AN This is my first Harry Potter fanfic. Personally, I think Draco is a despicable, disgusting little slimy worm in the books, but everyone has a more human side, no? I tried to give him that, even only just a bit. I think he's very out of character here, but I do like the way this story turned out. If you want to, you can read is as a sort pre-Harry/Draco pairing. I didn't write it as such, but it can be seen like that. If you don't like the pairing, no problem, there isn't even a hint of it in this fic. At least, I don't think so. Not if you don't want any.
Things are never as they seem, but you have to walk a mile in someone else's shoes to see past how they present themselves to the world.
It was the twenty first of September. Three weeks into the new term at Hogwarts. Classes as per usual had been
difficult, the teachers trying to unearth every scrap of knowledge that had not been flushed out by the summer holidays. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape were particularly stern, Snape adding a healthy dose of Gryffindor-aimed hatred. But Professor Flitwick had also revealed a surprisingly demanding side that didn't go with his appearance at all. Every class exited the Charms room in sweat.
"Now, class," the pint-sized teacher squeaked. "Today we shall be revising the Switching charm. Please team up and practice for yourselves. After that, a demonstration."
The class groaned and Harry along with it. The Switching charm was bloody complicated. The only one who didn't seem too bothered was Hermione of course, but when looking closely one could see the stress lines around her eyes and mouth. At least her schedule no longer demanded the use of a time-turner, like in their third year. That had been disaster.
Of course, double Charms with the Slytherin was almost as bad as Potions. There was little 'wand waving and incantations' during Potions, but in Charms it was not uncommon for a wand to flick in the wrong direction and for words to be mispronounced. Many Gryffindors and Slytherins had already found themselves carted off to the infirmary for the nasty effects of some jinx.
Casting a covert glance at Malfoy to make sure he was concentrating on his Flitwick-supplied victims, Harry turned to his partner for this assignment, Dean Thomas, who was frowning at the objects before him. They had to switch a teapot's snout with the handle of a water jug. Not too difficult, considering the material of both objects was a lot alike, a type of pottery. On the other hand, if the spell was performed wrong, the may just find a table leg attached to the teapot.
After forty minutes of sweating and working, Professor Flitwick called the class back to order, quickly changing Neville's sleeve back to normal from the flower patterned teapot snout it had been turned into. Harry studiously ignored the Slytherins's snickering.
"Well, you all had your time to practice. Now, I would like to have a few students up here to demonstrate." No-one moved, of course, and Professor Flitwick had to call names from the roll. Harry dejectedly joined the others called forward. Why did everyone think he was a brilliant wizard? That was Hermione's field.
"What's the matter, Potter," Malfoy sneered softly, who also stood waiting for his turn. "I though you liked to show off?"
"Shove it, Malfoy," Harry muttered. "I'm not in the mood for games."
"Pity," Malfoy murmured, turning his attention to the table before them, where Lavender was preparing to cast the Switching charm. "You think she's capable of keeping herself in one piece? Her wand arc looks too wide."
Harry was about to give a scathing remark, when he saw that indeed, Lavender was waving her wand far too enthusiastically. The students backed away cautiously.
Harry stepped forward to stop the girl from hurting herself. Grabbing her sleeve he said, "Lavender, watch out. You're gonna-..."
At the same time, Malfoy snatched the back of his robes. "Are you mad, Potter? Or just suicidal?"
Lavender snapped her head around, the last part of the spell dying on her lips.
A narrow beam of purplish light shot from the tip of her wand in her raised hand. It hit Harry and Malfoy standing right behind him. It felt like being hit by a sledge hammer. His vision blackened and for a moment Harry felt like he was being torn in half. He couldn't scream though, couldn't flick a muscle.
When he came to, he felt cold stone pressed to his cheek. Frantic voices sounded overhead. "Harry! Harry! Are you alright?" "Draco!" Parkinson, no doubt, and rather too close to his pounding head. "Back away everyone!" Professor Flitwick squeaked high enough to be overheard.
Harry was relieved when he heard shuffling feet moving away from him. Bringing his hands next to his shoulders, he pushed himself up. Blearily he focused on the floor beneath him, pale fingers pressed against the stone. Wait... pale? Knuckles white, his hands seemed to be a bit... off. Shifting his eyes from one hand to the other, he noticed something else was wrong. His vision, though clear, was not lined by the rim of his glasses. Hearing an gasp from in front of him, he looked up.
