Merely Players

Class Four - Meisner repetition

Harry is running late. He can’t even apparate because he and Hermione had made such a fuss about Malfoy taking public transport to get to the studio. Hermione had made the argument that Malfoy needed to know how to get to and from his flat in case his muggle classmates asked him, or realised they came and went the same way but never saw him.

Harry had just wanted to know Draco Malfoy had taken the Underground.

No matter the reason, Harry is implicitly committed to taking the Tube and a bus to get to class, even though apparating would get him there with time to spare. Somehow, the thought of Draco being similarly buffeted about and brushed against by strangers doesn’t soothe him as it usually does.

He’s glowering when he storms into class fifteen minutes late; Taylor glances up from the warmup with a wounded expression and signals that Harry should wait until they’re finished. How he manages to convey so much disappointment in a silent look is– well, Harry supposes it’s acting.

He leans up against the wall and watches everyone silently…doing whatever it is they are meant to be doing. Maybe it’s for the best that Harry missed this one; their eyes are closed, and there are a lot of bizarre contortions happening in the room. Sara is red-faced, visibly struggling to balance on one foot with her other three limbs akimbo. Kam looks placid and terrifying as always, in a sort of arched crabwalk with one arm held aloft. Her eyes are, of course, open, and locked on Harry. Brent’s pose is heroic, and he looks strong and beautiful. Harry’s eyes sort of skitter over him. Best not to look, he thinks to himself.

He’s chuckling slightly at Draco’s grimace as he holds a deep lunge with his back arched and arms wide when Taylor gently murmurs, ‘’Now open your eyes and come back to yourselves.’’

Draco opens his eyes directly into Harry’s gaze. His eyes go wide and his lips part in surprise, before he is toppling over into Richard, who is just emerging from an odd squat and tumbles down with him, laughing.

They untangle themselves – Richard, Harry notes dourly, is not trying particularly hard – and Harry makes sure to be looking elsewhere by the time Draco might, conceivably, look back at Harry.

If he was going to.

Even if he does, Harry wouldn’t know, because he is walking over to Taylor to apologise for being late. ‘’Trouble with my connection,’’ he mumbles. Taylor burrows his chin deeper into his stylish scarf and murmurs, ‘’Harry, this is your class. Don’t apologise to me; apologise to yourself and your fellow classmates.’’ He drifts away, leaving Harry uncertain as to how literally he meant that.

He makes a face at Kam, who is standing nearest. ‘’Uh…sorry,’’ he offers. She narrows her eyes at him and doesn’t respond. ‘’Right,’’ he says, feeling foolish, and spins around to hang up his coat.

Draco catches him at the coat rack. ‘’Look,’’ he says excitedly, groping for his own coat on the peg and reaching into the pocket with a furtive motion that has Harry wildly wondering if he’s about to whip out his wand, or muggle drugs.

Instead, it’s…a phone. Harry looks blankly at it, then back up at Draco in confusion.

Draco’s eyes are wide with enthusiasm. ‘’For googling,’’ he whispers.

Harry can feel that his face is melting into a smile that could generously be categorised as ‘fond’. What is the point of these godforsaken classes if he can’t even control his face?

Abruptly, Draco says, ‘’Give me your phone number, Potter.’’ Before Harry can respond, Draco presses on. ‘’I did find out what a phone is for besides ‘googling,’ you know,’’ he adds impatiently, ‘’and it is absurd not to have a single phone number in my phone.’’ There is another beat during which Harry might squeeze in a response, then Draco cuts him off again. ‘’And really, who amongst my acquaintances might I put in there?’’

Harry, mutinous, is on the cusp of acidly suggesting that Richard might be interested in having his number in Draco’s phone, when he notices how frantically Draco’s fingers are spinning the phone round and round.

He takes the phone from Draco’s hand and begins putting himself in as a contact. ‘’Might I suggest,’’ he says wryly, ‘’a phone case? If you’re going to keep fiddling with it like that.’’

Draco is nodding eagerly, relief writ across his face. ‘’Yes. A phone case. I will– find out what that is.’’

Harry smiles reluctantly. ‘’And a passcode. So no one knows what weird wizard shit you’re googling.’’ He hands the phone back to Draco, who slips it reverently back into his coat pocket, and turns to find Richard observing them. Harry pauses for a moment, then – he can’t say exactly why – he gives a sarcastic little wave and a smile and saunters across the room to join Sara and Brent.

