Tomorrow's the final exam, and I thought I'd already post you the next chapter. I hope you enjoy! Do not forget to leave a review! That would make my day
Chapter 4
Wet sleeve
Draco was pissed for having gotten detention with Saint Potter. Why was he even writing to that idiot? He wasn't worth his time, attacking him with Muggle violence. Not that Draco would curse Potter without reason, but at least he would've defended himself like a real wizard.
Anyway, the Gryffindor hadn't responded his letter yet, Draco had gone up, just before making his way to McGonnagal's office. Maybe it wasn't that clever to write to the Chosen One, but Draco tried to ignore that part of his thoughts as much as possible. The opportunity he had, enabling him to talk to Potter in private without anyone knowing, made him feel like he had privileges. However, that very same person bruised his jaw the day before.
He wasn't just angry with the muscular Gryffindor, he was actually a bit disappointed in the boy. For once, he had hoped he wouldn't have tried to pick a fight. When his name had been shouted by the all too familiar voice, he had hoped it would've been for another reason than to insult him.
Luck obviously hadn't been on his side. What did he expect? Potter hated him for being who he was, and a simple letter wouldn't change that. Most certainly not when he replied anonymously. Draco had reached McGonnagal's office by now and locked his worries away into a small box, safely hidden inside his heart. He knocked on the massive door before entering and saw the raven haired man was already there.
"Hello, Mr. Malfoy. You can take a seat," McGonnagal greeted, motioning with her hand towards a very uncomfortable chair. Draco sat down, avoiding the green gaze of his fellow student.
"Today, I'm going to let you help out Mr. Filch. He's in high need of some cleaning helpers, so that'll be your job for today." Draco suppressed to roll his eyes at the Head of the Gryffindor House. He couldn't believe they were getting the same punishment. Potter had assaulted him, Draco had only thrown some hurtful words at the emerald-eyed teen.
There were two short knocks on the door before Filch entered, a smile – or what Draco thought represented a smile – splitting his flabby face in two. The caretaker looked even more unsightly in his rags, facial lines making him look far older than he was.
"There they are. You naughty kids. I'll teach you two. Come on," Filch muttered, nodding to McGonnagal and walking off. He walked in a rigid way, limping with his right leg. Draco got up and followed the Squib, still avoiding Potter's glance. He wouldn't even look at him; because of Potter's temper he had to use the concealment charm to make sure his House mates didn't see his bruise. He didn't feel like seeing Madame Pomfrey either.
Sooner or later, he would get revenge on Potter.
Harry stretched his sore muscles and looked at Malfoy. His lank hair wasn't as smooth as it usually was, and his robes were covered in Mrs. Skower's All Purpose Magical Mess remover. They had been cleaning for three hours now, and Harry could smell the delicious food being served at the Great Hall, above the nose prickling stench of their cleaning product. Dinner or not, delicious or not, they were stuck here for another two hours.
"This stinks," Harry cursed, throwing his rag back into the bucked, sighing heavily. His fingers were numb, and his wrists ached. Filch had made them clean all the suits of armor without magic. They had already polished the suits of armor on the fifth floor with Madame Glossy's Silver polish. It had taken them so long that Harry was able to see his reflection in his own hands. It was inhuman. Now they were cleaning the cold walls of the dungeons. He didn't even know why that was necessary. With one swift wave of the wand, all the walls on the lower levels of the castle could be clean. Yet, they were squatting in front of the old, humid walls.
"Stop whining Potter. It's your fault we're here," Malfoy snarled. Harry rolled his eyes at the blonde, meeting his eyes furiously.
"It's not my fault, Malfoy. If you wouldn't be so rude, insulting my family, I wouldn't have had to insult yours." Malfoy had deserved the punch, that was for breaking his nose on the Hogwarts Express.
"Stop whimpering like a crybaby, Potter. How old are you?" Harry glared, feeling irritated and decided not to answer the question. After all, it was a rhetorical one. Malfoy's left sleeve was soaked, since he hadn't turned it up. His right sleeve on the other hand, was neatly rolled up. This peculiar thing hadn't caught Harry's attention in the past three hours, but right now, he watched him closely, while Malfoy returned to his cleaning. This would be his shot to get some information out of his partner in crime.
"Why's your left sleeve still down? Are you hiding something?" Harry asked inspective. He observed the Slytherin's every move. Malfoy fidgeted his sleeve before shooting him a death glare, but underneath the dark gloom in his silver eyes, Harry had seen a flicker of fear. He was hiding something.
Thriumph made Harry's body awake from its stiff state. Malfoy on the contrary, tensed.
"Don't be foolish, Potter. I know that's a lot to ask. I'm not carrying the mark, otherwise I wouldn't be in this obtuse school, led by that lunatic." Malfoy's voice sounded very convincing, but Harry hadn't been obvious to the glint of worry in the grey orbs. It was still there.