Straight into his own green eyes behind his own round glasses.
Oh... bloody... hell...
"Harry, are you alright?" Ron and Hermione had pushed to the front of the students circling them.
"Depends on how you look at it," Harry said in Malfoy's drawl.
"Oh, fuck," Malfoy groaned with Harry's voice.
"Mr. Potter!" Professor exclaimed shocked.
Harry settled back on his haunches, shifting uncomfortably. The spell most have hit Malfoy's body hard. He hoped his own body didn't feel like it had been tossed about by a mountain troll. He already knew how that felt. "I'm over here," he grumbled at the Professor.
Malfoy flopped down to sit on the floor. "This is just great," he muttered, reaching up to rub his (Harry's) forehead. For a moment his fingers traced the scar, a thoughtful frown making Harry feel uneasy. Then Malfoy pulled the round glasses off. "Potter, how do manage to be a Seeker? You're as blind as a bat without those!"
Confused glances shifted between the two on the floor.
"Skill," Harry bit back. "Not a concept you're familiar with, huh?"
Professor Flitwick nervously fiddled with his wand. "Oh my. Most unusual," he mumbled. "Most unusual."
"I'd deck you, if you weren't in my body."
Which immediately pointed out the problem they had landed themselves in. Harry ran a hand through his hair and started at the strange feeling. It only seemed to aggravate his headache so he lowered his hand.
"Oh dear," Professor Flitwick twittered. "Oh dear, this is most unusual. Unheard of even. I think you had better go to the infirmary. Yes," he straightened to his full height of three feet perhaps? "You two head to the infirmary. Miss Patil, please tell Professor Dumbledore of this, would you? I think this may be beyond Madam Pomfrey's abilities."
Parvati nodded and zoomed out of the classroom. If Professor Dumbledore was in his office, it would be some time before she managed to speak to him. Harry in the meantime, had managed to stand up, standing a bit unsteadily next to his own body. Professor Flitwick waved the two away. "Go on, you two. I still have a class to finish."
Harry made his way out the classroom, Malfoy beside him. The halls were deserted; they made it to the infirmary without having to explain anything to anyone. Harry, though, had increasing difficulty to keep from limping. Just a bit, but his leg hurt. Or actually, Malfoy's leg hurt. This was all very confusing. Malfoy, in Harry's body, looking increasingly more agitated, fidgeting nervously with the cuffs of his school robes.
Madam Pomfrey, when the situation had been explained, went into a fit of state and started fluttering about, taking their temperature, checking their eyes and ears and throats. They were told to walk in a straight line and follow her finger with their eyes, until Harry felt like all the fuss wasn't worth getting his own body back.
Then she hurried away to check up on something, or to fetch Dumbledore, whichever she said, Harry hadn't really paid attention. He was feeling increasingly miserable. His head pounded and he felt sore from being thrown on a rock hard floor by some ill-aimed spell.
"This is your fault, you know?" Malfoy grumbled.
"Mine!" Harry exploded. "I didn't cast the spell." Huffily he turned away from the sight of himself sitting on the hospital bed next to him.
"You had to interrupt that stupid witch's incantation. You should just have let her end up with a table leg attached to her hip."
Harry scowled. Maybe he should have. But he just couldn't help himself form stepping in if something was about to wring. Stupid really. It got people hurt, anyway, including himself. This was extreme though, switching bodies with his arch-nemesis.
He shifted uncomfortably on his spot. Maybe he should ask Madam Pomfrey something for the bruises. He cast another glance sideways. It was very disturbing to see his own face in something not a mirror.
"Do you always do such stupid things?" Malfoy sneered. It sounded strange, nothing like his usual sneers with his own voice.
Harry shrugged and winced. His shoulder flamed with the sudden movement. Absently he rubbed it to soothe the pain. Immediately, pain shot all the way to his fingertips. He just managed to bite back a yelp. This couldn't be from a simple fall.
"I swear, Potter, if you clumsiness broke any of my bones, I'll jinx you all through to Christmas break as soon as I'm back in myself." The threat didn't sound so sure though. Actually, Malfoy looked quite anxious. Well, Harry wouldn't want Malfoy to break any of his bones either, while still in Harry's body.
Struggling with his robes, he pulled them free from the aching shoulder. And met bandages.
Bandages? Frowning he plucked at them. "What happened?" he asked.
"None of your business," Malfoy grumbled roughly.
