415So far:
People always say that eavesdroppers never hear things they like, but Draco has proof that this adage is untrue. He'd spied on Harriet and her posse, and learnt that they plan to keep special DADA classes. So essentially, he has only one thing on his mind at the moment — to get into that class one way or another. But he can't directly ask Harriet, can he? Then she'd know that he'd spied on her, and she'd want to break their alliance, and that's one outcome Draco is strongly against.
The only outcome that's acceptable is that he gets the special tutoring too.
NOTEWORTHY BOREDOM
CHAPTER 10
STAGED FIGHTS
'What in the world?' thought Harry as she whirled around to face the owner of that irritatingly calm and deep voice.
"Did you follow me here?" she asked him, partly annoyed at having been so inattentive that she hadn't realised he was standing right behind her. And by right behind her, she meant literally behind her, so much so that if she took a step, she'd bump into him.
His eyes were trained at her knees, but he looked up with an arrogant smirk.
"I was just coming to see Hermes, get him to deliver a letter," he said, proudly petting his owl's head, as the aforementioned owl hooted in an equally proud voice. Where was Hedwig when she needed her? Why wasn't the snowy-white owl by her side, giving her company?
"Who are you writing to?" she asked, belatedly realising that they weren't actually friends. Maybe he'd answer her intrusive question and not leave her hanging?
"I don't really have to tell you, but since you asked, I'm not writing to anyone."
"What do you mean? You said you wanted a letter delivered?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. The Slytherin was lying, obviously. It was just a feeling, and yet, there was no visual cue that he was indeed lying.
"I never said I wanted a letter from me delivered. I want a letter to be delivered to me."
"Oh," she said a lot more quietly. It seemed like he was telling the truth and yet she felt so jumpy. It was the way his grey eyes were gleaming this strange shade of silver in the torchlight, like he knew something she didn't.
"I'm pretty sure that the crumpled parchment in your hand is for me," he said, prying it out of her hand before she could say anything. Had his fingers always been this firm? Oh Merlin, what if she let him catch the Snitch this year because she was paying too much attention to how elegantly long his fingers were?
She was so screwed.
"Hmm," he hummed, as he finished reading the note.
"So it's okay?" she asked in a small voice.
"Maybe if you changed your answer to oui for one of my earlier questions, I could let this slide," he said, smirking in that superior way of his.
"You berk!" she cried, shoving him in the chest playfully. Hermes hooted at her warningly, prompting his owner to chuckle.
"Control your owl, Malfoy," she said, as Draco continued chuckling.
"Go home and keep hooting till Mother packs some éclairs for me, darling," he said in a tone she'd never heard him use before – it was gentle and loving. Harry was sure that if he were to use this same voice in their COMC classes, any creature would be eating out of his palm.
As Hermes took off through a nearby window after throwing her a malevolent glare, she found herself staring at Draco's features. The sharp angles of his face were a lot more subdued in the soft light, and he looked like one of those statues in Mione's book on Rome, what with his alabaster skin playing to the effect.
"Are you all right?" he asked, tilting his head to one side.
"Just thinking about something I saw in a book," she replied quickly, before beginning to make her way towards the entrance. "Coming?"
"Sure," he said, tucking his hands into his trousers' pockets. Harry wished she could do that with her skirt pocket and not come across as silly. She'd have probably also whistled if she could, but whistling was yet another of those things that she hadn't gotten a hang of.
As they descended the stairs, she asked, "How are the nonverbal spells coming along?"
He quietly took out his wand and waved it, producing a tiny ball of golden red flames.
"Hey, I can do that too," she said, and quickly cast Hermione's bluebell flame charm.
Each orb shimmered and glowed, and Harry felt they represented contrary things, like fire and ice, the sun and the moon, a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, perhaps?
Draco moved his wand towards the left, and his ball of flame floated towards her. Of its own volition, her wand flicked her ball towards its right, towards Draco's ball. She sucked in a breath as the blue flame and the red flame merged together to form swirling patterns of spiralling colours.
The sharp juxtaposition of the colours was searing, and she had a feeling she'd never forget the sight.
"It's lovely," she breathed, as they stood there in the partial darkness, close to each other because of the narrowness of the stairs.
"It's beautiful," he corrected her, and as she turned to meet his bright grey eyes, she distantly heard warning bells ringing in her head.
She ignored them.
