learning
The walk up to the tower to get his things took longer than it should have.
Perhaps Harry was doddling, dragging his feet with his hands tucked tightly into his Muggle Jeans.
Or perhaps Harry just wanted to avoid the tower. And his friends. And the world.
That’s partly, he knew, why he had accepted this chaos of an activity in the first place.
I mean, taking care of Malfoy? How crazy would he have to be?
A bit, Harry thought to himself, almost as if to reassure the little voice in his head.
When he finally got to the stairs that led to the common room where most of the ex-seventh years had holed up in he tried to take in a deep breath. It came out shaky, but he ignored it.
Slowly, he crept into the bustling room, trying to hide into the background. But hiding in the background was never Harry's speciality. Quite the opposite, in fact.
“Harry!”
The chirpy sound of Hermiones voice rang in his ears. He turned, greeting her with a half emphasized smile.
“Hey ‘Mione.”
“Where have you been? I swear I never see you nowadays.”
Harry shrugged at her words, reaching a hand up to his neck to rub behind.
“Busy with reparations and the like.”
Hermione nodded at him, putting a hand gently onto his arm.
“I’m glad you’re helping.”
“About that,” Harry started and Hermione’s ears practically perked up.
“I’ve been helping in the hospital wing and Pomfrey really wants me to move down there.”
Harry paused.
“To help more.”
He didn’t want to lie to Hermione, he knew he shouldn’t. But the whole Malfoy situation felt odd. Like a secret he wanted to keep to himself.
She smiled at his words, none the wiser to Harry’s internal battle.
“That’s wonderful Harry! Your things are still in the corner if you want to grab them.”
He nodded. “Yeah thats… yeah i'll grab them.”
His hands started entertwining and he twisted them out of nervousness.
“How are you Hermione? I know we’ve both been busy but I kinda miss you.”
But before Hermione could respond, let alone react to Harry’s words, Ron appeared behind her, grabbing her arm.
“Come on ‘Mione, Ginny snuck in one of those muggle tube box things, and I have to see it!”
Harry watched as Hermiones entire demeanour changed when Ron spoke, and she fully faced away from Harry.
“It’s called a television Ron, and yes I’d love to.”
“Great, come on!” He started pulling her to the other side of the room. “Oh, hey Harry!,” Ron waved, and with that they were gone.
Harry was left standing, rooted to the spot, a little lost.
Had he really grown so far out of the loop? They were his best friends. He knew that. But, maybe after everything Harry had simply become a background character in their story. One that was flourishing, while his, he felt like, was wilting to the floor.
He shook himself, trying to rid his mind of the spiral that was starting, and wandered over to the corner Hermione had pointed out. Sure enough, neatly piled was a trunk and a napsack, filled with what he assumed was his things.
He grabbed them swiftly, and practically jogged out of the common room clearly not meant for him.
*
When Harry arrived back in the Hospital Wing, Pomfrey wasted no time in pointing him to the secluded door at the end of the room.
Once he reached it, he grasped onto his bag a little bit tighter, and turned the knob, allowing the door to creep open.
Inside, he found a pretty spacious room, similar to that of the dorms. Two beds sat comfortable next to eachother, separated by two dressers, around the corner Harry could spot a door that he assumed led to a bathroom.
He further examined the room, and paused when he saw Malfoy arranging books upon a desk on the left side of the room.
Harry stepped forward as quietly as he could, reaching the bed to the right that looked untouched. But as he sat down, the bed led out a loud creak, attracting Malfoy’s attention.
“Hello?” He asked, leaving the desk to walk a bit towards Harry.
“Malfoy,” Harry nodded. Best to keep it simple.
Malfoy’s face crumpled at that, and he too sat down on his own bed.
An awkward silence fell over them, before Harry broke it.
“So, how are you feeling?” He cringed at himself. How are you feeling? How idoitic do you have to be to ask that?
Malfoy just shrugged at him.
“Okay, I guess. Odd feeling to not know whats going on.”
“Yeah.” Harry really didn’t know what to say to him.
Malfoy continued to stare into Harry’s eyes, even despite the awkwardness slowly forming between them.
Malfoy brought his hands together, wringing in some sort of nervousness if Harry had to guess, drawing his legs up to sit beneath him on the bed.