"It is, while I'm in your body."
"This isn't permanent, Potter!" the Slytherin exploded. "This won't even last till sundown. So just lay off!"
After a moment Harry straightened the robes again. Strange, Malfoy was hurt and he hadn't run to Madam Pomfrey with it. He didn't think there was anything Madam Pomfrey couldn't heal within a day and Malfoy had proven to be a whiner in their third year, when Buckbeak had nibbled on his arm. Would that have left a scar? He wondered.
Shooting a look surreptitiously at the other, who was looking out of one of the high windows, facing away from Harry, he quickly pushed up the right sleeve and froze. That didn't come from Buckbeak's attack. Several scars littered the forearm, almost invisible against the pale skin. Scratches, ragged tears, uneven blotches. There was no reason why the son of a wizarding family would have so many scars. Surely the Malfoys would provide their kin with the best health care.
A yell interrupted his thoughts. A black blur smashed into him, grabbing at his arm. A short struggle ensued, with Harry trying to shove Malfoy away and Malfoy trying to cover up his arm again. It was cut short when Malfoy accidently bumped into the bandaged shoulder. With a cry Harry curled in on himself, grabbing at the shoulder. Malfoy backed away to the foot of the bed, green eyes wide and... scared?
It took some effort for Harry to calm his breathing and straighten his back. They looked at each other in silence. Harry's mind raced a mile a minute. Who could have caused Malfoy's injuries? And why wouldn't he allow them treated? He absently rubbed along one of the thin lines, noting how Malfoy's gaze flicked from his face to the exposed arm to his lap where he was once more fiddling with his cuffs.
"Why don't you let Madam Pomfrey heal your shoulder?" Harry asked.
Malfoy flinched at the words and shrugged. His mumbled answer sounded something like, "Wasn't important enough."
Harry ran his hand through his hair. Obviously Malfoy was reluctant to talk about it. The situation seemed strangely reminiscent of the times he had been asked why he had missed a week of school, back when he still lived with the Dursleys all year round, and he had to mumble some excuse to the headmaster of his elementary school, hoping it was the same one Aunt Petunia had sent Dudley with. That realization caused a odd feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Well, you're here now anyway. I might as well ask Madam Pomfrey to heal this along with switching us back."
"NO!"
Harry backed away from the sudden outburst. Malfoy looked near frantic. His hands were clenched in the sheets and he seemed ready to jump forward again.
"Don't say anything! Don't you dare tell-"
"Why not?" Harry interrupted heatedly. Why do I care?
Malfoy pressed his lips together, the perfect image of someone who didn't want to talk any more.
Harry glared as threateningly as he could. "If you don't tell me, I'll march up to Madam Pomfrey right this instant and you can just deal with whatever comes from it." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed to show he meant it.
"No!" Malfoy snatched his robes with both hands. "Please, don't. I'll never hear the end of it."
They remained frozen like that for a moment. Then Harry pulled his legs back up. "Alright. From who?"
Malfoy fidgeted nervously. It was strange to see the normal calm and collected Slytherin so flustered. Even in Harry's body. It took Harry swinging one leg over the edge again to make Malfoy blurt out, "My father." He immediately curled up, hiding his face against his knees.
Harry stared at him. His father? Who in their right mind would hurt his child in such a manner? Of course, Harry was of the firm opinion Lucius Malfoy was a scumbag, ever since meeting him up in Dumbledore's office at the end of his second year. Yet to hurt his own son? "Does he do that often?"
All he got was a shrug. Harry looked down at the pale arm again. Then pushed up the other sleeve as well. The newly revealed arm was in the same state as the other. He laid them in his lap, staring with a sense of horror at the evidence of, most likely, several years worth of abuse.
Bedding rustled and Harry looked up to see Malfoy straightening somewhat to glare at him. "If you dare tell anyone, Potter, I'll... I'll... Oh, fuck it." The Slytherin shoulders slumped defeated. With a vacant look he started at the patch of sheets between them. Harry waited with baited breath. He had the feeling Malfoy may just start talking. "My father..." Malfoy tilted his head. "He's..."
The door swung open. Harry could howl with frustration. The first time his nemesis showed a shred of humanity, even though it was because of a gruesome reason, and they were interrupted. "This isn't over yet," he whispered quickly to the other who was getting up. He pushed his sleeves down and rose as well.
