415So far:
Harriet Potter is a reckless and boisterous witch who has just started her Fifth Year at Hogwarts. She has also, out of sheer boredom, started writing notes to her Slytherin 'rival'. She's puzzled by the fact that said 'rival' is being civil to her, considering their rather rocky past. But is it possible that our favourite Slytherin has a secret agenda?
Warnings: Unbeta-ed, as usual. :)
Genre: Friendship; Romance; Humour
NOTEWORTHY BOREDOM
CHAPTER 2
DETENTION SAVIOUR
As usual, Draco's mind had been filled with thoughts of his archenemy, Harriet Potter. However, much to his disgust, his thoughts had taken a terrifying turn. He found himself wondering about how she was holding up with all the pressure.
He had always thought her to be an attention seeker, right from First year. However, on closer inspection, it seemed like she really did not like the attention. And Draco hated the fact that his perception of that stupid Halfblood was changing.
He also did not like the fact that she seemed to be looking more feminine these days. He did not like the way he found himself staring at her newly formed curves. She was a Gryffindor, and a Halfblood. Her bestfriend was a Mudblood. And she openly consorted with those idiotic Weasleys. Obviously, she had no taste in choosing her company.
Why did she have to be so bloody good at Quidditch? Couldn't she not show off, for once? Why did she have to be such an annoying person? Always the 'saviour', always the well liked one. The Daily Prophet always had an article on her, these days. Even if it was all in negative light, she was the centre of attention, and he did not like it one bit.
On Wednesday, during Care of Magical Creatures, Potter had seemed tired and worn out. She had stuck to her stupid Gryffindork friends and hadn't even risen to the bait he had thrown, when he insulted that half-breed buffoon friend of hers.
On Thursday, during Double Potions, when he had made fun of her about the way she walked, or rather, pranced like a pony, it was the Weasel who had gotten angry. Potter had simply looked at him with a 'not today' look written on her face.
Draco hated not being paid the attention that was due to him. He did not like the way Potthead looked miserable. He only wanted her to be miserable if he were the one to make her miserable. He wanted her to get mad and fight back with him.
And today, during History of Magic, he had found her doing her Potions homework, while that ghost droned on about the Goblin Revolt of 1587. She had looked terrible, like she had not been eating enough.
Not knowing what came over him, he had hastily scribbled the name of the text required to finish the Potions essay onto a piece of parchment, and thrown it at her head. She had opened the note, read it carefully, then looked up at him, and had mouthed 'thank you', with a weak smile on her face.
Blaise had found the whole thing amusing, because according to Blaise, Draco's obsession with Potter probably signified a deeper emotional attachment. But Draco knew that the Italian boy was wrong. He hated that stupid girl so much, that she was all he thought about.
And somehow, she had managed to monopolise his thoughts, even now when he was on Prefect duty. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts, that he hadn't realised that it was past eleven. He heard some heavy breathing around the corridor, and went to investigate.
He hoped it was a First year Hufflepuff, out of bed after curfew, so that he could scare it away by reducing house points.
Which was why he was surprised to see his archenemy curled up on the ground, breathing like a wounded horse.
OoOoO
Harriet's heart was thumping very hard and fast. Her scar was pounding with pain.
She had rushed out of Umbitch's office, her forehead and her hand, both hurting. She had sprinted up the stairs, but had ended up taking a wrong turn in her blind haste. And then she had started feeling dizzy, which had led to her lying down on the floor, so as to not lose consciousness and fall flat on her face.
Stay calm, it doesn't necessarily mean what it means, she repeated to herself, curling up further into a ball, as she heard footsteps approach her.
"Potter?"
She moved her head off the floor, to see Malfoy looming over her, an almost concerned expression on his face.
He knelt down beside her, his eyes wide with some nameless emotion.
"What happened?"
Gripping his right arm with her left hand, she pulled herself up, and rested herself on the wall, as he looked at her left hand with mild disgust.
"I'm only letting you dirty my robes because you look like a dying hag," he said, trying to sneer, and failing to produce a satisfactory sneer.
In response, she simply tightened her grip on his arm, and looked at him blankly.
"For fuck's sake, Potter. Talk to me when I talk to you. What are you doing out here, so late?"
"I-I-..."
Harriet's voice broke as she tried to speak.
Malfoy rudely grabbed her chin and before she could react, took out his wand and muttered some spell. Water started pouring out of his wand, and fell into Harriet's open mouth.
