Chill Chats
“Hello, sunshine!” Theo loudly exclaimed, pulling the covers off Draco. Yelping, Draco scrambled for it back, only for Theo to start jumping on his bed when he didn’t immediately get up. In the corner buttoning his shirt, Blaise huffed a laugh - Draco may or may not have opened one eye to stare for a second.
“Theodore, get off!” Grumbled Draco, wrapping himself in his pyjamas.
When he kept jumping, Blaise noticed he grabbed onto the bed frame when he felt like he’d fall off. Taking his wand, Blaise casted, “Epoximise.” and Theo’s hand stuck to the bed frame like superglue.
“What-” Theo tried tugging himself off, only for him to fall on his bum on the bed, “Zabini!” He wailed. Blaise continued to change.
“Don’t worry, it’ll wear off in half an hour.”
While Theo sat and pouted, Draco gladly started changing, mind still running from what happened yesterday, and on his date with Harry. He hadn’t talked to anyone about it yet, apart from Ginny who teased him relentlessly about it but eagerly listened. Currently, she was with Dean Thomas, even though she expressed her worries over his unknowing feelings for Seamus. He told her to be careful, and to break it off if she feels like it’s going to end eventually.
“So…” Blaise began, looking at himself in the mirror to do his tie, “You and Potter seem… friendly.”
The tips of Draco’s ears flushed, “My relations don’t concern you, Blaise.”
“On the contrary bellissimo, friends tend to talk about their significant others.”
“We… went on a date-”
“When?” Theo spoke up, interest peaked.
But, he was ignored, “It was nice. And that was that.”
Blaise knew if he pushed he wouldn’t get an answer. Instead, he moved on to a new topic, “Any more thoughts on meeting the Malfoy’s?”
Draco cleared his throat, suddenly feeling hot in the uniform. “I’ve… thought about it.”
“And your conclusion is?” Theo egged on.
“I’ve decided,” He looked to the floor then back at the wall again, “to meet them.”
From the silence, Draco could tell he didn’t have their support in this. While they would tell him they hope it goes well and talk through it afterwards, they wouldn’t do it themselves and would stay very clear of the Malfoy’s. “As long as you’re sure.” Blaise said in a neutral tone. “You need to talk to Headmaster Dumbledore, then.”
Draco knew he would, and he just did not want to. He didn’t like Dumbledore. There was something about him. Especially the fact that he decided to show Harry all of this now instead of earlier. And the fact that this is a school, yet he decided to keep it open even when there was a Basilisk wondering the halls and a (potential) mass-murderer the next year coming for Harry.
Nevertheless, he made his way to the front of the Great Hall at breakfast and spoke to Dumbledore. People stared at him when he walked to the front - this wasn’t something students normally did. With Harry by his side. Draco knew that Dumbledore would do anything if Harry, and Harry owed him anyway. For the kidnapping that Draco was still holding over their heads. “Sir, I want to meet with my parents.” McGonagall overheard, eyes darting to Draco then back to the front as quick as she could.
“You need to understand, Mister Malfoy, that this is an almost impossible request.” Dumbledore replied.
“Sir.” Harry took a step forward, wanting to help, “Surely he can meet with Narcissa.”
“Do you think that is a wise thing, Harry?” He directed the question to the raven-haired boy.
Now Harry was caught between a boulder and a hoard of Dementors. Really, he should say something. He should take Draco’s side because they’re not friends but they’re something more. “I…” Was all that came out.
“Mister Malfoy,” Dumbledore started after a pause, “I am sorry, truly, but with the impending war it is not wise to allow Lucius Malfoy into the school.”
Harry didn’t protest, and neither did Draco. But Draco was determined to have words with Harry after breakfast.
Cornering him before Potions, Draco pulled Harry by his collar into an empty classroom as everyone was filling out of the Great Hall. “What was that?” Draco asked, cold and unnerving.
Harry sighed, “You can’t seriously believe Dumbledore would allow Lucius Malfoy into Hogwarts. He tried to kill me!”
“He’s my father!”
“Congratulations, but he still tried to bloody kill me!” Exclaimed Harry, their voices raising with each sentence. “Do you want it in Morse code? Pen and paper?”
