words are very unnecessary [they can only do harm]

- : -

Predictably, their eighth year begins in a rush of whispers.

Harry's been on the receiving end of so much hostility during his school years – second and fifth in particular stand out horribly vividly in his mind – that he knows how the year is going to go before it even starts.

For the first time, though, he isn't the one with the whispers following him all around the school like so many angry snakes.

The moment Draco Malfoy enters the Great Hall at breakfast on the first day of term, the Hall falls silent so suddenly that Harry's hand twitches automatically towards his wand – abrupt changes tend to unsettle him these days – before he realises what the cause of the change is.

Head down, eyes fixed determinedly on the floor, Draco heads for the Slytherin table. As he passes each table, it's like he's tripped the switch to turn the volume back on, and by the time he takes a seat at the empty end of the table, the noise is deafening to Harry's ears. Draco, however, stares straight at his food, jaw clenched, and pretends not to notice.

“Some nerve that prat's got showing up back here,” a fifth-year Gryffindor boy says loudly through a mouthful of bacon and eggs. “After everything he did.”

Like it's that simple, Harry thinks bitterly, glaring down at his plate, watching his knuckles lose colour from the death grip he has on his fork. Like only bad people did bad things in the war. Like no one involved has any regrets.

He closes his eyes. Tries to count to ten in his mind because, honestly, he's too tired for this particular fight. There's only so much he can give.

He has nothing left.

“What do you know about it?” Ron snaps from across the table, sounding just as irritable as Harry feels. “You weren't even there.”

The boy gapes for a moment, mouth working soundlessly as he tries to find words. Then his jaw sets. “Everyone knows about it,” he says defiantly, doubling down. “And everyone's saying that he shouldn't have come back here.”

“He's got just as much of a right to be here as you or anyone else,” Hermione says simply, not even bothering to look up from her Quibbler.

The boy scoffs indignantly. “I'm not the one who –”

Harry lets his fork drop from his fingers. It clatters noisily to his plate, stopping the conversation abruptly. Fully aware of the many pairs of eyes on him, he stands, slings his backpack over his shoulder, picks up his plate and goblet, and walks clear across the hall to the Slytherin table.

Wary grey eyes look up at him as he approaches, but Harry doesn't say a word; he sets down his breakfast and sits down directly across from Malfoy.

The noise in the Great Hall rises hesitantly this time, like everyone wants to join in on the conversation, but no one is quite sure what to say about this new development.

Malfoy looks at him, mouth opening, but Harry stares right back, jaw set, daring him to say something, and Malfoy falters. His brow furrows and he drops his eyes back to his bowl of porridge.

Good, Harry thinks irritably, and picks his fork back up again. 

He’s so fucking sick of talking.

He returns to his fried eggs and waffle and pretends to not notice Draco sneaking occasional glances at him.

– : –

Draco’s last morning class must be in one of the towers, Harry thinks, because he’s been sitting by himself at the end of the Slytherin table for at least five minutes before he even catches sight of him entering the Great Hall. 

Draco’s looking just as wary when he makes it over to the table, but Harry ignores him and busies himself with modifying two sandwiches - one roast beef, one turkey - into one large one.

“This is going to be a regular thing then, I take it?” Draco sighs, and Harry just blinks up at him innocently. Takes a big bite of his monstrous lunchtime creation. Draco rolls his eyes and sits down opposite Harry, grabbing a bright red apple from the middle of the table and biting into it noisily. Determinedly not looking at Harry, he opens this morning’s edition of TheQuibbler, grabs a quill, and continues to work on the half-finished crossword, taking occasional bites of his apple in between clues.

After a few moments, he huffs, face going a little pink. “Stop staring at me, scarhead.”

Harry snorts, but he obeys and returns to his food.

- : -

By the time dinner rolls around, Draco seems to have caught on to what to expect.

Pansy, who had skipped lunch and breakfast entirely, however, stands and looks back and forth between Harry and Draco as though she’s watching a particularly fast-paced Quidditch match.

“What the fuck,” she whispers finally, and sinks into the seat next to Draco.

“Told you,” Draco says, though he doesn't seem bothered by Harry's presence in the slightest.

“It’s one thing to hear about it, it’s another entirely to see it with your own eyes,” Pansy says, though she looks like she can’t believe what her eyes are seeing. “What did I miss?”

“I’d tell you if I had any idea,” Draco replies. “As far as I’ve worked out, he’s finally cracked. That's Theory One.”

Harry looks up from his pasta and gravy to pointedly, dramatically roll his eyes.

“Theory Two,” Draco adds, peering a little bit closer at Harry’s food, “is he’s here to drive me insane with his atrocious food combinations.”

Pansy continues looking between them, completely mystified. “I think maybe you’ve both finally cracked,” she mutters, and steals a chip from Draco’s plate. Draco pulls a face at her and attempts to snag a strawberry from hers in retaliation before his hand gets slapped away.

