Draco's Task
It’s with mixed feelings that Harry blinks the sleep from his eyes and slips his glasses onto his face the next morning, allowing the familiar Chudley Cannon poster-covered walls of his best friend Ron’s room to slowly take shape around him. As every other summer since the one just before his second year, when Harry has visited the Burrow, the sight fills him with joy and relief and a sense of home that he’d never experienced once at Privet Drive. But now, there’s also a sense of dread, and melancholy.
Even as he sits up in the spare bed and peers over at the snoring lump of his best friend across the small space and feels genuinely happy to see him, Harry finds himself missing Spinner’s End, missing Severus… He sighs to himself, thinking there’s nothing for it, best not to think about it.
He untangles his legs from the covers and drags himself out of bed, padding quietly across the floor and carefully edging the squeaky door shut behind him so as not to wake his friend, before making his way down the long, winding staircase. As he passes the twins’ bedroom door, he pauses briefly to listen for any weird noises coming from the other side, wondering what wonderous products the two mischief-makers might have come up with during the summer, but the room is eerily quiet.
When he nears the bottom of the stairs, the tinkering noises of Mrs Weasley preparing breakfast reaches him and Harry’s stomach growls a little in anticipation. He takes the last few steps two at a time and jogs into the kitchen, surprised to see Hermione sitting at the table and feels the familiar joy of friendship fill him once again.
”Harry!” Hermione exclaims happily and jumps to her feet, killing the distance between them swiftly to wrap her arms around him. ”It’s so great to see you!”
”Hermione, it’s great to see you too”, Harry says and hugs her back tightly, smiling over her shoulder at Mrs Weasley who beams back from her position at the stove.
”Good morning, Harry dear”, she says gently, before turning back to her cooking.
”Morning, Mrs Weasley”, Harry says pleasantly and takes the seat next to Hermione at the table.
”Is Ron still asleep?” Hermione asks with a disapproving twitch of a frown.
”Yeah”, Harry says and smiles ruefully.
”Well, I suppose, we don’t exactly have any appointments or anything today so if he wants to sleep away one of the last days of his holiday that’s his prerogative…” Hermione says and rolls her eyes in exasperation, but there’s a fondness to it that makes Hary smile. ”So how have you been, Harry?”
”Ehm, fine, yeah…” he mumbles and looks down, avoiding her inquisitive gaze.
”I was surprised to see you with Professor Snape, Harry”, Mrs Weasley says and puts an overloaded plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. ”Dumbledore didn’t tell us, you see. Only said to expect you at nightfall.”
”Professor Snape?” Hermione echoes in surprise.
Harry gratefully tucks into his eggs and merely gives her a nod in reply, chewing with exaggerated gusto. Hermione frowns slightly.
”You mean he escorted you here from Surrey last night?”
Harry considers just nodding again, but that would actually be lying and as much as he’d rather talk about anything other than this right now, especially with Mrs Weasley pottering around, preventing him to speak freely about it, Harry hates lying to his friends and, he thinks to himself if I lie about it now, I won’t be able to talk to Hermione about it later… Finally, he swallows down the last pieces of egg and looks up to meet her gaze again.
”Not exactly… we… didn’t come from Surrey last night, we came from… well, his place…”
Hermione widens her eyes in silent shock and simply blinks at him. Even Mrs Weasley seems thrown off, judging by her delayed reaction to the spatula catching fire in her hand. Harry looks between them both nervously, wondering if he’s made a mistake telling them. He quickly thinks back to his last moments with Severus, trying to remember if the man had told him to keep their association and Occlumency lessons a secret or not, but he’s fairly sure he was never made to promise that. Still, he thinks desperately. Even if he never asked me to keep shut, he probably doesn’t want me to go around blabbing about it…
”Bloody Hell”, the sleep-drunk voice of Ron Weasley cuts through the uncomfortable silence in the kitchen and all three turn to see him standing in the doorway, still in pyjamas and hair even messier than Harry’s. ”Dumbledore made you stay with Snape all summer?”
Harry feels a twinge of something in his chest, but doesn’t say anything just nods.
”Bloody Hell”, Ron says again and pads into the kitchen to take the seat opposite Harry at the table. ”Sucks to be you, mate…”
”Ron”, Mrs Weasley chastises him sternly and swats him on the arm before presenting him with a plate of bacon and eggs.