Now that her strength was returning to her, she glared at him.
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
"Did your mother not teach you to say thank you? Oh, right. You don't have a mother."
Harriet scowled at the blond ponce in front of her. He was so infuriating. Her headache was disappearing, but her hand was now throbbing with pain.
"Thank you, Ferretface."
"Are you asking for more detention?"
"Hell, no. Leave me alone," groaned Harrie, wincing when her right hand rubbed against his left sleeve. She tightened her grip on his right arm.
"Fuck, Potter. Stop holding me so tightly. Wait, is that blood?"
Harrie tried to hide her right hand, but he was too fast. He grabbed it and turned her hand to inspect it. She winced loudly, as his features took on a grim stance.
"Black Quill?"
"How did you know?"
"Umbridge's detention?"
"Were you spying on me?" she spat out, feeling irritated.
"You really must learn to be quiet and not draw the attention of certain people, Potter," he told her, with a resigned look on his face.
When she didn't reply, he pointed his wand at her hand, his nose scrunched up in concentration. Through the haze of pain, Harriet realised that for some stupid reason, she was trusting him.
"This won't stop the bleeding, but it'll numb the pain... Loksomnum," he muttered, a blond lock falling across his face as he did the required wand movement.
As the pain cleared away, Harrie felt unbelievably cheerful. "Your eyes are a silvery grey," she whispered, realising too late that she hadn't really thought through what she was saying.
She looked away, feeling moronic, but not before she caught the smirk on the Slytherin's face. "A common side-effect of the spell, people speak without thinking."
"I guess I should say thanks."
"Don't. We're now even, for you helping me avoid Pansy in Care of Magical Creatures. I usually demand a greater debt for things like these. Don't expect me to come around saving you always."
"What about the one where I have to save you from Pansy thrice?"
"Are you always this stupid? You still owe me that."
"Did you see those hideous pimples on her face? That was me," boasted Harrie, feeling pleased with herself.
"That still doesn't mean you owe me any lesser."
"What about detention tomorrow?"
He gave her a long look before standing up. He then surprised her by hauling her to her feet. He bent down, picked up her bag and gave it to her.
"I'll send you a note."
As he started walking away, Harriet asked him before she could stop herself, "Are you not going to walk me to my dorm?"
Without turning back, he replied, "Goodnight, Potter."
She now felt completely annoyed with herself, for asking him that question in the first place. Why was he being so nice to her?
OoOoO
Harrie was the first to wake up in her dormitory the next morning. She lay for a moment watching dust swirl in the ray of sunlight coming through the gap in her four-poster's hangings, and savoured the thought that it was Saturday.
But it wasn't in her boisterous nature to remain in bed doing nothing. She sprung out of bed, realising by the sleepy silence around her, that she was the first one up. It looked like it was just after daybreak. She pulled out a roll of parchment, a quill and an ink bottle from her bag carefully, and made her way to the common room.
She had been so tired last night, that she had not changed her clothes before falling asleep. Ron had been preoccupied with having been made Keeper, and Hermione had been busy fighting with Fred. Harriet wondered if Hermione fancied Fred. That would explain her behaviour towards the Twins.
Sitting in her favourite squashy old armchair, she unrolled her parchment and glared at it intently, not knowing what to write. She did not want to tell Sirius about the Black Quill incident. She didn't want him storming into Hogwarts foolishly, out of anger, only to be hauled back to Azkaban. Sirius had a tendency to be impulsive.
She managed to write a brief letter to Padfoot, trying to hide her questions in plain sight. After re-reading it to ensure that it was completely encrypted, she hurried off to the Owlery. She encountered Mrs Norris on the way, and Harriet had to squash the urge to kick the sodding cat.
Once she had sent Hedwig off, she moved to the large stone arch of the window, and savoured the fresh air on her face. And then she saw it, a great, reptilian winged horse flying over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest.
Was Lovegood right? Were these creatures not merely a figment of her imagination? Her heart was now hammering madly.
When someone behind her cleared their throat, she jumped and turned around, alarmed. Her right hand had automatically gone for the wand stashed in her right pocket.
"Potthead. What a pleasure," drawled the Slytherin Prince, one eyebrow quirked.
"What are you doing here, Ferretface?" she asked, feeling tired.
"I came to send your note. But now that you're here, Hermes can go do more important things."
