Chapter 3
A few weeks before Christmas break, Harry and Draco once again find themselves sitting side-by-side under, what has become, their tree on the bank of the black lake, which Harry has come to learn wasn't originally the blondes spot at all but a young house elf's named Minty, who had graciously shared their thinking spot with him. In the time they've spent together (since the silence was broken that is), Harry has discovered many a thing about Draco Malfoy. A few things for example, is that (before Harry of course) Draco only had two friends, Minty and Blaise, he has a habit of chewing his bottom lip until it turns almost blood-red when he thinks, his favourite class is potions (shocking) followed closely by Divination (actually shocking) and he enjoys Harry's company.
The last discovery had taken a while to figure out, as Harry was never entirely sure if Draco was purely just putting up with his company, so he decided to see how far he could push the boundaries of their tentative friendship. It had started with lightly touching his elbow to the other boys to see if he'd flinch away. When he hadn't Harry began to subtly press the outside of his thigh to his companions only to feel him press back. This experimentation continued until they ended up practically leaning on one another and discussing the stars.
One thing that Harry is still desperate to figure out, however, is why Draco glamours his left arm.
"-and you see that there, that's the Andromeda constellation." Draco points a long manicured finger towards the sky, but Harry's not really paying attention to where it leads.
"Draco, why is your arm glamoured?" It's out of his mouth before he can even process the words when he does, process them that is, he slaps a hand over his mouth staring wide-eyed at the subject of his questioning, who stares back. Harry panics waving his hands in front of him as if the action can take back his words. "You don't have to answer that of course! It's just I was curious - I mean it's none of my business so just ignore me. 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥, 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥..."
"I was wondering when you were going to ask." Draco calmly interrupts his ramble before it can dissolve further into self-loathing. "You've been glancing at it so often I've turned it into a little game. Yesterday you looked at it five times in Transfiguration and tonight it was eight - a new record surely."
Harry fish mouths for a good few seconds, before his curiosity outweighs his embarrassment, asking a quiet, "You don't mind?"
"In all honesty, I've just been waiting for you to ask. I am an open book now Harry, all you need to do is ask." He says it with a shrug as if this isn't the most important information Harry's ever received. It feels like he's just won the Draco Malfoy lottery. The opportunities are endless, he could ask him about anything or everything, but he knows if he plays his cards right he'll have forever to ask as many questions as he likes.
So he starts simply with, "So tell me then Draco, why do you glamour your arm?"
There is no hesitation on Draco's part as he serves the events of the summer to Harry on a silver platter. He starts by describing his feelings of guilt at being surrounded by muggle neighbours, who had been nothing but accepting and caring towards him and Narcissa, bringing baked goods to their bungalow and helping them settle into the quaint village, welcoming the strangers that had appeared out of nowhere into their tight-knit community. He explains honestly how these feelings led to a moment that he refuses to consider a weakness, "It showed me I could survive Harry. That I could 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦." Under the safety of their tree and a warming charm, Draco discloses the confusion and panic he felt waking up with a part of himself missing, but how the physical separation was almost liberating as he had needed it to fully cut his ties with Voldemort. Draco doesn't cry, but he wraps an arm around Harry's shoulders as the be-speckled saviour sheds enough tears for the both of them. He talks about the struggles of his rehabilitation and the help of his muggle nurses who made the process for him easier and then the aid of his neighbours, who filled their small two-bedroom home with flowers and homemade cakes.
When Draco finishes telling his story, he pulls Harry even closer to his side into a one-armed hug as he gestures for the unusually quiet boy to remove his glamour. "No point hiding it really, I'm not ashamed but I think it's Blaise's way of protecting me." He'd murmured, watching as his artificial limb was revealed and allowing Harry to fidget with the plastic-like fingers as he rested his pointy chin atop the nest of black hair atop Harry's head. No other words were spoken that night, they didn't need to be as the two silently accepted the other and remained attached until the sun began to rise over the turrets of the castle.
~
Ron Weasley is fed up.
He had thought that when Harry had told him he was meeting up with Malfoy now, 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦, he would have become less obsessed with the blonde prick or atleast snogged him by now. But no, here they sit in the common room as Harry stares dreamily into the fire, lazily twirling his wand and letting out hushed sighs as if he wishes he were elsewhere, like his two best friends aren't sitting 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. Mione finds it "adorable", gushing over young love and all that shit. Ron thinks it's stupid. It's obvious Malfoys changed (he hasn't made a comment about Ron's family once) and that he makes Harry happy. His best mate hasn't needed to stay in Ron's room for weeks, only visiting to catch him up on all things Malfoy before disappearing off to what he lovingly refers to as "their tree".
