Title - What Will Be
Summary - Harry goes into the future and is shocked to find that he and his rival have become lovers. His experiences in 2004 are shown alongside those of 1996 onwards, after he returns from the future without his memory and he and Draco fall in love.
Pairings - Harry x Draco with side pairings mostly canonical except for Ginny x Seamus.
Notes - I'd like to make this clear from the first chapter – both the Harry in 2004 and the Harry in 1996 are the same person, sixteen years old and simply dealing with different scenarios. In 2004 Harry wakes up to find that he is in his own body as a twenty-four year old, with a life he didn't expect. In 1996 Harry wakes up, having returned from the future but with no memory of anything that happened there. The 2004 part covers a few weeks in May, but the 1996 part covers all the years leading up to that point. It will make several jumps but they should all be explained. So you get to see Harry puzzling over everything that he sees in the future, and then get to see how it actually happened in the past. It might sound tricky but it's a very simple idea. I hope you like it! You know the drill, review and I both update sooner and love you.
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October, 1996
Harry didn't think he was drunk, but he stumbled when he tried to avoid a girl who hadn't seen him as he made his way through the crowded Gryffindor common room. Someone grabbed his elbow to balance him, but let go when he waved them off. He'd done things a lot harder than walk across a room when he'd had a little too much to drink.
Around him people laughed and talked loudly with each other. Someone was playing music on the other side of the room but it couldn't match their volume. Some people were dancing to it, clumsily and excitedly, while others watched on and laughed. Seamus and a red-faced Neville were jumping around, trying to get other people to join in. They weren't entirely unsuccessful.
There were Gryffindor banners sweeping around over their heads, lions roaring powerfully and letters flashing like neon signs. The lights that usually hung around the room seemed brighter, although Harry wasn't sure now if that was thanks to the Firewhiskey he'd been drinking. Whoever had set them up was probably also responsible for the food that moved around the room. It was all unhealthy, of course, and temptingly throwable.
Ron gestured at him to come over and join him in playing a game of Exploding Snap. When he was distracted a card burst into flame behind him, and the people sitting around laughed madly. Harry gave him an apologetic smile, signalling to the dorms. Ron nodded and went back to his game, saying something to Dean when he saw that he'd scored another point.
The stairs to boy's dormitories were just as crowded as the common room had been. Harry pushed past some chattering people, who shouted congratulations as he went by. He nodded at them absently and gripped the railing of the staircase tightly. Fred and Angelina were kissing rather passionately at the top of the stairs, and Fred raised an eyebrow at him and moved to the side. Harry grinned at him in reply and headed down to his room.
He was starting to get a headache. The party had been great, wilder than any of the ones they'd had in the past. It was to celebrate Gryffindor's win in Quidditch, but at this point the parties were happening every other week and for whatever reason was going. The last one had been for Seamus' birthday, the one before because two third-years had started going out, the one before that he couldn't even remember. They got crazier every time.
It was a way to relieve stress and just feel good about something, when it looked like any day now they could be caught up in the Second Wizarding War. Among all the smiles and friendliness that people had for him there were looks of pity. The future of Britain depended on Harry, and he wasn't even out of school yet.
He fell onto his bed with a groan. The room was empty and he could still hear everything that was going on downstairs, even with the door closed. Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his face with his hand, already regretting taking the Firewhiskey that Harold had offered him. It wasn't as if nearly everything else wasn't spiked, anyway. They kept the Butterbeer clean for the younger years but anything else was fair game. That was how these parties worked. If you didn't like it, you went to bed and got to laugh at everyone who was tired and hung-over the next day.
Running his hands through his hair briskly, Harry decided not to think too much about what he regretted. He got up and changed quickly into some pyjamas, slipping under the covers and closing the curtain around his bed. There was too much to think about, anyway.
A vision of Sirius flashed through his head and he pushed it away. Even Firewhiskey wasn't enough to make him waste his thoughts on something he couldn't change. Harry wasn't drunk enough – wasn't drunk at all, he didn't think. Not that he'd had much alcohol before to know.