‘’Now that you’ve gotten to know each other,’’ Taylor murmurs, ‘’I’ll be pairing you for the exercises. We don’t want any of you to get too comfortable.’’ He waggles his phone at them briefly, and Draco’s face lights up in recognition. ‘’I’ve put all your names in an app, so…’’ Taylor pokes the screen. ‘’OK, Sara and Mitch; Lindsay and Kam; Draco and Harry–’’

Harry wanders over to Draco and mutters, ‘’You ready for whatever fresh hell today brings?’’ Draco’s tentative smile widens into a surprised beam.

Once all the pairs have been announced, Taylor says, ‘’This is a Meisner repetition activity.’’ He is caressing his scarf as he speaks. ‘’You may have noticed that a lot of the activities come from the Meisner technique; it’s really the framework on which this class is built –’’ His tone abruptly shifts from bored to accusatory, ‘’Sanford Meisner was a genius.’’ He stares around at them all as though challenging them to disagree, then sinks back into his scarf. ‘’A genius,’’ he whispers, still stroking his scarf.

‘’OK, so basically,’’ Taylor seems to come back to himself, ‘’one of you will make a short statement. ‘Your shirt is blue’, or ‘You look tired.’ The other will repeat it back to you with the same intonation, and you’ll do this back and forth until I tell you to stop.’’ He pauses to check their comprehension, then smirks. ‘’Sounds easy, doesn’t it?’’

The class stands for a moment, awaiting further instruction.

‘’So…that’s it?’’ Harry no one in particular.

‘’What a fruitful and worthwhile course this is turning out to be for me,’’ Malfoy says thoughtfully. ‘’To think, I nearly missed the opportunity to describe your clothing to you over and over again.’’

Harry rolls his eyes. ‘’You start. I cannot think of a single thing to say, and that’s obviously not a problem for you.’’

‘’No, you’re right; I am remarkably eloquent.’’ Before Harry can protest that wasn’t quite what he’d meant, Draco is swinging around to face him head on. Face to face, Harry is abruptly aware of how close together they’re standing, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to be the one to take a step back. He feels oddly tense as Draco holds his eyes and takes in a deep, sharp breath before saying, ‘’Your hair is a mess.’’

‘’Oh for fuck’s sake, is this really–’’

‘’Only what your partner says,’’ Taylor sings out from somewhere behind Harry.

Glaring, Harry repeats, ‘’Your hair is a mess.’’

Draco’s smile is smug. ‘’Your hair is a mess.’’

‘’Your hair is a mess.’’

‘’Your hair is a mess.’’ Draco’s smile has faded a bit as the words become rote.

‘’Your hair is a mess.’’

‘’Your hair is a mess.’’

‘’Your hair is a mess,’’ Harry can barely feel himself saying the words at this point. He desperately wants to glance around to see if everyone else is still doing this, but his eyes are locked on Draco’s. Some of his panicked disbelief must show, because Draco’s lips twitch, and there is a hint of amusement to his next,

‘’Your hair is a mess.’’

Right. Harry will not be laughed at while doing this– objectively silly thing. He will NOT. He squares his shoulders, lifts his chin, and stares blazingly into Draco’s eyes.

‘’You hair. Is. a mess.’’

Draco’s eyebrows shoot up and a faint flush rises on his cheeks. ‘’Your hair is a mess.’’ He bites the inside of his lip; it’s funny how much Harry notices staring at close range. Draco’s lips are chapped, and he has a freckle just under his left eye.

‘’Your hair is a mess,’’ for example, he doesn’t recall noticing people blushing much before, but he can clearly see the way the flush is spreading down Draco’s neck and higher on his cheeks.

Draco’s eyes flit away from his as he responds, ‘’Your hair is a mess.’’

Taylor’s clap is jarring, and Harry stumbles back a step before looking around at him. Draco’s eyes remain downcast. ‘’Now try another statement, but this time the person responding should repeat the fact in agreement, as though about themselves – your shirt is blue, then my shirt is blue.’’ He waves his hands in a shooing motion. ‘’Go ahead; don’t lose momentum.’’

Harry casts about frantically for a neutral observation to make. His eyes flick over Draco’s face before he remembers noticing, ‘’Your lips are chapped.’’