“Tell me about yourself?” He asked timidly.
Harry had never seen Malfoy timid. It was… odd. Wrong.
“Me?” Harry asked, tilting his head.
“I don’t see anyone else in the room, do you?” Malfoy let out a soft smile.
Okay. So they were joking now. Okay.
“Fair, fair.” Harry mirrored Malfoy, also bringing his legs under him as a sort of support.
“Um, I'm Harry?” He started, unsure how much to tell this memory ridden Malfoy.
“Well hello Harry,” Malfoy said, causing Harry’s breath to hitch beneath him.
Malfoy had never called him Harry before.
“Did I know you?”
Harry wrapped his arms around himself as a barrier.
“Yeah, yeah you did. We did.”
“Ah. What were we like?”
Harry really didn’t want to answer that one. What would he say? They were enemies? That Malfoy had tormented him for years?
“We went to school together,” Harry settled on, he would avoid their past for as long as he could.
“Right.” Despite Harrys distant responses Malfoy looked invested, his gaze never wavering and his face full of intrigue. “What else? You have a favorite color?”
Harry just blinked. He hadn’t expected such a question from Malfoy.
“Green.” He started, but immediately thinking of the Slytherin green, he corrected himself, “But not dark green, a light green, like the bright shade of grass or trees in the beginning of spring.”
Malfoy smiled at him, really smiled, and so Harry couldn’t help but smile back.
“I like that,” Malfoy replied, seeming looser than before. Perhaps Harry could put up with this if it was as simple as a favorite color.
*
“Mary, please, you have to take the potion,” Harry strained, sitting next to a small second year girl, seemingly plagued with a headache.
“But it tastes so bad,” she stressed back to him, folding her arms in front of her.
Harry shook his head at her bemused, before putting the small bottle into her hands.
“It will make you feel better. I promise.”
She continued to look at the bottle, closely examining the strange liquid inside.
Harry was about to offer a tart as a reward for the potion, when a loud crash was heard from the end of the Wing.
Immediately Harry stood up, running towards the end of the hall. When he saw that everyone was fine there, he turned to the door that led to his and Malfoy’s new found room.
Quickly, he rushed inside to find Malfoy sitting on his bed, his head in his hands. Beneath him, on the floor, sat a portrait, completely smashed, glass shattered around it.
“Malfoy,” Harry said gently, taking in the chaos around him.
He didn’t respond, instead just seemingly ignoring Harry.
Harry slowly crept forward, carefully watching Malfoy whilst reaching the smashed picture on the floor.
He turned it, dusting the small bits of glass off to find a smiling Malfoy and Narcissa staring back at him.
Oh.
“Malfoy?” Harry asked once again, rising with the picture in his hand.
“Malfoy.” He saud more sternly this time, sitting next to him.
“I dont-” a faint whisper came from him, “I can’t- I don’t-” Malfoy took in a shaky breath.
“I can’t remember who she is. I know she’s important and I can see her in the distance of my mind. Why can’t I remember who she is?”
Harry let out a sigh. This would be difficult.
“This is Narcissa Malfoy. She’s your mum.”
Malfoy removed his head from his hands to meet Harry’s eyes, his own full of sadness.
“My… my mum?” He asked, his eyes wide.
“Yes. She, at least from what I know, was very close to you.”
Malfoys eyes darted between Harry’s, as if he was reprehensive to believe Harry’s words.
“Can I see that?” He reached out towards the picture of the two of them.
“Course,” Harry replied, handing it to him. He watched as Malfoy took it, holding it tightly in his pale hands. Malfoy’s face became scrunched as if he was concentrating on the faces smiling and waving at his own.
“I think- I think I can remember her. A little bit. I can, I can see her face but younger.”
“That’s good Malfoy,” Harry urged, slowly reaching up a tentative hand to Malfoys shoulder, placing it lightly.
Malfoy turned to him once again, letting a small smile grace his features.
“Thanks Harry.”
Harry’s stomach did an involuntary flip.
“You’re welcome Malfoy.”
He gave his own smile back, his hand still holding his shoulder, tighter this time.
For some reason Harry wanted to say something else.
“If you ever need help remembering something, you just give me a holler, okay? No more smashing pictures.”
Malfoy let out a chuckle.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“...”
“Let’s get this cleaned up.”