"I'm guessing Hermes is your owl?" Harriet asked, half smiling. Hermes, the owl, carried messages and had golden footwear, much like the Greek God Hermes. It seemed to be the kind of pretentiously adorable thing that Malfoy would do.
Hold on. Had she just called Malfoy adorable? Harriet suppressed the slight shudder that she felt.
Meanwhile, Malfoy had walked close to her, and had his right arm stretched out with the letter. For a second, it reminded her of the incident on the Hogwarts Express, where he had offered his friendship.
"Potter, are you still in yesterday's clothes?"
"So what if I am?" asked Harrie, feeling oddly defensive.
However, when she tried to take the letter from him, he caught her hand and gazed at it intently.
"How is the pain?"
"Bearable, thanks."
He took a step closer, and lifted her hand up to his face, as if examining it closely.
"It's going to scar," he announced softly, as he looked up to meet her eyes. He had such pretty eyes. Harriet's eyes widened in horror, when she realised what she had just thought.
However, before she could say anything, Cho Chang entered the Owlery, holding a letter and a parcel in her hands.
"Oh... hi," she said breathlessly. "I didn't think anyone would be here this early. I'm sorry if I interrupted anything."
Just as Harriet tried to spring away from Malfoy, he put his arm around her waist and held her tightly to him.
"Don't worry. We're leaving."
As he dragged her to the entrance, Harrie turned around to greet the Ravenclaw. "Have a great day, Cho!"
"You too," said the Asian girl, uncertainly.
Once they had descended the stairs, she slapped his hand away from her waist. She turned around to face him, and glared at him.
"What the fuck, Malfoy?"
"Think of it as me setting the stage for you to save me from Pansy."
As Malfoy stood there and simply looked at her, unbothered, Harrie found herself getting angry. She fought the urge to smack him. After all, she owed it to him to at least be nice to him for a week, for helping her out last night.
Just as she was about to move away from their staring contest, she heard some heavy footfalls. Filch the caretaker came wheezing around the corner. It was obvious that he had just run here. Mrs Norris came trotting at his heels.
"Aha!" said Filch, taking a flat-footed step towards Harrie. "I've had a tip-off that you are intending to place a massive order for Dungbombs!"
Harrie folded her arms, and stared at the caretaker. "Who told you I was ordering Dungbombs?"
Malfoy was looking from her to Filch, a faint frown marring his alabaster forehead.
"I have my sources," hissed Filch. "Now hand over whatever it is you plan to send."
"I already sent it. It's gone."
"Gone?" said Filch, his face contorting with rage.
"Gone," said Harrie calmly.
Filch opened his mouth furiously, mouthed for a few seconds, then raked Harrie's robes with his eyes. Harrie felt dirty, not liking the way his eyes moved over her body.
Just as Malfoy partially moved in front of her, Filch asked, "How do I know you haven't got it in your pocket?"
But before Harrie could open her mouth, Malfoy said coldly, "Because I saw her send it."
Filch rounded on him. "You saw her- ?"
"That's right, I saw her. And as you can see, we are on our way back inside," he said fiercely, his eyes narrowed.
There was a moment's pause, where Filch glared at Malfoy, and Malfoy glared back at him. The caretaker then turned on his heel and shuffled back towards the main building. He stopped and looked back at Harrie.
"If I get so much as a whiff of a Dungbomb..."
He walked away, with Mrs Norris following him, her tail up in the air.
Malfoy and Harrie looked at each other.
"We're now even for that stunt you pulled back in the Owlery," Harrie said, secretly grateful to the blond Slytherin.
"You're welcome, Potter."
He then looked up and down at her, much like Filch. However, this time, she didn't feel dirty. She, in fact, felt a little warm on the inside. A little too warm.
"You weren't ordering Dungbombs, were you?"
"None of your business, Malfoy," she replied, trying to copy his trademark sneer.
"See you at eleven," he said smirking at her, before walking inside.
Harrie shivered at the sudden absence of his warmth. She took out his 'note' and unrolled it.
.
'Ms Potter,
Please come to the Quidditch pitch at 11 am sharp for your detention. Your detention has been officially noted down by my Head of House.
Regards,
Draco Malfoy
Slytherin Fifth Year Prefect
P.S. Kindly bring the new Quidditch Polishing Kit that I heard you boasting about to your Weasley friend. I believe the polish is odourless.'
.
