At the Hour - Book Two

A week into school, things settled. The steady routine of lessons, meals, and things to do in the castle returned. The dorm was nearly the same as it had been before- with Theo’s books, now in more advanced topics, Blaise’s strings of lights, Ivan’s many posters, artworks, and flags, as well as Draco’s sketches, which were hung up with the crests of the Houses Black and Malfoy.

Harry hung up 70s and 80s music posters. Draco always giggled when he saw David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust poster. The posters were joined by the collection of plates Theo had given him on Christmas, and pictures from the denim photo album. One for Lily, one for James, one for Sirius, one for Remus, and one for the Slytherins respectively. When Theo saw the plates he flushed a little, avoiding Harry’s eye. Harry debated taking them down if they embarrassed Theo, but he decided against it. He wanted Theo to know he liked the gift.

Looking at Sirius’ charming, young face always bought on a cacophony of emotions. Giddiness, excitement when he would see him again in less than a year. Guilt- he found himself feeling guilty often now- for letting himself fall for the trick that got Sirius killed. Determination, that he would not make that mistake again. But most of all; love. This man was more than his godfather. He was the first man that cared for Harry, and he would never forget that.

He felt a bit more melancholy when he saw Remus’ picture. He should’ve gotten to know him more. He reminded Harry a lot of Hermione.

He would learn to love him if he didn’t already. That was a promise.

It was a cool evening after classes. Harry and Ron sat in the secret balcony they found last year, Harry teaching him how to play the Muggle game Uno. This was their fourth match, both of them getting increasingly enthusiastic about the game.

“Four red,” Ron whispered dramatically, placing the card down tentatively.

Harry began to giggle gleefully, much to Ron’s horror. The card he placed was the one he dreaded the most.

“Add four, change color to green.”

“Aughh!” Ron moaned mournfully, tossing his few cards in the air as Harry choked on his laughter. Harry threw four more cards at him, clutching his stomach as Ron wailed theatrically.

“Skip,” Harry giggled once they had mostly regained composure.

Ron inhaled sharply.

“Reverse,” he snickered.

Ron choked back a sob.

“Add two, uno, Potter victory!” Harry guffawed, placing the last card on the pile between them.

Ron flopped forward, scattering the cards, taking Harry to the ground with him. They laughed, wrestling and shoving the other. Ron may have had to deal with five older brothers for his life, but Harry maintained a consistent (now safe, thank you very much) exercising schedule.

Before Harry realized what was happening, Ron tumbled off the balcony. Harry was about to laugh it off before he remembered he had taken off the vine charms when last year’s semester ended.

“Ron!” he screamed, scrambling to catch his hand, before he fell with him.

Harry couldn’t tell the difference between the rushing in his ears and Ron’s shrieking. He was almost thankful they were up so high- if they had been lower both of their skulls would’ve probably been crushed by now.

Ron tugged at Harry’s wrist, his palm, his fingers. “AHH!”

“Your hand’s all sweaty!” Harry screamed back, mostly to make himself heard over the wind.

Harry’s other hand clawed at the brick wall, searching for a vine to cling to. His lungs froze in his chest, eyes unable to see clearly with such rapid movement. He didn’t know if he should hold his breath or gasp for it.

Fingers scraping painfully on the brick, Harry clutched a handful of vines. Thorns pricked mercilessly at his bare hand, and his natural instincts screamed to let go.

Ron clutched a fistful of Harry’s jumper sleeve, Harry doing the same to his. He looked down at Ron, and immediately regretted it, dizzying from the sight of the ground below him.

“Don’t let go!” Ron panted. Harry half-laughed, half-sighed.

Harry levitated them back on to the balcony. Once they reached solid ground, they collapsed.

Harry rolled on to his back, staring at the sky. It would be dinner soon.

“Oh, no,” Ron said, faintly wailing. “My wand’s broken.”