Ron just shrugs and stuffs two forkfuls of eggs into his mouth, chewing happily. Hermione glares a little at him, but then turns to give Harry a sympathetic look instead, and Harry feels a stab of annoyance but forces it back down again.
”It was fine”, he mumbles before shovelling more eggs into his mouth and chewing mechanically, ignoring both his friends’ weird looks.
*
The next day, Harry’s sixteenth birthday, he and Ron comes down to the kitchen for breakfast and are met with the bittersweet sight of a gaunt and grim-looking Remus Lupin partly obscured from view by a huge birthday cake.
”There have been another couple of Dementor attacks”, the werewolf informs everyone as Mrs Weasley passes him a large slice of cake. ”And they’ve found Igor Karkaroff’s body in a shack up north. The Dark Mark had been set over it —”
”Yes, well”, says Mrs Weasley with a frown, glancing at Harry and the other teenagers around the table. ”Perhaps we should talk about something diff—”
”Did you hear about Florean Fortescue, Remus?” Bill interrupts her and the morbid conversation continues, making the birthday cake grow slightly in Harry’s mouth with each chew.
Later that morning, one of Hogwarts official owls drops off their letters and book lists, and Harry’s spirit is lifted slighty again when he notices a surprise in his own letter: he’s been made Quidditch Captain for Gryffindor!
”That gives you equal status with prefects!” Hermione gushes. ”You can use our special bathroom now, and everything!”
”Wow, I remember when Charlie wore one of these”, Ron says as he inspects the badge. ”Harry this is so cool, you’re my captain — if you let me back on the team, I suppose, ha ha…”
”Well”, Mrs Weasley says with a sigh, looking over Ron’s book list. ”I guess we can’t put off the trip to Diagon Alley any longer now…”
”We could always try and squeeze it in before eleven tomorrow”, Ron mumbles sarcastically, but if she’d heard him, Mrs Weasley makes no sign of it.
”We’ll have to wait until your father comes back from the Ministry though”, she adds. ”I’m not going there without him.”
”Mum”, Ron says and sniggers. ”D’you honesty think You-Know-Who’s going to be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?”
”Fortescue and Ollivander went on holiday, did they?” Mrs Weasley exclaims, firing up instantly. ”If you think security is such a laughing matter, then you can stay behind and I’ll get your things myself —!”
”No, I wanna come, I want to see Fred and George’s shop!” Ron protests quickly.
”Then you just buck up your ideas, young man, before I decide you’re too immature to come with us!” Mrs Weasley more or less screeches, snatching up her clock, all nine hands of which are still pointing at mortal peril, and balances it on top of a pile of just-laundered towels. ”And that goes for returning to Hogwarts, as well!”
”Bloody hell”, Ron mumbles after she’s stormed out of the room. ”You can’t even make a joke around here anymore…”
*
Diagon Alley has changed. The colourful, glittering window displays hidden behind large, sombre Ministry of Magic posters depicting black-and-white photographs of convicted Death Eaters having escaped from Azkaban prison, or blown-up versions of the security advice already sent out in pamphlets during the summer.
Harry glares at one of the pictures of Bellatrix Lestrange whose photograph cackles manically back at him, her black eyes glittering dangerously. He remembers her small but still spookily imposing presence in Spinner’s End… her raspy voice… Draco should be proud…You are avoiding my last question, Snape. Harry Potter. You could have killed him at any point in the past five years. You have not done it. Why?
Harry shivers and shakes the memory away, focusing instead on the boarded-up windows Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlour with a stab of unease, remembering instead all those times when he’d been free to hang around Diagon Alley on his own for a full week during the summer before his third year, and how Mr Fortescue would give him free ice creams every afternoon with a friendly wink…
He’s interrupted in his toughts by a seedy-looking little wizard rattling armfuls of so-called protective amulets.
”One for your little girl, Madam?” he calls after Mrs Weasley when they pass him.
”If I were on duty…” Mr Weasley mutters, glaring back at the merchant.
”Yes, but don’t go arresting anyone now, dear, we’re in a hurry…” Mrs Weasley says.
The group decides to split up, after much hesitation from Mrs Weasley, but seeing as Harry, Ron and Hermione are the only ones in need of new robes, they head for Madam Malkin’s with Hagrid as the rest continue to Flourish and Blotts.
