The Gryffindor team, he observes, is excited. He's not entirely sure why – regardless of any amount of natural talent, he'd be leery of trusting a new recruit with such an important position when they were inexperienced and untested. They, after all, do not know who he is, or rather who he used to be.
As the twins leave, having finished "subtly" congratulating him (Gryffindors, he had learnt very early on, were anything but subtle. They were rather like SOLDIERs in that way) he spots Malfoy approaching with his bookends and almost wonders what he did in another life to deserve this before remembering, oh yeah, Meteor.
"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?" the boy sneered, looking incredibly pleased with himself. Harry couldn't fathom why – he'd be anything but pleased if he were Malfoy.
"You're far braver now that you're back on the ground and have your little friends with you," he said coolly, ignoring an odd feeling of unoriginality. That was golden, and it wasn't like he'd stolen it from someone else. He could worry about things like that when he was staring up at the canopy of his bed trying to get back to sleep again.
"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only, no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizards duel before, I suppose?"
Ronald wheeled around, "Of course-!" And that was as far as he got, because Harry had shoved a bread roll in his mouth to silence him.
"No," he said. "I will not duel you."
Malfoy's face contorted into a smug smile, an ugly expression that somehow didn't suit his face at all, Harry thought. "What's the matter, Potter? Scared?"
"No," Harry clarified, already turning back to his breakfast. He was done with this conversation. "But I have not slighted you in any way that I regret. I see no reason to defend my honour, especially to a person who has none."
If he had still been facing Malfoy, he'd have found it odd how much effect these words had on the blonde. The boy had jerked back as if physically struck, eyes wide. He was still for a moment, face without his customary sneer for once and looking entirely too vulnerable, before he whirled around and stalked back to the Slytherin table with a troubled expression; ignoring Crabbe and Goyle when they voiced their confusion.
All Harry knew was that Malfoy had left and it was blessedly silent without him.
A/N: Why. Why am I doing this.
I guess I'll write more if anyone is interested...?
