Gossip Girl
“It’s always something with you, isn’t it?”
He should be working on his homework, or drinking with Blaise since they already have enough material to go on for their little drinking game, or catching up on the sleep he’s missing, or doing whatever the hell normal students do on Friday nights.
But instead Draco’s here, following Harry down to the Chamber.
Again.
“First year you just had to go stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
They step around a pile of bones.
“And then second year, you couldn’t just leave things alone, don’t glare at me, you literally withheld a powerful Dark Artifact that was responsible for all that shit! I’m not saying you didn’t have a right to be curious, I’m just saying that if you had gone to Dumbledore none of that would have happened.”
Harry rolls his eyes, “Alright. I’ll give you those two, but last year? You can’t blame me for being worried about a supposed serial killer out to get me.”
“No.” Draco grins back. “You think I can’t blame you, but it’s your own fault for being out of the castle after curfew.”
“Because we always follow the rules here.”
Draco leads the way to the snake door this time. “Obviously.”
It’s weirdly comforting to return to Geia after a long day. Like seeing an old friend, or in his case, a being brought to such a low that not knowing one singular question in Charms seems a little silly. Besides, he knew it after a few seconds, and he highly doubts Geia knows the answer to her little predicament yet.
Because he cannot speak Snake, no matter what his peers thought two years ago, Draco spends the time studying the Chamber. It’s bigger than the Malfoy Ballroom, which is saying something because their ballroom is three stories high and at least the width of a normal house, but dirty. Winky will have a field day if he ever lets her down here, which he might because she seems to enjoy decorating. He’s under no illusion that the flower lights in his dorm room had been Snape’s idea, not after her stunt in the Gang’s Room, which they really need to name.
He doesn’t move, but he does envision a place that isn’t so dirty and filled with death and squalor. Even though Polly refused to interact with him after the whole Lockheart thing, he would never let her cage get this disgusting.
Salazar Slytherin would have a fit if he knew what his great room has been reduced to.
“Okay. She says you can clean her wounds now, and yes, she did swear not to eat you.”
Draco moves closer to the being, and the closer he gets the more annoyed he becomes.
Geia clearly hasn’t had a bath in a few hundred years, give or take. She smells awful but somehow looks even worse now that he’s over the whole Possible Threat thing, he’s seriously considering letting Winky and Dobby know where he disappeared to so they can give her something better than this.
He tells her just that.
“You’d probably feel better after a bath, you know.” He keeps his voice low so Harry can’t make fun of him. “Polly always liked baths….you don’t know who Polly is. She’s my snake, the one I have at home, I mean. A complete beauty, she’s a garter, with little white lines on the side of her. We found her at this island my family has a house on. Well, my mother found her in the shower. Little baby at the time, but she was so small and sweet I had to keep her. She’s nearly twenty seven inches now, so roughly the size of your head, huh?”
Draco uses his wand to gently cascade water over the wound on her head, there’s no way in hell he can reach it otherwise. “Anyways, once we took her back when we went on vacation. I was eight at the time, and mother threw this ridiculous dinner party, naturally forgetting all about me and Polly, since the dogs had just died we were trying to make my father feel better- I’m about to go over your eyes, please don’t bite me.”
Geia hisses, he gets a mouthful of bad breath. Harry chuckles. “She says she won’t eat you and to finish your story.”
Somehow, he highly doubts the Basilisk wants to hear about his little asshole who won’t even let him hold her now, but he works better when he talks, so Geia will just have to suck it up.
“Bossy.” He chides, taking his wand out again. “So, there we were, having this beautiful outdoor gathering, and Polly slithers up to me, probably because the house elves were all too afraid to feed her, and people started freaking out. And like, I get it of course, most of the people associated snakes with That One Asshole, you know the one, but they completely over reacted. Someone had the audacity to stab her!”
Geia huffs, and her breath still makes him want to retch, but “I know, right?! I’m about to use some disinfectant, it might sting.”
Draco does back up for this spell, but only because he has to rub it in with his hands and he can’t cast with no space. A flick of his wrist later and the familiar substance is there, bringing back way too many memories of his cursed wound. But he’s stronger than he was when he got it, so he just shakes his head and gets back to work.
