Stupid hair
Bloody stupid Draco Malfoy and his bloody stupid perfect hair. Harry wished he'd shove off already. What a great start to the year, Harry rolled his eyes; passing out on the train after the dementors decided to roam the carriages was not his preferred welcome, to say the least. And of course, Malfoy had wasted no time to draw attention to this fact.
"Is it true you fainted? I mean you actually fainted?" Malfoy had sniggered from across the great hall, putting the back of his hand on his temple, pretending to faint, to the great amusement of the group of Slytherins that sat surrounding him.
Harry turned away. Malfoy acting like an utter prat was nothing new- it was the hair that made him angry. How the hell does it look so perfect? They'd just been on a train for 7 hours, for Merlin's sake, yet Malfoy's white blond hair lay smoothed back perfectly, not a single strand daring to be out of place. Harry was yet to look in a mirror, but he was sure his own hair was an unruly mess, more so than usual thanks to the dementor mishap.
Whatever. Harry had more important things to think about, other than Malfoy and his stupid hair. The entire experience on the train had shaken him- if nobody had screamed, who had he heard? Harry had an uncomfortable feeling that he already new the answer, through he'd rather not dwell on that. Fainting had been enough. And, Sirius Black wanting to kill him? It seemed Harry couldn't go a single year without somebody being after him. Typical of his luck.
"Just ignore them, Harry," Hermione glared at Malfoy, shaking her head.
Harry turned back around, sparing a glance at the Slytherin table. The group were all laughing, Malfoy included. Strangely, Harry thought, Malfoy seemed different, almost on edge, his laugh not quite reaching his grey eyes. Good, he thought. Anything causing Malfoy discomfort ought to be a blessing to Harry. Whatever it was. It's not like he cared or anything, he just noticed these things sometimes. He didn't care, really.
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Draco sat at the Slytherin table, momentarily relieved to be surrounded by his friends, once again. The return to Hogwarts couldn't have come soon enough, he'd been itching to return all summer- a time he'd rather not dwell on. He couldn't help but feel like things were different than last year, though; maybe it was just him that had changed. Everything else seemed much the same. Except, it were as if Draco were seeing everything for the first time, rose tinted glasses reluctantly removed, and he knew he couldn't ignore the nagging feeling of doubt that had unravelled itself in the past few months. The dementors hadn't helped, either; memories of the summer, that Draco had fought to tuck away in the back of his mind, had flashed before his eyes, ripping his hope of a normal year to pieces.
At least Potter's humorous fainting spell had taken his mind of things. He glanced to where the messy-haired boy sat, chatting to his Gryffindor worshipers. Potter- Draco couldn't ignore the fact that if he wanted even an inkling of mental peace, he'd need answers. And, unfortunately for Draco, Potter seemed to be the only one who had said answers. He cursed at the universe for apparently hating him. Potter looked up, catching Draco's stare with narrowed eyes. Draco shot back a glare and looked away.
"Draco, you hardly wrote this summer!" Pansy's shrill voice drawled, causing Draco to inwardly groan. The girl had been incessantly clingy as of recent, and Draco was unsure if she was simply too dense to understand his disinterest in her, or she was simply ignoring the fact.
"I was busy," He said with an eyeroll, that apparently did not go unnoticed by Pansy.
She huffed and turned to join the discussion with everybody else, who were angrily deliberating the new addition to the teachers, most namely the half-breed gamekeeper being appointed as the new care for magical creatures professor.
"Honestly, what was Dumbledore thinking? This school has gone to the dumps," Blaise announced, glancing angrily at the gamekeeper.
There was a grumble of agreement across the table, Crabbe and Goyle offering dirty looks towards the headmaster.
Draco found himself hardy interested in the conversation, letting his mind wander, nodding when appropriate.
He was suddenly very unsure about everything. And he hated it. His opinion of his father had been tainted considerably, after the events of the summer, and it left Draco much in the dark. Unrelenting truth had shattered the illusion, forcing him to question this facade he'd been raised to play.
"I imagine your father will be just as infuriated by the news that mine will be, Draco," Theo nudged his friend, causing Draco to snap his head up, surprised at the mention of his father. Theo looked at him curiously.
"Oh, yes I don't doubt it," Draco nodded. Theo stared at him for a second longer, looking as though he were about to say something more, but thought better of it, returning to the conversation with the others. Draco sighed. If he were to confide to anybody about the events of the summer, which he wouldn't, it would be to Theo. Yet, he'd thought better of it. He'd play his part for a little longer, until he could make up his mind properly.
More than anything, Draco wished for his childish ignorance back. That was not going to happen, so the truth seemed like the next best option.
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The first day had gone just as well for Harry as the day before had. Getting the grim in divination and fainting on the train yesterday, Harry felt like someone had to be out to get him. Other than Voldemort. And Sirius Black. He groaned.
"Honestly Harry, it's a load of rubbish," Hermione shook her head sitting next to him at the Gryffindor table, "Even McGonagall agreed that Trelawney just gives out the grim to a new student every year, and they're always fine!"
"With my luck, I'll be the first," Harry muttered.
"But Harry said he saw a black dog the night he left the Dursley's!" Ron exclaimed with wide eyes, munching on a sandwich.
"And, as I said, it was probably just a stray!" Hermione stated, huffing at Ron.
