Chapter 10
Hermione is speechless, which is rare enough for Harry to consider celebrating the occasion on a yearly basis. He won’t though, he enjoys not having his robes on fire.
“Not once have I seen you referred to by anything other than ‘Harry Potter,’” Hermione sputters. “Are you sure Zabini didn’t lie to you?” Harry shakes his head. Zabini may not have been the most serious person Harry has ever conversed with, but his distress at Harry’s ignorance seemed real enough.
“I thought I might ask Sirius about it,” Harry explains, instead of his suspicion that Zabini told him the truth. “Use a school owl to write him a letter.” Hermione purses her lips at him.
“You stopped sending him letters because Hedwig keeps attacking you when you refuse to use her.” Harry sighs, but a smile slips onto his face when he thinks about her jealousy. He has a small, circular scar on the back of his left hand and just above his thumb from the first time he used another owl to send an update to Sirius. The second, and so far the last time he betrayed her so heinously, was to send a letter explaining to his godfather why he wouldn’t be sending him any more mail.
“This is important, though, right?” Harry circles his thumbs around each other, under the library table and in his lap. Hermione bites her lip, but nods.
“Is it alright if I keep calling you ‘Harry?’ I can refer to you as ‘Harrison,’ if you’d like?” Hermione offers. Harry appreciates it, but quickly shakes his head no.
“I like ‘Harry,’” he proclaims. “I don’t want to go by anything else. It’s just– my parents named me.” Harry struggles to explain why he feels it’s so necessary to break his temporary no-contact with his godfather outside of his irregular attempts to firecall Harry in the Gryffindor fireplace, especially for something as non-lethal as a name.
He’s told Sirius nothing about Trelawney’s prophecy, or his efforts in the second tournament task, or the end of his and Ron’s friendship. No letters, no calls, no visits to Hogsmeade. But Harry doesn’t want to go to McGonagall or Dumbledore with this – it feels too personal to ask his transfiguration teacher or his headmaster – and as much as he loves Hagrid, Harry doesn’t think this will be something he knows. He would ask Ron if he knows, being a pureblood himself and more trustworthy than the Slytherins, but, well.
No, it needs to be Sirius that Harry asks, and the sooner he can, the better Harry will feel.
“I think,” Harry continues. “Knowing for sure what they named me will help me feel closer to them? And Sirius is my godfather and one of their closest friends. It doesn’t seem right, asking someone else about it.”
“It’s okay Harry,” Hermione says softly. “I don’t need you to explain it. I support your decision, and I’m sure Sirius will love to hear from you.” She holds out her hand, arms resting on the table and palm facing up. Harry takes it with his own and squeezes it to show his appreciation.
Harry will start writing his letter to Sirius after today’s classes end, since he and Hermione are only on their lunch break right now, Harry having asked her to finish eating quickly so he could talk to her somewhere quieter. He spent all night and morning thinking about what Zabini told him, and how to tell Hermione, and when Harry figured out what he wanted to say to her, he had to do so immediately.
The library has turned into a sort of permanent hang-out spot for the two of them, Nott included when he feels like joining during the afternoons. It’s much quieter than the Gryffindor tower is, even when the majority of their house is out doing something. It only takes a handful of people to turn it into a hub of madness, and as much as Harry enjoys it, the common rooms definitely aren’t a good place to study or have private conversations.
“If you want me to go over the letter you send, give it to me,” Hermione tells Harry. “I’ll make sure you haven’t accidentally forgotten something.” Harry doesn’t plan to tell Sirius about the situation with Trelawney until they can speak face to face, in case his letter gets intercepted, but that will be helpful.
“Thank you, ‘Mione,” he smiles gratefully.
“How cute,” someone sneers in front of them. Harry and Hermione jerk their heads up, and see Malfoy standing there with his hands resting on his hips and a mean smile on his lips.
Harry hoped this would be soon enough to talk to Hermione about everything, but apparently not, because Malfoy barges into Harry’s explanation before he can tell Hermione his potential future role as his tutor, an offer which Zabini didn’t let Harry turn down properly.
“Go away, Malfoy,” Hermione snaps. Malfoy curls his upper lip at her, and Harry’s feathers ruffle.