Hagrid stays outside, standing guard, while Harry, Ron and Hermione enter the shop and immediately a familiar haughty voice can be heard from the back of the shop, ”…not a child, in case you haven’t noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone.”
Draco Malfoy. Harry’s heart skips a beat, then picks up the pace as if to make up for it… Draco should be proud, Bellatrix Lestrange’s voice slithers into Harry’s mind… and before he’s had a chance to stop it, the image of Snape staring back at him from the doorway of his own bedroom at Spinner’s End, even more pale than usual, and his version of panicked, ”I have just made an Unbreakable Vow to help Draco Malfoy carry out a…an assignment for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…and if that should fail, carry it out for him…”
”Watch where you’re sticking that pin, will you!” Draco’s shrill voice rings out again, bringing Harry back to the present again.
Suddenly a teenage boy with a pale, pointed face and white-blonde hair appears from behind a rack wearing a handsome set of dark green robes glittering with pins around the hem and edges of the sleeves. He strides over to the full-length mirror to examine his own reflection critically; then suddenly his gaze flits up and he catches sight of Harry, Ron and Hermoine reflected over his shoulder and he narrows his grey eyes at them.
”If you’re wondering what the smell is, Mother”, Draco says loudly. ”A Mudblood just walked in.”
”I don’t think there’s any need for that kind of language!” Madam Malkin says, scurrying out from behind the clothes rack as well, a tape measure trailing behind her. ”And I don’t want wands drawn in my shop, either!”
She glares pointedly at Harry who blinks, and then looks down, realising that both he and Ron had drawn their wands instinctively at the Slytherin boy’s words.
”Honestly, it’s not worth it…” Hermione whispers from behind Harry.
”Yeah, like you’d dare do magic out of school”, Draco sneers at them.
”That’s quite enough!” Madam Malkin says sharply, looking between them, then glancing over her shoulder for support. ”Madam — please —”
Narcissa Malfoy strolls out from behind the clotches rack.
”Put those away”, she says coldly to Harry and Ron. ”If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do.”
”Really?” Harry challenges before being able to stop himself and takes a few steps closer to the woman, his ears ringing while snippets of memory of her conversation with Severus flashes by, how she implored and begged and manipulated him into making that blasted Vow; it’s all her fault!
”Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?” he taunts, ignoring Madam Malkin and Hermoine who both try to reign him in.
Narcissa only smiles unpleasantly at him, ”I see that being Dumbledore’s favourite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter. But Dumbledore won’t always be there to protect you.”
Harry looks around him mockingly, ”Wow, look at that… He’s not here now, why not have a go then? They might be able to arrange a double cell in Azkaban for you and your loser of a husband!”
”Don’t you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!” Draco snarls and makes an angry movement towards him, but stumbles over his overlong robe, and Harry’s lips twitch as Ron laughs loudly next to him.
”It’s alright, Draco”, Narcissa says, restraining him with her thin white fingers upon his shoulder. ”I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius.”
”Harry, no!” Hermione gasps and grabs his wand arm when he automatically raises it further. ”You mustn’t… you’ll be in such trouble…”
Madam Malkin who had dithered uncertainly on the spot during this exchange suddenly decides to act as though nothing was happening, probably in the hopes that nothing will, and bends towards Draco, ”I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, dear, let me just —”
”Ouch!” Draco bellows and snatches his arm away from her and cradles it protectively to his chest. ”Watch where you’re putting your pins, woman! Mother — I don’t think I want these anymore —”
He pulls the robes over his head and throws them on the floor at Madam Malkin’s feet.
”Well, really!” Madam Malkin says finally, once the Malfoys have exited the shop, and snatches up the half-finished robes from the floor and removes the dust from them with the tip of her wand.
Once they have their robes, Harry, Ron and Hermione join Hagrid outside the shop and the small group walk over to the apothecary where they meet up with the rest. Neither Harry nor Ron need to buy any ingredients since they’re no longer studying Potions, but Harry wants to enter the apothecary anyway. At Ron’s questioning look, he just shrugs. Can’t exactly tell him I like the smell now can I, he thinks to himself.
Finally, after having stopped by Eeylops Owl Emporium to stock up on owl treats, they make their way to Fred and George’s new joke shop Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.