He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling himself drifting into unconsciousness even as cards exploded and music played and people talked downstairs...
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
May, 2004
It was far too bright. Harry was certain he'd closed the curtain when he'd gone to bed last night. Unless he actually had been drunk, and too drunk to admit that he was. Or Seamus or Ron had already gotten up and thought it would be funny – it woke him up before he was ready, and they knew he hated that.
Scrunching up his eyes, he reached out a hand, hoping with the desperation of someone who's just woken up that the curtain would meet it and he could pull it closed without too much bother. No luck. Harry made a noise of frustration and pulled his blanket half over his head. Maybe he could ignore it and get a few more minutes of sleep this way.
He heard a door open and someone rush through the room. A chest creaked open and Harry could hear things being pulled out of it and then thrown down somewhere, and then it creaked shut again. Whoever it was, they were being far louder than was necessary, and louder than Harry could take in silence. "Gods, do you have to be so loud!" he said, irritated.
The person laughed. It was Harry's first clue that something wasn't quite right. The second was when they stepped over to his bed and kissed the top of his hair. "I know you don't like it. But I was hoping you'd wake up to say goodbye before I head off to work."
Harry froze.
It was a man's voice, and too deep and measured to belong to any of the sixteen-year-olds he shared a room with at Hogwarts. It was affectionate, like the kiss had been, the way Molly and Arthur sometimes spoke to each other when he visited the Burrow. Harry hoped briefly that he had been mistaken for someone else – after all, he was mostly hidden under the blanket – before he realised that the man had heard his voice and hadn't been surprised by it.
The voice was oddly familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Maybe it belonged to one of the seventh-years he'd talked to in passing. Maybe he'd been too drunk to recognise his own room and was in someone else's bed. That made sense. But no, what he had said didn't. Work? Was it a Prefect?
Harry's heart was starting to beat faster in his chest, and he opened his eyes slowly for fear that they'd show him something he really didn't want to see. They adjusted quickly to the darkness under the blanket, and he realised that if this was a bed in Hogwarts it was an awfully wide one. Maybe, he thought weakly, being a Prefect had certain benefits?
It was foolish of him to cling to an idea just because it was safer, and Harry knew it. Unless he'd somehow ended up in a teacher's room, a teacher he hadn't had before, this wasn't Hogwarts. And really he was somewhat grateful for that. To think that he'd slept with a professor – in whatever sense – would be terrifying.
The person had moved away from the bed. He could hear the rustle of fabrics and figured he must be getting dressed. Oh Merlin, what have I done? No! If he wasn't at Hogwarts it wasn't likely that he, Harry Potter, had done anything. The parties may be fairly wild, but he didn't see how they could get him into Hogsmeade or wherever else.
The rustling stopped and Harry figured he must be dressed. "Don't go back to sleep," the man said, sounding both amused and a little sad that Harry might do that. "Come on. Say goodbye to me properly."
Harry froze for the second time as recognition hit him.
Oh shit, oh no, this can't be happening to me, it really can't, how did I get here and do...that. I couldn't have. He must have drugged me, I don't know how. And why does he sound like that? I can't be here, no, no I can't, oh shit what's happening? Before he lost the nerve to do it, Harry sat up, pushing the blanket forcefully down.
And he stared, horrified, at Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy who looked at the same time like Draco Malfoy and not like him. His hair was longer, down to his collarbone and pushed roughly behind one ear. His shoulders were broader, if only slightly, the line of his jaw was sharper and his features seemed softer. His eyes were wide as he looked back at Harry, looking more blue than silver. He looked like Malfoy probably would if he were a few years older.
He seemed taller, too, and Harry saw now that he'd gotten it wrong. He hadn't finished getting dressed; all he had on were some boxers and a white dress shirt. It was thankfully already buttoned and the Malfoy-lookalike had threaded a tie through the collar.
