Chapter 2
Harry begins to cherish these moments by the lake. As everyone gets cautious around him, eyeing him suspiciously, trying to get to the bottom of the whole boy-who-lived situation , as his friends change their behaviour to gain his sympathy, as many people try to get under his skin, he finds himself longing for something permanent. For something not to change for the love of the muggle god. At least for a while, something has to be reliable, something to anchor him in his loneliness.
Malfoy became the permanent. See, he didn’t change. He treated Harry the same. If Harry doesn’t speak, Malfoy doesn’t either. If Harry doesn’t ask, the blonde doesn’t answer. This interesting form of spending time together fully depends on Harry.
Sure, Ron and Hermione are some of the best friends he could ask for. They do not change their behaviour towards him, but Harry sees the inevitable, he sees the secret glances, he feels left out, because his closest friends got romantically entangled and he got left behind. It’s not like he can blame them, he is so happy they are together and as long as it brings them happiness, he should be content. But somehow that’s not the case.
Harry feels lonely and lost. Like a kicked puppy that decided to give the owner one last chance and it failed.
Today is a really bad day. Harry wakes up feeling like shit and immediately knows he needs to go outside and clear his head. He quickly goes to wash his face and brush his teeth, before changing to sport trousers and a dark red sweater with the letter “H” on it.
He runs out of the castle to the school grounds and just goes for a little run, hoping to outrun his attacking thoughts.
Somehow when he stops, panting, totally out of breath, and bends to place his hands on his knees, he realizes his steps led him to the lake.
Coincidence or not, the blonde already sits there.
Harry finds it weird that Malfoy spends his Saturday morning here.
“Hi.”
Malfoy nods and looks up for a second, then gets back to staring across the lake. Then he however turns back to Harry, eyeing him up for a while as if enjoying making Harry uncomfortable.
“What is it?” Harry asks.
Malfoy looks deeply amused. “You look like shit.”
A drop of sweat trickles from Harry’s forehead so he wipes it away with his hand and frowns.
“Well.. I feel like shit.”
Sometimes, the lynx’s directness startles Harry. But then again, he's glad for it, because it shows he treats him as a normal person. Just like any other boy his age.
And also, the lynx showing emotions is priceless. Harry loves watching the amusement in Malfoy’s eyes, although that’s probably quite creepy. Harry should stop thinking about looking like shit every day if that’s what it takes for Malfoy to laugh. If that even counted as laughter.
“Why is that? Don’t tell me the Chosen One doesn’t really want to be chosen anymore. Darling of the world got tired of the exhausting function?”
Oh wow, the word darling escaping from Malfoy’s mouth is quite something. Harry blinks very rapidly to stop his train of thoughts and concentrates on the content of the blonde’s speech.
“Mhm.”
Yeah. That word really erased everything else. Someone should forbid Malfoy from saying it. Lynxes definitely don’t say it. Surely it’s against nature.
“Potter. You agree?”
“What are you writing?” Harry needs to change the subjects. He doesn’t have a clue what the blonde said before, he needs to act.
Malfoy watches him suspiciously. Then, surprisingly, answers the question.
“It’s a letter.”
“A letter?”
“Indeed. You do know what a letter is, don’t you? You usually want to write a message to someone, so you take a piece of parchment-”
“Oh shut it. I meant, aren’t letters usually meant to be sent? I never see you actually trying to deliver it?” Harry is not sure if he isn’t overstepping the line. It’s hard to say, when it’s not really clear where the line is or if it exists.
“Potter.” The lynx gets all tense. His smile drops and his eyes turn cold. The word sounds like a warning, but Harry doesn’t listen.
“Oh, is it to a girl? The love of your life, but her blood only reaches ninety nine percent of pureness, and what’s not a hundred is not enough for a Malfoy?”
“Potter,” Malfoy nearly growls. Harry feels excitement rushing through his veins.
“Or is it your father who doesn’t consent to your marriage? What a shame, right? His head is so stuck up in Voldemort’s ass he can’t even go back for his son? Or doesn’t want to, maybe.”