OoOoO
The next morning, as Draco got dressed in his room, he tried not to replay the dream that he had had. The one where Harriet was wearing a really short skirt, showing off her toned legs. It didn't help that that image had morphed into one of her riding her bloody Firebolt, leaning languorously against the sleek wood, winking saucily at him.
It had been a pain to wake up with such a raging hard-on. Why was that infuriating Gryffindor messing with his head so? She was an ally. She was someone whom he intended to use for information and protection.
She was not girlfriend material.
A quick shag was out of the option as well, seeing as that would ruin the unofficial alliance they had.
Merlin, he was screwed.
He glared at himself in the mirror after tying his tie, reprimanding himself for allowing himself to sexualise the annoying 'saviour'. From now on, he was going to treat her like a boy, and see if all these inappropriate images would disappear.
The door opened after a brief knock and Gregory ambled in, a menacing grin on his face.
"I just heard from Avery that Gryffindors have booked the pitch for practice this evening. Do you want to go see it?"
Why was fate such a cruel mistress? Taunting the idiots of Gryffindor was one of his most favourite pastimes ever. And yet, he'd have to say no because of that stupid dream he had had. Blaise would label it as a 'fantasy', as opposed to 'dream', if he were to ever learn about it.
So in an effort to be prudent, Draco replied, "Sprout's homework is due tomorrow, and I can't waste time watching those morons blunder around the pitch."
Gregory grunted something which sounded like approval, before leaving the room, swinging his bag up and down.
After styling his hair carefully so that it sat back on his head, Draco made his way out quietly, praying to Merlin, Morgana, and every other spirit out there that he wouldn't run into Pansy Parkinson.
OoOoO
It was the last COMC class of the week, and Harriet was tingling with anticipation. The note that she'd got during breakfast had promised a bit of drama at the end of today's class.
.
'Jill,
Things are getting too quiet; which isn't normal for us. Expect some drama and loud words in class today, after we return the Bowtruckles. And whatever happens, just go with it.
Yours,
Foie'
.
As Harriet stood up with the Bowtruckle in her hand, Draco nodded his head subtly at her. It took everything Harriet had to not smile broadly – she'd be calling him Ferretface soon! And almost as though Draco sensed the joy inside her, he smirked at her, and she smirked back.
As she passed the spot where Neville and Parkinson were working together – that is, Pansy was bossing over Neville and the Gryffindor was trying his best to be polite when his annoyance was clearly written in his eyes – their Bowtruckle jumped from Pansy's arms and came running towards Harry.
"Look what you did, you dunce! You let it run away!" shrieked Pansy.
Before Harry could say anything, the Bowtruckle in her hands jumped as well, and the two Bowtruckles ran towards Hagrid's hut. Thankfully, she heard a familiar voice cast the Immobilius spell twice, and the two sticklike creatures stilled, their arms still holding one another.
Harriet turned around to flash a grateful smile to Hermione, and was delighted by the wide smile Mione treated her with, when Draco decided to ruin the moment by choosing it to start their dramatic fight.
"You can't do a single thing properly, can you, Potthead? You always have to muck things up."
"At least I'm willing to do some work, Ferret, unlike you, always taking credit for others' hard work."
"I never said I was a fucking 'Puff, did I, Scarface?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Harry saw Ron come up to stand by her side.
"There are few things worse than being a slimy snake," said the redhead.
"And one of those few things is being a Blood Traitor, Weasel," said the pale blond, sneering. And just for a moment, Harry felt that nothing had changed. The malevolence in his eyes seemed a tad too real. But hold on, was that a tinge of amusement she detected in his eyes?
To be fair, she too was enjoying it, especially now that Pansy had come to join Draco.
But wait.
What was this?
Why was Neville coming to join their little 'fight'?
"A-at least the Weasleys aren't supporters of inbreeding within the Sacred Twenty-Eight," said the Gryffindor, and Harriet tried not to gape.
Though no wand had been drawn so far, the thing was drawing a lot of attention. Neville was now standing on her other side, his shoulders stiff, and Hermione had joined them, standing by Ron's other side. And Mal- Draco and Pansy had been joined by Crabbe and Goyle.
"At least none of us are the product of a mentally unstable parents," said the Slytherin girl viciously, and it set off Neville, as he lunged for the girl's neck. Harry knew why – she'd seen it all in Dumbledore's Pensieve last year. But she couldn't let her wrath show on her face – she'd promised Dumbledore that she wouldn't tell anyone, not even Neville, that she knew the truth about his parents.