“Like, we were all having such a nice time and then you have to go and hurt my pet? It was a dick move, at the least. So anyways, after I hexed the bastard, I immediately freaked out because mother’s told me for years that there’s no way to heal a snake, and Polly was just bleeding so she just took the snake and disappeared. I still don’t know what happened, but now my poor baby has this little scar right on her back. She lived, of course, which is why I’m bothering to help you, but the point is that during her rehabilitation period, she developed this love for baths.”
One eye down, one to go.
“Whenever I would take bubble baths she’d always try to sneak in so I eventually just added a little spring to her tank. Which is a problem now because she refuses to interact with me. She’s lucky our house elves got over their silly little fears, or she wouldn’t be getting fed. Though all they’ve had to do since that dinner party is throw some meat in her tank and run, so I don’t guess it’s hard.”
Draco taps her nose twice and her head sinks into the ground so he can reach the wound at the top of her head. It’s a stretch but he really doesn’t want to get more grossness on his robes than necessary.
“And though I was originally just trying to convince you to take a bath, you’re probably wondering why Polly isn’t talking to me anymore, and let me tell you: it’s all Harry’s fault!”
“What’s my fault?” Harry asks from a few feet away.
Draco pauses to smile sweetly at him. “Everything.”
He turns back and completely ignores Harry’s reply so he can recount the events of Polly’s adventure in the Dueling Club.
“There was this idiot professor in second year, his name was Lockheart and everyone with a brain hated him, because he very obviously did not have one. The self-glorifying prick started this dueling club and my godfather, who’s also my Head of House, made me take part in it against that moron over there. And while Harry is also an idiot, I don’t want to seriously hurt him, you know? Like sometimes I want to strangle him for the amount of trouble he gets himself into, but I kinda need him around. But there we were, dueling against each other and he was playing dirty and I remembered how scared everyone at the dinner party was so I summoned Polly.”
Draco sighs, realizing he’s not going to be able to reach all of the wound from where he’s standing. “Can I climb on your back? I can’t reach. Also, is this stuff stinging you? The wound is clearly infected and I’m not sure this will work, but if it’s burning that’s actually apparently a good sign.”
Geia hisses, Draco holds his breath so the smell won’t bother him this time.
“She says yes, and that it um…”
“It what?” Draco whirls on him with a raised eyebrow.
Harry’s shoulders sag. “It burns, but not as bad as Godric’s sword.”
Draco blinks twice.
“You stabbed her with the Sword of Gryffindor?”
“Yes? I thought you watched it all in the foe glass?”
Draco takes a deep breath, “I watched you take down Child Riddle with a snake bite on your left arm, I saw Ginny freak out, and I saw Fawkes heal you. I did not, however, see you stab Geia with a fucking enchanted sword!” Geia hisses in what he assumes is agreement, but it brings up another topic he wishes he didn’t have to deal with. He turns to her regardless.
“And while we’re on the subject matter, you have a missing tooth don’t you?! Open your mouth!”
Snakes can’t really have facial expressions, but she gives off a distinct amused vibe as she complies. Sure enough, giant sharp teeth are covered with semi dried blood and there’s another, probably infected, wound on the top left of her mouth.
No wonder her breath is so awful.
“Thank you. I’ll deal with that as soon as I finish with your head. That wound is clearly going to take more work.” He sends a glare to Harry, who shrinks from the weight of it. “I’ll climb on now, if that’s okay.”
Geia lowers her head and Draco takes it as a ‘go ahead’. Once he’s on top and away from her teeth he recasts the spell and gets to work. “Merlin, Harry. The Sword of Gryffindor is essentially a Dark Weapon!”
“Like the one your father used on you?”