For a moment, Harry just watches them in silence. Then, he thinks, they act a bit like me and Ron, and snorts.

They both turn from their playful bickering to stare at him questioningly.

He just shrugs. Shakes his head and turns back to his food.

“I see what you mean,” Pansy says to Draco.

- : -

When Harry shows no signs of coming back to the Gryffindor table the next day, there’s a tiny commotion in his absence, and then, with no further warning, Hermione is walking across the Hall to join the Slytherin table.

Harry wordlessly scoots over to make room for her. There are plenty of unoccupied seats around them, of course, but Hermione’s usual spot is on his left, and there’s no need to change that just because they’re over at the Slytherin table.

Before Hermione can even sit down, however, Ron is scurrying to come to join, his half-open backpack dangling from his arm. His Charms textbook tumbles out and thuds onto the table.

“Oops,” he says, and Harry scoots down one more spot, so Ron can sit across from Pansy. “You could’ve given me some warning,” Ron complains quietly to Hermione. “I know we talked about it, but I didn’t realise you meant today….”

“No time like the present,” Hermione replies at normal volume, and Harry’s been determined to act as normally as possible here, but he can’t help but look at Hermione with pure adoration. He loves her so goddamn much it hurts.

“Er,” Draco says, bringing Harry’s attention to him instead. He’s just arrived at the table, clearly confused to find it almost as full as the Gryffindor one.

“Good morning, Draco, would you care for some orange juice?” Hermione asks politely.

Draco sits down opposite Hermione and looks thoroughly confused as he accepts the proffered glass. "Thank you?"

“What the absolute fuck,” Pansy whispers again, looking like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. “Are you seeing this? They’re multiplying,” she hisses, grabbing Draco’s arm urgently. She doesn’t look upset, though; mainly just confused.

“I don’t think yesterday was a fluke after all,” Draco says mildly back to her, and Harry can practically picture them huddled in the Slytherin common room together, muttering about their odd new dinner guest and deciding that Harry had gone temporarily insane and would soon return to his senses. Or maybe the Gryffindors would drag him back.

Instead, Harry came back and brought his best friends with him.

Harry looks up from his three-cereal concoction to find Draco staring at him curiously.

Harry stares right back until Draco flushes and looks away, and then lets himself grin, just a little.

- : -

Luna and Ginny join the next day, and Harry feels elated the second Ginny sits down next to him. She’s the first of the non-eighth years and it feels like real progress. He’s even happier that she’s brought along Luna - he’d been delighted to find out that they were dating. There are no hard feelings, and, really, the more people from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, the better. Even some of the professors are looking their way approvingly.

It’s the first time since the war that Harry feels like he’s doing something important. Breaking down walls that had no right to be built in the first place.

Draco, on the other hand, only seems to get more irritated the more people sit down. When Ginny sits down, his eyes shoot to Harry’s in… alarm, maybe? Panic? And by the time Luna sits down next to across from Ginny, Draco’s avoiding all eye contact and scowling down at his porridge like it’s done something to offend him personally.

“Well, so much for Theory Three,” Pansy says quietly to Draco, much to Harry’s curiosity.

Draco scoffs irritably, but doesn’t answer otherwise. He avoids Harry's eyes for the rest of breakfast.

- : -

Draco doesn’t show up for lunch. Harry spends the whole time trying to figure out why this is so disappointing to him.

He doesn’t bother saying anything to Pansy - she’s busy having a rather stilted, forced conversation with Ginny and it seems awkward enough without him barging in.

“Have the two of you been seeing each other for very long?” Pansy is asking, a tinge of forced politeness in her voice, and Harry looks over for a moment in surprise.

Ginny seems taken aback, too. She glances at Harry, looking as unsure as Harry feels. He wasn’t aware the Slytherins knew about her and Luna, either. At least they’re being nice about it. He shrugs, and Ginny looks back at Pansy.

“Er, just a few weeks,” she replies, glancing a little shyly at Luna, then back down at her food, and Harry leaves them to their conversation. He turns to Hermione.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Hermione says before Harry can even express concern. “We completely invaded his space without any sort of warning, and he’s an introverted person. He needs a little time to himself to adjust, and we’ll be here when he comes back.”

Feeling a little better, Harry tucks into his mixture of macaroni and cheese with avocado. He can even almost picture the look of disgust on Draco’s face at his food and that raises his spirits even more.

Before he leaves the lunch table, he snags an apple to sneak onto Draco’s desk in potions class, just in case.

- : -

By the time Draco shows up to dinner - being half-dragged by Pansy - Harry’s already started eating his sandwich.

Pansy sits down across from Harry, pulls Draco into the seat next to her and nudges him pointedly.

“Er, thanks,” Draco says, briefly making eye contact with Harry, then looking away immediately. “For the apple. Is that all you’re eating?” he adds before Harry can acknowledge the thank you.