He was bent over slightly for whatever reason and his hair fell past his ear on the side where it wasn't tucked away. His hands were at his neck, midway through tying the tie there and fixing his collar. Harry tried to avoid looking down his bare legs, but couldn't, and saw that he was wearing white socks. That seemed a little odd, to put your socks on before you'd even put on your trousers. But then, it wasn't the strangest thing Harry was noticing right now.
The man blinked at him and then went back to doing his tie, his hands moving while his curious eyes stayed on Harry. "Are you alright, Harry?"
Fuck. Now I can't even hope that this is a mistake. "Uhh..." He wasn't sure what he could say, since he had no idea what was going on. The man tilted his head slightly, concern in his expression. "I'm...fine. Thanks."
"If you say so," the man shrugged. Buttoning up his collar he moved to pick up his trousers, which were resting neatly on a chair.
His initial shock out of the way, Harry noticed the room that he was in. It was rectangular and slightly curved, with the bed against one of the smaller walls and small tables on either side. The ceiling was quite high and a window that faced the bed on the adjacent wall was responsible for the light that had woken Harry up.
He couldn't see any others, just lots of bookshelves and chairs and odd pieces of furniture, all in the same dark wood. There was a fireplace in the middle of them, and several doors. Pictures hung on one part of the wall and a mirror and some odd-looking things on another. There were several rugs on the already carpeted floor. Nearly everything was a deep red. Basically it looked like a carefully organised mess.
It was a nice room, the kind of thing Harry would have chosen for himself if he ever had a place of his own. He wasn't sure he would have wanted quite so many books, or to have the fireplace precisely there, or that awful looking statue over in the corner, but it was nice. Comfortable.
At least it would have been if it didn't have Malfoy in it, or someone who looked rather frighteningly like him.
The man in question glanced at him every now and then as he finished getting dressed. Harry became conscious that his mouth was open and closed it quickly. This made the man smile, strange person that he was, and focus on pulling on his shoes.
"You should take a look at today's Daily Prophet," he said conversationally. "Skeeter's been getting up to some wicked things. Ah, but I know you won't get out of bed for hours yet. Here." He picked up a newspaper from another of the chairs and tossed it to Harry.
Harry didn't care much to read the paper right now, not when he might well be trapped in some twisted plot by Death Eaters to get him out of the way. Or maybe Fred and George had suddenly gotten much more elaborate in their pranks. Or a spell had gone wrong. Or he was still sleeping. They were all possibilities that he was very willing to consider at present.
The man gestured at him to take a look at it, and Harry sighed. He held both sides of the paper and flicked once to get the creases out. On the front page was a photograph of some people on brooms, but he didn't get to the article explaining it before his eyes settled on the date.
Tuesday, 11th of May, 2004
Harry gaped at that for several moments, before he realised that he wasn't alone and shut his mouth so quickly that he could hear his teeth clack against each other. It wasn't May, it was October, Harry knew that, everyone knew that. May would mean it was spring, with flowers growing and more classes outside. No, it was October. Just the other day the ceiling of the Great Hall had been dark and gloomy.
And it wasn't 2004, it was 1996, they weren't even in the same millennium. And it wasn't Tuesday, either, but Saturday, or everyone would have been far too exhausted from the party last night to do well in their classes.
It was Tuesday, 11th of May, 2004. Harry had come forward in time.
"The news must be really interesting, for you to be looking at it like that," the man said now, laughter in his eyes. Harry looked at him, properly this time. Oh gods, this was Malfoy. It wasn't someone who looked like him, it was actually Malfoy. And it looked rather like they were living together.
"Yes," Harry said quickly. Too quickly, but he brushed that off. "Definitely. You know how I like Quidditch..." Oh gods, why do I have to say it, I shouldn't have to say it! "...Draco."
"Of course I do," the man – Malfoy! – said pleasantly. "No one could have gone to Hogwarts with you and not seen that. Now, I'm late to work. I'd love to stay longer, but I'm afraid I lingered too long in bed this morning as it was, so I'll head off in a few minutes." He looked at Harry, and there was glint of something in his eyes, but Harry didn't know what it was. "Can I have my goodbye before I go? Now that you're up and all."
