Chapter 8- Harry
Harry quickly found out that if you weren’t part of the sorting ceremony, it was extremely boring. He barely stifled his yawn and when it was finally over, Pansy immediately started talking about their vacation.
“So then, we went to the Arc De Triomphe, which was like an arch with weird designs on it, then,” Pansy spoke at such a rapid rate that Harry had lost the conversation. Harry wasn’t talking much, just offering some tidbits of information while Pansy droned on and on.
“Oh really? What kind of paintings were there?” Draco asked inquisitively. He seemed very interested in the ‘Louvrgghh’, and Harry stared at his face, which was alright with rapt interest.
“It was just some still-life stuff. Harry and I looked mostly at the naked statues,” Pansy replies, giggling a bit at the end. Draco looked at Harry with his silvery eyes for confirmation and Harry nods, looking into his eyes.
“Harry, you look like a lovesick puppy,” Draco says. Harry snaps out of his trance and blushes. He decides to go back to eating the huge spread of food.
“No, Ron. I’m not letting you copy my essay. How will you learn if you just copy?” A loud and bossy voice rings from the Gryffindor table. The entirety of the great hall swivels their heads to look at them. Harry recognizes the girl immediately. It’s the know-it-all from last year. She sits next to a red-headed boy Harry doesn’t know.
“Erm, Hermione, you don’t have to be that loud,” The red-headed boy replies. Hermione blushes in embarrassment and everyone continued eating.
“She’s so annoying,” Draco mutters. Harry gives him a pointed look, but at least he didn’t call her a mudblood this time. Draco smiles at him sheepishly and Harry is frozen again. Gods Harry, stop it.
The following weeks goes normally, but Professor Kettleburn seemed to have lost another one of his limbs. (per usual) Since Harry had sort of burned Quirells face last year, their new Defence against the Dark Arts Professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, makes Harry absolutely loathe the class.
“Honestly, the man is so full of himself,” Pansy says, after walking out the classroom and on their way to Transfiguration. Harry couldn’t help but agree.
“Yeah, honestly, I don’t know why Dumbledore hired him,” Harry says to her in a hushed whisper, as they were sitting down for Transfiguration now.
A few weeks later, Pansy gets flinged off the stairs by some fifth year and Harry takes her to the hospital wing while Draco deals with the fifth year. Harry doesn’t fancy Draco’s chances. While walking into the hospital wing, Harry notices a boy frozen on one of the beds. He frowns at that, but leaves once Pansy has been given medication. He and Pansy then rush to their next class, defence against the dark arts.
“Professor Snape and I have decided to start a little…duelling club, if you will. I didn’t ward off the banshee with my witch-weekly smile, you know?” Lockhart says. Draco rolls his silvery eyes at him and scowls.
“Now, we will need some volunteers! Harry….and you, Mr. Malfoy!” Lockhart finishes the sentence dramatically.
Harry and Draco step onto the strip and Draco puts on his best determined expression, and Harry tries his hardest not to laugh.
“Expelliarmus!” Draco shouts, effectively disarming Harry. Damn it, Harry. You need to stop staring at him.
Once they step off the platform, chortling, Harry feels Draco’s hand bump against his own. The butterflies swell again, those damn butterflies.