Draco eyes snap back to his. Startled, he replies, ‘’Your– my lips are chapped.’’

‘’Your lips are chapped.’’

‘’My lips are chapped,’’ and there is a faint tremble to the lips as Draco says this.

‘’Your lips are chapped,’’ is it weird that Harry noticed that?

‘’My lips are chapped,’’ Draco’s voice is still tinged with disbelief, like maybe he thinks it was weird that Harry said that.

‘’Your lips are chapped,’’ but, like, Draco had said the thing about Harry’s hair, and, fine, that was meant to be an insult, but chapped lips aren’t, like, a compliment, so maybe this is the same thing? Harry can feel his face heating and distantly wonders if Draco can see it as clearly as he could. Draco is so white; maybe it’s less obvious on Harry’s darker skin?

‘’My lips are chapped.’’

‘’Your lips,’’ Harry clears his throat, ‘’your lips are chapped.’’

‘’My lips are chapped’’

‘’Your lips are chapped.’’

‘’My lips are chapped,’’ Draco is starting to sound slightly out of breath.

‘’Your lips–’’

‘’Great work, everyone,’’ Taylor enthuses.

Harry blinks himself back to the class, slightly dazed. He’s not the only one, by the looks of it. Sara is near tears, Brent looks about ready to punch his partner, and even Kam seems a bit shaken. He looks back at Draco, who immediately looks away.

‘’So as you may have noticed,’’ Taylor continues, smoothly ignoring all the emotional turbulence in the room, ‘’this exercise can get a little intense. We’ll take a break for now, then come back with new partners for the next stages.’’

Draco mumbles something about his water bottle and scurries to the corner where he left his bag without so much as a glance at Harry.

The next stage is about ‘responding to cues of emotion and tone’. ‘’Allow yourself to be influenced by your partner, and they will be influenced by you.’’ This time, Harry is paired with Brent, and while he finds himself a little mesmerised by the sheer symmetry of Brent’s face, he is relieved that the break must have cleared his head or something, because he makes it through without confusion.

______________________________

The next morning, Harry is luxuriating in making a lazy Saturday omelette when his phone dings. He ignores it at first – Hermione is really the only person who texts him, and she knows how to get hold of him if it’s an emergency – but then it keeps dinging, so he wipes off his hands and grabs it.

Unknown

Dear Harry,

This is Draco Malfoy. Please confirm that this is you. I don’t want to accidentally be sending messages to a stranger.

Especially about you-know-what.

Sincerely,

DLM

Harry wrinkles his nose and types back.

Harry

u don’t have to address it like a letter

just type and send

like ur talking

Draco Malfoy

Sweet Merlin, you are uncouth

Harry

wut do u want draco im cooking

Draco Malfoy

For whom? I know you don’t like to cook for just you…

Harry

omg WHAT

Draco Malfoy

OK fine.

Can you please explain what the bird is?

Harry

the….bird

Draco Malfoy

Yes, it’s everywhere, and I don’t know what it means.

Mystified, Harry stares at his phone for a moment, then looks around, in case the bird is, in fact, everywhere.

Harry

like an owl? Or…?

Draco Malfoy

No, it’s more like a bluebird, I suppose.

I’m not an expert in ornithology.

But it is blue, and it looks like your basic bird.

After another moment of thought, Harry rolls his eyes, opens twitter, and takes a screenshot.

Harry

draco omg

do you mean this?

Draco Malfoy

How did it get here? How did you do that?

Harry

let me just finish my breakfast

ill explain everything

______________________________

After his omelette, Harry treats himself to a leisurely shopping expedition – first to Waitrose, then to Plentiful Foods for some spices. He’s going over to Ginny’s and Neville’s tonight – a surprising choice of roommates at first, but now it was so obvious that their friendship was the kind that could collide in small spaces – and while Neville is a half-decent cook, Ginny has proven resistant to all of Molly’s attempts to hand down the family recipes, which means Harry gets to try his hand at a full meal.

He spends the afternoon with his head in the Dishoom cookbook, determined to get this right. He rarely gets to cook an entire meal for anyone but himself, and it feels much more purposeful to prep five different sauces, toppings, and fillings before even starting on the dishes themselves when he knows other people will appreciate it.