Harry gives him a questioning little look, then looks down at his food. There’s a bowl of soup in front of him and his sandwich in his hand. He looks back at Draco's suspicious face.

“Just potato soup and a roast beef sandwich? Nothing weird this time?” Then, he closes his eyes. “You’re dipping the sandwich into the soup, aren’t you,” he says, then sighs. “You eat like an animal.”

Harry rolls his eyes. You barely eat at all, he thinks, and there must be something pointed in his stare, because Draco flushes and looks away to grab his plate and start adding to it.

Harry grins and turns back to his food. Dips his sandwich in his soup and takes a huge bite, only to find Hermione staring at him curiously.

“Nothing,” she says in response to his questioning look, but she keeps glancing at Draco and then back at Harry.

“Ugh, training took forever,” Ginny complains a moment later, plopping down next to Harry gracelessly and surprising everyone with her sudden presence. “I didn’t even have time to shower.”

Harry glances at her, makes an exaggerated face, and leans away.

“I used a spell!” Ginny says, all mock indignation and laughter, and Harry leans back toward her and nudges her playfully.

Someone at the table - one of the Slytherins, Harry assumes - scoffs at their antics.

“Oh!” Hermione says, drawing everyone’s attention to her, but she’s not looking at them. Harry follows her gaze and finds an uncomfortable-looking Draco. “Nothing, sorry,” Hermione says, blushing furiously and looking away, and Harry glances around the table in utter confusion.

Okay, I’ve definitely missed something, he thinks, glancing from Draco to Hermione to Ginny and back again.

“Gods, you’re obvious,” Pansy mutters to Draco, who glares at her and clears his throat pointedly.

- : -

When Harry finally makes it down to breakfast the next morning, the spot on his left is vacant. A glance further down the table tells him that Neville has also joined them and that Hermione has chosen to sit next to Ginny and across from Luna today, and seems to be engrossed in a very entertaining conversation.

“Oh, good, you’re here. I was beginning to think I might have to come find you,” Draco says when he spots Harry, and Harry looks at him a little warily. “Well, you’re responsible for this madness, you should at least have to suffer along with me. My table used to be peaceful, Potter. Downright tranquil. Now you've turned it into a circus."

A burst of laughter comes down the table and Harry looks that way in alarm, going for his wand, but Draco doesn’t even flinch. He just rolls his eyes.

“They’ve been at that for twenty minutes,” he complains, shooting a glance at Hermione, Ginny, and Luna and shaking his head. “That’s part of the madness I’m talking about. That-” he jabs a spoon at Pansy and Neville, who are immersed in a discussion on venomous plants in potion making, “is the other part.”

Hermione returns to her usual spot a moment later looking rather pleased with herself. She kisses Ron on the cheek and shakes her head minutely in response to Harry’s  glance.

“So, um, Malfoy,” Ginny says awkwardly, loud enough to draw almost everyone’s eyes- Hermione, strangely, abruptly turns her face around so she’s not looking at anyone but Ron. Harry thinks he can hear her giggle before Ginny continues speaking. “You know that Harry and I… well, we’re not… I mean, we were, for like a second, but that’s, like, ancient history. Like Binns should be teaching it, it’s so far in the past.”

Next to Harry, Hermione begins positively shaking with poorly-concealed giggles.

Draco blinks at Ginny. “What on earth are you going on about?” he asks slowly, glancing between her and Harry, looking about as baffled as Harry feels.

“Ginny isn’t dating Harry,” Luna chimes in, and their tiny section of the table is completely silent now - except, of course, for Hermione's barely stifled amusement. “She’s dating me.”

“Back to Theory Three,” Pansy says gleefully to Draco, who goes a little pink and turns back to his food.

He keeps sneaking glances at Harry throughout the rest of breakfast, though, and Harry can’t help but grin at him every time he catches him. Just a little.

- : -

He manages to grab Draco just before he walks into the Great Hall for lunch.

He’s been off to the side, keeping an eye out for a flash of platinum blond in the sea of students for the last ten minutes, and he’s almost ready to give up when he finally spots him.

He grabs him by the wrist and pulls him off to the side before Draco can say a word.

“Oh good, now we’re resorting to abduction,” Draco says - a little too dramatically, Harry thinks, and he hands Draco an apple. “Thank you?” Draco says, confusion all over his pointy face. He turns to join the crowd entering the Hall, but Harry keeps his grip on his wrist.

When Draco looks at him, Harry holds his gaze. Inclines his head towards the grounds, where the weather is absolutely lovely and there are no other students to gossip and giggle.

“Oh,” Draco says, ears going a little pink, but he's smiling, and Harry can't help but grin back. Draco glances towards the Hall, where Pansy is sitting with Neville again, then back at Harry, and seems to make up his mind fairly easily.

“Lead the way.”