Meddlesome Friends

“Harry! You're finally here!” Hermione exclaimed as she opened the door to let him in.

She threw her arms around his shoulders and brought him down for a hug. Not that he needed to bend down. They were pretty much the same height, him being only a few centimeters taller than her. Nonetheless, he buried his face into his friend's fluffy hair, taking in her soothing scent and basking in her warmth.

He was cold after walking around outside for only a few minutes. After all, winter was just around the corner.

She let him go and dragged him into the living room where Ron was watching the telly.

Ever since Hermione had introduced him to muggle technology – the television really – Ron had gotten very attached to it. The first week, he had asked questions upon questions about how it worked and what the buttons on the remote did. Second week and onwards, he had invited Harry over every single day just to watch the TV. It got worse after Hermione introduced him to DVDs. He'd spent a whole week watching every single Disney movie ever made and could recite all the lines from Tarzan. Personally, Harry liked Bambi better.

“Mate! Hey!” he said once he could take his eyes away from the screen.

“Hi Ron,” he muttered quietly, not really knowing how to act. He took a seat on the recliner while Hermione took a seat on the couch beside Ron.

“You look like a right mess,” Ron pointed out once he got a good look at him. This got a jab to the side by his wife. He glared at her.

“Gee, thanks, Ron. I appreciate it,” he murmured and took a sip of tea from the tea cup that had been floating in front of him.

He knew he looked like a mess. He had looked like one for 5 months now – not that he was counting. It couldn't be helped. He didn't have anyone to keep him in check. At least, not anymore...

He mentally shook away his thoughts. He shouldn't think about him now. Not now. Not today. Not ever.

“Is this about you and the Ferret?” Ron asked, taking a big gulp of his coffee.

“What? No! It's just...” he trailed off. He didn't know what to say. What could he say anyway?

“So it is about him,” Hermione piped up beside Ron, turning off the telly, despite Ron's protests, to focus on the conversation at hand.

Harry wished that Hermione hadn't turned off the telly. It would have stopped Ron's nagging and prodding into his private life.

Harry mentally braced himself for the upcoming conversation. He knew it was going to get infuriatingly emotional in the next few minutes.

“Really, mate? It's been five months!” Ron barked out incredulously, his hands thrown out in the air in exasperation.

“So what if it has been 5 months...” he mumbled out, taking a sip of tea to calm his nerves. He carefully set it down on the table and laid his hands on his lap.

“Oh, Harry...” Hermione sighed. “You know it's not healthy to keep thinking about him. It's been 5 months already, and you should try to move on...” She finally looked up to meet his gaze. Her eyes were filled with pity for him.

He hated it when people looked at him like that. It made him feel like he was weak and worthless. Like they didn't think he could do it. Couldn't get over it. He hated feeling that way. It made him feel very uncomfortable.

“I've tried, Hermione,” he lied, for the most part. He'd tried to in the beginning. When he thought that it had been for the best. He'd tried to desperately convince himself of that. But as time went on, he couldn't do it. He loved Draco too much to just move on from him. He'd given up trying, so he just told her something he knew she'd want to hear.

“I just can't stop thinking about him,” and it was the truth. He couldn't stop thinking about Draco. He hadn't even tried to stop thinking about him if he were to be honest.

“You should try harder to get over him, Mate. You were the one who ended it with him, after all.” Ron added.

Harry clenched his teeth and balled his fists in his lap.

What Ron had said made him irrationally angry. And he knew exactly why.

Yes, he had broken up with Draco, but he'd never wanted to. He had done it because of his friends, his family. He'd done it because he couldn't handle their judgment of Draco. He had seen all the distrustful looks and glares they sent his way when they thought Harry wasn't looking.

He had thought it would be better if he broke up with Draco. At least then, he wouldn't have to deal with being judged every single time they met up with Harry's friends.

Draco had known that Harry loved his friends and would always take their opinions over his well before they had even started dating. And he had been fine with it. He hadn't even brought up much of a fight when they had broken up. It was like he was giving up. It was as if he had thought that Harry wouldn't have changed his mind.

Harry wanted to blame his friends for this, but he knew he couldn't. He was the one who broke up with Draco, not the other way around.

But the way they had told him to move on from Draco made it sound like he was easily replaceable. That he was nothing in their eyes. And he guessed, to them, Draco was just that. Nothing.

The thought made Harry angry.

“There is this bloke – he’s in my Auror team – he is interested in you, Harry. I could introduce you two if you were interested in the offer,” Ron suggested.

“That might be a good idea, Harry. It might help distract you from Malfoy,” Hermione added in.

“No, Ron. He’s probably only after my name and money.” Harry closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten to keep his temper in check. He couldn't believe Ron would even suggest that now.

“Like Malfoy wasn't.” Ron scoffed.

That is it.

Harry opened his eyes, fixing his friends with the coldest and most burning glare he had ever given to anyone. He could see them involuntarily shiver.

“I'll have you know, Ronald, that Draco hated my fame almost as much as I did – if not more. And Draco would never, ever, use me for my money. He had enough of it himself. In fact, he spoiled me rotten with all the things he would buy for me,” Harry said, his voice cold and even.

“But Harry! What if he was just using you for your sex!” Ron argued.