Ginny had told him they’d keep the floo open, but he opts not to floo over with his lovingly crafted kofta and jackfruit biryani and risk spilling it all in their fireplace; instead, he apparates to their doorstep. He briefly considers ringing the bell, for the fun of it, but the last time, his hat had a tail of feathers that kept knocking over everyone’s drinks and trailing in the food, and while it was funny at first, you really couldn’t remove the damn thing until you left the house. For good – even if you stepped outside and came back in, the magic knew, and the hat remained.

Instead, Harry let himself in, shouting, ‘’I’ve brought food!’’ as he kicked the door closed behind him.

A faint cheer rings out from the kitchen, so he heads in there.

He enters the room to find Ginny and Nev sitting on the same side of the table, facing him as he enters. Ginny is holding a tiny pair of glasses on a stick up to her face, while Neville, sporting elbow-length gloves, is squinting through a small, ornate pair of binoculars. When Harry stops in surprise, Neville enthusiastically cries, ‘’Oh, I say!’’ and Ginny bursts into applause.

‘’What,’’ Harry says intelligently, ‘’is happening?’’

‘’Smashing performance, truly,’’ Ginny drawls in posh, still applauding delicately. Neville lowers the binoculars, relaxing into his usual easy grin, and says, ‘’Spectacular entrance, Harry; those acting classes are doing wonders.’’

‘’Oh my god,’’ Harry thunks the dishes down on the table. ‘’I made you food, you numpties.’’

Ginny, still committed to the bit, gasps theatrically and turns to Neville. ‘’What an inspired choice! Is he improvising?’’

Neville doesn’t respond, too focused on lifting the edge of the foil to smell the jackfruit biryani. Ginny prods him with her weird stick-glasses. He laughs, batting them away, as she cries, ‘’You brute! I shall destroy you with my lorgnette!’’

Harry gives up on protesting and flops into a chair. ‘’Your what?’’

‘’It’s a lorgnette,’’ Neville explains cheerfully. ‘’We did a lot of research into theatre accoutrements. Possibly too much research,’’ he looks at Ginny pointedly, as she gasps and puts a hand to her chest. ‘’These are ‘Galilean binoculars’,’’ Neville adds, waving them illustratively. ‘’Well, actually, they’re an old, broken pair of omnioculars that have been lightly transfigured into Galilean binoculars, but.’’

Ginny’s lorgnette is confiscated before the kofta is even served, due to excessive poking in faces and waving around for emphasis. Her complaints about the confiscation, however, carry them well into the eating of the jackfruit biryani.

‘’You are not getting this back,’’ Harry waves the lorgnette threateningly at Ginny, then stares, appalled, at his own hand.

‘’Yeah,’’ Ginny says smugly. ‘’It’s really satisfying, isn’t it.’’

Glaring at her, Harry holds the lorgnette out to Neville, who grabs it and shoves it into a container that holds two cooking spoons, a spatula, and three trick wands.

‘’Ugh, fine,’’ Ginny takes a bite then adds, ‘’Hey, how is having your own place treating you?’’ around her mouthful of food.

‘’It’s alright,’’ Harry shrugs. ‘’I mean, it’s not like it was crowded with Ron and Hermione there, you know?’’

‘’I’m impressed you can live there alone,’’ Neville tells him honestly. ‘’I used to insist someone stay in the room with me when we were clearing it out after the war.’’ He has what Ginny describes as his ‘sad pug’ face on, as he self-deprecatingly adds, ‘’You’ve always been a lot more confident than me, though.’’

Ginny doesn’t even pause in eating as she swats Neville on the back of the head. Harry bursts out laughing. ‘’Ow, Gin!’’ Neville protests. ‘’That wasn’t…self-defeating, or whatever; that was—’’ Ginny’s hand twitches upward once more. ‘’No, OK, fine. Fine,’’ he says to her half-raised hand.

‘’Neville, you’re possibly the most confident person I know,’’ Harry says, still laughing. ‘’You just haven’t noticed because you’ve always got your head in your plants.’’

‘’I think that, currently, Neville’s got his eye on a very particular flower,’’ Ginny says archly. Neville flushes, which is odd, given that his love of botany is hardly a secret.

‘’That’s…nice,’’ Harry says carefully. It is nice, probably. He never got especially high marks in herbology, but it’s good that Neville seems to have found his niche.