Harry wondered if he looked as stricken as he felt. "Uhh..."
"I know you're going to want to sleep all day when I'm gone, Harry," Malfoy went on as if he hadn't said anything. Which he supposed he really hadn't. "And I know you're on holiday for the next couple of weeks from your job as an Auror. But if I come home at around five and find that you haven't so much as gotten dressed, I'm going to be very disappointed."
What he had said was incredibly informative, and Harry would have been suspicious if he weren't so grateful. Auror. Malfoy comes back at five. Get dressed. Well, that should have been obvious.
"If you're still in bed by then, I just might have to join you," Malfoy said, sounding as though he were joking but his eyes were serious enough that Harry resolved to get up and get dressed as soon as he possibly could. He stepped over to the bed and crouched beside Harry.
Harry really had no clue what he was meant to do. He hated Malfoy. At least, he hated the one that he knew. This older Malfoy seemed different. Although that could have rather a lot to do with the fact that he and Harry were apparently shagging. He stared rather stupidly as the other man came closer.
Malfoy studied him for several long moments, and then leaned forward, his eyes on Harry's mouth. "I'll miss you," he said softly, kissing Harry instead on the cheek and undoubtedly hearing his sigh of relief. "Don't have too much fun while I'm gone."
"I-" Harry spoke without thinking about it, and broke off. "I won't," he said finally. That seemed to be enough for Malfoy, who touched his shoulder lightly and stood up.
"Alright. I suppose you won't be too bored on your own. You have managed for the last few days. You've got the paper to read, and there are some books Hermione left for you in the living room. I don't think anyone will be stopping by today, but if you want to make some calls the Floo powder is-" he stopped and smiled at Harry. "Well, you know where it is."
With that Malfoy picked up his things, a light robe that he wasn't wearing yet, a briefcase and a book from one of the piles of them lying about near the chairs. He stepped over to the fireplace and pulled some powder out of the pouch hanging above it, giving Harry a wave before he tossed it in. "I'll see you later. Ministry of Magic!" he said and stepped into the flames, disappearing.
Harry thought he could be forgiven for being completely and totally bewildered.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
October, 1996
It was a dark room that Harry found himself in when he opened his eyes. It took a moment for them to adjust, but he soon saw that he was in the infirmary. His head ached painfully, and he pressed a hand to it as he slowly sat up.
It must be night time. He could see stars through one of the windows and enjoyed them for a brief moment before looking about himself. He couldn't remember how he had gotten here.
Let's see. I got drunk at the party – and I can deny it all I want, but that's what happened – and went to bed. He remembered that much, easily. But somehow he felt as though there were more, something that came after that that he needed to remember. Harry tried but found that he simply couldn't. He didn't know what he wanted to remember in the first place.
For all he knew, whatever it had been was what had gotten him in here to begin with. He hoped rather desperately that he hadn't made a fool of himself when he'd been drinking. It was the most likely possibility; the other was that the party had found its way upstairs and he'd gotten caught somehow in the middle of it. He hoped that hadn't happened either. The professors usually looked away as long as the mess was gone in the morning, and no one got hurt.
A crashing sound came from across the room. "Ah, shit!" a muffled voice accompanied it. Harry thought he could hear whatever it was that had fallen being picked up and put carefully back into place. He had done the same thing enough times when sneaking around that it was very familiar to him.
As was the faint sound of measured footsteps, and of someone trying not to cry out when they bumped into one of the infirmary beds. Harry wondered if he were ever that obvious under his Invisibility Cloak. Gods, that would be unfortunate.
He sat up fully, resting his back against the headboard. It was rather entertaining to watch the figure come closer to his bed, clearly not realising that he had woken someone up. He wasn't worried; if this was a Death Eater it was a very young and clumsy one. It was far more likely to be someone visiting an injured friend after hours. Maybe even Harry, although he'd be surprised. It clearly wasn't Ron and he didn't think the others would be reckless enough to try it.