Dumbledore strode in, robes fluttering around him. "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, I heard there was am accident in your Charms class, right?"
"Yes, Professor," Harry answered. Malfoy just nodded curtly.
"Yes, I see." The headmaster looked quite baffled at the obvious character switch.
"You do know how to change us back, don't you?" Harry asked anxiously. He had no desire to walk around with Malfoy's face for the rest of his life.
Dumbledore looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, to be honest, I've never heard of such a thing before. This is different than the effect of a polyjuice potion. And we can't simply try another Switching charm; we can't be certain of its outcome."
"So we're stuck like this!" Malfoy exclaimed.
"I didn't say that," Dumbledore said patiently. He had sounded awfully close to it to Harry. "We're working on the cure of this as we speak. I expect positive results by tonight. However, I think it would be wise to keep you two here for the time being. It will be very confusing for the student population to have you two walking around in each other's bodies."
Harry nodded. That sounded sensible.
Dumbledore nodded at the two. "Dinner will be served here, for you. I have your bags here as well, so you can start on your homework. Hopefully, by tonight, this all will be settled."
He nodded to them and turned back. When he was nearly at the door, Malfoy called after him, "Professor, have my parents been notified?"
The headmaster looked at him. "No, Mr. Malfoy. Would you like me to send an owl?"
Malfoy shook his head perhaps a little too hurried. "No, that's alright."
Dumbledore inclined his head. "As you wish." He exited the infirmary and the doors closed behind him.
Malfoy moved back to the bed Madam Pomfrey had assigned him to. His expression was closed. It didn't look like he would say anything more regarding what they had talked about earlier. Sighing, Harry pulled his bag closer to him and drew out his Transfigurations homwork.
It was after nine when Professor Dumbledore returned with the Heads of the houses Gryffindor and Slytherin and Professor Flitwick. Madam Pomfrey came hurrying out of her office. Harry shot a look at Malfoy. They hadn't said a word since the afternoon, simply buried themselves in their work. Harry had had trouble concentrating on it though. His headache had increased. And his shoulder was throbbing. He hadn't looked at his knee, but he suspected it was hurt just like his shoulder.
Malfoy's shoulder. Malfoy's knee. The Slytherin probably took some kind of pain-killer. Harry couldn't imagine being able to function normally in class like this. His hand felt a little numb and he had trouble gripping his quill right.
When the five adults had reached them, Dumbledore explained he couldn't be entirely sure what they had come up with would actually work, but it wouldn't harm them either. Professor Snape gave them each a foul tasting potion to drink. It made Harry feel a little lightheaded. Then he heard the headmaster murmur an incantation. Something seemed to seize him up. The breath was knocked out of his lungs. The world turned black. It wasn't as painfully shocking as the afternoon, when Lavender had done the same thing purely by accident. It was just as disorientating, though.
He found himself staring at white sheets, wrinkled in his clutched fists. Parchment written with an unfamiliar hand laid before him. It had worked, obviously. The pains were gone. His vision was once more glass-rimmed.
"Well, glad that's over," Malfoy's drawl cut through his haze. The Slytherin sauntered over, still a little unsteadily, and gathered his things. Harry hurried over to the other bed to do the same.
"Yes, I agree," Professor Dumbledore sighed.
"I do hope you'll be more careful in the future," Professor McGonagall admonished them.
Harry nodded dutifully, his thoughts still fuzzy. He swung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the exit, close behind Malfoy.
"I suggest you hurry up," Snape sneered. "It's past curfew."
The four professors and the matron grouped together to discuss probably what had happened to them.
Harry followed the black robes ahead of him, hurrying to catch up. "You still owe me an explanation."
"I don't owe you anything, Potter," Malfoy snarled.
"Would you rather I report your injuries, then?" And Harry made to turn back.
"No!" Malfoy latched onto his sleeve as if he would never let go again. He looked torn between outrage and fear.
Harry relaxed slightly and nodded his head. "Okay," he acceded. And then he couldn't help adding, "But I still think you should let Madam Pomfrey do something. I don't know the extent of your injuries, but it felt really painful. I don't understand how you can even walk straight."
"I'm used to it," Malfoy mumbled.
Harry stared. How long had that been going on? He quickly looked around, then grabbed Malfoy's arm and dragged him to an empty classroom. It was void of ghosts, luckily. Harry really didn't feel like having to deal with one of the dead apparitions of Hogwarts. Slamming the door shut behind him, a quick flick of his wand lighted several torches on the wall. He crossed hsi arms over his chest and ordered, "Talk."
