Chapter 9
The fifth time that Nott comes to sit with Harry and Hermione in the library, Harry finally has to ask, though he feels stupid doing so. “Are we friends now?” Hermione fails to stifle a huff of a laugh, and Harry stares at her after she cuts it off.
“This is a study group, Harry,” Hermione says. Nott hums, and Harry is convinced that means he’s making fun of him, because he does it every time Harry says these stupid things. “We’re only classmates.”
“Oh.” Harry averts his eyes and goes back to reading the page in front of him.
The silence that follows isn’t pleasantly cordial, as Harry’s become used to, practically living in the library recently. Things feel stilted, and he doesn’t know how to act now that he knows he’s outside the boundaries of friendship.
Is he still okay to sit next to Nott sometimes? To smile at Nott when he gives suggestions for reading material, and they’re helpful to Harry?Or is he meant to keep his distance, emotionally and physically?
Harry doesn’t know, and doesn’t want to ask.
He can’t focus anymore, and Hermione notices. “Harry,” she suggests. “I think you should take a break. It’s been a while since you’ve gone flying, hasn’t it?” Harry nods, and obligingly shut his book and pushes it to Hermione, who probably wants to go over it herself since he clearly wasn’t being subtle about not paying attention to it.
He walks out of the library without a word, and misses the glance Nott and Hermione share when his back is turned.
Harry has missed flying, but doesn’t want to hop on his broom alone. Throughout his Hogwarts years, he’s only flown around other people, whether that be a class or the Gryffindor team. He isn’t quite sure how long he can entertain himself in the air, and they’re not allowed by the pitch right now anyway.
He considers heading towards Nott’s alcove, but on the off chance he goes there himself after he’s done studying for the day, he would rather not run into him.
Harry thinks he might just need to sit somewhere loud for a bit. The Great Hall is closer than the Gryffindor dormitory, and not being too long until dinner, people will definitely have started to wait there and save seats for themselves and their friends. He sits down in the middle of the Gryffindor table, back to the wall and overlooking the rest of the Great Hall, and lays his head in his hands.
Harry stares off blankly, not paying attention to where his eyes rest, and just listens to the chatter around him. It semi-drowns out his doubts, and the information still swirling in his head from his and Hermione’s frantic researching. He figures he likes just existing for a little while, and thinks he’ll start taking more time off from studying, approved by Hermione or not.
Harry should drag Hermione with him while he takes breaks, he’s discovering a newfound appreciation for them.
Someone laughs loudly as they pass by Harry, and he blinks, leaving his head.
He realizes he’s been looking at someone, a boy wearing a green tie, and with a smirk taking up most of his face. Harry looks away, embarrassed, and sees him get up from the corner of his eye and walk over to him. Harry sinks in his seat.
“Hey,” Harry looks up from his hands. He recognizes the boy as someone in his year, but can’t remember his name. “You’re friends with Theo, right?” Harry shakes his head, a little scared to speak after hearing his voice, accented and alluring.
“No?” The Slytherin asks. “Haven’t you been spending time with him in the library, Potter? Theo’s not one to lie, unless it’s to his father.” Oh, he’s talking about Nott. His answer is still the same, though now he talks back.
“We only study.” Harry can’t keep the ache, that he thought he squashed after his and Hermione’s fight with Ron, completely out of his words. Harry swallows to push it down until he can talk to Hermoine alone. “Er, what’s your name?”
The boy sits across from him, and Harry vaguely remembers seeing a Slytherin with dark skin and a big smile frequently getting up from the green table to join other houses at theirs. Whether this is him or not, his smirk doesn’t falter at the potential slight, and he proudly states himself as, “Blaise Zabini, hello, Potter.” He offers his right hand out to shake. Potter looks at it hesitantly, and then remembers what happened the first and last time he refused to shake a Slytherin’s hand, and takes it. Zabini’s grin widens. “It’s nice to officially meet you.” Harry mutters an agreement.
“Theo tells me you’re funny, Potter,” Harry looks at him dubiously. He may be telling the truth about Nott’s usual truthfulness, but that doesn’t mean Zabini doesn’t lie himself. “Tell me a joke.”
Harry has no interest in making a fool out of himself, and refuses. Zabini nods, and apologizes for overstepping. “Mama keeps telling me I move too quickly into friendly boundaries. I believe her; it led me to almost start my own feud with Draconis when I insulted his hair too soon after meeting him.” Zabini winks at him. “I can’t imagine how he’d have reacted if I hadn’t already agreed to be his friend.”
Harry rolls his eyes and the jab at his own relationship with Malfoy, but pauses. “Draconis?” Zabini chuckles.