Harrie scowled in annoyance at the note. The Gryffindors had Quidditch practice at half past twelve. She didn't want to miss it, seeing as Angelina was already hopping mad at her. And moreover, she did not want to waste her new kit on the stupid Slytherin's broom.
But then he was being nice to her. Not that it was unconditional, but he was still being nice. And that left her feeling confused.
She hated feeling confused. She was supposed to hate him. He repeatedly called Hermione a Mudblood, continually made fun of Ron's lack of wealth and constantly insulted her. But he had defended her to Filch, helped her out last night and had not made fun of her for passing notes to him in History of Magic.
Feeling all the more confused, she made her way to the Great Hall, for breakfast.
OoOoO
Draco was getting impatient. He had been waiting at the Quidditch pitch, near the changing rooms, for the past fifteen minutes. Potter had not turned up.
Why did Potter have to take up all his time, everyday? Even when she was not physically there, she was all he thought about. He studied to be better than her. He played Quidditch as a Seeker just because she did. (He had always wanted to be a Chaser.) He spent time making up creative insults just to bother her.
And just this morning, he had been forced to talk to Filch for her. For some unfathomable reason, he had felt pure, unadulterated rage, when he had seen the lecherous way in which the caretaker had eyed Potter. It was things like these which made him question whether this girl had ever really faced the Dark Lord.
Draco was shaken out of his thoughts by a throat being cleared in front of him.
"I'm sorry I'm late. There was something that came up," said Potter, shuffling her feet and looking at the ground.
Draco could very well guess what it was that had 'come up'. During breakfast, he had seen how the Golden Trio had fought over the Daily Prophet , with Potter and the Mudblood tearing the paper down the middle in their haste to read it. He had lip-read the Mudblood saying 'Sirius' and had lip-read Potthead saying 'Lucius Malfoy'.
Well, he had to give credit where it was due. It had been his father who had informed the Ministry that Black was hiding in London. He hadn't expected Potthead to figure that out, though. But how typical of Potter, to be mixed with Mudbloods and Blood traitors and half breeds and werewolves and house elves.
She probably took her job as 'saviour' too seriously.
"Umm... Malfoy?"
He led her inside the Slytherin changing rooms, before speaking. " You have to polish all these brooms such that they're shining as brightly as Merlin's bald spot. You may start now."
He sat down on one of the benches, as Potter set up her polishing kit.
"Don't you have house elves to do this kind of manual labour?"
"Unfortunately for me, you freed my house elf, remember?"
"Dobby deserves his freedom."
"What?"
"Dobby. That's the name of your old house elf, you ungrateful prat."
"Call me anymore names, and I'll ensure this detention extends into your Quidditch practice time. Don't look so surprised, Scarface. Everyone knows that the Weasel's been made Keeper and that Johnson booked the pitch for the entire second half of the day."
The girl silently sighed, and went back to polishing the broom.
Some forty minutes later, and four polished brooms later, Draco was appreciating how well the Muggle trousers accentuated the feminine curve of Potter's body, when she dropped the sponge, cursing loudly.
"What, Potter?"
"It bloody burns where the polish fell on it," she cried out, holding her right hand in front of his face. He could make out the angry red writing on her hand. I must not tell lies.
He couldn't help but feel disgusted at what that old toad had done. Umbridge was one of the people who constantly sucked up to his father. So while he was obviously treated like royalty by her, he did not like the way she had made Potter use a Black Quill.
"I'll polish my own broom, give that to me," he said, taking the sponge out of her hand.
"That's what she said," muttered the Gryffindor. When he looked at her questioningly, she said, "Muggle joke." She then stood up, and walked towards the shower stalls.
Draco shook his head dismissively, before beginning to polish his Nimbus 2001. His father had promised him a Firebolt, if he managed to get more than eight O's in the OWLs. He desperately needed a Firebolt, if he had to win against the other Houses, if he had to win against her.
When she sat down, her hand was wet. She sat right next to him and watched him polish his broom. He found her presence very distracting.
"Stop staring at me, Potthead. Drooling at my good looks isn't very womanly of you."
"Malfoy?" she asked uncertainly.
"What?"
"Do you know anything about Sirius Black?"
"He is my mother's cousin."
"I know that. I'm asking about his current whereabouts."
He paused his polishing to look at her. She was fidgeting in her seat. And when she ran her left hand through her hair nervously, he caught a faint whiff of vanilla.
"According to the Daily Prophet, he's in London."
"According to the Daily Prophet, I'm an attention-whore."