Harry could feel his magic crackling dangerously through the air. It seemed as angry as he was.

“No, Ron, he was not using me for sex,” Harry said with finality. He wanted an end to this argument. He didn't want to be angry at his friends for this. He just wished they would stop saying these things about Draco. They didn't know him like he did.

“You don't know that, Harry!”

“I do know, Ron! I was the one who was having sex with him! And let me tell you this; if he were using me for sex, he wouldn't have stayed afterwards and cuddled with me. If he had been using me for my body, he would have left straight after, and I wouldn't have let him get anywhere near me!” he wasn't quite yelling yet, but he was close to doing so.

“He isn't good for you! He bullied us every single year in Hogwarts!” Ron kept arguing. He was adamant on listing why Malfoy was never going to be good enough for Harry.

“He's apologised, Ron! He has apologised to every single person he has bullied in all our seven years at Hogwarts!” Harry seethed. “He is good for me! He always has been, and he always will be! You don't know him, Ron, and neither do you, Hermione. You didn't even give him a chance to open up to you. Every other Weasley approves of him! Why can't you, Ron!?” Harry yelled. He wanted to go home and cry. Why did they hate Draco so much now? He wanted to be home with Draco, but Draco was never going to be there ever again because of how stupid he was. He let the way his friends acted get to him.

“Harry,” Hermione's gentle voice cut through his thought. “Do you love him? Draco, I mean.” Harry was slightly thrown off by Hermione using Draco's name.

The magic crackling around in the room was slowly calming down. It turned into a faint buzz instead of an angry crackle.

“Yes, I do, Hermione,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “I really, really love him. He made me happier than I ever had been my entire life during the five months we dated,” he said, voice cracking slightly at the end.

Draco.

He missed Draco. So, so much.

“Then why did you break up with him if you still love him, Harry?” Hermione said in a gentle whisper, trying to be as comforting as she could.

“Because of you both,” he whispered, keeping his eyes closed and his hands clenched in his lap. He couldn't bear to look at his friends as the words left his lips.

“Us? Why is it because of us? We haven't done anything.” It was Ron who spoke this time.

“Actually, you have,” he whispered a hint of malice in his tone. “It was how you spoke about him when he was in the room. With distrust and spite. You made jabs at him that he didn't want to care for. You looked at him as if he was going to do something wrong. It was as if you were waiting for him to do something wrong just to give me an excuse of why I should never see him again. I was tired of it. I thought that maybe, if I broke up with him, he wouldn't have to face such slander from you. I don't know why I cared, he didn't. It might have been that you, my best friends, were the ones saying such things about him. Why do you say those things about him when none of the other Weasley's do?”

His magic was freely flowing through the room, crackling slightly when his temper heightened. It was as if his magic was expressing his anger because he didn't want to.

“The other Weasley's don't know him like we do, Harry! They weren't the ones who saw Malfoy bully all those kids! They weren't the ones getting teased and hexed by him regularly in Hogwarts! They weren't the ones who saw him say slurs to muggle borns or make jokes about your dead parents!” the redhead declared. Harry knew he was right. But all the Weasley's knew about it. They all knew Draco had done these things and more, yet they accepted him. Every single one of the Weasley's; Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Fred, George, Ginny, Molly, and Arthur, they all accepted him and his apologies. They had trusted his, Harry's, judgement. Why couldn't his friends do the same?

“He's changed, Ron,” Harry snapped.

“How can you be so sure! He is a death eater!” Ron regretted it as soon as he said it.

“Ronald! That was unnecessary!” Hermione scolded.

But it was too late.

The damage had been done.

Harry's magic crackled angrily in the room, shaking it and flickering the lights. It broke the cups of coffee and his own cup of tea, making a mess of coffee and tea on the table and the floor.

“Mate, I'm so-”

“Shut up!” Harry yelled. “Don't ever, and I mean ever, call him that! He has never been a death eater, and he never will be! Draco never wanted to be one! He never wanted to do any of the things he was told to do! He has never killed or tortured anyone! He's better than I am! I have killed someone! Hell! I've even used an unforgivable curse on Draco! He's never done anything of the sort to me! And you still have the audacity to say that he's a death eater! I don't see anyone calling me a monster despite what I have done! But everyone, I mean everyone, calls him a heartless fucking monster!” he yelled, throat hurting now. “He isn't! Draco is the sweetest, most considerate person I have ever met! So don't you fucking dare call him that!” he yelled, panting as he finished. Somewhere during the speech he had stood, towering over his friends, the air crackling dangerously around him, the house an absolute mess.

Once he had calmed down and looked around the room, guilt flooded him.

What had he done?

He looked at his friends horrified expressions. They looked like they didn't know who he was.

Do they think he's a bad person? A monster?

The room was a mess. The floor and table were covered in glass, coffee and tea. The room had shattered pictures, a few of them had fallen and others were still barely hanging on. Some light bulbs had broken, and the TV was shattered. There were papers and books littering the floor.

He had done all this. Why had he done this? He hadn't meant to go this far? Did they think he was a monster? A bad friend? Did they even want to be friends anymore? He had ruined their house. He had yelled at them. Did he really deserve to be their friend? Did they hate him? He hated him right now, so they should too.

He fled the house, his ears ringing and his eyes filled with tears, he didn't hear them call out to him.