Harry rested his chin on his palm as Ron and Hermione continued to bicker. It seemed the entire school already knew about his death sentence from divination, whispering and staring. Sighing, he made up his mind.
"I'm off to the library. May as well get started on the transfiguration homework, seeing as I might die later," he said, getting up.
Hermione looked up at him with concern, "Harry, really don't worry about it. People will forget about it soon enough,"
Harry shrugged, "Yeah, just don't really wanna be surrounded by people who are giving me their premature condolences,"
"We can come with you, if you want," Ron said, mid-mouthful. Harry smiled at his best friends, but shook his head.
"No, don't worry, but thanks,"
Harry left the great hall, feeling instant relief as he escaped the whispers of his fellow students. He continued down the hallways, until he reached the library. It was busy, being lunch and all, so he moved to the quiet area near the back, hidden away by masses of boring arithmancy books.
He sat down at an empty table, dumping his books on the desk in front of him and dipping his quill in ink.
"Potter."
The voice behind him made Harry jump, spilling his inkpot. Cursing, Harry turned around to see Draco Malfoy and his stupidly perfect head of hair standing behind him. Great, just what he needed today.
"What the hell, Malfoy?!" Harry exclaimed, attempting to blot the spilled ink.
Malfoy moved to sit opposite Harry, rolling his eyes and vanishing the spilled ink with a flick of his wand. "Did you forget about a little thing called magic, Potter?" He drawled.
Harry stared with bemusement at Malfoy. "What the hell do you want?" He clutched his wand tightly. He had no clue what Malfoy was angry about this time, but he could never be too safe.
Malfoy sighed, "Relax, I'm not here to hex you, you're obviously close to dying anyway by the sounds of it," he sniggered.
Harry narrowed his eyes, "If you're just here to torture me about divination, then you can-"
"I'm not." Malfoy interrupted.
Harry shook his head in question, "Why are you here then?"
Malfoy's confident demeanour faltered slightly, grimacing as if he were fighting some internal battle. After a pause, he sighed and gave in, "I need to ask you a question. About last year."
Harry scoffed a laugh, "Why would I tell you anything?"
Malfoy shrugged, "Because you Gryffindors are all self-righteous pushovers?" He offered with a smirk.
"Not helping your case," Harry glared.
Malfoy nodded and frowned, searching for what to say, before his eyes landed on Harry's transfiguration homework. "Because, I'll do your stupid transfiguration essay in return." He muttered indignantly, adding "You know I'm better at it than you," smugly.
Harry considered for a moment. This entire interaction was bizarre; although Harry had no desire to help Malfoy, of all people, his curiosity got the better of him. What could be so pressing that Draco Malfoy would seek out him for the answer? Besides, getting the essay off his plate was a tempting idea.
"Fine." Harry spoke begrudgingly, "What do you want to know?"
Draco took a deep breath, as if he were willing himself to say it. "What really happened in the Chamber last year?" he asked, uncharacteristically genuinely.
Harry furrowed his brows at the question. "What do mean?" A lot had happened in that chamber, much of which weren't the most pleasant of memories, to say the least.
Malfoy huffed and rephrased, "I mean, why was the Weasley girl down there in the first place?"
Harry looked at him strangely. Surely he'd know this, seeing as the reason was his own father. "Ginny" he made sure to emphasise her name, "was possessed by Tom Riddle's diary. The diary that your father slipped into her cauldron that day in Diagon Alley."
Malfoy frowned and sat back in his chair visibly paling, muttering "So it was him." Harry stared at him for a moment, utterly confused. Malfoy wasn't acting like...Malfoy. Instead, he'd been replaced by a boy, who suddenly looked as young as he was. Without the layers of hostility, there sat a 13 year old boy, who looked increasingly afraid. Afraid of what, Harry was unsure.
Before he could ask however, Draco sprung up again, "So, you actually killed that basilisk, then? Like everyone says you did?"
Harry nodded.
"Typical Gryffindor," Draco muttered.
"Well, not before it managed to infect my blood with it's venom," Harry scoffed, "If Forks hadn't been there, I would've died."
Draco's eyes widened, and Harry noticed how very grey they were. He also noticed how strange it was that Draco Malfoy seemed to be expressing concern for him. Harry narrowed his own eyes. Surely Malfoy had some ulterior motive, he couldn't just be interested in the latest Hogwarts gossip.
"So," Draco said, so quietly Harry thought he imagined it, "You could've died."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "Erm, yeah. And Ginny." He couldn't help but feel like he was dreaming- in what world would Draco Malfoy care about Harry Potter? "Why did you want to know?"
Draco looked up, his expression guarded yet again, "None of your business Potter." He snarled.
Harry rolled his eyes. There's the Malfoy he knows. "Okay fine, but why'd you ask me? Surely all of this is known by everyone in Hogwarts by now,"
Draco shrugged, "I wanted the full truth. And, seeing as you were actually down there, it made sense."
Harry shook off the confusion, "But, why-"
Malfoy got to his feet, pointing his wand towards Harry with narrowed eyes. "If you mention this to anyone, I will not hesitate to hex you. And you'd be kissing your transfiguration homework goodbye." Draco sneered. After a moment, his expression softened, lowering his wand, taking once last look at Harry, and dashed away.
Harry was left in utter bewilderment, the only proof that the encounter was even real was his missing transfiguration homework.
God, Harry thought in anger, his stupid hair had looked perfect. Again.