Harry sat, pushing his porridge around in his bowl. Across the table, Ron and Hermione were fighting over who got the last bit of jam.
"Ron, I asked you to pass it to me, that's mine. Why would you steal the last bit from the pot, that's not fair!" Ron was busy munching his slice of jam-covered toast, and tried to answer her, but all he could do was spray toast crumbs across the table. "Ron! You are disgusting!"
Harry looked at him. "Ron, jeez. Could you at least make sure you keep the crumbs on your side of the table?"
Ron wiped his mouth off with a napkin. "Sorry, Harry." Hermione looked murderous. "So Harry gets a 'sorry' and I don't? Ron, I swear, you are an absolute barbarian!" Ron rolled his eyes and mumbled something about Hermione and at least he didn't own such a ridiculous cat. The battle was off and running.
Harry sat and listened while he poked at his porridge a bit more. He'd eaten over half the bowl, but he just wasn't hungry anymore, and getting up from the table seemed like a bit more effort at the moment than he wanted. He was perfectly content to sit and let the sounds of breakfast wash over him. And the cacophony of owls delivering the day's mail.
Hermione's copy of The Daily Prophet fell onto her lap as a large screech owl hooted a greeting and winged off. She grabbed the paper, opened it wide, and buried her face inside. Ron, oblivious, continued his harangue. Harry watched the swoops and swirls, hoping to see Hedwig's white feathers. But no letter from Sirius was coming this morning, and Hedwig didn't appear. Lucky, thought Harry. She's probably in the Owlry, still fast asleep.
Harry sat back in his seat, the porridge losing its appeal. He watched as people ripped their mail open, reading letters and newspapers and magazines. Lavender and Parvati were happily giggling over an article in Witch Weekly, and next to them, Seamus and Dean were arguing once again about sports, as Dean waved a clipping of West Ham's latest scores.
Something drew Harry's eye across the room. The Slytherin table looked much like the other three, with students gleefully enjoying their mail. Crabbe and Goyle were tearing into some Chocolate Frogs, their lips and cheeks all smeared. Next to them, Draco was reading a thick parchment. He didn't look happy, he looked...scared?
Harry watched as his face got pale, and he bit his lip. I know that face... Without quite noticing it, Harry started biting his own lip. Ow! I wonder if he realizes he's doing that, it looks like it hurts. He watched as Draco read frantically, biting his lip over and over again, chewing on it. The way I do...did...when Uncle Vernon yelled. When he would tell me why I was worthless...
Draco, as he was reading, reached up and touched his cheek, and winced. I wonder what that letter says... Harry watched, as Draco read to the end, and as he closed his eyes. His lips moved. Harry watched as they formed words. "I'm sorry, Father. I'll be good. I promise."
"Harry?"
Harry jerked his head up. "Yeah?"
Hermione was looking at him over the top of her paper. "You've been chewing on your lip, it's all red. If you're not careful, it'll start bleeding." She peered closer. "Is everything alright? You look a little upset, all of a sudden."
Harry smiled, and shrugged. "I was just kind of lost in thought for a second, sorry."
Hermione smiled back. "Finish your porridge, Harry. We have Potions. You'll need something in your stomach." Harry grimaced, and looked at the cold porridge, and than back across the room. Draco was sitting ramrod-straight, with the letter lying on his lap. His eyes glittered strangely, and he looked as if he were about to loose his composure entirely -- Cor, Malfoy, don't cry! -- when suddenly Draco turned and looked at him. For a moment, their eyes locked, a sort of silent understanding passing between them, and then Draco's eyes turned hard again. He blinked, than made a rude gesture in Harry's direction, and stole a Chocolate Frog from Goyle. He did not look at Harry. He did not look at the letter. Harry turned back to the Gryffindors as talk turned to assignments and Quidditch.
But as they were leaving, Harry turned and looked back to the Slytherin table. Draco was leaning over, reading the letter in his lap, and Harry could see the fear on his face, for one naked second, before Draco rolled the parchment up and stuffed it into his satchel. The students all started to make their way into the hallways and scattered towards their classes, and in the confusion Harry didn't realize Draco was next to him until he spoke.
"What's the matter, Potter, jealous that you don't get any mail? Or your stupid Muggle family not able to figure out how an owl works?"
Harry looked at him for a moment, not sure what to say. Draco scowled at him. "Maybe you're stupid too. All that time living with those dumb Muggles, I bet the stupidity rubs off."
Harry was suddenly very sorry he'd even looked up. "At least I don't have to be afraid of my mail." Draco's face fell suddenly.
"Well, can't have everything, Potter." For a moment, he looked like a small boy, but the moment passed before anyone who wasn't looking could have noticed. "We'll be late for Potions."
"Malfoy?" Draco turned. Harry shrugged, suddenly not knowing what to say. "Sorry."
Draco bit his lip again. "Sod off, Potter." The both turned and half walked, half ran towards the dungeon. Just before they were about to walk in, Draco whispered, "Thanks," and headed off to his seat, the arrogance once again flowing from him in waves.
Harry slipped into a seat. Hermione looked at him. "Where were you? You were nearly late! Are you sure you're feeling O.K.?"
Harry shook his head at her. "I'm fine, Hermione, really, relax. I'm perfectly fine..." He resisted the urge to look over at Draco, opening his Potions text instead. "I was just talking to someone about their mail."
A/N: I've always felt that Lucious Malfoy is a nasty git. No real proof that he beats the *&%# out of Draco, but I think there's a lot more to everyone's favorite Slytherin than we think. And I suspect he and Harry have a lot more in common than either of them would like to own up to. g.
I seem to be a vignette writer, all these short snippets just pop into my head. This one is a bit tricky. I feel like I got the idea down pretty well, but if you're confused, you think it's not as clear as it could be, whatever, please review and share. I wasn't quite sure how to go about writing this, and I'd love some feedback.
Disclaimer: This is JKR's toybox. I'm just borrowing everything, and I promise to clean everything up and put it back when I'm done.