“Please.” Draco snorts. “Firstly, my father was possessed, kind of, let’s not forget about that. Secondly, Dark Weapons are more than just a spell cast on a premade object. Take the sword, for example. It was forged by Goblins for a known Dark Hunter, and I don’t know if you know anything about Dark Hunters, but they literally go around killing creatures made from Dark Magic. And in order to do that, you have to have something made by Dark Magic. Even in the old times it was rare to find one, but even then it was always people like Godric with his sword, Marie Laveau and her Voodoo Pins, the Holy Stakes used to take down that ‘Dracula’ guy-”
“Wait a second. You’re telling me Dracula isn’t a myth? I thought that was just a bad TV Series that Dudley isn’t supposed to watch.”
“What’s a TV Series?”
Harry sighs, “It’s...well a TV is like this box and it plays things that are kinda like our Wizard Pictures, but instead of a few seconds of movement, it’s longer and there’s voices and stuff to go with it.”
“So like a play in a box?”
“Yeah!” Harry smiles at him, it’s not distracting at all and he totally doesn’t almost fall off Geia's back. “Sorry, I know it’s cool and I didn’t mean to distract you, you’re just too smart to not know about TVs.”
Draco does not blush. He just chooses this time to slide off Geia because he needs to look at her mouth, not because it gives him an excuse to hide his face. “Well, you’re too smart to know a werewolf and assume vampires don’t exist either.”
As soon as his feet hit the floor Geia hisses so he turns and looks at Harry expectantly.
“She, um, she said you still haven’t finished your story.”
Is that pink in his cheeks or are Draco’s eyes deceiving him?
“Are you blushing?”
“No!” He totally is. Draco really needs to find out if learning Parseltongue is a thing. “It’s just hot in here!”
It is not anywhere near hot in the Chamber. It’s actually kind of cold and damp, which he’ll be looking into the second Geia is down for it.
“Sorry, do you remember where I left off?”
She hisses, Draco regrets forgetting to hold his breath.
“Something about summoning Polly? You’re not talking to her about second year, are you?”
“Mind your business, Harry.” Draco turns back to her and taps on her lower lip so she’ll open her mouth. Casting a quick lumos to see is also a bad decision, but at least he can see the damage now.
“Oh yeah! So I summoned Polly, right? And that dumbass professor sent her flying! I was pissed, of course, and started to shout at him but then that one, the one still complaining over there, started speaking inParseltongue, and I was so shocked I ended up staring at him while my godfather sent her home, and I couldn’t go back and check on her until summer and she’s been pissed at me ever since.”
Draco rambles on while he works, and he has to admit it’s very nice to just talk. No replies, or even movements back. Like the type of talking he does with LuLu when he’s stressed.
He wonders if LuLu would like Geia as he cleans her missing tooth area with water from his wand. The Kneazle probably would, afterall she likes everyone who isn’t against him, and he can’t see Geia being against him when she’s letting him put disinfectant inside her mouth without a single flinch.
The image of tiny little LuLu curled up with the gigantic Geia nearly has him hyperventilating, but he can do that later. Right now he’s stepping away from the Basilisk and wiping his hands on his ruined robes.
“Okay. That should about do it for tonight. Harry and I will stop by every Friday to clean and disinfect you until we have a more permanent solution. Until then, would you mind if I sent some friends to clean you and the Chamber up? With the amount of filth around here there’s no telling if the disinfectant will even work, and since we have to keep your wounds clean it seems pretty silly not to just clean the rest of you. If they’re okay with it, would you mind?”
Draco remembers to hold his breath this time and he’s so thankful for it. The hiss is long and he’s not sure if he’d hold out in the wake of such exposure.
“She says she doesn’t care, but she won’t eat them if you send them. They just have to have proof that they know us is all, and if they try to hurt her she will kill them.”
That seems fair.
“Deal. I don’t think they’ll mind, but we’ll see. Goodnight Geia!”
He turns on his heel and walks away, waiting a second for Geia to hiss and Harry to follow so they can close the door behind them.
“She likes you, you know.” Harry tells him once the doors are shut.
“Of course she does. Everyone likes me.”
Harry gives him a look, Draco’s tempted to trip him on the way back up.
The letter from Sirius appears Wednesday morning at breakfast.