Yet when the redhead asks if any 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 gestures have been made, accompanied by a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, Harry just sighs affectionately and tells him that "we've cuddled Ron but it was purely platonic." Once again, stupid. If it wasn't for his girlfriend's insistence to leave them to work it out for themselves, Ron would have had his best friend and enemy (he's not letting that go just yet) 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 back in October.
Ron lets out a sigh of his own. Yes, fed up indeed.
~
It doesn't take long for Harry to become reliant upon Draco for comfort and vice-versa. It starts off with small things such as Harry playing with Draco's fingers (both real and fake) linking them between his own and releasing them just as quickly as if it was a reflex, as they snuggled under their tree. Then it escalated from the two walking to their shared classes together, arms touching from shoulder to fingertips, to sitting across from one another in the library, legs tangled under the table to the point where they weren't sure whose leg was whose. It's on days like these when Harry notices Ron let out little huffs of pointed annoyance, as he glares at the two, confusing Harry who thought he had Ron's explicit consent to pursue a relationship with Malfoy.
By now thick snow has settled on the grounds of Hogwarts which led to Harry and Draco agreeing that in order to avoid hypothermia it would be best to spend their time together indoors. It's another thing Harry learns, Draco cannot cope with the cold at all, taking to layering jumpers on top of each other in an effort to keep warm. It's one evening in the common room that Ron has finally had enough of the two oblivious idiots.
Everything had been going fine, Ron and Hermione were sharing their usual armchair as Harry sprawled across the two-seater couch in front of the roaring fire under a Gryffindor-coloured blanket, feet hanging off the armrest, reading one of his astronomy books. Neville, Luna and Ginny had joined them too, sat on the soft rug, playing a game of exploding snap on the coffee table made up of tarot cards. Blaise had even appeared, settling himself into another spare armchair, pretending to ignore the Gryffindor's (and Ravenclaw) surrounding him with his nose in his usual well-loved book, but Ron had noticed his subtle glances at his younger sister. He'll be keeping an eye on that.
Yes, everything was perfect and Ron was prepared to fully relax for the evening.
That is until Draco Malfoy slinks down the dormitory staircase, padding silently across the stone floor of the common room, bony feet covered by a soft pair of green fluffy socks and simply lifts the blanket covering Harry before laying on top of the Boy who lived, smushing his cheek against his best friends chest and fully submerging himself beneath the blanket. If it wasn't for the tuft of blonde hair tickling Harry's chin, you wouldn't even see him there. And what does Harry do? He simply lifts his book, not breaking concentration, and rests it back on Malfoy's nobbily spine as if this is a normal occurrence.
Ron scans the room open-mouthed, to see if any of his peers have noticed the loved-up interaction between two supposed friends, only to see that everyone was too enraptured by the game of exploding snap.
Throwing his arms into the air, jostling his poor bushy-haired girlfriend, Ron finally exploded. "WILL YOU TWO JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY?! I've had it up to here with your stupid pining, just accept that you're boyfriends for fuck sake."
The chatter in the common room stopped, everyone turning to stare at Ron Weasley, whose face was attempting to camouflage into his hair. Hermione patted his arm in comfort and understanding, as Malfoy's face appeared from his hiding spot where he replaced his cheek with his pointy chin on Harry's chest, gazing up at said hero, whose own face rivalled the shade of Ron's.
"Oh, are we boyfriends Harry?" The git asked, from where he had made himself comfortable on top of his not-boyfriend.
"Umm, yeah I guess so?"
Instead of replying Malfoy gracefully pushed himself slightly up and lightly kissed the chosen one on his pink lips, holding it for a few seconds in a sweet peck, before sinking back into his self-made hovel, disappearing from sight. Leaving a pink-faced Harry holding his book in lax hands and staring into the distance with a tiny smile on his face.
Ron couldn't breathe. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦. 𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬.
Hermione just shook her head slowly, kissing her boyfriend to signal an end to the conversation as everyone around them resumed what they were doing before his outburst. Ron sunk back into the cushions of the chair with a huff through pouted lips.
Merlin, Ron Weasley was so fed up with those stupid idiots in love.