“The price of my insult: I am not allowed to use his nickname.” Harry’s mind is boggled. He leans closer to Zabini.
“Draco is a nickname?” Zabini’s lips press together, like he’s trying not to start laughing, and he intertwines his fingers under his chin.
“I do think when he gave me that ultimatum, he meant for me to only refer to him by his family name, but he never specified it. By the time I agreed, it was too late.” Harry gapes at him, and feels no shame in doing so. He deserves to show his surprise at such a revelation.
“His name is Draconis?” It’s Zabini’s turn to roll his eyes, although playfully. It’s more of an actual roll of his pupils, and not just a flicker up and down, like Harry’s.
“Yes, Potter.” Harry hangs his head in his hands.
“This changes everything,” Zabini chuckles.
“I see what Theo meant now,” he comments. “You’re stupid, it’s amusing.” Harry would be offended, but it’s the truth. The only things he is well-versed in is defense magic, quidditch, and now death, since he and Hermione haven’t found anything definitive on the existence of Death. Still, he leans back and crosses his arms. Zabini brings his hands up, giving him the win, at least jokingly.
“Wait,” Harry realizes. “If Draco is a nickname, then why was that name called out during the sorting ceremony?” Zabini’s grin lessens, and he drops his hands.
“Hogwarts recognizes preferred names, it always has.” Zabini furrows his eyebrows, and his smile loses his teeth. He asks his next question with a suspicious lilt, and Harry feels a little chastised. “How much do you actually know about Hogwarts, Potter?”
“Oh, well,” he shifts his eyes down and traces patterns on the table. “Hermione is the only one out of the two of us who has read Hogwarts, A History, and I mostly focus on not dying in the corridors.” Zabini titters, and his grin seems forced now, like it’s an automatic reaction.
“That’s horrible, Potter.” Harry shrugs. It’s the story of his life, really, running and fighting from people and things who are out for him.
“Do a lot of people use their nicknames?” He diverts the topic back from the sad place he brought it. Zabini hesitates, likely concerned, but takes the out after a muttered phrase in a different language.
“Did you think McGonagall calling out ‘Harry’ at the sorting ceremony was a special privilege?” Zabini teases. Harry tilts his head, and his eyebrows fall down in confusion. Zabini’s smile strains again, and Harry’s gut starts churning. “There might have been a war, Potter, and your mother a muggleborn, but your father’s family name is an old one, and respected. Your father made sure to announce your name after your birth, Harrison.”
Harry shakes his head at Zabini’s pointed tone, and usage of the first name; the name, because it’s not his. “That’s not my name.”
Zabini’s head falls, and he rubs his temples as he whispers. “Mio dio,” Zabini still speaks quietly when he picks his head back up, and exclaims, “Theo mentioned you apparently grew up with muggles, Potter, who was your tutor?” His eyes are wide, looking for a specific answer. Harry is afraid he probably doesn’t have what he wants to hear.
“Like to prepare me for the wizarding world?” Zabini nods desperately.
“I’d like to tell Mama, so she can have words with them.”
“I didn’t have a tutor like that,” Harry says. “Or for anything, really.”
“Fuck,” Zabini seems surprised at the word, and Harry snickers. Zabini glares at him, before remembering himself and instead giving Harry a sharp, uncomfortable grin. “I’d offer you my services, but really, I cannot deny Draconis the opportunity to mock your lack of education.”
Harry’s face pales. No, he will not be speaking to Malfoy about this. It’s Zabini’s turn to laugh at him. The Slytherin stands up as he does, drawing the attention of the students pouring into the Great Hall, who haven’t already noticed them talking. Platters of food pop up in front of Harry, who startles, not realizing it’s been so long since he entered the room, moping.
“I will get Theo to admit he thinks of you as a friend as payment for your suffering Potter, suffering which will be payment enough for Draconis to actually bother to teach you about your heritage, since no one else has.” Harry quickly tries to protest.
“Hermione will help me,” Zabini’s smirk is back to its former energy now.
“This isn’t the type of thing she can find for you in the Hogwarts’ library.”
“Nott?” Harry is grasping at straws, here.
“He doesn’t like talking enough to explain this, Potter,” Harry groans.
“I will pay you not to tell Malfoy.” Zabini barks with laughter.
So many heads are turning, Harry knows this without looking. Harry thinks it’s probably a good thing Ron officially broke his friendship with him and Hermione, because he is definitely seeing this, and would bitch about it to the both of them if they were still on good terms.
“Mama is the richest woman in my home country, Potter. I have no need for your galleons.”
All Harry can do now is accept he isn’t getting out of this. Hopefully, Zabini will wait until after dinner, so he has time to tell Hermione what just happened.