"Aren't you, though?"
She moved so fast that he never saw her hand approaching his face. It was only when he jerked back in pain as she yowled in pain, that he realised that she had slapped him. With the back of her hand. Like the idiot she was.
"Did you just slap me?" he asked her, indignantly.
"Who cares? My hand hurts!" she cried, outraged.
"You can polish the other two brooms all on your own. I thought I'd help you. But you don't deserve it."
"I thought you believed me?" she asked him, her face a cold mask.
"I still do. I also believe that you draw attention to yourself unnecessarily."
"What?"
"You need not have fought with Umbridge in your first class."
"SHE WAS CALLING ME A LIAR!" shouted Potter, standing up now.
Draco stood up, pulling himself to his full height. He needn't have, though; he was already towering over the girl.
"Consider this a friendly warning, Potter. It would be smart for you to not draw any more attention to yourself for the next few months," he said, trying to keep his voice level.
She glared at him defiantly, her eyes flashing. Her eyes were too green. There had been a time when the Pureblood society's females had gushed over the greenness of the Potter Heiress' eyes. For the first time ever, he could understand why they were special.
Because it was easy to lose yourself in them.
Her shoulders slumped forward, as she sighed dejectedly, "Okay."
She sat back down heavily, picked up the sponge from where he had dropped it on the bench, and started polishing one of the last two brooms. He sat back down, and watched her. Though she was physically present, he could easily make out that she was mentally absent.
He had no idea why he had even told her what he had. True, the Minister was planning to give a few more powers to Umbridge, but he did not understand why he had felt the need to warn Potter. After all, she had stood up to the Dark Lord, hadn't she? She didn't need him to protect her.
But a snide voice in his head asked, 'But you want her to want your protection, don't you?'
Draco decided to ignore that voice.
At twenty minutes past twelve, when Potter finally got up to leave, he didn't feel like saying anything.
"Don't you have to give me some sort of detention slip?" she asked him, her voice neutral.
He silently handed her the slip and watched as she made her way to the entrance, after packing up her kit with a flick of her wand. That was certainly an impressive display of non-verbal magic.
Her hair was long, and reached her waist, unlike the hair of the Pureblood girls he knew, who kept it till either their shoulders or their chests. And not many of them had hair that was as black as ebony.
He decided that he liked the way her hair swished from side to side when she walked.
At the doorway, she paused and turned to look at him. In a gentle voice, she said, "Thanks."
He nodded his acknowledgement, feeling very light, for a moment. If this was how it felt when Potter really said her thanks, it explained why there were so many people willing to help her out all the time.
He sat there, smiling to himself, for another five minutes, before making his way out to the Quidditch field. After all, he had instructed Pansy, Gregory and Vincent to meet him at the field at 12:35 pm sharp.
There was no way he was missing out the Gryffindorks' Quidditch practice with their new Weasel of a Keeper, even if his feelings towards their Seeker was slowly changing.
He was a Malfoy, and Malfoys hated the Weasleys.
He was Draco, and Draco hated Potter.
At least, he was supposed to.
OoOoO
End note:
For a long time, I was under the impression that the quill Umbridge used was called a Blood Quill. It was while writing this chapter that I decided to check it up on the net, and lo behold, it's apparently a Black Quill. Do you think it has anything to do with the Blacks?
AN:
I was delighted by the response to this story. :) Now let's talk about update schedules. I have two options for you:
(a) I can update a chapter as and when I write a new one - which means I'll have a constant number of chapters as a safety net in my "bank".
or
(b) I can update whenever a chapter gets a certain n number of reviews. So if we keep an arbitrary value of 25, a new chapter will be posted for every 25 new reviews.
With option A, the updates will be sporadic. With option B, I'd say you have the power - tell me which one you want in a review.
Thank you ptl4ever419, Mashkai30, harryislife, SilentSimple, CupCakeAwesomeness, Raven097, lumusmaxima77, Captain CV, ms. potterclearwaterdiangelo, SilveryWind, Nataly SkyPot, amata0221, Sly Seraphina, LyraStarlight, TofuNinjaCat, Mrs. TomMarvoloRiddle, bridget237, thestarsinthesky13, I. C. 2014, GreenOnBlack, Daughter of Fuyuki, Hikari. Kuro1994 and guest reviewers Fire Ruby, Guest and Guest for reading and reviewing. :)
P.S. I had to put spaces between some of your names, because FFN was acting funny.