Since Harry tried to get Ron to back off the ferret jokes, and even more so when he and Hermione began studying with Nott, Malfoy has backed off from deliberately seeking them out. The most Harry can remember him doing is making mocking little gestures if they pass each other in the hallways. But if Malfoy throws a slur at Hermione again, Harry will get Sirius to send a picture of Buckbeak over, so Harry can give it to Malfoy to remind him what happens when his speech is laced with insults.
“Potter,” Malfoy otherwise ignores Hermione, which is better than the alternative, but Harry doesn’t relax in his seat, and instead grits his teeth.
“Not now, Malfoy,” Harry urges, trying to speak in a tone that allows no questions or refusal. He expects it to fail, but is still annoyed when Malfoy goes on.
“Blaise believes I will enjoy teaching you about your heritage,” Malfoy rolls his eyes. “He is incorrect, but that you have not been taught is a travesty, one I would do us all a favor to address.
Hermione looks at Harry, asking what Malfoy means. “Why is he here?” Harry grimaces.
“Zabini got a little upset when I told him I never had a wizarding tutor before I turned eleven after he asked,” he explains, and speaks to Malfoy next. “I know he said Hermione can’t teach me off the Hogwarts’ library, but I’m going to have Nott point me and Hermione to the right books, which I can purchase myself, thanks.”
Nothing is stopping them from getting the right books elsewhere, when Harry has a pile of gold in his vault that easily towers several feet over his head. If Nott doesn’t agree, Sirius, who despite hating his family, grew up with ‘pureblood nonsense,’ might.
Malfoy scoffs. “It’s not just the matter of finding the right reading material, Potter. Hogwarts has many books on our culture for—” he glances at Hermione. “Muggleborns to peruse if they feel so obliged, but older and ancient families pass off their knowledge by word of mouth. The why we do things is just as important as the what, and that sort of physical knowledge never needed to be written down, not until Grindelwald severed our spiritual connection to Lady Magic thinking he was to become the next Lord of it.”
Harry is confused. “Grindelwald?” Malfoy scowls.
“And it is obvious that blasted ghost teaches us nothing, if you do not know even that basic history. May I sit?” It’s Hermione who gestures to the chair across from them, where Nott usually is. Harry stares at her, incredulous. She sighs heavily.
“He’s offering to tutor you about things we don’t exactly have time to research ourselves, Harry.” Harry hangs his head. His plan is out the window if Hermione won’t agree to it.
“Not for free,” Malfoy admits, and Harry rolls his eyes. “I will take no enjoyment in this, so I will require a boon, Potter”
Harry huffs at him. “Well I don’t want you to teach me anything, so no. Ow!” Hermione smacks him, and more than playfully. “He’s lied to us several times, Hermione. Forget being a git, I don’t trust him.”
“I’m calling a truce for this, Potter,” Malfoy goes on. “Tradition and common sense would have families ‘in the know’ step in, if an heir to an old name finds themselves with no one else to fill in any educational gaps they will undoubtedly have from their formal schooling. I will ask for nothing more than access to the notes on yours and Granger’s current research topic to repay the favor.”
Hermione leans forward in her seat. “And if our notes are not satisfactory?” She says, not denying that they have been researching for something outside of classes.
“I will continue to teach Potter to the best of my ability.” A glint appears in Hermione’s eyes. She’s gotten used to Nott’s constant making deals with them, so she’s not as far out of her element as she was the first time Nott swindled them, just a little bit.
“You won’t be teaching both of us? You said so yourself, these notes are both Harry’s and mine, and it seems unfair of you to otherwise demand a reward for following the tradition of ‘stepping in.’” Malfoy’s annoyed frown slowly slid upward to display a smirk instead.
“It seems we have a deal.” Malfoy held his right hand out to Hermione. “I teach you and Potter about our history and traditions, and in return you will show me the information you have gathered on whatever it is you both have been in here researching about every day” Hermione doesn’t shake his hand yet.
“Agree to the ratio of one hour of your time teaching us, to one foot of our notes you may look at, and then we have a deal, Malfoy.” He nods his head.
“Indeed,” Hermione shakes his hand, and Malfoy gestures for Harry to do the same. He sighs loudly, but does so. “Excellent. I propose we meet once a week, for three hours, every Saturday.”
So a schedule is set, and Malfoy leaves them to take in what happened in the minimal time left before their next class.