Hermione’s too invested in a book disguised to be her Ancient Runes text, but she’s not filling it to the brim with notes, so he’s willing to bet it’s actually some book with a possible clue to healing Geia. Ron’s almost equally into his eggs and grits, but he’s still aware enough to grin at the letter.
“From old Padfoot, eh?”
Harry grins back because by Godric does he hope so.
Having weird dreams accompanied by his scar hurting, the mess from the World Cup, and his new giant snake friend doesn’t exactly give him a warm feeling, but Sirius does. The knowledge that he and Remus are somewhere safe that they like makes him happy, and he still can’t wrap his head around adults being nice, or worse, caring about him.
Sure, McGonagall was nearing Mother point, and Mrs. Weasley had all but adopted him on the spot, but he’s never had a man care about him. Dumbledore’s always fifty-fifty depending on what mood he’s in, but he’s never freaked out about Harry being hurt like Sirius and Remus do. Dumbledore is no where near what he needs, and it fucking sucks, but he’s never had an image of a father.
Sirius and Remus are as close as it gets and he adores them for at least trying.
Though, Sirius could definitely use some work on his letters.
Really, what the fuck is he supposed to do with this?
Harry,
You better be safe when this letter reaches you.
Come to the Flamel’s Fireplace at midnight on Wednesday. I can’t specify why, just that it’s important that you do.
Love always,
Padfoot and Moony
There’s nothing. Literally nothing for him to go off of. He doesn’t even know what a Flamel is, much less it’s fireplace.
“Hey, ‘Mione-”
“Not now, Harry!” She snaps, turning a page and completely ignoring him. Rude, but seeing that she’s working on what is technically his problem, he lets it slide and turns to Ron.
“Do you know anything about the Flamel’s Fireplace?”
Ron shrugs, talking to him through a mouth full of food. “Flamail wike Nicoughless Flamail?”
“Mate…” Harry grimaces, “I know you love you eggs but I can’t understand you.”
Ron makes a big show of swallowing, takes a big gulp of orange juice just to be an ass and Harry’s two seconds away from going to the library by the time he’s done with his little act.
“Flamel like Nicolas Flamel?”
“I have no idea.”
Ron shrugs again, “He was the guy who came up with the Stone from first year, remember? The alchemist? Pretty famous, I’m talking the stuff of legends here. He and his wife did a whole lotta good during the first war, but he’s apparently dead. Shame too, mum said he was a pretty good professor before he left to work on the Stone full time.”
Fun facts are great, but that still doesn’t give him the information he needs.
Not that it matters, he can focus on it later when Hermione isn’t racing off to Ancient Runes with her real textbook while he and Ron try to figure out their Ancient Studies homework that’s due next period.
But, the thing is, having that little note in his pocket is more or less like having a ticking time bomb strapped to his chest. The more he tries not to think about it, the more he does, which means he has no clue what went on in Ancient Studies, lunch, or Muggle Studies. And he knows he should spend his free periods going over papers and homework, or at least trying to start on the Transfiguration project McGonagall gave them (Harry knows she’s still annoyed about last year, why else would they have a project two weeks in?),but instead he spends them in the library because his friends are clearly useless and hate him.
Usually he’s only here if Hermione dragged him in, and he’s kinda hoping she’ll stop by so she can have a small heart attack and actually help him.
With Sirius, not the whole Geia thing, which, he admits, might take precedence to a hopefully harmless fireplace.
Harry really hopes the fireplace doesn’t harm him, he’s had quite enough of being harmed for the rest of his life, thanks.
The only way it could possibly be damaging is if it’s the thing that finally manages to drive him to insanity, which isn’t all that unlikely because it’s five minutes to midnight and he still doesn’t know where the fuck he’s supposed to be.
He’d consulted the map, of course, but it had been about as helpful as Hermione during breakfast, so instead of being wherever the fuck Sirius wanted him to be, he’s in the Gang Room, and yes, he does agree with Draco, they really need a better name, but he didn’t know where else to go and this way he felt more like he was actually at least trying.
The door creaks open.
Harry’s wand is at the ready in a blink, but it’s pointless, because instead of some deranged killer coming to find and end him, it’s just Draco with a wary expression.