The moment when the figure came close enough to see him, just watching it, was so funny that Harry couldn't stop himself from laughing, although he did so quietly. The person stiffened, and then moved closer to look at him, and then stiffened again.
"Potter! Shut up!" he said furiously.
"Malfoy? What are you doing here?" Harry asked, too amused to be mistrustful just yet, although he was sure that would be coming in the next minute or so.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake..." Malfoy muttered, and cast Lumos. His features were shadowed but much clearer than they had been a few moments before. He was scowling, no surprise there.
"Hey! You shouldn't be doing that kind of magic here, it will-"
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You're the only one in here right now, Potter. No one else was stupid enough to get as drunk as you did."
"I did?" Harry said, confused.
"You drank enough to keep you unconscious for three days, I heard," Malfoy explained. He smirked, suddenly. "Pomfrey ran all kinds of tests on you, to check for poisoning and the like. She should have done one for stupidity."
"Sneaking into the infirmary at night isn't the smartest thing to do either, Malfoy," Harry pointed out. Yes, there it was. The mistrustfulness and anger that Malfoy's presence usually inspired in him.
"Tell anyone I was here, Potter, and I'll hex you so badly you'll be in here another week," Malfoy said with narrowed eyes.
"Try that and I'll make sure you join me," Harry shot back.
They spent a minute in simmering silence, glaring hatefully at each other until Harry thought he'd made his point and spoke again. "What exactly are you doing here, anyway?"
"As if I'd tell you, Potter."
"I'm sure it's not to see me, and if I'm the only one here, what are you doing in here?" he asked again.
"Of course it's to see you, Potter. I just can't go a day without seeing your pretty face."
Harry folded his arms. "No, really. What's going on, Malfoy." Malfoy seemed reluctant to tell him anything, so Harry made him a deal. That, he figured, he'd be more comfortable with. "If you tell me what you're doing here, I won't tell anyone that I found you here in the first place."
The other boy sighed. "All right!" he said loudly, and then looked away as if embarrassed. "We were practicing some spells down in the dungeons. Vince got a...a hex wrong and now Greg's walking around deaf in one ear. I thought I could fix it but I couldn't – shut up, Potter!"
Harry simply laughed harder when Malfoy turned red. "No, no, I'm sorry! I just...I can really see that happening. It's just...very funny...!"
Malfoy scowled at him again. "Anyway, we found a potion that should fix it up but one of the ingredients is Goosegrass. We couldn't find any, and I figured there'd be some in the infirmary somewhere. That's what I'm looking for."
"You couldn't just get some from Snape?" Harry asked, surprised.
"We're not his favourites, like everyone seems to think, Potter," his scowl deepened. "Professor Snape would have punished us just like anyone else once he found out about our ineptitude."
Harry didn't agree, but knew better than to say so. "Admitting a flaw, are we? I never thought I'd hear it."
Malfoy hit him and he rubbed his shoulder. It hadn't really hurt and Malfoy very well knew it, but he was damn well going to milk it anyway. "You're not going to hear it again if you keep that up."
"So I might, as long as I don't tease you? Why, Malfoy, I think we're becoming friends. Ow!" This time it did hurt, and Harry shot him a glare.
"Try again, Potter. And keep it to reality this time." Malfoy's eyes wandered around the infirmary, probably looking for anything that might hold potion ingredients.
All the injuries Harry had sustained over the years meant that he was all too familiar with this room, as well as several attached to it. "The Goosegrass should be over in that cabinet there," he waved to it with his free hand, the other clutching his faintly throbbing shoulder. "Don't take too much, and definitely don't take anything else. Pomfrey will notice, but if it's just a small amount she might be willing to let it go."
Under the light coming from Malfoy's wand it looked as though the boy gave Harry a grateful look, but he dismissed that as impossible. He might have helped him now, but they had always been rivals. It wouldn't take a couple of blades of Goosegrass to change that. "Of course. I was just going to look over there, actually."
Harry snorted. "Of course."
Malfoy went over and searched the cabinet for the ingredient, wrapping it up carefully in a handkerchief when he did. Harry expected him to leave once he'd gotten what he'd came for, but to his surprise he came back over to Harry's bedside, pulling a chair over and sitting on it.
