Chapter Three: Shuffling Parchment
Harry sat at his desk in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, trying not to let the overwhelmingly pink atmosphere nauseate him.
He had to admit, though, it was much easier to keep his stomach knowing that they were actually doing something.
The DA. Dumbledore's Army. Sure, they had only met once in a preliminary sort of fashion, and yes, they'd somehow been found out after only one meeting, but none of that mattered. They would keep meeting. They would show that toad. They would be prepared.
The events of the graveyard wouldn't happen again. He wouldn't let anyone else… die.
As they always did when he sat in this classroom, Harry's thoughts drifted back to Cedric.
…
Last Year
Harry panted, wiping a trickle of blood off his face with his sleeve.
Slowly, Cedric stood up.
"Thanks - for your help. I didn't even - see that spider thing coming," he said between breaths.
"No problem," Harry responded, putting his hands on his knees for a moment. He looked down at his leg. It was bleeding freely. He could see some sort of thick, gluey secretion from the spider's pincers on his torn robes.
Cedric stood up straight, motioning to the gleaming Triwizard Cup that stood innocently on a plinth just a few feet away from them.
"You - should take it - Harry," he said.
Harry shook his head, "No way!"
"That's twice you've saved my neck in here," said the Hufflepuff, "First from Krum, and now from a giant spider. You deserve it more than me."
"No, I don't!" exclaimed Harry incredulously, "I had help, Ced. From you and from others…"
Cedric walked over to him, taking his hand.
"No, listen," he said earnestly, "I wouldn't have gotten this far without you."
"...Together, then?" Harry asked.
Cedric's breath caught, "You mean…"
"Well, we've done everything together for months now, including prepare for the tournament. We've been together for months. I think it's high time we told everyone."
"Even though that Skeeter woman is here?" Cedric asked, concern tinting his voice, "Harry, this won't be a page twelve story. The whole wizarding world will talk about the Boy-Who-Lived and his no-name boyfriend…"
"I don't care what they say about us," the dark-skinned wizard scolded, thinking about the rubbish article that had been published about him just that morning, "Rita Skeeter has made up every conceivable story about me this year, and I just don't care about them anymore… but," he took a deep breath, "I do care about you, Ced."
Cedric mirrored the huge grin plastered on his boyfriend's face, and he leaned down to give him a quick peck on the lips.
"Together," Cedric nodded, squeezing Harry's hand in his.
Simultaneously, they both reached for a handle of the Cup-
…
Present Day
Harry's thoughts were interrupted by someone sitting down beside him.
He looked around, as if only just realizing where he was. Turning, he saw Malfoy in the seat next to him, one blond eyebrow raised in question.
Harry nodded minutely. One corner of Malfoy's lips quirked up before he began pulling out parchment, quill, and ink.
Harry had to admit that being forced to sit next to the blond hadn't been nearly as bad as he expected. The two had somehow managed to not kill each other. As a matter of fact, there seemed to be an unspoken sort of truce between them ever since Malfoy stopped Harry getting himself detention on the first day of class.
Harry still had no idea why the Slytherin had stepped in (even if he did bruise Harry's shin). Regardless, he was grateful for the other boy's interference. Even if it had only just delayed the inevitable…
He looked down at his hand.
I must not tell lies.
Harry hadn't escaped detention with Umbridge. It had come the very next class. He hadn't entirely lost his temper, but it seemed that Umbridge was desperate for a reason to punish him.
One tiny comment had landed him a week's worth of evenings in the toad's office, scratching away - literally - with her special quill.
The words were beginning to sink into the skin on the back of his hand.
Harry pulled his oversized sleeve down to cover the scars.
Looking up, he saw dark gray eyes fixed on his.
Malfoy stared at him a moment longer, expression unreadable.
"Good afternoon, class!" came a simpering voice from the front of the classroom.
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," the class - except for Harry and Malfoy - chanted back at her.
Malfoy turned his gaze forward, leaving Harry slightly puzzled. Why had he been staring at him so intently?
Harry looked away, noticing that the rest of the class was turning to a page of their textbook. He quickly fumbled for his copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard and started flipping pages randomly. He leaned forward towards Hermione to see if he could catch a glimpse of the correct page, but she was already hunching down to read.
"Page 42," came a small whisper.
Harry nodded his silent thanks to Malfoy and turned to the specified page. He started to read the words, but his brain simply wouldn't let him concentrate. Instead, he began thinking about what he could cover during their first DA meeting…
A piece of parchment slid under Harry's book.
He froze, flicking his eyes sideways to glance at Malfoy.