Harry turned his head, Ron’s wand indeed broken. Unlike the clean snap in half like last timeline, it was crushed from the tip to part of the handle. It must have been pressed against the brick.

“At least it’s not your neck,” Harry almost drawled, but his mind only thought of buying him a new one.

(Draco’s POV: First Book 15k hits (ily guys so much!<3))

Luna bid Draco goodbye, leaving the library with a stack of books on Muggle sciences. Her purple headband, with varying colors of ferns, disappeared as she turned left.

Draco packed up his homework into his messenger bag. Studying with Luna was always nice, even if she occansionally went off topic. She was good at summarizing the tedious lectures of most classes, other than Transfoguration, where Professor McGonagall never said more than what was necessary.

Draco distantly wondered how this had happened. Complimenting the Head of Gryffindor house? And Luna; Mother had nothing to say about Pandora and Evan and Xenophilius. Father called the lot of them bar-shit crazy when he was drunk one night.

But Harry respected McGonagall. Theo or Blaise didn’t notice (or didn’t care), but Draco did. He’d gotten good at that. They all had, just Draco more so.

And Harry was friends with Luna. He was very obvious with that. Draco wasn’t quite sure when she started eating with them during meals, but he welcomed her presence.

Every once in a while, he thought of those first words Harry said to him when they met in Diagon Alley, words of justice and determination. Harry would never know just how much that conversation had meant to him. Harry would also, if his friends could keep their mouths shut, never know about Draco’s conversation with all of them the second they got on the train. Blaise, Pansy, and Theo had been his closest friends since the nursery. They had eyed him skeptically, confused and a twinge of age-old, inherited disgust in their faces.

“What I’m hearing is…you want us to…support Muggles?” Blaise’s eyes felt like acid on Draco.

“Well, sure, but mostly-”

“You don’t think highly of them yourself.” Theo’s eyes narrowed. “What is this, Draco?”

“It’s about giving that Potter boy the illusion we support them,” Pansy supplied, painfully accurate, as always. Her intuition was insane.

All eyes were on Draco. He swallowed. “I- it’s more than that. I’m going to learn to accept them, and I’m only telling you this as to invite you to do the same.”

“For Potter?” Pansy raised an eyebrow. She unlinked her arm from Draco’s, patting his hand softly. “Then that’s your choice.”

“But,” Theo began, “I’ll do some research on Muggles. This doesn’t sound like such an outrageous idea. It’s not going to be easy or fun, though, Draco. Your family could even make it dangerous for you if they knew.”

Draco twisted his fingers. “I know. But why should we choose to live in the dark? In one gray world of beliefs?”

His eyes on his lap, he didn’t notice Blaise move seats to wrap an arm around Draco’s shoulders. “I don’t know about Theodore, but I don’t speak Edgar Allen Poe. We’ll do some, I dunno, idea-changing, why not? It means all lot to you, doesn’t it?”

Slytherins didn’t make profound gestures of acceptance or gratitude. They knew each other well enough.

“It does, yeah.” Draco looked away, smiling. And that was good enough for them.

Over time, they did learn. Not hating Muggles became truth and not performance. Theo thanked Draco for opening his eyes. Draco was glad his own were open at all.

The thing that convinced them the most was Hermione Granger. Someone so brilliant, so great, could be tainted by nothing. And if that didn’t affect her, it wouldn’t affect anyone else.

Draco turned right, waving to Marcus Flint as he passed him. Flint wasn’t a great person, but he was alright to Draco, more so after Father’s broom bribery.

Draco heard a commotion as he passed the staircases. He would’ve ignored it if he didn’t recognize Harry and Ron’s voices.

“Is just a wand! I don’t understand- your wand’s broken, I have money that can pay for it, and-”

“And I don’t?” Ron snapped, halting sharply. “I
Go on, you know I’m poor. Just say it to my face, why don’t you?”