The blonde sits in silence. But he looks angry. Merlin, Harry likes that look, if only it didn’t take this stupid made up argument to see it.
“Thin ice. Very thin ice,” Malfoy spats.
“Oh yeah?” Harry breathes. “Seems to me I hit the nail on the head. Your daddy really doesn’t care anymore? Ever thought it’s because he’s a fucking Death eater, maybe?”
Malfoy stares at Harry for two seconds maximum, his face showing exactly zero emotions, before abruptly closing the notebook and getting up. He risks one last glance at Harry, and if Harry didn’t know better, he would think he saw a glimpse of regret. But he does, so he sends this thought away. The blonde then turns on his heels and leaves Harry behind, his steps audible because of the crunchy leaves on the ground.
Harry feels weird. He doesn’t really like how this came out. Well, he definitely crossed the line by this. But he didn’t say something so horrible, did he? It’s all true, why did Malfoy get angry?
Except, Harry knows why. He groans and runs his hand over his face. Harry knows how angry it would make him if somebody talked shitty about his father, it must be the same for the blonde.
He kicks the fallen leaves, Merlin did he fuck this up.
***
Harry sits in the Gryffindor Common room. He’s playing chess with Ron while Hermione sits nearby and tries to pound some knowledge into Ron’s head, by asking him questions from potions. If you asked Harry, it seems to him that Ron would rather enjoy a different sort of pounding .
“How would I know? Hiccoughing Solution my ass.”
Hermione frowns and finally gives up, closing the book. She looks at Harry and frowns even more, although it looks more worried than angry.
“Harry, is something the matter? You look…” She trails off jabbing her elbow into Ron’s side very subtly.
“Like shit.”
Hermione rolls her eyes. “I meant more like.. Stressed.”
Harry laughs a little, remembering that's exactly what Malfoy said, then his smile quickly drops, when he remembers what he’s done to him.
“No, not at all. It’s fine really, just a little tired, ’s all.. Taking a toll on me, lately,” Harry quickly lies and Hermione, even quicker, recognizes his lie and sighs.
“Oh! Harry, I was going to show you something in the library, come!” she doesn’t wait for him and starts leaving.
Harry looks at Ron bemused, but Ron looks just as confused as him, so he gives him an unsure smile as he goes after Hermione.
***
Harry runs out of the library like wildfire. He told Hermione about the ‘lynx-situation’ except he refused to tell her the name, using lynx as a nickname, and she simply asked if he tried to say he’s sorry.
Well, he bloody well didn’t. How could that not have crossed his mind? So he thanked her and rushed out, not sure if it’s because he wanted to dodge the remaining questions or just solve the situation quickly.
He goes to the owlery and gets Hedwig to deliver his letter to Malfoy. Even the poor owl looks genuinely perturbed by the idea, but Harry persists.
***
The morning comes around, Harry sleeps peacefully, knowing he solved the problem. He can’t wait to see Malfoy’s face when he opens the letter. He hoped Malfoy would react somehow. The thing about wanting to see the blonde showing emotions was quickly becoming an obsession. Harry thinks about it for merely a second, before discarding the thought again, as he does with almost all the thoughts involving Malfoy.
He arrives to breakfast in the Great Hall and sits next to Ron, who smiles cheerfully at him, as he does every time when he’s eating.
Mail arrives a while after and Harry watches Malfoy intently, waiting for the reaction.
Malfoy reads the letter and looks up, finding Harry’s gaze. He tilts his head, as if asking a question. Harry realizes this represents Malfoy’s confusion. He takes it as a good reaction, the lynx did not curse him, so it has to be good.
Dear Draco Malfoy,
I am sorry, I should not have insulted your father like that, even though I don’t think what I said was factually wrong. But I do understand now, that the topic of your family is sensitive, I view it the same way.
Can we put it behind?
Sincerely, Harry.
Harry carefully flashes Malfoy a smile and he would swear it on his favourite sweater that Malfoy’s corner of his mouth turned up, if only the tiniest bit.