He was reading studiously, or so it appeared. His blue-gray eyes didn't seem to be following the lines on the page…
Slowly, Harry pulled the parchment out and read the neat script:
Potter -
The next time you hold a secret meeting, you really ought to make it more secret. Umbridge knows about your little group, as I'm sure you're aware. Be careful. She's on the lookout for anything untoward, and she has a special place for you in her horrendously pink heart. She'd jump at the chance to get you expelled. Don't do anything stupid. And if you do, at least be better at hiding it.
-DM
Harry stared at the note, then read it once more through to be sure he wasn't imagining things. He reached for his quill and his pot of color-changing ink. Dipping the quill haphazardly, he scrawled a reply:
Why do you care?
Carefully, Harry slid the parchment back across the table. Malfoy deftly slipped it underneath his book without even looking up from the notes he was taking.
A minute later, Harry felt the parchment being stealthily pushed back towards him. He accepted it under the guise of shuffling his stack of notes, and then he read:
I don't care, Potter, aside from the fact that I'd have to find a new deskmate. Not everyone so readily accepts being kicked under the table, and I'd hate to have to start all over with someone new.
Harry snorted, taking a moment to look to his right; Malfoy seemed like he was actually reading now. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth and sucked lightly on it. Harry followed the motion out of the corner of his eyes. He'd never really noticed before, but Malfoy's lips were full and, well, pretty - when they weren't pulled into a nasty sneer.
Harry then realized that he'd been staring at the Slytherin's mouth, and he quickly glanced up to make sure that he hadn't been caught - but Malfoy was peering straight at him. He released his bottom lip, and Harry watched as it went pale for a moment and then faded into a darker shade of pink.
Dragging his eyes back up to meet Malfoy's, Harry hoped to Merlin that his thoughts hadn't been too obvious…
Turning away, he shook his head and dipped his quill again, writing:
I wouldn't deal with it if you had better aim. But lucky for me, you've only managed to land 1 kick out of, what? 17? You'd be awful at football, you know that?
Malfoy gave the parchment a small scowl.
What's football?
Harry rolled his eyes; of course Malfoy had never heard of football.
Muggle sport. Two teams try to kick a ball into the opposite team's goal.
Harry watched Malfoy's eyes light up as he read the note.
Like Quidditch? Muggles have their own version of Quidditch?
Harry had to cough to hide his chuckle.
Sort of, but they run around on a field instead of flying on brooms, and they only have one ball instead of three.
Harry flicked his eyes towards the other wizard, then dipped his quill again, drawing a cartoon of a man kicking a football into a goal, right past another man's head as he dove to stop it. Harry had never been much of an artist (he remembered Aunt Petunia throwing all of his drawings in the bin when he was young because of how horrid they were). Still, he was rather proud of his sketch. Even if the players were a bit disproportionate, he felt like he managed to capture the movement of the game.
Harry slid the parchment carefully back towards Malfoy, who quickly read the note before inspecting the drawing. His pale features were blank as usual, but there was a light in his eyes that captured Harry's attention. One corner of Malfoy's full mouth trembled slightly, as if he was trying to hide a smile.
Harry leaned back in his seat and stifled a grumbling complaint. I'd like to see Malfoy draw something better, he thought sullenly. Then he remembered a paper crane note fluttering to him in their third year, containing - Harry begrudgingly admitted - a rather clever moving sketch of him, Harry, being struck by lightning during a Quidditch match. His mood darkened. He had actually been enjoying their little conversation; now Malfoy would doubtless fall back on his favorite pastime of mocking Harry.
Movement in Harry's peripheral vision drew his eye. Malfoy was stealthily extracting his wand. Harry had half a mind to brace himself for a jinx, but the pale wizard pointed the wand at… the parchment?
Harry leaned forward again and almost snatched the parchment from Malfoy when he passed it. Harry glanced upwards quickly to ensure that Umbridge still hadn't caught on, but the toad-like woman was standing up. Harry hastily shoved the parchment into the pages of his textbook and tried to look innocent.
Umbridge, however, simply announced, "That will be all for today, class. Take care that you finish the chapter and answer all the questions at the end for next week."
With a girlish little courtesy, she dismissed them.
Malfoy was already packing his things. Hurriedly, Harry extracted the parchment and examined it.
I might actually like to see that, Potter. Even if it is Muggles.
Harry snorted again, but was quickly distracted. His drawing was moving. He watched as one little figure kicked the football, which went flying towards the goal. The other man gasped and gave a wild leap, diving towards the ball and just missing it as it slammed into the net of the goal. Harry grinned.
He looked up, but Malfoy was gone. Harry whipped his head around and caught a flash of blond hair by the door.
Malfoy paused in the doorway, turning his face back slightly so that he could see Harry, and smiled.
