Potter.”
Harry laughed, shifting closer. “I mean, I get it. You probably thought you were too charming for it to resist.”
Draco peeked at him through his fingers, a small smirk playing at his lips. “Can you blame me?”
Harry rolled his eyes but squeezed Draco’s hand. “No, I suppose not.”
Draco hummed, watching him with sharp, observant eyes. “You’re staring.”
Harry flushed. “Am not.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So if I leaned in right now, you wouldn’t get all flustered and ridiculous?”
Harry was *already* flustered, but he wasn’t about to give Draco the satisfaction of admitting it. He huffed. “You *wish* I’d get flustered.”
Draco grinned, and before Harry could blink, he was suddenly *right there*, their noses almost brushing.
Harry’s breath hitched. “Draco—”
Draco tilted his head, his voice teasing but softer now. “Still not flustered?”
Harry was about to retort, but then Draco kissed him—light, gentle, nothing like the dramatic flair he usually carried himself with. It was *soft*. Careful.
It stole the air from Harry’s lungs.
He barely had time to react before Draco pulled back, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “There. Now you’re flustered.”
Harry blinked, his brain short-circuiting. “That was—”
“Perfect? I know.”
Harry groaned, shoving him lightly. “You’re insufferable.”
Draco only grinned, curling into Harry’s side like a particularly smug cat. “And yet, you’re still here.”
Harry sighed, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to Draco’s temple. “I’m still here.”
Draco shot him a glare. “Yes, but this time, I *mean* it.”
---
The Divination classroom was unlike any other at Hogwarts—round, filled with a thick, perfumed mist that made Harry’s head spin. The entire room looked like something out of a dream, with its draped fabrics, low tables, and dim lighting.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, and the rest of their friends settled into their seats, watching as Professor Trelawney floated—because *floated* was the only way to describe the way she moved—into the room.
“Welcome, my dear students,” she said in a breathy voice, her many bangles jingling as she gestured dramatically. “Today, we shall open our inner eyes to the mysteries of fate.”
Ron leaned over to whisper to Harry, “Bet you a Galleon she predicts someone’s *untimely* death within five minutes.”
Sure enough, Trelawney had barely settled into her introduction before gasping theatrically. “Oh, my dear boy,” she said, peering into Neville’s cup, “I fear for your safety. The omens… they are *troubling*.”
Ron snorted quietly.
Draco, sitting beside Harry, looked utterly unimpressed. “This is ridiculous.”
Trelawney suddenly turned her gaze to him. “Ah, but not all students lack the gift,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she studied him. “You… you are different.”
Draco blinked. “Pardon?”
Trelawney smiled in that eerie way of hers. “You see things, don’t you?”
The entire table turned to look at Draco, who had gone very still.
Harry nudged him. “Draco?”
Draco hesitated for a moment before he muttered, “It’s just… sometimes, I get these feelings. Like I *know* something is going to happen before it does.”
Pansy, sitting across from him, gasped. “*Wait, what?*”
Blaise leaned in. “You mean, like a real Seer?”
Draco huffed, rubbing his temple. “I don’t know. I just—” He hesitated again. “Remember last week? When I told you to avoid the third floor corridor?”
Harry thought back. Draco had said something about *bad energy* near the corridor, and later that day, Filch had caught two Ravenclaws sneaking around there.
“Oh,” Harry said slowly, realization dawning on him. “That happens *a lot*, doesn’t it?”
Draco crossed his arms. “It’s not a big deal.”
Trelawney smiled knowingly. “You may not *wish* to embrace it, my dear, but the Sight is within you. You should nurture this gift.”
Draco scoffed. “Right. Because I *definitely* want to be like *you*.”
Trelawney didn’t seem offended. “Doubt is the barrier to true vision, Mr. Malfoy. In time, you will see.”
The lesson moved on, but the group kept sneaking glances at Draco, who looked thoroughly annoyed by the entire conversation.
Ron elbowed Harry. “You’re dating a *psychic*.”
Harry grinned. “Yeah,” he whispered back, glancing at Draco, who was stubbornly refusing to look at anyone. “I think I already knew that.”
---
Divination had been a disaster, as far as Draco was concerned. He had stormed out of the classroom, muttering under his breath about frauds and “that ridiculous old bat” predicting doom over a cup of tea. Harry, on the other hand, had been more amused than anything.
“Honestly, Draco, you’re acting like Trelawney personally insulted you,” Harry teased as they made their way down to the Great Hall for lunch.
Draco shot him a glare. “That’s because she did, Potter. She said I had ‘a dark shadow looming over my future.’ What does that even mean?”
Ron snickered. “That you should watch your back?”
Draco huffed, crossing his arms. “If anything, *she* should watch *hers*. Imagine having the nerve to call herself a Seer. I could do a better job predicting the weather.”
Hermione, who had been suspiciously quiet throughout the lesson, finally spoke up. “Actually… you *might* be able to.”
The entire group turned to look at her.
“What do you mean?” Blaise asked, arching an eyebrow.
Hermione hesitated, glancing at Draco before saying, “I read that some wizards have a natural gift of foresight—*real* foresight, not the vague, theatrical nonsense Trelawney spouts. It’s rare, but there *are* documented cases. And—” she bit her lip, looking like she wasn’t sure if she should continue.