”We really haven’t got long”, Mrs Weasley says, checking her watch. ”So we’ll just have a quick look around and then back to the car. We must be close, that’s number ninety-two… ninety-four…”
”Whoa”, Ron says, stopping suddenly in his tracks.
Compared to the boarded-up windows and the sombre window displays of the other shops in Diagon Alley, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes sticks out like a Sfinx at the Yule Ball, it’s windows dazzling with an assortment of revolving, popping, flashing, bouncing and shrieking goods; Harry starts to feel dizzy just looking at it, and he looks over at the large poster on the right-hand side instead and quickly reads the flashing yellow letters, the only thing making it stand out next to the Ministry posters of the same style:
”Why are you worrying about You-Know-Who? You should be worrying about U-NO-POO — The Constipation Sensation That’s gripping the Nation!”
Harry laughs. The unease that had settled in the pit of his stomach after the run-in with the Malfoys finally disappearing completely. Next to him, Mrs Weasley gasps silently, also reading the text on the poster.
”They’ll be murdered in their beds”, she whispers horrified.
”No they won’t!” Ron says, also laughing. ”This is brilliant!”
After Fred has given him the tour of the shop, Harry joins the others again and they’re all looking at the Pygme Puffs, Ginny imploring Mrs Weasley to let her get one, when Harry catches sight of Draco Malfoy again outside the window. The boy is hurrying down the street, Narcissa no longer at his side and judging by the way he’s throwing looks over his shoulder, Harry gets the distinct impression that he means to keep it that way.
”Wonder where his mummy is?” he says to Ron and Hermione who follow his line of sight just as Draco disappears round the corner in the direction of Knockturn Alley.
”Given her the slip by the looks of it”, Ron says.
”Why, though?” Hermione adds.
There’s no way Narcissa would let her precious Draco out of her sight willingly, so Malfoy must have made a real effort to free himself from her clutches, Harry thinks, just knowing that it has something to do with The Task Voldemort has given him.
”Get under here, quick”, he says to Ron and Hermione, getting the Invisibility Cloak out.
”Oh — I don’t know, Harry”, Hermione whispers uncertainly, looking over at Mrs Weasley who is bending down to look at the Pygme Puffs.
”Come on!” Ron says and grabs her arm though, and she finally slips under the Cloak with them.
”Quick, or we’ll lose him”, Harry says and steers them in the direction of Knockturn Alley.
Knockturn Alley, the side street of Diagon Alley completely devoted to the Dark Arts, seems to be completely deserted. It would make sense, Harry figures. It must be a dead giveaway in these dark times to be seen buying Dark artefacts…
”Ouch!” he snaps as Hermione suddenly gives him a hard pinch in the arm.
”Shh! Look! He’s in there…” Hermione whispers, bringing them all to a stop outside Borgin and Burke’s.
Inside the gloomy shop, stocked full of sinister objects, some of Harry has personal experience when he accidentally ended up inside this very shop the first time he ever travelled by Floo. The place had really creeped him out then, and it still does.
And there, in the midst of cases full of skulls and old bottles, Draco Malfoy’s pale blonde head can be seen, bright as a beacon in contrast to everything else, sticking up behind a large, black cabinet — the very cabinet in which Harry had hidden to avoid Draco and his father that one time — Now, Draco stands talking with the shopkeeper Mr Borgin, his hands moving animatedly.
”If only we could hear what they’re saying!” Hermione moans.
”We can!” Ron says eagerly then. ”Hang on — damn — Aha! Look, Extendable Ears!”
Ron unravels the long, flesh-coloured strings and begins to feed them towards the bottom of the door, then he, Harry and Hermione put their heads together and listens intently to the other ends through which Draco’s voice can be heard loud and clear, ”…you know how to fix it?”
”Possibly”, Borgin mutters uncomfortably. ”I’ll need to see it, though. Why don’t you bring it into the shop?”
”I can’t”, Draco says. ”It has to stay put. You just need to tell me how to do it.”
”Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be very difficult, perhaps impossible. I couldn’t guarantee anything.”
”No?” Draco says and Harry can tell by his tone that he’s sneering, can just picture it. ”Perhaps this will make you more confident.”