Malfoy shot him a dirty look and huffily turned away.
Sighing Harry lowered his arms. "Look, you obviously don't want anyone to know about, whatever it is you don't want to tell me. But how many times do I have to repeat my threat to go to Madam Pomfrey and force you into treatment?" Harry stared fixedly at the rigid back of the other boy, until those shoulders slumped.
"I can't think straight," Malfoy murmured, rubbing his head.
"I noticed," Harry responded dryly. He had been in the other's body until shortly after all. "How long?"
Malfoy let his bag fall on the floor and took a seat on one of the desks. "Before Hogwarts. Six, seven years? Maybe eight." He looked at his feet. "My father is very strict. He doesn't like pig-headed idiots talking back to him. And considering I'm as willful as he is, we clash quite often."
Harry was dumbfounded. That long? Lucius Malfoy really was a self-righteous bastard, hurting his own son like that. Harry couldn't say he liked Malfoy, they had been at each other's throats almost from the first day of their first year, but he didn't think anyone, not even Malfoy deserved such treatment for such a long time.
Malfoy snorted suddenly. "Alright, Potter, now you know. The great Draco Malfoy gets slapped around at home from time to time. What do you want to do about, huh? Gonna play the hero again?" Malfoy's eyes shone dangerously in the flickering light. His mouth was a thin line, his fists clenched. "That would be a sight. The Boy Who Lived, the protector of the innocent, rushing off to bring justice to all doing wrong." He snorted. "Not that it would do much good, anyway. There's no way you could prove any such allegations. Most likely, my father will just kick you out the door. If he doesn't kill you. And me while he's at it. He'd be pissed at me for giving rise to any possible discredit brought to his name."
Harry remained silent under the onslaught. Malfoy obviously needed to vent and he had never done that before. If rumor of abuse would reach any teacher's ear, they would investigate and Malfoy clearly didn't want that.
"And letting the wounds be healed? Oh, no, that wouldn't be punishment, now would it? No, everything has to heal by itself and 'let the pain be a reminder not to speak to me like that again, boy'. I shouldn't even be taking any pain-killers if he had his way. But how can he expect me to get any schoolwork done if it feels like my head is exploding? First month after summer or Christmas I barely manage to keep my grades high enough so the teachers don't suspect anything."
Harry swallowed thickly. And he thought he had it bad at the Dursleys. Sure, his early childhood he'd been Dudley's punching bag and his aunt and uncle hadn't been the most friendly, to say the least, but ever since he had been accepted at Hogwarts, they hadn't gone beyond words. And only Aunt Petunia was family really, his mother's sister. To have one's own father do something like that... He shuddered involuntarily.
He looked at Malfoy with different eyes. No wonder the boy had turned out like he had, his father had given the worst example ever. He took the others form, slightly hunched over on top of the desk, shoulders and arms tense, fists clenched, expression a mix of pain and fury. And relief to finally be able to talk, without having to fear exposure, though he probably wasn't so sure of that yet.
Harry wouldn't say anything. He himself had once tried talking to the dean at his school. The man had listened attentively, made some inquiries at home, was put at ease by Uncle Vernon. And Harry had spent two weeks locked in his cupboard under the stairs. It wouldn't solve anything. Without as concrete evidence as they could manage to gather, nothing could be done. Nothing short of eyewitnesses would be able to convince anyone something was wrong.
"And even if I managed to make a teacher believe me, father is far too influential to be truly harmed by any allegations," Malfoy continued. The tension drained from his back with those words. Cold blue eyes stared empty at the floor. "I'm stuck. And I don't think I'll ever get out, even when I've become off age. I am a Malfoy. Nothing changes."
Harry's blood ran cold. Nothing changes. At least he would one day be able to turn his back on the Dursleys, disappear in the wizarding community. Lucius would never let his son go. He wasn't exactly sure what had spurred on the first step, but he took the second, and the third, until he stood next to Malfoy. Until he could put his arms around the hunched figure.
Malfoy stiffened. His hands raised to push away the arm crossing his chest.
"It's called comfort, Malfoy, and you look like you need it. So suck up your pride and just stay put."