“I get it, I do.” Draco slumped in a seat, defeated. “But I… I thought that maybe, if he was telling the truth that I could…” he folded his arms, looking away. Harry kept his stance, “get them to change sides?”
“But why? Why do you care?” Harry just couldn’t understand it. They willingly gave up Draco, one of the most wonderful people Harry had ever met, just because he didn’t show signs of magic.
“For Florian. Why else?”
There was something deeper to that, Harry knew. So, Harry pushed. “Alright Pinocchio.” He pulled up a chair opposite Draco.
Grumbling, Draco replied, “If Florian had a good influence then-”
“Florian Ferret Malfoy is not who I’m concerned about, Mr Darcy.” Draco was shocked and Harry sighed, “Hermione got it me as a present, so I had to read it.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“A coherent sentence would be nice.”
“The cat sat on the mat.”
“The Draco was annoying.” Harry responded. Draco pursed his lips, hiding a laugh. He didn’t realise it, but he and Florian were so much more alike than Harry wanted to admit. But somehow, on Draco it was endearing or attractive or regal. On Florian it was obnoxious, egotistical, and poncy.
He wasn’t responding, it was a hard thing to admit. Harry responded, “You think Lucius and Narcissa would love you unconditionally. That you’d… have your parents back, like you wanted when you were a kid.” Harry knew that pain like no other. Imagining at night what his life would be like. Their hugs, their talks, family nights in, chatting at the dinner table in a loving, bright, lively household.
Carefully, Harry put his hand on Draco’s. Not squeezing, just resting. “It was stupid.” Draco dismissed, standing up and taking his hand away.
“Draco it’s not stupid.”
“We’re going to be late.” He grabbed his bag, heading for Potions already.
It was Christmas break in two months, and Harry was determined to show Draco he had a family no matter what. That he, Sirius, Remus and Tonks could be his family.
After Potions, Draco wanted to go to the library, continuing to read books upon books containing any magical spells he could get his hands on. Mainly, Draco wanted to know what each spell did, to know what limits there were. Because if he tried something that wasn’t already a spell, then maybe nothing would happen, and what could be more embarrassing?
Hermione joined him, also wanting to read up on spells, but the defensive kind. Naturally, Harry tagged along and so did Ron before Lavender could whisk him away. Harry was very happy he wasn’t the only one feeling the awkward tension anymore.
Peacefully, Harry rested his head on Draco’s lap as Draco levitated the book above him, leaning back on the couch so he was comfortable. One hand carded its fingers through Harry’s hair, undoing whatever knots it found smoothly, and the other one swiped like he was turning a page whenever he was done with it.
In his hands, Harry fiddled with his glasses. What else was he meant to do? Read? There was Ron, throwing a Quaffle at the wall and it bouncing back. Every time, Ron caught it and threw it the same way. Taking a deep breath, Hermione tried her best to block it out. “Some of us are trying to concentrate.” She finally bit.
“Exactly, Harry, breathe quieter.” Ron said, throwing the Quaffle once more. Throughout the whole day Ron had the Quaffle in his bag, shrunk, and would take it out to throw it in his hands on the way to Potions, to the Great Hall, and even when he finished Breakfast.
Draco grabbed his book from the air and the movement caught Harry’s attention, looking at what Draco was doing. With a flick of Draco’s wrist, the ball popped mid-air. “Hey!” Whined Ron, looking accusingly at Draco.
“She told you to stop.” Draco shrugged, ignoring the glares. “Isn’t the match tomorrow?”
“So?” Ron mumbled, taking a seat finally.
“So shouldn’t you already be practised, prepared?” Draco carried on reading as he spoke, somehow taking in all the information.
“What’s it to you?”
Draco smirked, “Nice to know the Gryffindor’s aren’t ready. We were going to win regardless, but it just makes our victory so much sweeter.”
Before Ron could respond, Harry reached up to knock the book out of Draco’s hands. As it fell to the floor, Draco tutted and whacked Harry’s head. “Oi!” Yelped Harry, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head.
“I don’t know about you, but all your… Weasley-ness makes it hard to concentrate.” He scowled at Ron, “And I can’t be seen fraternising with the enemy, so ta rah.” Draco walked out, leaving the Golden Trio.
“What do you see in him?” Ron asked Harry.
“Me, hopefully.” Hermione hit him this time.