Chapter 2 TW/CW: probation m, jail implications, food m, cigarettes, swearing, ableist slurs
Throughout his first class, Intro to Psych, Harry wondered why on Earth Malfoy would be at a muggle university. He was a Death Eater, wasn't he? He hated muggles!
Harry ended up figuring that Draco was going to a muggle uni because he wanted to mend his family's name. Harry had attended the trials of all three of the Malfoys. He only testified for Narcissa and Draco. He knew that Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to thirty years in Azkaban and had the Malfoy Manor seized. Narcissa was fined millions of galleons and was exiled. Draco was placed on probation, but Harry did not know those specifics. Thus, in the end, Draco Malfoy was the only person who could revive his family's honor.
When class had finished, Harry realized that he spent an hour thinking about Malfoy's situation instead of what the professor was saying. "Oh well," he thought, "the powerpoints can be printed from the professor."
He walked to the Starbucks on the east side of campus and ordered a white chocolate mocha, Ginny's favorite. "She'd be proud," he thought bittersweetly.
Ginny and Harry had tried to work it out after the war, but neither of them were really into it. Things had just changed too much. Harry's therapist said that that was fine and that he needed to work on himself first.
"Harry? White chocolate mocha," the barista called, knocking Harry out of his own head.
His therapist claimed that thinking too much was dangerous, but Harry couldn't see it. "Hermione would not be proud," he thought.
He grabbed his coffee and walked outside to smoke a cigarette. It was a nasty habit that he'd picked up from Andromeda. Was it stupid? Yes, but sometimes stress makes a person do stupid things. They smoked outside in order to keep Teddy safe, of course. Stupid does not equate to selfish.
After he finished, he walked to his next class, English 101. It seemed a little bit silly, he figured, going to English class when you speak the language. But this would be an easy A.
He sat down in the middle of class, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He began to take out a notebook, pen, and laptop, but then he saw it: a white-blond head.
"No, no, no. It's not possible," Harry silently pleaded, "The same uni is enough, but the same class? Bloody hell. Shit. Fu-"
"I will now take roll," announced the professor, an old man with a hoarse voice and vivid sweat stains.
Class droned on and on as Professor Wilkins lectured on the newfound responsibility of adulthood and university-life, and how his class on contemporary British literature may as well be the most important course of English at all of the University of Manchester, or even the most important course of all time.
Yet, Harry was not paying attention to that. He was observing the rapidness with which Malfoy took his color-coded notes and how he watched the professor like a hawk, as if attempting to absorb everything the man was saying. What struck Harry as the most peculiar detail was how Malfoy's head snapped back when Harry answered, "Here" on roll call, and how, afterwards, his head and shoulders sunk down like he was trying to disappear.
"As it is 1:30 PM, class is dismissed," Professor Wilkins declared.
Harry sped out of the classroom in an attempt to catch up with Malfoy.
"M-Malfoy! Wait!"
Malfoy exhaled, halted, and turned around. He waited for Harry to approach him, clearly not wanting to cause a scene.
"Listen, Potter. I don't know why you're here nor what you wanted," Malfoy whisper-screamed, "as you have the whole of the wizarding world in your pocket-"
"Wh-what?"
"But I will make you a deal: if you ignore me, I'll ignore you. All right?"
"Yes?" Harry responded in a questioning tone.
"Grand." And with that, Malfoy walked off.