“Why does that matter? No one cares if you’re poor, least of all me! I just want to help you-”

“Stop, stop! You don’t get it! I’m not going to let you be my fucking bank! Don’t spend your money on me!”

“But-”

“WHY-”

“I-”

“YOU HAVE EVERYTHING!” they yelled at the same time.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. Ron gaped at him.

“You have all the money in the world. People who’ve never seen your face outside a news article would die for you!”

“What good’s money if I can’t spend it the way I want?” Harry scowled. “And being famous is all fun and games until I can’t go anywhere without someone bringing a parade to my feet. It’s awful! You have people who actually love you! You have a fucking family!” Harry screamed.

Ron snorted maliciously. “They don’t even remember me half the time. They got tired of arms after Charlie. Mum was always daughter-this, daughter-that. Ginny gets new clothes while I don’t even have my own wand! So, you’re wrong. Maybe it’s shit having a fanclub, and I’m sorry for assuming otherwise, but my family doesn’t even like me!”

Draco couldn’t hear anything after that. He wondered if Harry cast a silencing spell.

“Ron, I’m sorry. I- I just want to help you.”

“Oh, don’t get all melancholy on me. Now I feel bad.” Ron’s voice lilted playfully, but not keeping the guilt and concern out of it.

Harry laughed. “Let’s go to Professor McGonagall. She probably has extras or something.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Okay.”

Their footsteps faded. Draco felt bad about invading their privacy, but in his defense they were loud enough for people a few halls down to hear them. He went down the dungeons. Harry and Ron would be fine.

(End POV)

Harry lay in bed, listening to Draco’s deep breathing. He stared at the ceiling, waiting for the sleeping potion to kick in. His blanket covered him snugly, nice and warm compared to the chill of the dungeons. His eyelids fluttered, falling asleep to the sound of Draco’s breaths.

When he woke up, it was still dark outside, but Harry wasn’t paying much attention to that. All he could focus on was the large eyes all up in his face. Harry blinked.

“Dobby?” he slurred. Huh. He had the feeling he was missing something, and there it was. Dobby. “‘S so nice to see you alive again…” he nearly said, if not for the timeline restrictions.

“Mr. Potter!” Dobby half cried, half whispered. “Where have you been?”

“Where’ve you been?” He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“Dobby was waiting all summer at Number Four Privet Drive!” he cried frantically. “Dobby stayed under the patio day and night, waiting to warn the great Harry Potter of the dangers stirring at Hogwarts! Dobby would do everything in his power to make sure Mr. Potter did not return to school, but he did not even return home!”

Harry stared at him. “Dobby, don’t worry. I can handle myself. Shouldn’t you be asleep right now? Are you feeling alright?”

“Mr. Potter does not understand!” Dobby wailed. Harry cast a silencing spell on them. He just wanted to hug Dobby and pat his adorable little head.

“Dobby, I’m not stupid. Chamber of Secrets. Tom Riddle. Basilisk. These things get around. I’m prepared.”

“Mr. Potter knows about everything! He is at Hogwarts in his bed! Dobby has failed!” Dobby hopped off the bed and reached for the lamp on Harry’s desk.

“Dobby, no! Don’t hurt yourself! That-that’s an order!” Harry jumped off the bed.

Dobby froze, eyes wide as Harry walked closer to him. There was something strange in his eyes that Harry knew too well in the mirror: fear.

Dobby was afraid of him? Was that why he was so twitchy and nervous during their first encounter last timeline?

“Hey, hey, I’m not going to hurt you. Dobby, you have to understand you were prepared to leave me abused, but I’m not…evil. I wouldn’t do that to you…” Harry reached out, pulling his hand back with a sickening feeling as Dobby flinched.

“Dobby has heard only good things of Mr. Potter, sir!” Dobby brightened up considerably. “Many times has he heard of your greatness.”

Harry swallowed. He smiled weakly. “Go on, Dobby. I’ve got to sleep. I’ll see you later.”

Fingers snapped, and the house elf was gone.