“You know I think it’s a little too late in the evening to be hexing anyone.”
Harry snorts, pocketing his wand. “Sorry, I didn’t expect anyone else to be here so late.”
“Well that makes two of us.”
Draco flicks his wand at one of the desks and a pile of papers appear, and then turns with his hands on his hips. “Want to explain why you’re here so late?”
There’s absolutely no reason for Harry to feel so small under such a gaze, it’s just him and the person he maybe, possibly, might have a crush on. There’s a fire burning in the background, and it dances on pointed cheekbones and for a second Harry has to fight to keep his hormones in check.
It’s almost easy when he remembers why he’s out of bed in the first place.
“Right, so, Sirius sent me this note telling me to meet him by the Flamel’s Fireplace, but I’ve been looking for it all day and I still can’t find it so I got frustrated and came here.”
Draco snorts like it’s something he expected, Harry expects some sort of ridicule in return, but instead his friend sits down at the table and starts flicking through papers.
He knows if he asks that he’ll end up bored half to death, Draco’s just as bad as Hermione when it comes to schoolwork. However, it’s also late, and he’s already bored, plus it wouldn’t be his worst life decision.
“Did you come to do homework?”
Draco pauses, gives him a long look, and then shakes a paper at him. “It’s McGonagall’s project! I have all these shit ideas rattling around in my head and I can’t use a single one of them because they’re not good and-”
Harry should not feel this amused and happy over Transfiguration, especially because he still has no idea what he’s going to do for his project. But Draco’s in rant mode.
Draco in Rant Mode is dishearteningly cute.
His eyes go wide, pink dusts his cheeks, his hair raises a little bit even though Harry’s almost positive it’s just a trick on his eyes.
“Hey,” Harry says once Draco’s reduced to angry pants. “It’s not due until the end of the term, right?”
That, apparently, is not the right thing to say.
“Which is why I should get started on it now so it doesn’t ruin my Holiday!”
“But you still have time to figure it out! All I’m saying is that you don’t have to do it now! If Hermione isn’t stressing about it, then you shouldn’t be either.”
Draco pauses, as if considering this, but before he can respond there’s a loud pop from the fireplace that sounds weirdly like his name.
“Harry?”
Oh. It is his name.
Harry grabs his wand, just for safety reasons, and makes his way to the fireplace only to drop it and laugh.
Sirius’s head stares back at him, comically flickering in flames that just barely manage to resemble his hair.
“Sorry I was late, Remus has been-”
“Don’t lie to him!” Comes another voice, one that makes Harry’s smile widen. “It’s not my fault that you don’t understand the basic principle of cleaning!”
He’s so busy listening to them bicker he doesn’t notice Draco creeping up until the boy is pressed against him.
“Sirius?”
The man in the fire turns back to them, “Draco?”
His head is shoved to the side as Remus appears, “Draco?! Draco! I didn’t know you’d be here!”
Draco stifles a laugh at the sight before them, two grown men pressed together in a weird heap of fire that just barely gives off facial features.
“I didn’t know I’d be here either, but it’s always nice to see my uncles.”
“Uncles?!”
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake” Sirius sighs, then; “We’re cousins, and Sissy is going to kill you for that joke one day.”
Draco just grins something wicked, “Nah, she thinks it’s funny.”
“Hold up.” Harry takes a second to piece a few things together. Like Sirius and Draco being on good terms, mentioning an inside joke with someone named Sissy that sounds weirdly like Narcissa, who he also knows is on Sirius’s good side, which leaves him with a couple hundred questions.
All of which he better get before he goes to sleep, or he really might border insanity.
“Oh sit down, will you?” Remus complains, “This is gonna be a long conversation if you don’t.”
It’s a long conversation anyways, but worth every second to feel Draco’s leg pressed against his during the tale that Sirius animates while Remus adds in a few facts.
They talk about Sirius and Remus almost getting murdered by Narcissa Malfoy (“She didn’t almost murder us, Sirius, we just had an awkward encounter where she definitely thought we were robbers for a few seconds”). And about how great it is to finally reconnect with someone important in his life (“I’m right here, you asshole”). Narcissa’s Scheme, which he already knew about from the Gang’s meeting, but it’s still nice to hear the details (“You should’ve seen her, Harry, I think she might be more convincing than you”).