Harry stared at him.
"Oh, wipe that look off your face, Potter. You scare the girls away enough already." That certainly sounded like Malfoy. But this couldn't be Malfoy. Malfoy did not just sit at his bed when he was in the infirmary. That was for Ron and Hermione and Seamus and Fred and George and Neville and all the other people who cared about him to do. And Malfoy certainly didn't. Care about him, that is.
They sat in silence for a little while before Malfoy broke it. "You're a complete idiot, you know, getting drunk like that. Because of you they've banned alcohol on school grounds. Set up spells that detect it and Vanish it immediately and everything."
"Urgh...sorry," Harry said, and he was. He didn't enjoy drinking exactly, but it relieved a lot of tensions that he couldn't get rid of otherwise. Now not only he but everyone else would be feeling them until another Hogsmeade weekend came around.
"Mother sent me some chocolates with liqueur filling this morning, and as soon as I opened it they just disappeared out of my hands. Very annoying," Malfoy said, as if talking about his day with Harry Potter was the most natural thing in the world.
"That would be," Harry acknowledged. "But I'm sure you've got piles of sweets hidden away in your room somewhere." The boy's sweet tooth wasn't a secret, and he received treats from his mother more often than Harry drank pumpkin juice.
Malfoy chuckled, and Harry became certain that this was some bizarre fictional world he'd found himself in, and not the one he knew and...well, liked.
"Of course you'd know about that, Potter. You've probably snuck into the Slytherin dungeons more than enough times." At least his words sounded normal, although they did lack the usual bite.
"Once or twice," Harry admitted. If Malfoy could tell him he'd gotten something wrong, then sit down and laugh with him, then he could bloody well at least be honest with the guy. "It's not the easiest thing in the world. And to be honest, there's not much down there."
"Are you sure we just aren't much too secretive for you? You think there's nothing going on, but in truth the Slytherins are working so sneakily you haven't even realised?"
"No, well no, really, but I meant that there's not much down there full stop. Not much furniture, not much noise. Even the Ravenclaws speak over each other sometimes." It was lonely. Harry didn't go down there very often because he didn't like how empty it felt.
Malfoy was quiet for a moment before he spoke. "You're right. I hate it down there sometimes."
Harry was stunned at the admission. He couldn't think of anything to say, so he didn't say anything at all.
"It's empty. Gryffindors get excited about everything, Ravenclaws probably screech like their namesake when someone gets their N.E.W.T.s and Hufflepuffs..." Malfoy's face scrunched up in distaste. "Hufflepuffs probably pass out from excitement when someone casts a spell successfully. Slytherins, we...we don't do that. We don't have friends. If we do, we hide it as much as we can. It's empty."
"What about Crabbe and Goyle?" Harry breathed out finally.
"Merlin's beard, they're different aren't they? Their families have been allied to the Malfoys for generations. If we didn't act friendly that would be strange," Malfoy explained impatiently.
"Oh." I can understand that, I guess. It's so different with them than it is with me and Ron and Hermione. I chose to spend my time with them, become friends with them. They did the same. How must it be to inherit your relationships? "Just as well," he said as cheerfully as he could manage. "I thought you wanted to hang out with people who could turn you half-deaf at any second. It's a compliment to you."
It was a poor joke, and one that Malfoy could easily take the wrong way, but he laughed and Harry was glad for it. "Well. I know that you want to hang out with a girl who beats you in everything and a boy with hair so red it could catch fire and no one would notice."
They were better chosen words than Harry's had been. Malfoy was capable of things far more insulting – but he managed to keep the tone light by joking about Ron and Hermione's human attributes, not their social ones. For the first time Harry was seeing the pureblood etiquette that Malfoy always boasted about.
Harry smiled at Malfoy, and Malfoy smiled back. Even under the dim light of the Lumos spell, he could see that clearly. They held each other's gaze for a few intense seconds before Malfoy's eyes dropped away.