The blonde moves closer to Borgin and is completely blocked from their view, even when they shuffle sideways to try and keep him in sight, the large cabinet is in the way. They can see Borgin though, and he looks positively scared. Harry frowns to himself. What on earth could Malfoy possibly have done to scare a man like Borgin? Granted, the man doesn’t strike you as the most courageous of wizards but then again, neither does Draco. In fact, if Harry had to describe Draco Malfoy objectively, a lot of adjectives spring to mind, such as dainty and delicate and stroppy… even pretty, in an aristocratic and not really attractive way, Harry amends. More like a doll, or a puppy is pretty… anyway, imposing or scary certainly don’t make the list.
”Tell anyone and there will be retribution”, Draco threatens Borgin. ”You know Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf? Well, he’s a family friend. And he’ll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you’re giving the problem your full attention.”
”There will be no need for —”
”I’ll decide that”, Draco interrupts coldly. ”Well, I’d better be off. And don’t forget to keep that one safe, I’ll need it.”
”Perhaps you’d like to take it now?”
”No, of course I wouldn’t, you stupid little man! How would I look carrying that down the street? Just don’t sell it.”
”Of course not… Sir”, Borgin says and gives Draco a bow similar to the one Harry had seen him give Lucius that one time.
”Not a word to anyone, Borgin. And that includes my mother, understand?”
”Naturally, naturally”, Borgin says and bows again.
Draco then stalks out of the shop, looking decidedly pleased with himself and passes so close to Harry, Ron and Hermione that the Cloak flutters around their knees.
”What the bloody hell was that about?” Ron whispers as he reels the Extendable Ears back in.
”Dunno”, Harry mutters, thinking hard. ”He wants something mended, and he wants to reserve something else in there as well… did either of you see what he pointed at when he said ’That one’?”
”No, he was behind that cabinet —”
”You two stay here”, Hermione whispers.
She slips out from under the Cloak, and before either boy has a chance to stop her, she’s waltzed right into the shop. Ron fumbles with the Extendable Ears again, nervously glancing between them and Hermione through the shop window.
”Hello, horrible morning, isn’t it?” Hermione greets Borgin cheerily and starts browsing the section of the shop where Draco had been standing only moments before. ”Is this necklace for sale?”
”If you’ve got one and a half thousand Galleons”, Borgin answers coldly, watching her with narowed eyes.
”Oh — er — no, I haven’t got quite that much”, Hermione mumbles. ”What about this lovely — um — skull?”
”Sixteen Galleons.”
”So it is for sale then? It isn’t being… kept for anyone?”
Harry mentally groans, and looking over at Borgin who is now squinting so much his eyes are reduced to tiny slits, he can tell the man is onto Hermione by this point. Hermione seems to have come to the same conclusion, because she suddenly changes her tactic and, throwing caution to the wind, ’comes clean’ with him and says, ”That boy that was just in here, Draco Malfoy, he’s — er — a friend, of mine, and I wanted to get him something for his birthday, you see… but, um, if he’s already reserved something, you know, I don’t want to get him the same thing…”
”Out”, Borgin growls. ”Get out!”
Hermione hurriedly scurries out of the shop again, Borgin quick on her heels. As soon as she’s over the threshold he slams the door behind her and flips the Open/Closed-sign.
Hermione and Ron bicker with each other the whole way back to Fred and George’s shop, but Harry barely notices a word they say, too pre-occupied with the scene they’d just witnessed, the image of Draco leaving Borgin and Burke’s with that pleased look on his face taunting him for the rest of the afternoon.
*
Harry, Ron and Hermione don’t get another moment to themselves until they’re boarding the Hogwarts Express and Hermione finds them an empty compartment, and for the first time she and Ron demand to know all about Harry’s stay at their least favourite professor’s place. Harry decides to give them the short version of events, oddly protective of his experiences sharing Severus’ living quarters and getting to know the man behind the Potions Master, but also because he’s eager to get back to the topic of Draco Malfoy and his mysterious shopping spree.
Hermione and Ron are less than eager though, waving away Harry’s worries even after he’s told them about Narcissa and Bellatrix Lestrange’s visit at Spinner’s End. He doesn’t tell them about the Unbreakable Vow though, not yet. I’ll do it later, when there’s time, he thinks and digs out the Invisibility Cloak from his trunk.
