Chapter 3
That evening, Harry waits for Malfoy by the lake, but the blonde doesn’t come. The next time Harry sees him is the day after during potions.
Harry’s face wears a proud smile as he continues to make excellent work during the lesson, thanks to the book of the ‘Half-Blood Prince’, Slughorn beaming a proud smile of his own at him. Harry feels even better when he sees Malfoy turning towards him with a frown when Slughorn only rates his potion as ‘passable’.
When the class ends, Malfoy walks over to Harry and just stares as Harry collects his things. Harry looks up and finally notices the blonde’s fixed gaze, kind of startled.
“Oh. Hi.”
It seems Harry has a very limited vocabulary like that, but it’s just that the blonde’s eyes make him quite nervous and this is the first thing his blank mind is capable of producing.
“How is it you’ve gotten so good this year? Does Slughorn’s disgusting favouritism satisfy you, does his attention do it for you, or what?”
“Er.. That was basically a compliment, right?”
Malfoy looks at him wide-eyed.
“No.”
Harry shrugs. “I think it’s just that I don’t have to see Snape’s face during the class.”
Silence settles over them and while Harry feels very uncomfortable, the blonde seems like he’s revelling in it. Malfoy leans his hands on Harry’s table, looking down at Harry, his overgrown blonde strands falling across his forehead, and examines him closely. Harry shivers, but doesn’t move away, instead looking up through his lashes, but when he meets the grey eyes, his breath hitches. His thoughts get filled with the blonde’s scent, slowly fogging every sense. Dark mahogany wood, some expensive smelling cologne and his very own manly musk. Harry’s mind reels.
“Fancy going for a flight?” Harry blurts out, tripping over his own tongue.
“You mean.. Us two? Going flying? Together?”
“Yeah?” Harry breathes very quietly.
Malfoy laughs, as if knowing something Harry didn’t. “I suppose I could.”
***
They meet up close to the quidditch stands.
Harry comes in and sees Malfoy already sitting there, of course on the Slytherin side. He’s again looking into the unknown far away’s and probably contemplating something serious.
Harry feels almost criminal walking next to the green banners. He thinks that if it could, the red lion in him would be roaring right now. He looks at the lion’s enemy, the green snake. It makes him think about the start of his very first year. Of the first meeting with Malfoy, of the friendship that he had refused. And proudly so. Of the sorting, where he almost got forced into Slytherin.
How would it have all looked like, had he ventured into Hogwarts with a green tie? Who would’ve been his best friends? Crabb and Goyle? Theodore Nott and Malfoy?
How would Malfoy have reacted, if he knew I begged the Sorting Hat not to put me into Slytherin?
“You know Malfoy, I almost shared the same tie with you, if it wasn’t for my sense for trouble, which did lead me the correct way this one time,” he says when he feels like he’s been hypnotising the Slytherin snake for far too long, and flashes him a funny grin.
Malfoy looks at him bewildered. He looks genuinely shocked.
Harry finds it pretty funny.
“W-what?” The lynx breathes in answer, his breathing catching.
Harry revels in the feeling of pride. He made the cat react. Score.
“Yeah. You should’ve heard the Sorting hat, it thought I’d become all sorts of great wizards, had I been sorted into your house. Surprising as it is, I talked it out of it. Amazing, no?”
Harry shakes his head and finally looks at the blonde, expecting him to have some retort about Harry being too full of himself.
However what he sees instead… is a world of its own. Malfoy looks deeply intrigued, if Harry can trust his senses in his humble guess. His lips are slightly parted, his eyes a bit wide, eyebrows a bit high up, one concerned wrinkle appearing on his forehead. His cheeks look a bit pink too, but that makes no sense, so he probably just feels cold.
“What? Is it that concerning?”
“No. Oh, no. No, it’s nothing like that, really. It merely leaves me… Speechless how many similarities you share together.”
“Which similarities, what are you talking about?” Harry has no clue what the lynx is on about.
“With Him Who Shall Not Be Named.”
“With Voldemort? Well, a few people have already mentioned but-”
Malfoy stares at him shocked and stands up abruptly, closing the distance between them in one swift motion and covers Harry’s mouth with his hand.
“Idiot! Do not speak of his name.”
Harry raises his hands up in a ‘okay you got me’ sort of manner, but Malfoy has evidently never seen any muggle movie, so Harry just looks exactly like who he just has been called. Not like Voldemort, but like an idiot - to clear up any possible confusion.
Malfoy gives the gesture a puzzled look, again tilting his head to the side and Harry can’t help but smile at this habit of his, not quite knowing why, but taking a hidden satisfaction in being one of the few ones who know about it.
“Mkay s-hrry,” he tries to talk through the covered mouth.
The lynx slowly lets go of Harry’s lips as if making sure he won’t start screaming the name again.
“So… why the topic of V-.. of He Who Shall Not Be Shagged With?”
“You’re such an egoistic narcissist brat, Potter. Do you have any idea what this man, or shall I say creature, has caused? Do you find it funny? You are trying to save the world from him, remember? He killed people. He continues to do so. He tortures them and enjoys it. You have no idea.”
“And you do, Malfoy?”
“Drop it.” Malfoy may have wanted it to sound like a threat, but it sounded more like a plea. His eyes weren’t angry, but scared and disappointed. Harry however doubted that Malfoy had any expectations in Harry to begin with so that probably wasn’t the best description.