"Why did you sit down, Malfoy?" Harry asked, annoyed at how soft his voice became. "It can't have been for my stimulating conversation."
"I'm keeping you company, you git," Malfoy said surprisingly easily. He stretched his arms out over Harry and his legs did the same at the base of the chair. "You've been asleep for three days. There's no way you're getting back to sleep quickly after that."
"Oh. What's the time?"
"Past three," Malfoy answered without bothering to check. "I'll have to get back to my room before five. Blaise is a fucking annoying early riser."
"Yeah, I get that with Dean," Harry said sympathetically. "He tries to be nice about it but everyone can hear him when he takes a shower. I wish there was some kind of reverse silencing spell."
Malfoy's eyes brightened. "You know, that's an interesting idea Potter. I'll look into that."
"Let me know if you find anything," Harry said, and Malfoy nodded.
"It wouldn't be so bad if Blaise didn't insist on waking the rest of us up with him. He calls it a service, I call him a menace. Do I need to be up and dressed before the sun's even come up? No. We just end up sitting around waiting for breakfast to start. It's painful," Malfoy complained. Harry found that it wasn't at all hard to listen to him. There was a novelty in hearing your long-time rival talk about the things that bothered him. "I am not a morning person. In the slightest."
"Neither am I, really. I only manage to get up in time for breakfast because Hermione found a spell a while back that simulates being drenched in cold water. She taught it to Ron, who's under express orders to use it on me if I sleep past seven-thirty."
Malfoy looked instantly interested. "Do you know it?" he asked.
"Why, would you like to learn?"
Malfoy nodded furiously. Harry was sure he was going to regret this later, but in the least the guy deserved to get his own on Blaise after what he'd heard. "Alright. The incantation is 'Madidus tergium' and you need to move you wand in a kind of circular movement...no, not like that. Try making the circle smaller and then...right. Then flick at the end."
He leaned over to grip Malfoy's wand hand to show him the movements, and then released his hand, nodding approvingly when they were repeated back to him. Malfoy was a quick learner. Well, that shouldn't really surprise him.
"Can I try it on you?" Malfoy asked, a little too eagerly.
Harry eyed the wand, which was still emanating light. "Uhh...can you see why I'm not particularly keen on that idea?"
"Oh, come on Potter. Where's the Gryffindor bravery," Malfoy attempted to coerce him. "Besides, it's best that I test this before I use it on Blaise. If anything goes wrong I'll have hell to pay. Or I'll look like a fool." He said that as if being embarrassed would be worse. But then, in Slytherin it probably was.
Harry sighed. He was already in the infirmary... And really, what had he expected when Malfoy had pulled up a chair to sit beside him. At least he'd asked first.
"Alright," he said, and resisted the urge to scrunch his eyes up tightly. He wouldn't actually be soaked in water, just feel as though he was. It would be better for Malfoy to see how the spell affected him.
Malfoy sat up straight, and pointed his wand at Harry. He almost shivered, remembering all the times it had been used to cast hexes at him. But the expression on Malfoy's face was so different now – amused and excited, but not malicious – that he couldn't feel the same way he had in the past.
"Okay, try it," he said and braced himself.
"Madidus tergium," Malfoy uttered, then laughed in delight when Harry scrunched up his eyes and hunched over, feeling the chill of invisible water as it ran through his hair and down his body. He actually shivered this time, and looked at Malfoy as he ran a hand over his face and folded his arms.
"G-good job," Harry told him around clattering teeth. "It s-should wear off in a f-few m-moments."
It did, and Harry unfolded his arms, enjoying the moment when warmth washed over him and he felt dry again. He smiled at Malfoy, who looked thrilled. He didn't know how happy he was about that.
"That was wonderful! Merlin, Blaise is never getting me up early again!" Malfoy practically cheered. His eyes were bright and there was no trace of his usual scowl to be seen. Harry thought he looked very different. Good different. He should smile like this more often.
"That went for a bit longer than Hermione or Ron's usually do. So I think there's an element of control in that – if you want it to be short and to the point, you can probably will it to be so," Harry said.