”Now what are you doing?” Ron says with an air of exasperation.
”Malfoy’s up to something”, Harry says by ways of explanation and drapes the Cloak over his shoulders, catching his two best friends share a look. ”Are you coming?”
”We can’t, Harry”, Hermione says and doesn’t seem all that bothered about it. ”We’ve got to go to the Prefect’s carriage in a minute and after that we have to patrol the corridors…”
”Right”, Harry says with a huff. ”I’ll go by myself.”
”Harry…” Hermione calls out, but he ignores her and slips the Cloak over his head.
He’s just about the slide the door to the compartment open, when someone else beats him to it and he’s looking down at a breathless third-year girl who stares right through him at Ron and Hermione, ”I’m supposed to deliver one of these to Harry P-Potter!”
She gestures vaguely with a scroll of parchment.
”Thanks, I’ll give it to him”, Hermione says immediately and takes it from her.
The girl looks disappointed for a moment, but then nods and leaves again. Harry pulls the Cloak off again and takes the scroll from Hermione and unrolls it.
”Well, what is it?” Ron says.
”An invitation…” Harry mumbles, then reads the short message out loud for his friends to hear, ”’Harry, I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C. Sincerely, Professor H.E.F. Slughorn.’”
”Professor Slughorn, who’s that?” Ron says.
”Probably the new DADA teacher…” Harry says. "But why is he inviting me to lunch?"
”Well, you have to accept”, Hermione says. ”He’s a professor. It would be rude not to at least show up.”
Harry sighs to himself, and then regretfully stows the Cloak back into his pocket again before making his way to compartment C where he discovers a few more students already eating lunch with the plump professor who jumps up when he sees Harry, his great velvet-covered belly seemingly filling up the remaining space in the compartment as he does, and welcomes Harry enthusiastically. Harry smiles awkwardly and shakes the man’s hand, before being ushered into the compartment.
He’s surprised to find Ginny sitting in the seat closest to the window. She gives him a wry grimace when he gives her a questioning look and he chuckles a little, already feeling a bit better about the whole thing.
In the hour that follows, Slughorn makes the round, introducing everyone and asking them each questions about some relative or other famous for something, and Harry has his suspicions about the lunch confirmed… He’s only surprised that Draco isn’t amongst the invitees, knowing how upstanding the Malfoys are in the wizarding world… Except not anymore, he thinks. Not since Lucius was sent to Azkaban in the beginning of the summer…
The thought of the Malfoys brings back the memories of Draco in Borgin and Burke’s Harry finds himself zoning out until he hears his own name spoken in Slughorn’s booming voice, ”Harry Potter! Where to begin? The Chosen One they are calling you now!”
Harry blinks, trying to focus on what the professor is saying, ”Er… Right…”
Belby, McLaggen and Zabini are all staring at him and he squirms in his seat.
”Of course”, Slughorn continues, watching Harry closely. ”There have been rumours for years… I remember when — well — after that terrible night — Lily — James — and you survived — and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary —”
Zabini gives a tiny little cough, clearly meant to indicate scepticism. Harry glares at him, but says nothing. The afternoon wears on with more of Slughorn’s anecdotes about illustrious witches and wizards that he’s taught in his day, all of whom had been delighted to belong to what he called ”The Slug Club” apparently.
Harry can’t wait to leave, but it isn’t until the the sun starts to set that Slughorn looks around, blinking in the twilight, realising for the first time how late it’s become that he dismisses them all. Harry is first to leave the compartment and before anyone can see, he pulls out the Invisibility Cloak and slips it on. He steps back and waits for Zabini to appear, then follows him to the other end of the Hogwarts Express intent on slipping unnoticed into the Slytherins’ carriage behind the other boy.
But even though he keeps as close to Zabini as he can get without accidentally touching the other boy, he’s still not able to slip inside quickly enough before Zabini is sliding the door shut again. Harry sticks his foot in the door to prevent it from closing.
”What’s wrong with this thing?” Zabini growls and repeatedly smashes the door into Harry’s foot until Harry grabs the door and wrenches it open with such force that it knocks Zabini off-balance and he falls into Goyle’s lap.
