The Butterfly Effect

With a weary sigh, Draco dropped his bag onto the quietest table in the library. His week had been particularly viscous since the Potter incident but the recent events of the day proved much worst.

Being pulled from the lake by Potter was one thing but being splashed across the front pages of the Daily Prophet was something else entirely.

That dreadful Skeeter woman had managed to snap a photograph of him quite limp in Potter’s arms, head tucked into the crevice of the Chosen One’s neck. She had bided her time and had released the article when some of the hype had finally died down.

That morning the Great Hall had been a flurry of owls delivering mail and chattering voices. Draco had taken a curious glance at the paper that Parkinson was devouring.

The headline had leaped out in bold letters : HARRY POTTER AND HIS FORAY INTO THE DARK SIDE.

Draco had immediately dropped his fork and abandoned his breakfast, knowing that he could not stand the merciless teasing and curious glances from the other houses and the doubtless cruelty that his own house would provide despite it being a situation he’d had no control over. Zabini and Parkinson had stuck the initial storm with him but Draco did not know if their goodwill would tide this new madness.

He had a minute of peace before Granger was standing in front of him, clearing her throat rather pointedly.

In his exhaustion, Draco could not quite manage his usual sneer. Instead, he snapped out at her, “What do you want you insufferable Know-it-all ?”

Undeterred, she brushed a strand of her bushy hair away from her face. “Did you submit that photograph to the Daily Mail ?”

“What ?” he sputtered indignantly, “Do you consider me daft Granger ? That article is an absolute nightmare.”

Her lips pulled into a tight line. “Everyone knows you like the attention. You had no qualms involving yourself with Rita Skeeter before. Telling horrible lies, I might add.”

“She asked for a quote,” shrugging, he levelled back a stare at Granger, “I can hardly be sure if I said all that I did last time, but I must have. That quill of hers gets everything down, doesn’t it ? However, I certainly did not source today’s article.”

“She does love her productions, I’ll give you that. If you didn't send it, I wonder how she does it ? Illegally, no doubt.”

Freed of the blame, Draco turned back to his potions book but Granger still remained rooted in place.

“Of for Salazar’s sake, what else do you want Granger ? A signed contract in blood stating I’m telling the truth ?”

Her lips quirked, “That won’t be necessary. But there’s the matter of Harry…”

"What ever plagues the golden boy now ?"

“Must you be so prickly ?” rolling her eyes, Granger dropped into the seat beside him and Draco would have been offended but she was already rambling again.

“Well you see, everyone’s has been giving Harry a bit of a hard time since the uhm, Second Task. He isn’t coping well. Promise you won’t make it worst ? I know how much the two of you like to antagonize each other, but please just don’t.”

When has Potter ever coped in his miserable life ? 

He bit down his retort and merely shrugged. Granger taking that as agreement, promptly pulled out a book and began to read.

“What in Merlin’s name, do you think you’re doing ?”

“Hiding out. Those articles have been hounding me just as much as you. Can you imagine Harry and I in a relationship ? Utter insanity.”

Draco was sorely tempted to argue with Granger. Who exactly did she think she was ? But something held his tongue. Perhaps it was the way she did not pry further or perhaps it was simply because despite his insistence Draco really did want company. So he let her sit there and the two of them spent the afternoon in relative silence, studying.

~~~~~~

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, glowering at Malfoy on the other side of the Hall. The blonde sat with two Durmstrang students chatting animatedly with them. Something about Malfoy’s face being so shockingly open and free from his usual sneer made Harry irrationally angry.

He stabbed his fork through his roasted potatoes and took an angry bite.

At his side, Hermione let out a little sigh of exasperation. “Are you still angry about the articles Harry ? I told you, Malfoy didn’t send those pictures.”

Blinking, he spared a glace at her. In true honesty, those articles hadn’t even crossed his mind since their debut yesterday. Sure, people were giving him grief about them but he was unfortunately used to the attention.

“Its not about the articles ‘Mione, it’s just—”

He was simply angry, angry at the world, angry at his fate, angry at Malfoy. As if the blonde could sense Harry’s thoughts, he laughed from across the room and Harry’s gaze instantly shot back towards him. His head was thrown back, teeth gleaming as he outright giggled with mirth.

What was so funny ? 

Nothing that those Durmstrang boys could’ve said, would be so funny. He was probably planning something with them, the utter wanker and Harry resolved he would find out.

The second Malfoy was done with his food, Harry pushed his own plate away and said a hurried goodbye to his friends.

As Malfoy reached the deserted hallway, Harry hot on his heel, he called out loudly enough so that the blonde would hear.

“Malfoy!”

For a second it looked as if the Slytherin would continue walking, but then shoulders slumping he turned around.

“Yes, oh Boy Who Lived ?”

For a second, he felt dangerously close to punching him but he took a halting breath. “Why aren’t you being insufferable ? I expected better, to be honest.”

And Harry had. He’d expected Malfoy to at least tease him or hex him about what had happened at the Lake but the other boy had simply behaved as if he didn’t exist the entire week.

“Don’t really see the need to, Skeeter does it for me well enough,” shrugging, he made as if leave but Harry spurred on by some strange feeling he couldn’t place, surged forward and grabbed his arm.

“You sent her those pictures didn’t you ?”

Harry didn't ask him that because he believed it but rather as an attempt to force some sort of reaction out of the other boy. He wished he would get angry, throw out a hex or a punch so that a semblance of normalcy could be retained.

“No,” face twisting, Malfoy shook him off, “as I’ve told Granger, I didn’t. You must be stupider than you look to think I’d make my life purposefully more difficult. Good night, Potter. Leave me alone.”

With a final leering look at him, Malfoy was gone, leaving Harry too stunned to speak for the second time that week.