Dean, Seamus, Parvati, Harriet, and Ron had to hold him back; Neville was positively shaking with fury.
"Is everything all right here?" came the authoritative voice of Grubbly-Plank as Harriet felt her grip on the boy's arm slipping ever so slowly.
"Just an argument between friends, Professor," chirped the girl that Hermione had now taken to sitting with during History of Magic.
And then Neville shrugged off all four of them and socked Pansy in the jaw.
Pandemonium reigned, as Lavender shrieked that the Bowtruckles had broken loose.
OoOoO
'Yesterday's results were a little unexpected.'
It was a moment before his ally replied, 'It took a turn for the worse. Can't believe Grubbly-Plank gave us extra homework as punishment.'
He tried not to sound mean as he wrote his response in his considerably much more legible handwriting.
'It's one less detention to go into your considerably bulky detention folder.'
'Bugger off, Malfoy.'
For a second, Blaise moved his head and Draco, worried that his friend was waking up, turned over the parchment in a hurry, not wanting to be caught red-handed talking to his supposed enemy.
The moment passed, and Blaise went back to sleeping peacefully. Draco let out a sigh of relief and wrote out his reply.
'Are you free this evening?'
'What for? Trying to seduce me?'
'You're not my type Potter. And before you get jealous, your female friend is not my type either... But that voluptuous witch in your dorm with the name of a flower? I'd tap that any day.'
Draco knew he was provoking her on purpose. Just the other day, Pansy had told him about how Lavender Brown had called Harriet a liar. Pansy had got the bit of gossip from that Ravenclaw Pureblood Diane Kinsley, who'd got it from Padma Patil, who'd got it from her twin Parvati Patil, who was supposedly Brown's best-friend.
'I didn't know your type was cows, Malfoy. Didn't think you were into bestiality.'
'Didn't you hear, love? Blacks are into all sorts of kinky stuff. Your godfather is a Black, for Merlin's sake.'
Draco watched in amusement as Harriet huffed a little at that, before writing her reply. He'd never tell her this, but he enjoyed these little chats they had on parchment, this note passing business of theirs.
'How do you know who my Godfather is?'
It was time to give her her first shock of the day. Draco had spent last night planning out how exactly to get himself invited to that 'special' class of hers. It was the first time since she'd 'gifted' him that ruddy book that he'd spent his night doing something other than poring over that provocative piece of literature.
This plan he'd hatched involved blatant manipulation. And step one was to shock her beyond measure.
He took his time composing his reply.
'My parents were to be your guardians, by the Ministry's laws. Your parents had left Sirius Black in charge of your welfare, and since he was in Azkaban, your guardianship was passed on to the next able member recognised as a Black, i.e., my mother. But Dumbledore stepped in and apparently said that your mother's Muggle sibling would love you like blood.
And hence, you missed out on your chance to be a Malfoy.'
Predictably, Harriet's face went pale, and her mouth parted. She turned to look at him, her emerald green eyes blank and unreadable. She looked stricken, and it seemed to Draco that she was looking for some falsehood in what he'd written, as if by staring him in the eye, she'd be able to decide that he was a liar.
When she wasn't able to, she cast her eyes down towards the parchment, her eyebrows furrowing. After blinking at his words a few times, she moved the parchment away and rested her head on her fingertips, leaning forward towards the desk.
Draco felt mildly guilty that he was the reason behind making her have a panic attack, but the guilt was only mild, and he couldn't be so squeamish about something this small.
When the bell rang, she was the first one to get up, turning her empty eyes onto him, before grabbing her bag and fleeing the classroom. Draco hastily caught hold of the parchment and placed it between his history books, and took a deep breath, before waking Blaise up.
OoOoO
Harriet had chosen to skip lunch, and was instead holed up in her dormitory, with the curtains shut tightly around her so that there wouldn't be as much sunlight streaming in.
She'd lied to Hermione and Ron that she had yet another one of those headaches, and they'd been concerned that it could be because of Voldemort. Ironically, it was the first time that year that she'd had a headache that hadn't been a result of that murderer's emotions.
She was furious with Dumbledore, the way she had been for most of the summer. There was no guarantee that living with the Malfoys would have been better than living with the Dursleys, but they wouldn't have tried to stuff her into a cupboard, right? They wouldn't have starved her, leaving her malnourished over the years. And she would have had a misguided Dobby looking into her welfare.