The bit about Lucius throws them both off balance.
“What do you mean you had dinner with my father?!” Draco gasps, squeezing Harry’s thigh to ground himself.
Harry doesn’t find it a little distracting, he finds it very distracting, but still manages “He didn’t try to hex you, did he? Narcissa seems like a saint, but so help me if he stepped one toe out of line I’ll-”
“Do absolutely nothing because it was surprisingly fun.” Remus counters and for a second Harry’s completely convinced this year will be nothing but one unexpected turn after another.
But then Sirius makes a face; “It was horrible, at first, but alcohol usually helps with that-not that you two are allowed to drink! You’re still underage! It’s bad enough that you’re both out after curfew!”
Draco and Harry share a look, silently agreeing that Sirius is a big lovable hypocrite but would also make a great father.
This makes Remus suspicious, for some weird reason. “Wait a tick, why are you both out so late?”
Draco rolls his eyes and Harry hopes as hard as he can that fire can’t display blushes.
“I came to do my homework, and Harry couldn’t find the fireplace.”
“If he couldn’t find the fireplace, how is he here now?”
“Um,” Harry scratches at the back of his neck, “Luck?”
They don’t buy it, but the four of them end up chatting well into the night, up until he starts yawning and Draco shoots him a sympathetic glance. Remus and Sirius share some weird knowing look before bidding them goodnight, Harry forces them to promise they can do this again and they agree to chats every other week, same time and place, so they don’t interfere with Hogwarts work.
Then Draco holds out a hand and pulls Harry to his feet, “Come on, ScarFace, let’s get you to bed.”
“Ya know,” Harry yawns, “I really hate that nickname. It’s lame.” Another yawn. “You could do better.”
“Would you prefer Great and Admirable Saint Potter?”
Harry frowns, “ScarFace is fine.”
Draco laughs, turning to banish his homework back to his bedroom while Harry thinks about how lucky he is to hear real Draco Laughs instead of that fake shit he pulls in public. He’s bright pink when Draco turns back around, which really doesn’t help the whole situation.
“Harry?” He steps forward and Harry’s brain stops working for a second when Draco cups his face with one hand. “You’re burning up! You don’t have a fever, do you?”
“No!” Harry squeaks, “The fire was just hot.”
Draco raises an eyebrow, presses the back of his hand to Harry’s forehead, and then tsks. “You’re right about that, but if you get sick I’m going to kill you for making me visit Geia alone.”
Geia would probably kill him if he didn’t visit, so there’s really no chance of that. Despite what his friends may think, he really doesn’t fancy the idea of dying.
“I promise I’ll be fine by morning.”
Draco gives him a weird look, but steps away and tugs them both out of the room. “You better be. I can’t heal a Basilisk on my own.”
A strange way to say ‘I need you”, but Harry will take what he can get.
Two days before the first of October, when the other schools will be arriving, and Draco finds himself pulled into an empty classroom on his way to breakfast.
“Who the fuck-Ron!”
Ron gives him an easy smile, but Harry standing beside him doesn’t look nearly as happy.
“What is this?” Draco straightens his robes, “Are we having an intervention?”
The two share a look, Ron hopeful and Harry annoyed. His trust in them flies out the nearest window.
“I’ve had an idea.”
Coming from Ron? This can’t be good... Draco knows he’s good at chess and other various strategy games, so he clearly has a brain somewhere. But knowing and trusting someone’s intelligence are two completely different things. Ron might be just as bright as Blaise, but he was also the boy who made himself sick because he thought pickles might go well with chocolate.
“This couldn’t wait until tonight?”
Ron shakes his head, Harry’s scowl deepens and Draco is suddenly very confused.
Tonight was supposed to be the first big meeting, with their newbies coming into the mix, which means a lot of anxiety on his part because he knows the twins are gonna give him shit for something.
Plus, Ginny is, admittedly, terrifying.