Ginny’s expression is earnest in a way Harry has learned to be wary of. ‘’It is,’’ she confirms. ‘’It is nice that Neville has found his heart’s-ease. After all, you never know what might be found in idleness.’’

Neville’s flush deepens, and he splutters, ‘’Ginny! Have you– Did you– What did you do?’’

Ginny’s eyes are wide and innocent, ‘’Neville, what on earth do you mean?’’

‘’Are you reading my botany books just so you can tease me? That’s–’’ Neville pauses, then subsides, ‘’No, I suppose that’s a normal amount of commitment to the bit, for you.’’ He waves a hand wearily at her. ‘’I still think you’re searching for a unicorn calf in a dragon’s nest, but fine, go ahead.’’

‘’Harry, once more?’’ Ginny proposes cheerfully, before throwing back her head and cackling.

-----------------------------------------

Class Five - True or False

Cursing his luck at having to go first in the True or False exercise, Harry rifles frantically through his memories. He obviously can’t tell any stories from Hogwarts, as they’re all riddled with magic. Anything about the Dursleys is right out. Maybe a night in at Ron and Hermione’s? As soon as he’s thought that, he bans it from consideration. Ron and Hermione are his, and they’re precious, and he won’t share them here. Unfortunately, if Ron and Hermione are out, and Hogwarts, that really only leaves…

He groans internally, then says, ‘’So I grew up with my aunt and uncle, and their son Dudley, who was such a tosser.’’ He takes a beat, considering, then shakes his head. ‘’Such a tosser,’’ he repeats. As he describes Dudley and Piers chasing him around the neighbourhood on their bikes, flinging dog shit at him – ‘’where did they get it? Even at the time, I remember thinking, like, ‘okay, I don’t want to be pelted with dog shit, but like…they are holding it? They could have been, you know, not holding dog shit. That was an option they had’’’ – he feels almost nostalgic. He hadn’t enjoyed the dog shit, but in retrospect, it felt much more like silly childhood larks than some of the things he, Ron, and Hermione had gotten up to at school. He and Ron had howled with laughter about Dudley and Piers collecting the dog shit when he’d recounted this story in third year.

‘’Our neighbour, Mrs. Beaumont, caught them and marched me home and told my Aunt Petunia all about it, but she said, ah,’’ as the rest of the story takes shape in his memory, Harry finds himself wishing he’d chosen a different one. ‘’She said,’’ he mumbles, ‘’that her sweet little Dudley would never dirty his hands like that, and she didn’t notice that I smelled any different than usual.’’ He’d gotten a week in the cupboard for that, for ‘’telling lies about Dudders and making them look bad in front of the neighbours.’’ He tries for a laugh. ‘’I’d sort of hoped going away to school would mean no more bullies, but it turns out they have them at school, too – just a bit pointier.’’

There is a long silence. Harry fidgets a bit, looking down at the floor, until he can’t stand it any longer, then he looks across the room. Draco’s face is stricken, and they hold each other’s gaze for a long moment.

The silence is broken by a laugh from Richard. ‘’No way, Harry,’’ he protests. ‘’There were a lot of convincing details, but you overdid it on your aunt.’’

Kam’s inscrutable expression goes a bit harder at that, but Brent and Sara look relieved at this assessment. Brent agrees, ‘’No one would be that much of a shit to a little kid.’’

Harry forces another chuckle as he wobbles down from the front of the room. Taylor brushes a hand over Harry’s shoulder as he moves past, in a gesture that could be intended as comforting – or, considering that it’s Taylor, could have been entirely absentminded.

‘’Thanks, Harry,’’ Taylor croons, ‘’OK, Draco, you’re up.’’

Still wide-eyed, Draco stumbles to the front. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment, then begins.

‘’I went, as I am sure you can all imagine,’’ his mouth twists into a wry smile, ‘’to a very posh boarding school. When I was 11, there was to be a new student – something of a celebrity, really, and as I knew absolutely everyone there was to know in my tiny environment, the idea of meeting not only someone new, but someone so different, of befriending him and being his guide into our world and also getting to lord it over everyone else that I was their gate to him – it was intoxicating. Combine that with the fact that my father would have been horrified at the idea of me associating with this boy, but too awed by his social clout and too far away to forbid it – I spent hours daydreaming about meeting him, about impressing him, about the two of us squirreled away together somewhere, making new kinds of plans, plans I couldn’t even fathom yet.’’