True, there was no guarantee that Draco wouldn't have taken up the mantle that Dudley played – as her primary bully – but she couldn't help feeling that things could have been much better; would have been much better.
So it was Dumbledore who had decided whom she ended up with. And what gave him the authority to make that decision? He had to have known that Sirius was innocent, right? Why hadn't he tried to get Sirius a trial in the first place?
A voice inside her head whispered, 'You need to show him his place, that meddling old fool.'
"Miss? Miss Potter?" asked a squeaky voice timidly, and Harriet warily opened her four-poster's curtains just a little, so that she could peek out.
"I is Louisie. I has message from Master Malfoy."
Harry opened up the curtain a little more and took the note that the house-elf was holding out to her.
.
'Harriet,
Are you fine? You rushed out, and I didn't know if what I'd said upset you. That wasn't my intention – to hurt you – so I apologise.
Do you want to talk to me later? Maybe you just need someone to lend you their ears; someone who promises to not judge you.
Regards,
D.M.'
.
When Harry looked up to give the elf a message in response, she realised that the house-elf had gone away, probably back to the kitchens.
Hurriedly, she took out a pen from her stash in her bedside table's drawer and replied to him on a scrap piece of notebook paper. Usually, she'd use the other side of the sender's parchment to reply to short messages, but this was different.
Something about the note made her feel nicer, happier, and she wasn't relinquishing her hold on it so soon, not when it felt like Draco Malfoy actually cared for her.
.
'Draco,
I'd like that. Five pm in classroom 3C in Turris Magnus? We'll brush up on your nonverbal skills and go in for more powerful spells. Or maybe there's something else in Defence you want us to go over together?
-Harriet
P.S. Thank you.'
.
Focussing on the person she wanted, she summoned her favourite house-elf friend, Dobby.
OoOoO
Draco leaned backward, and rested his head tiredly on the tiny back-rest of the bench he and Harriet were sitting on.
For the fees that Hogwarts collected, they could at least try and provide better furniture in the classrooms. But to be fair, this was a relatively unused one. Not even horny teenagers came to use this room, seeing as it was a few floors under McGonagall's office.
He turned his head to the left to see that Harriet had copied his position, but was busily staring at the ceiling. Right after coming in exactly three minutes late, she'd started off on a list of First and Second Year spells she'd compiled.
Draco had managed to turn his matchstick into a needle and vice versa, and had thought he was doing brilliantly, till Harriet bossily announced that that was only the beginning and they had over a hundred spells to go through. For now, they had finished about twenty percent of the list, and personally, Draco thought it was great progress. She didn't need to know that he could cast the Disillusionment Charm nonverbally.
It was now time to execute step two: Lend a ear and offer comfort.
"Is everything okay with you?" he asked her quietly, causing her to turn her face to face him.
"Yeah, it's nothing. I'm just a bit angry," she said, rolling her eyes. And for some reason, he didn't like how lifeless those eyes looked.
"At?" he prompted her, trying to get her talking.
"At things. I didn't know Dumbledore decided who I'd live with, that he was the one who'd tie me down to the Dur– you know what? It doesn't matter," she finished, turning her head back sharply to glare at the ceiling.
Her hair fell away a little as she turned, and Draco noted that she wasn't wearing any earrings. That was good, wasn't it? She'd be open to telling him everything.
"Are you saying you'd rather have lived with my family than with your Muggle family?" he asked, curious now. There wasn't any chance that she hated her family, right? He'd always thought she was a privileged little princess, having her way in everything – right from Quidditch to her fame.
"Just because someone's related to you, it doesn't make them family," she said, once again turning to face him. This time, her eyes were flashing, and she looked furious.
And for a moment, he could see the person who'd taken on The Dark Lord. She was no longer a small girl goofing around, making a mess of things. She had the aura of someone who was a force to be reckoned with.
"Your relatives... Tell me about them," he said gently, glad that even though his plan hadn't been based on the purest of intentions, he was still there to lend a ear. She seemed to be struggling with what she wanted to say, and that made him wonder – was she uncomfortable with telling him, or was she uncomfortable with telling anyone, period?
At long last, she said, a sneer twisting her features, "Let's just... let's just say it's a surprise I'm not a psychopathic Muggle hater."