The prat actually smiled, and Harry's grin grew a bit wider. He turned to gather his things, tucking the parchment carefully into his textbook, and joined Ron and Hermione as they walked to their next class.
This year had been brutal. His friends tried vainly to cheer him up, but they acted like he was fragile, like he was going to explode.
Who would have thought that the best thing about this year - the thing that had cheered him up the most - would be Draco Malfoy?
Last Year
Harry walked slowly forwards, trying not to panic. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, and he did his best not to shrink back under the weight of their scrutiny. He finally reached the door and practically fled through it, only to be confronted with more stares. This time, though, the stares were confused, and they came from only a few sets of eyes instead of hundreds.
Harry froze just inside the entryway. Unsure how to answer the questions being flung at him, he simply stayed silent.
This seemed to irritate Fleur Delacour, who huffed at his lack of response. Viktor Krum merely crossed his arms, looking slightly surly. Harry couldn't bring himself to look towards Cedric.
Then more people flooded the room, bringing shouts of displeasure and accusation. Harry looked from angry face to angry face, wanting to simply disappear on the spot. He wished, not for the first time, that he could bring his invisibility cloak with him wherever he went.
Only Dumbledore's calm voice was able to break through his stupor: "Harry, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"
"No, Headmaster," Harry replied in a small voice.
"'E ees lying!" exclaimed Madame Maxime.
Harry risked a glance towards Cedric. The sandy-haired boy was looking confused and concerned, his blue eyes flicking to everyone's faces as they spoke. He took a small step towards Harry, who immediately averted his gaze.
Finally, Mad-Eye spoke up, gruffly stating, "Potter couldn't have tricked such a powerful magical object by himself. Regardless, he's bound now. He has to compete in the Triwizard Tournament."
Harry's stomach dropped to the floor.
There was a bit more yelling before everyone dispersed. Harry walked mechanically out of the room, noting that the Great Hall was empty. Everyone else must already be in their dormitories.
His feet carried him towards the door, but he was stopped by a small voice saying, "Harry?"
He whipped around, finding himself standing in front of the last person he wanted to see at that moment.
"Cedric," he said dumbly. The other boy offered a wan smile. A wave of guilt washed over Harry. Hufflepuff rarely had much spotlight; they rarely had the opportunity for glory. And yet here Harry was, stealing it all away - not just from Hufflepuff, but from Cedric himself. Harry felt sick.
Suddenly, he needed to tell him - needed him to know.
"Cedric, I didn't put my name in," he blurted, "I don't want anything to do with this stupid tournament! I don't know who would want me here, but wasn't me; please believe me, I-"
"Harry, it's okay," Cedric interrupted, motioning for him to calm down, "I believe you."
"You - what?"
"I believe you. I don't think you put your name in the Goblet of Fire," said the Hufflepuff calmly.
"Oh…" said Harry, obviously confused.
"I just," Cedric began hesitantly, "I just wanted to ask - are you all right?"
Harry blinked, "Am I all right?"
"Yeah," he responded with a more genuine smile, "Things got a bit rough in there. I just wanted to check and make sure that you're, you know, all right."
Cedric ran a hand through his hair in an embarrassed sort of way. Despite everything that had just happened, Harry smiled. It was a small smile, true, but a smile nonetheless.
"I'll be all right. I may not survive past the first task, but I'll be all right," Harry joked in an effort to lighten the mood.
A wrinkle appeared between Cedric's brows. He placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, squeezing it lightly, "Just… just be careful, Harry. I don't know who put your name in that goblet, but… watch your back, will you?"
Harry's stomach did a happy sort of flop at Cedric's obvious concern. He nodded, "I will."
Cedric nodded back, hand dropping to his side. For a second, it looked like he might say something else, but instead he nodded again, smiling, and headed towards the entrance hall.
"Cedric!" Harry called.
The other boy turned, smile still on his face.
"Thank you."
"What for?" asked Cedric.
"For believing me," answered Harry.
Cedric's smile grew, and Harry took a deep breath to calm his racing heart.
"Anytime, Harry," he said. He left the Great Hall after sending a small wink in Harry's direction.
Harry stood in the middle of the hall for a moment longer.
Okay, so he was magically bound to compete in a historically deadly tournament that he was vastly unqualified for… but at least Cedric believed him. Cedric was watching out for him. Cedric might even... care for him. With a deep breath, Harry headed towards Gryffindor Tower.
A/N – I know I'm kinda pulling from books as well as movies here. I tend to stay pretty loyal to the books, but there are a couple of little details in the movies that I just love (like the paper crane note that Draco sent). Let me know your thoughts! And thanks to all who continue to read, follow, favorite, and review. You have no idea how much you inspire me.