A lot was being planned for tonight between Hermione and Pansy, and he’s not a coward but he’d prefer to stay out of their way if it means his head stays connected to his body. If Ron’s coming to him and Harry, that either means he’s planing on fucking something up, or he’s already fucked something up and needs help.
Either way it doesn’t bode well.
“When I was telling the twins, they pointed out something.”
An idea from the twins? That’s just about the worst thing Ron could come with.
“They reminded me that we haven’t gotten in a fight in a while.”
Draco does a double take before a grin slowly spreads across his face. “You want a fight, Weasley?”
Ron’s grinning back, but surprisingly Harry looks less thrilled to be alive than he ever has.
Doesn’t stop his best friend from pulling Draco close and whispering his plan into Draco’s ear. It’s all very brilliant, and no one will get hurt, so all in all Draco doesn’t see the harm in it.
The best part is that he gets to be a complete asshole for no reason, definitely the highlight of his day.
Harry yawns through the explanation, but all he says is “Remember not to hurt me, please.” and since Draco’s spent the better part of the last four years trying to keep Harry from being hurt, he’d say the boy is in safe hands.
If said boy could remove his head from the classroom wall, that would be more reassuring.
“What’s gotten into you?”
Harry mumbles something incoherent, Ron shrugs. “He’s been having trouble sleeping. I’ll get him some coffee and he’ll be good to go, speaking of which, we should probably leave before breakfast is over.”
Draco checks his watch, if Ron’s made him miss his morning tarts he’s going to be cross. Oh well, he can always ask Winky to bring him some later.
“Don’t forget, right before lunch, Malfoy.”
Draco shoots his friends a smile, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Weasley.”
He does, nearly, miss it.
Harry and Ron have to slow their pace down to a near stop, chatting about the bullshit Trelawney is putting them through all because he made an ass joke in class. Really, it’s as if she’s never had fun before!
They’ve paused in the middle of the courtyard, waiting for the curse to come. Harry sees Ron’s face light up, and then sees the horror that follows it.
Draco’s not late just because of class.
He’s late because Mad-Eye Moody has turned him into a ferret and is currently debating on tossing him into the bricks.
“Is that cowards trick something you learned from your father, eh, Malfoy?”
The white ferret is tossed from one side of the ground to the other, apparently it doesn’t take long to figure out if you want to hurt someone. Each time the ferret is lowered Harry can see the little body tense before it hits the ground. He moves three seconds before Ron does.
“How dare you point your wand at another wizards back-”
“Put him down!” Harry screams and- oh fuck- when did he draw his wand? When did Ron draw his wand?
Moody throws Draco into the ground with a wicked smile. “Shall I put him down again?”
Harry sees red for a moment because Ferret-Draco isn’t moving and he can’t tell if it’s the wand or the damage but either way he has every intention of blasting the asshole responsible right in his smug little-
“Mister Potter! Mister Weasley! Put your wands away this instant! What is the meaning of this?!”
Harry doesn’t move even when McGonagall stands right in front of Moody, the only reason his wand isn’t pointed at the fucker’s good eye is because Ron forces his hand down. McGonagall is almost as pissed as he is.
“Never in all my years have I seen such behavior! What on Earth possessed you two to point your wands at a professor?!”
He refuses to take his eyes off Moody, who’s staring at him with some type of dare only Ron picks on up.
“He turned Malfoy into a ferret! He was beating him against the brick, professor!”
McGonagall turns so fast Harry briefly worries for her neck.
“Alastor?! Is this-Mister Malfoy?!”
She brushes past Moody, hitting his shoulder on purpose, and cradles Draco’s Ferret form in her hands. The glare she sends is so powerful Harry takes a step back even though it’s not directed at him.
“You and I will have words about this, Alastor. You’re lucky Snape wasn’t here.” Harry hears her hiss. “Dumbledore’s office. Now.”
By some miracle Moody actually shrinks back and slinks his way backwards, glaring at the ground since he can’t glare at Harry, or Draco, for that matter.
McGonagall turns to them, still holding a limp ferret in her hands.