Harry quickly slips inside the compartment and stepping on Zabini’s temporarily empty seat he hoists himself up onto the luggage rack above the Slytherins. For a terrifying moment Harry’s sure that Draco has caught a brief glimpse of his trainer as it peeked out from underneath the Cloak and he holds his breath, waiting to see what the other boy will do. But Draco looks away again, focusing instead on Goyle throwing Zabini off his lap and slamming the door shut.
Malfoy snorts a little at Zabini’s ruffled appearance and stretches out on his seat again, his head nestled in the lap of Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl who usually hangs around Malfoy and his goons at school. Harry isn’t sure if the two are an item, but judging by the way the girl combs her fingers through Draco’s blonde strands, they’re definitely intimiate to some degree.
Harry imagines what it must feel like to run your hands through that hair… Not that he’d want to… As soft as it looks, he’d never want to have to get that close to the Malfoy boy to find out…
For a moment, an unwanted image of greasy, black hair invades Harry’s mind instead and something in his belly sort of flip-flops at the idea of it slipping over his fingertips; he takes a deep breath, forcing himself to focus…
”So, Zabini”, Draco says. ”What did the new professor want?”
”Just trying to make up to well-connected people”, the other boy said, still readjusting his hair to make it look impeccable again. ”Not that he managed to find many…”
”Who else had he invited?” Malfoy demands.
”McLaggen from Gryffindor”, Zabini starts to list the invitees. ”Someone else called Belby from Ravenclaw, and then Longbottom, Potter and that Weasley girl.”
”He invited Longbottom!” Malfoy exclaims, slapping Parkinson’s hand away and sitting up again.
”Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there”, Zabini mutters.
”Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at the Chosen One”, Malfoy sneers. ”But what so special about the Weasley girl?”
”A lot of boys like her”, Parkinson says in a feigned bored tone, pretending to inspect her nails. ”Blaise even thinks she’s pretty, don’t you?”
”I wouldn’t touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like”, Zabini snaps coldly and Parkinson seems pleased with the answer.
Malfoy mutters something to himself, but lies back down and lets Parkinson continue to pet his hair.
”Well, I pity Slughorn’s taste”, he says after a moment. ”Maybe he’s going a bit senile… Shame. My father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favourite of his. Slughorn probably hasn’t heard I’m on the train, or —”
”I wouldn’t bank on an invitation”, Zabini interrupts. ”He asked me about Nott’s father when I first arrived, they used to be old friends apparently, but when he heard he’d been arrested at the Ministry he didn’t look at all happy. And Nott didn’t get an invite, did he? Guess Slughorn isn’t too fond of Death Eaters…”
Malfoy forces out a humourless laugh, ”Well, who cares what he likes? What is he, when it comes down to it? Just a stupid teacher… I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, so what’s it matter to me if some fat has-been likes me or not?”
Crouched in the luggage rack under his Invisibility Cloak, Harry’s heart begins to race… Draco not coming back to Hogwarts next year?
”I might have — er — moved on to bigger and better things”, Malfoy explains cryptically.
Harry glances at Crabbe and Goyle to find them gawping in surprise. So apparently whatever is going on with Malfoy, he hasn’t confided in his closest friends, Harry realises.
”I can see Hogwarts”, Draco says after a while and they all start to pull their school robes on and gathers their things.
Harry is too busy staring at Draco to notice Goyle reaching for his trunk next to Harry on the rack, and it hits Harry hard in the head as he swings it down; Harry lets out a gasp of pain, and immediately Draco’s gaze snaps up from his robes to the luggage rack, roughly where Harry is, and he’s frowning in thought.
Shit, Harry thinks, holding his breath. It’s not like he’s scared of Malfoy, but he rather avoid being caught hiding under his Invisibility Cloak by a group of Slyherins, if he can.
To his relief, Draco seems to decide he’d imagined the sound because he continues to buckle his robe like nothing has happened. Suddenly the train comes to a jerky stop and the Slytherins filter out of the compartment, except for Draco who seems to stall.
”You go on”, he tells Parkinson when she waits for him by the door. ”I just want to check something…”
After the girl has left, Draco pulls down the blinds over the door, so that no-one will be able to peer in from the corridor outside. He then opens his trunk again and bends down over it. Harry feels his heart start to race again, and his mind starts whirring with possibilities of what Draco could possibly want to hide from his girl girlfriend…
”Petrificus Totalus!”