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “And *what*, Granger?”
She sighed. “And… well, you’ve had moments, haven’t you? Times where you just *knew* something was going to happen?”
Draco stiffened. “That doesn’t mean anything. I have good instincts, that’s all.”
“Instincts don’t let you predict the *exact* moment a book is going to fall off a shelf,” Hermione pointed out. “Or when Peeves is about to prank someone before he even enters a room. Or that time last year when you told Harry to be careful *right before* the rogue Bludger tried to take his head off.”
Everyone turned to Draco, who looked *very* uncomfortable.
“That was coincidence,” he said stubbornly.
But then, just as they reached the entrance to the Great Hall, Draco suddenly froze. His breath hitched, and his usually bright silver eyes darkened slightly, his gaze unfocused.
Harry immediately noticed. “Draco?”
Draco didn’t respond. He was staring straight ahead, his expression unreadable. Then, under his breath, he muttered, “Not today.”
A second later, the doors to the Great Hall burst open, and a swarm of first years ran out, shrieking as if they’d seen a ghost. Except, it wasn’t a ghost—it was *Peeves*, cackling madly as he dumped an entire bucket of what looked like—was that *glitter*?—onto an unsuspecting Professor Flitwick.
The group turned back to Draco, who was blinking rapidly, as if snapping out of a daze.
“Well,” Pansy said after a moment of stunned silence. “That’s not terrifying at *all*.”
Draco scowled. “Shut up.”
Harry, however, was staring at Draco with something that looked dangerously close to awe.
---
Hogsmeade weekends were meant to be a fun, carefree break from school, but for Harry, they were nothing but a cruel reminder that he *wasn’t allowed to go*.
It wasn’t fair. Everyone else got to explore the village, eat sweets from Honeydukes, sip butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks… and he was stuck at the castle like a prisoner.
He had been sulking in the common room when Draco sauntered over, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“Get up, Potter,” he said smugly. “We’re going to Hogsmeade.”
Harry blinked. “Uh, in case you forgot, I *can’t* go.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, we *know*. That’s why we’re *sneaking you in*.”
Harry sat up straight. “Wait—*we*?”
Draco smirked and gestured behind him, where Blaise, Pansy, Ron, and Nico were standing, all looking equally conspiratorial.
“I don’t know why I let you lot talk me into these things,” Harry muttered, but he was already getting to his feet.
The plan was surprisingly simple: use the secret passageway that Fred and George had shown Ron, sneak into the Honeydukes cellar, and blend in with the rest of the students once they reached the village.
It worked *flawlessly*.
Soon, Harry was standing in the middle of Hogsmeade, taking in the sights, the warm smell of butterbeer filling the air.
Draco grinned at him. “See? *Much* better than sulking.”
Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t deny that he was enjoying himself.
They spent the afternoon exploring the shops, with Draco dramatically insisting that *only* he could choose the best sweets from Honeydukes. They visited Zonko’s, where Ron and Blaise nearly got kicked out for testing out prank items inside the store.
Then, just as they were about to head to the Three Broomsticks, Harry noticed something odd.
Draco was… *getting a lot of attention*.
Girls kept blushing when he walked by, whispering behind their hands. A few even tried to approach him, but Draco, completely oblivious, just kept walking.
Harry… did *not* like it.
Pansy, who had obviously noticed, smirked at him. “Jealous, Potter?”
Harry scowled. “What? No.”
“Sure,” Blaise drawled, amusement clear in his voice. “That’s why you’re glaring daggers at every girl who looks at him.”
“I *am not*.”
“You *definitely* are.”
Ron, Nico, and Will were snickering now, while Hermione just looked exasperated.
Meanwhile, Draco, still utterly clueless, was examining a shelf of butterbeer bottles, oblivious to the fact that a Ravenclaw girl was trying (and failing) to flirt with him.
Harry crossed his arms, feeling *deeply* annoyed. Draco wasn’t *that* attractive. Sure, he had *really* nice hair, and his eyes were stupidly pretty, and his smirk did things to Harry’s stomach, and—*oh no*.
Harry froze.
Oh. *Oh no*.
Blaise caught the look on his face and burst into laughter. “Oh, this is *fantastic*.”
Harry turned to him sharply. “What?”
Blaise smirked. “You just realized, didn’t you?”
“Realized *what*?” Harry snapped.
Blaise leaned in with a knowing grin. “That you’re in *love* with our dear Draco.”
Harry turned bright red.
Ron howled with laughter. Pansy clapped her hands delightedly. Nico just shook his head, muttering something about “finally.”
Draco, who had *finally* turned back to the group, looked at them suspiciously. “What are you all laughing about?”
Harry *panicked*.
“Nothing!” he blurted out. “Absolutely nothing!”
Draco frowned, but before he could question it, Pansy looped an arm through his and dragged him toward the counter. “Come along, Draco, we need to buy these drinks before Potter *explodes*.”
Draco, looking confused but letting himself be pulled along, glanced back at Harry. “You *are* acting weird, you know.”
Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands.
Blaise patted his back. “Don’t worry, Potter. We *all* saw this coming.”
Harry groaned louder.