In the distant future, Draco would recognise that conversation as the one where his prejudices against the Girl-Who-Lived crashed and burned.
OoOoO
It was past midnight, and Harriet was still in the common room, struggling to write a letter. She'd had a long conversation with Hermione and Ron about Sirius – all three of them had agreed that if she told him about Umbridge, he'd definitely try to break into Hogwarts. And somehow, without her mentioning it, those two had known that she was upset over the stony silence her godfather had maintained.
Ron had brought to light an interesting point, one which Hermione had said warranted further research – that since Sirius went to Azkaban at twenty-two, his was mentally still stuck at that age; that he only had the emotional capacity of a man in his early twenties, one who'd seen great pain and suffering in his childhood.
Hermione had been very impressed by Ron's observation, and Ron had blushed so hard that his face had rivalled his hair in redness. Harriet had long suspected that Ron liked Hermione, but if he didn't want to tell her, she wasn't going to pry.
It wasn't as though she'd told him about what she'd learnt earlier that day.
She paused to review the letter she'd just started, and unsatisfied, crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the fire by which she was sitting.
How was she supposed to start (again)? Was she supposed to forgive him for taking off in a huff? Was she supposed to ignore all that as if it never happened and just start off randomly? And what if Sirius wanted to know how she found out about the Malfoy thing? She knew he'd blow his top if he ever found out that she was spending so much time with Draco.
After all, when Ginny had been regaling Sirius with stories of Harriet's social life, she had mentioned multiple times what a git Malfoy was.
And speaking of Draco, she felt so guilty. He'd been so attentive that day after their 'session' and she'd begun to tell him something that she'd never told even Ron and Hermione before – her life with the Dursleys. She hadn't told him much, to be honest, just that they were a bit neglectful, but that was a lot more than what she'd told her friends, her real friends.
He'd listened to her without being visibly judgemental, and he hadn't asked probing questions. It had been relieving, sharing that small part of her soul with someone. But later, when he'd asked her if she wanted to meet him at Tome and Scrolls in secret tomorrow to help him pick out books on nonverbal magic, she'd been forced to say no.
And when he asked why, she'd lied and told him that she planned to spend the entire day with Mione and Ron. It wasn't as though the meeting at Hog's Head was something she could have just casually invited him to. Draco had then pursed his lips and said that it was fine, seeing as they weren't friends any way.
And that made her feel bad.
And now, she didn't know what to tell Sirius. Everything that had happened today was gnawing at her mind, making focussing a struggle. She grit her teeth and put her quill to parchment, deciding to write the first thing that came to mind, unfiltered.
.
'Dear Snuffles,
It's been a while. I'm still angry about our previous fireside conversation, but I miss getting letters from you. Christmas is going to be amazing, I promise. There are so many things I want to ask you, but the channels of communication aren't perfect at the moment.
I want to spend all my summers in London from now on, and never go back to Surrey. Would that be okay with you? If it is, then we can confront the person who put me in Surrey in the first place.
I can't wait to see you; it's only three more months. Stay safe, and don't walk your dog too much. he needs to learn to stay at home by a warm fire, at least till the weather gets better.
Love,
Prongslet'
.
She decided to not risk sending the letter from the castle. She would ask Hedwig to meet her at Hogsmeade tomorrow, and get the owl to deliver the letter from there.
Now, that was one thing sorted out.
Nevertheless, it took her quite some time after she went to bed to actually fall asleep, and the fact that the dot of Draco Malfoy had been pacing up and down in his room in the dungeons on the Marauders' Map hadn't helped her in the least.
End Note: JKR mentioned somewhere that Hogwarts doesn't have a tuition fee and that's why the Weasleys could send their kids, but I think there's evidence throughout the books that points to the contrary. I'd love to hear your theories.
AN:
We're in the double digits of the story, are you excited? :O
I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for reading and reviewing — your love, reactions, criticisms and opinions make me a better writer. It means a lot.
I'm not really off my writing hiatus (full story on my bio), but I thought I'd post a celebratory update.
I'm participating in an HP fanfiction competition, and my entry for the previous round has been nominated by the judges, and is up for voting. I didn't really expect this because I'm participating to seek internal validation rather than external, but it feels nice. :)
So yeah, now you've got an update in return.
I'll reply to Chapter 9 reviews over the next week, and post guest review replies on the tumblr page once I retrieve my password.
See you soon! (Ooooooooh)