Harry sighs. He does realise the seriousness of the situation. And moreover, he does realise that if he wants to know what Malfoy’s up to, he has to stay on his good side.
“Right. He Who Shall Not Be Named. Similarities?”
The lynx visibly relaxes but keeps up a disapproving frown.
“Parseltongue.”
“Oh, well I suppose so, yes, but why did you think of that now?”
“Well. You’ve spoken parseltongue just now, have you not?” He asks, confused.
Oh. Harry had no idea, did he? Now that he thinks about it, it all makes sense as to why he couldn’t stop staring at the snake.
“You see, the thing is, I have no idea I do it. I hear myself normally, not in parseltongue,” he laughs nervously, his hand scratching the back of his neck.
“Oh.”
“How does it sound?” Harry asks too quickly, realising only after that that’s a bit too friendly of a question. Malfoy eyes him up and down suspiciously.
“Quite odd,” he admits a while later, looking far too interested in analysing the ground. Harry would think that the smug cat is lying, but then again, he had no reason to.
The blonde walks off after that and gets his broom, which got left next to where he was sitting. He mounts it with a grace of his own kind, then takes the golden snitch out of the box and lets it roam through the sky.
Harry quickly takes the signal of the end of conversation and hops on a short while after, starting to chase after him.
***
Harry just hopped off his broom and is now sitting in the grass on the quidditch pitch, running his hand through the messy black hair. It is no use and Malfoy sees that, not even hiding his amused smirk.
The blonde comes to a halt and looks contemplatively to the ground, as if wondering if his butt isn’t too posh for sitting there. And it probably was, because he takes off his slytherin green sweater and puts it on the ground, before sitting opposite to Harry with a satisfied smile.
“Enjoyed it?” Harry asks.
“It wasn’t the worst,” came Malfoy’s reply. Smug as ever .
The sun has long since set and his blonde hair seems even more surreal in the moonlight. Harry doesn’t notice he’s staring until Malfoy’s smile turns into a knowing grin.
“And you? Enjoying the view?” he asks, his tone very suggestive. Suggestive of what, Harry wasn’t sure.
Harry blinks a few times and quickly turns away, looking to the side feeling his cheeks burn, thanking the darkness around them for hiding it. Hopefully.
“Your hair is just very unusually, er, ruffled.” that was as close to “you look like you’ve just been shagged” as Harry could get to. Who could he be shagging though? Was he into Pansy? That’s who Harry has seen him showing at least some interest in. But there could be a lot going on behind the Slytherin walls that Harry could have no idea about. He didn’t want to think of that, but he did.
Malfoy stays quiet just looking into the night and just when Harry thinks that was the end of the conversation, Malfoy drawls: “Is that so..” while shaking his head, apparently amused, again. It bothers Harry to no end not knowing what the joke was, but he says nothing.
Silence ensues. Not a horribly awkward one but more of a really strange one. Here we are again with the lynx-mouse analogy. What does a lynx and a coyote talk about? They don’t, they fight. What does a lynx and a lynx talk about? Friendly stuff, probably. What does a lynx and a mouse talk about? They don’t, they don’t even see eye-to-eye with one another, quite literally. The lynx doesn’t care for the mouse’s existence until it’s hungry, that’s for sure. The mouse thinks of his dangers all the time, though… And when they meet, there is no time for talking, the mouse concentrates only on escaping and the lynx chases it until its soul sings goodbye. Harry has no thought about escaping, that’s probably why the lynx has no thoughts about chasing. Perhaps if the lynx and mouse talked for a bit, a lot more peace would exist in the world.
Malfoy coughs a little and looks into the sky. Harry is woken up from his animal world thoughts and gives him a look, as the blonde sighs.
“I write them to my father.”
Harry blinks, confused for a moment, therefore he stays silent and keeps his eyes on the target. He also isn’t sure whether Malfoy even talks to him or if he just leads a monologue.
“The letters. They’re to Lucius. Do with that what you want,” he adds after a while and stabs his stormy eyes into Harry’s. They stare at him like a warning. They spoke what the lynx’s words couldn’t and expressed far more than needed, that Harry can’t actually do with it what he wants .
“Why do you write him so many?” Harry asks carefully.
Malfoy answers no more. He gives Harry a stupid look and gets up to leave. He walks away quietly like a ghost. If Harry wasn't watching him so intently, he wouldn’t even realise he had left, until it wouldn’t have been too late.
***
After that evening, Harry doesn't see Malfoy for days. It can’t be personal though, because the blonde doesn’t even attend his lessons, doesn’t show up for meals, and doesn't chat up other Slytherin students as far as Harry is informed. It is very weird, Harry realises he got quite used to watching Malfoy across the Great Hall and actually, to watching Malfoy, period. Not in a creepy stalking way, of course. In a normal, friendly, normal way. But they aren’t friends, are they?
Harry hypnotises the empty spot, where Malfoy normally sits and sighs.
“Think he’s up to something again, huh?” Harry flinches, startled, but it’s only Ron snapping him back to reality.
“Who?”
“Well, Malfoy, of course.”
“Of course, yeah, I think so.”
Harry doesn’t really think so, even though that was his main objective from the start - getting to know what the lynx is plotting. He should get back to it, actually.
Ron and Hermione have been eyeing him suspiciously lately, not getting why he cares about the blonde’s attendance so much.
“Leave him be. He’s not clever enough to plot something on his own, Harry.”
Harry doesn’t really believe that, so he doesn’t answer. But maybe, Ron is right and Malfoy is just ill, or something.