For a few tense seconds, the Slytherin remained frozen. Then he slumped sideways a little, resting his shoulder against Harry chest. The hands that had been about to push Harry's right arm away, now loosened a bit, simply holding on. Harry let his other hand travel up Malfoy's back, carefully avoiding the injured shoulder, to softly stroke the not-so-neat-anymore blond hair. Malfoy trembled silently, not crying. Harry didn't think he could.
He had no idea how much time past. At some point Malfoy's shivers had ceased and the two just leaned against each other. Draco's hair felt soft against Harry's cheek. A finger prodded his shoulder.
"Hm?"
"You know what time it is?" Malfoy sounded sleepy.
Trying to remember what wrist his watch on, seemed very difficult. Then he realized the wristband was right in front of him. Twisting his arm a bit he blinked blearily at the watch's face. "Way past curfew," he muttered and left his head fall back with a huff. He was quite comfortable were he was, thank you very much.
"How do we get back?"
Harry sniffed and wriggled his nose against the tickling hairs. "Sneaking."
"Brilliant idea, Potter," Draco muttered sarcastically and nuzzled his shoulder.
It remained silent for while.
"Why, you wanna leave?" Harry muttered. He vaguely realized they couldn't very well stay there all night, but at the same time that little voice inside his head whined why not.
"Not particularly," it was sighed in his shoulder.
"Rather ironic, don't you think?"
"Hm?"
Harry's hand lowered to a pale curved neck, his thumb drawing lazy circles in the nape. "Well, I guess the saying is true. 'Walk a mile in the other's shoes...' We certainly did that."
"And you got weird little feet."
"Huh?"
Harry felt a chuckle vibrate in Malfoy's chest. "Yeah, at least two sizes smaller than mine. I don't think you're going to grow much taller anymore."
Harry straightened, a bit miffed. "Maybe you just have abnormally big feet." On impulse he ruffled the blond hair still under his hand, before he withdrew completely.
Suddenly the situation seemed different. Unsure of what Malfoy would say or do, he tried to appear engrossed in straightening his robes. Malfoy was still lowering himself from the tabletop, when Harry briskly walked up to the door and carefully peeked down the dark hallway. "The coast is clear," he whispered, looking behind him.
Malfoy pulled at the collar of his robes and walked over. "Well, then let's go."
They silently slipped out of the classroom and down the hall. Every corner they halted, Harry looking out to see if anyone was in the corridor. Twice they had to hide from a ghost floating around. They encountered no teachers, though. And Mrs. Norris wasn't around either, fortunately. Harry had had enough close shaves with the caretaker's cat and without his invisibility cloak he didn't dare run into her. They reached the entrance hall without any further problems.
Harry knew the Slytherin dorm was somewhere in the dungeons. He himself had to go upstairs to reach the entrance to the Gryffindor tower. He looked hesitantly over to his companion. Malfoy was looking at him with an intense look he couldn't quite read. "I guess I'll be off then. See you potions tomorrow." It felt a bit odd, exchanging niceties with someone he had only ever quarreled with.
"Yeah," Malfoy answered softly.
Harry was about to turn away, when, "Hey, Potter." Harry turned back, almost expecting a scathing remark. "Not a word about anything, okay?" Draco looked quite anxious about it.
Harry nodded curtly. "Not to anyone," he promised.
Malfoy visibly relaxed and ran a hand through his hair. "And tomorrow?" he asked.
Harry frowned. "I have no doubt the entire school now knows we switched bodies. I don't think they will look too strangely at us, if we don't argue as much as before."
Blue eyes looked at him silently for such a long time that Harry started to feel nervous. "I guess," Malfoy finally answered softly, averting his gaze.
"What?" Harry frowned. Malfoy sounded... disheartened.
A shrug was his answer. "Nothing." Draco reached for his shoulder.
"Do you have some kind of pain-reliever?"
Malfoy looked surprised at the question. "Yes, in my trunk."
"Guess you should go take some then. At least you'll be able to sleep."
"Why, Potter, it sounds like you care," Malfoy tried to sneer, but it lacked conviction.
Harry shrugged. Perhaps he did. Perhaps Malfoy didn't deserve Harry's concern. Perhaps Harry chose to ignore that little bit. "Maybe I do," he murmured and headed up the stairs.
A whisper reached his ear, soft, barely discernable, but he was sure he heard it. Twisting around in surprise he found the hall empty. Continuing to climb a smile played around his lips. He knew he had not imagined it, Malfoy's parting word.
Thanks
AN Like it? Hate it? Drop me a line, if you want.