“Both of you. Go eat, now, Mister Potter.”
She sees the look on Harry’s face and takes a few steps forward. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him.”
Harry trusts her, of course. She’s one of the few professors that Harry will always trust. But Draco’s still limp in her hand and the only reason he leaves is because Ron forces him to.
So much for a fun little fight.
Pansy is the first one on him the second he walks through the door.
“Are you hurt?! That bastard! How dare he do this to you?!”
Draco can’t lie, he’s still very much in pain, but he’s also in a room filled with mainly Gryffindors, so he can’t show it. Pansy losing her cool is a rare sight, but not as much as Harry’s enraged face behind her.
“I’m fine, love.” He smooths out her hair. “Nothing I couldn’t handle..”
“Nothing you couldn’t handle?!”Harry shouts. Draco really hopes silencing charms went into the wards Pans and Hermione set. “He was slamming you against stone!”
Blaise steps forward. “I hate to agree, but I don’t believe you. Shirt off.”
“But-”
“Shirt. Off.” Harry growls, and Ron and Hermione both are nodding behind him with severely worried looks so Draco ignores the five people standing in concerned silence and shucks off his outer robe.
“You’re not allowed to over react.”
Pansy is going to throttle him if Harry doesn’t beat her to it.
All ten of them let out little gasps when his shirt falls off his shoulder and he swears he sees murder in some of their eyes.
So, the bruising looks worse than it is, he’ll give them that. Dark purples litter his chest, torso, waist, and further down which Harry so kindly shows the group with one step forward and a rather rough pull on his pants. Thankfully he doesn’t pull Draco’s pants all the way down, he’s not really into voyeurism, but his friends are apparently in the business of making him feel worse than he already does.
“I’ll kill him.” Harry snarls, right as Pansy throws herself into Draco’s arms.
“How dare he!”
“Oh, calm down.” Draco says softly, carding through her hair with one hand while the other catches Harry’s wrist. “I’ve had worse and he’s getting cursed out by Snape anyways. I promise my godfather is much more threatening than the two of you.”
Luna steps up, her wand already out. “May I?”
Pansy detaches herself, Draco steps forward and tells his cousin the exact spell he needs. A flick of the wand later and the bruises are gone enough for Luna to greet him with a hug as well.
“Sorry we can’t meet again on better terms.”
She laughs, “That seems to be the normal for us, doesn’t it?”
There’s an awkward moment where he’s buttoning up his shirt and avoiding eye contact with the Weasleys he’s not friendly with, and then Ron clears his throat.
“Sorry, mate. If I had know that Moody would-”
“Nonsense, Ron. None of us knew. It’s not your fault, you had a good idea.”
Hermione looks overly pleased with herself for some reason he can’t fathom, and then one of the twins- George maybe?- clears his throat.
“So...is strip searching Malfoy after he gets hurt the norm here or are you three really as vanilla as Mum likes to think you are?”
The original six lock eyes, and then Blaise, the giant asshole, says: “Well there was that one time Hermione yelled at Ron and I’m pretty sure he developed a kink from it.”
There’s a lot of shrieking and laughter that follows, Harry pulls Draco towards one of the open couches, and the night commences.
The twins, Draco has to admit they’re rather fun when you’re in on the joke, make room for Millie without question. It’s only a little alarming to see the three of them scheming together, he really hopes she’s just getting an Extendable Ear and not something that explodes. What is alarming is watching Luna and Ginny have a quiet conversation, maybe they’re just talking about whatever weird kick his cousin is on at the moment, but there’s definitely something more there. He makes a mental note of it and turns his attention to Hermione and Ron, who are in some deep debate with Pansy and a bored Blasie about the latest Herbology assignment. Blaise inserts that whatever plant they’re talking about is completely harmless to which Hermione rolls her eyes and explains that “Nightshade is literally a poison, Blaise.”
“My mother uses it all the time!”
“That’s because Belle needs a way to date freely, dear.”
Harry laughs beside him, the sound warm and familiar and for now everything in the room feels perfect.
Turns out having more people just means more fun.
And more pillows to be thrown.