"Really? Useful. I should thank Granger for this."
"I think she'd have a heart attack if you did," Harry said, only half-joking. She'd be both shocked and pleased if Malfoy said anything to her about this, but he really didn't want her to find out he'd taught the spell to Malfoy of all people.
"All the more reason to."
Harry tensed. Malfoy hadn't spoken spitefully, and actually looked ashamed at his slip when he caught it, but it had reminded him that the friendly chat he'd been having was with one of his dearest rivals. Last week Malfoy had sabotaged his potion in class and Snape had taken twenty points from Gryffindor.
There'd been animosity between them since Harry refused his offer of friendship in first year. It was sixth year now, and the animosity had been there up until Malfoy had taken that seat near his bed and they'd talked about – of all things – how much they hated getting up early and Malfoy's dissatisfaction with Slytherin. It was bizarre.
Yet strangely comfortable.
"I'm sorry," Malfoy said quickly.
"Don't worry about it," Harry assured him.
"No, I'm really sorry. It's a habit, I guess," Malfoy appeared to berate himself for a moment. "Which doesn't make it any better! I know. I'm sorry."
This was undeniably bizarre. It wasn't that Malfoy appeared to be a different person; he just appeared to be the same person he'd always been, acting differently. He spoke differently, more casually, let his emotions show honestly on his face. Harry wondered if this would have been the Malfoy he'd known if they'd become friends all those years ago.
"That's okay," Harry said. His voice was doing that soft thing again, but he decided to ignore it. "No hard feelings."
Malfoy looked relieved, and he smiled at Harry. "Good. I'll have to thank her now, and let her know I'll put that spell to good use."
"You know how much that will sound like a threat."
"Of course I do. I have to keep up appearances." Malfoy raised his nose slightly in pride that Harry didn't think was entirely feigned. "You can set her straight, though. If you want."
"She's going to want to know who taught you the spell in the first place," Harry pointed out. "Just see that you use it properly. I want to hear all kinds of stories about Blaise dancing around in the dungeons. It'll brighten up my day."
"How are you not a Slytherin?" Malfoy asked, somewhat in wonder. "No, don't say anything. You're far too foolish to be in my glorious House. You'd throw yourself into every fight someone started with you, and call it bravery."
"And you know me so well?"
"It's the business of a person to know his rival, or he'd never come out on top," Malfoy said. There was that half-fake haughtiness again.
Harry glanced at the window he'd looked through earlier, and noticed that the sky was getting lighter. "What's the time?" he asked.
Malfoy looked confused for a moment, and then caught himself. He pulled out an old-fashioned watch from underneath his robes. It was gold but Harry couldn't see much more than that, under the weak light of the Lumos spell. It was attached to a fine golden chain that travelled back into Malfoy's robes.
The other boy moved a few things around on the face of the watch, so fast that Harry imagined he had done it countless times before. "Almost four-thirty. Damn, I should get back to the dorms."
"I'm happy that you sound so reluctant," Harry joked.
Malfoy gave him an odd look. "You should be. You're surprisingly good company, Potter."
He stood up and pushed his chair back, either not seeing or ignoring Harry's astonished expression. Slipping the watch back into his robes, Malfoy nodded at Harry. "I'll see you around, Potter. Don't be surprised if I hex you when I do."
"Right. Uh, you too," Harry replied, a little dazed.
It was when Malfoy walked away from his bed, the light from his wand preventing him from bumping into anything, that it actually registered that he was leaving. "Malfoy," Harry called, quietly but loud enough to make Malfoy stop and turn with a patient expression on his face. "Thanks...for keeping me company."
Harry couldn't see his face, but the way he said his words of reply expressed enough of what he was feeling.
"That's alright."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Notes - I'll always include an explanation of any spells that I make up for the story. In this one it's Madidus tergium. It comes from the Latin 'madidus' meaning 'wet' or 'soaked', and 'tergum' meaning 'skin'. It has the effect of making the victim feel as though they have been drenched in freezing water.