Draco shakes himself out of his starry-eyed reverie. ‘’I did have some sense that life could be different than my father insisted it was, but I wasn’t quite sure how. So when I heard he was on the same train as me en route to school, I determined that I would speak to him.’’ Draco laughs self-deprecatingly. ‘’I say that like it was a surprise, but really, I’d known he’d be there for years. I’d been planning for years. I was certain he would be just like me, as spoiled, as self-important, as…cherished. As I had been.’’

‘’So I greeted him as I would have wanted to be greeted: as a respected adult. I shoved my hand at him and told him I could help him. I meant, of course, that we could help each other, but my father had taught me better than to reveal needs or desires. I’ve played that moment over and over again in my mind ever since. ‘The right sort’, I called myself,’’ Draco wrinkles his nose in distaste.

‘’Predictably, he thought I was a massive twat. And, to be fair, I was. I just…it never occurred to me that he had been…’’ Draco’s eyes sort of drift across the wall above Harry’s head, ‘’that he had been raised differently to me.’’

‘’I spent the rest of our school years tormenting him,’’ Draco is almost dreamy now. ‘’I think he thought it was for the rejection, and everyone else thought it was because he was very much Not Our Sort, but deep down, I always knew it was in retaliation for those lost dreams of having a best friend, of being a different sort of person with someone’s help.’’

After a beat, Draco grins and adds, ‘’This all made a lot more sense years later, when I realised I was queer.’’ The grin suddenly sours as his eyes fly, panicked, to Harry. Which is a bit offensive, really; Harry certainly doesn’t care if people are queer, and he isn’t going to out Draco to other wizards, or whatever he’s worried about.

Harry spends the rest of the stories watching Draco, who seems to be struggling to recover his composure. He’s sat back down next to Kam, whose face remains impassive, but who laces her fingers with his on the floor, squeezing every time Draco’s breath hitches. Draco must be really worried about Harry outing him. What even is the pureblood position on queerness? They’re so obsessed with lineage, it can’t be positive, Harry thinks.

Harry mulls this over as Taylor leads them through a closing meditation, then, making up his mind, jostles his way through the chattering crowd until he is right next to Draco.

‘’I’m bi,’’ he announces gruffly.

Draco freezes next to him, one arm shoved through his coat.

‘’I just– I know what it’s like to– not to know if–’’ Harry huffs impatiently. ‘’I’m not going to tell anyone.’’

Draco slowly rotates toward him, still with one arm held aloft and the other poised in the act of drawing the rest of his coat around his shoulders. His eyes are bugging out in a way Harry has never seen before, and Harry has seen him losing a war. He must be really terrified of people finding out.

‘’I promise,’’ Harry says more kindly. ‘’No one is going to hear about you being queer from me.’’

Draco nods jerkily and then walks off, still not bothering to finish putting on his coat.

-----------------------------------------

Tuesday, 7.47pm

Draco Malfoy

Harry

Harry this is an emergency

Harry are you there

Harry

jfc u can just say what u want to say

ill see it eventually

Draco Malfoy

Harry there is no time for your terrible manners.

I need you to confirm for me

Is this or is this not Professor McGonagall?

Harry

its not…NOT Mcgon

where did u even see this?

Draco Malfoy

Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been clicking things at random for hours.

The Internet. Somewhere on the Internet.

Somewhere on the Internet that had a photo of McGogs wanting a cheezborger

Is a cheezborger different from a cheeseburger?

Harry

no its a meme

Draco Malfoy

Like it’s the same? Why would you randomly say that in French?

So a cheezborger is the same as a cheeseburger?

Harry

i didnt say anything in french?

no a meme is like…

Well, Harry thinks, it’s not the worst way he’s ever passed a Tuesday night.

Harry wakes the next morning to 37 notifications on his phone. Draco appears to have found every meme on the internet and sent it to him, with commentary and references to their mutual acquaintances. The final one, sent at 2.41am, reads

Draco Malfoy

The Hogwarts houses

Harry squints at this for a moment.

Harry

wut

draco

wtf happened to u last nite?

After a long moment, he reluctantly adds

Harry

which one is gryff?

Draco Malfoy

When you know, you know

Harry

i regret ever telling u about the internet

Draco Malfoy

I regret that it is so wasted on you.