"Don't try to insult your way out of this. You know very well that I'm only asking because I'm already sure it's there. You don't have to deny it, Malfoy," Harry replied in a friendly tone, which was very improper, giving the state of their conversation.
"Mind your own business, Potter. You're starting to act like that bushy-haired, nosy know-it-all." Malfoy's mask was up, Harry could sense it. The eruption of insults only confirmed Harry's assumptions.
"I see through your mask, Malfoy. I know you're up to something, and I know it has something to do with Voldemort." Harry saw the slender boy shiver at the mention of the name. The reaction caused his stomach to turn, and he felt a pinch of guilt in the back of his throat. He had never expected a prudish man like Malfoy to show his fear to openly. Maybe he just wasn't aware he was doing it.
Harry shook his head, focusing back on his work, but he caught himself observing Malfoy only moments later. There was definitely something wrong with him, he had changed a lot. That was something his busy-haired know-it-all hadn't been right about.
Malfoy continued his work in silence, and Harry didn't know what to start about next. If he would ramble on about this Death Eater thing, Malfoy would presumably think he was obsessed. Not that he was, he was just dying to know the truth about the boy with the pale, pointed face and the bored, drawling voice.
After finishing the detention with Malfoy, Harry ran towards the Gryffindor Common room, ready to tell his friends the news about the sleeve. He didn't even bother to go to the Great Hall anymore. The food would be gone, and the House elves would be busy cleaning all the plates. He didn't feel like robbing the Kitchen either. He would have to deal with Dobby and Winky, and he preferred avoiding the two familiar House elves, if he wanted to be back to the Gryffindor Common room before midnight.
He walked up to the Fat Lady as fast as his sore limbs could carry him, and shouted the password without even looking at the woman.
"Hi, 'Mione. Where's Ron?" Harry asked, plopping down onto the chair in front of his friend. At the sight of Hermione's pained expression, he derived that his friend was with Lavander. "Sorry for asking. I just got out of detention." It was remarkable how fast Harry had forgotten his friends weren't talking, now that he had made up with Hermione.
"You haven't eaten yet, have you?" Hermione was reading a book, and Harry shook his head at both the question and the fact that his friend was reading again.
"No, I'm starving, but-"
"I brought you some sandwiches. You said it would last until eight, so I decided to bring some here." Hermione responded before Harry could finish his sentence. The words were already on the tip of his tongue, but Hermione made him postpone the moment of truth even longer.
"Thanks," Harry replied gratefully, before taking a large bite out of his bacon sandwich. "You never guess what happened while we were cleaning," he brought out with a mouthful, looking an awful lot like his red-haired friend.
"Something suspicious I suppose?" Hermione asked tiredly. Harry frowned at her uninterested reaction and shrugged. "Malfoy refused to uplift his left sleeve. I dare to bet my fortune at Gringotts that he has that ugly mark on his forearm." Harry took another bite, watching Hermione's reaction.
"Don't exaggerate, Harry. You can't know for sure. And even if he does have it, it doesn't mean he wanted it." It was striking how much Hermione wanted talk highly of the Slytherin.
"You just try to see the good in everybody. Not everyone is good, 'Mione." Harry slowed down his eating pace, chewing every bite carefully before swallowing it. He had craved for food for two long hours, and he wouldn't dispatch it all in one bite.
"Not everyone's bad either. Stop picking fights with him and suspecting him. Maybe you'd be able to see the man he's become." Harry looked at his friend, eyes filled with shock. Was Hermione under the Imperius Curse? He couldn't believe this was the very same girl that had once punched Malfoy harshly in the face.
"What man?" Harry scoffed rudely. Hermione sighed, and looked at him as if he was a four year old.
"A man who's afraid of his destiny. Can't you see he's terrified ever since sixth year started?" she said slowly, putting emphasis on each word. Harry shrugged, waving aside Hermione's wise words.
"It's probably just an act. I don't trust him." It wasn't abnormal that Harry didn't trust the man. although he had insulted Hermione in every way he could, it was only because she was befriended with Harry. Malfoy hated him, and therefore all his friends.
"What happened to Silvergreen? Have you heard of him or her?" Harry wasn't pleased with Hermione because she changed the subject, but she was right.
"Gosh! I totally forgot about that. I still haven't checked!" Harry sprang up and made his way out of the common room. He had been so occupied with finding out what Malfoy was up to that he had forgotten to check if Silvergreen had responded yet. He practically ran up to the seventh floor and sprinted three times past the empty wall before entering. Anticipation rushed through his veins, while walking up to the blue box. He took a deep breath and moved it. There was a new note underneath it.
Dear Harry
You sure seem curious about me, don't you? I must admit there are some things I would like to unburden myself off, but unfortunately they're not very easy to talk about.
Besides, I wouldn't want to bother you with my silly life. You're probably busy saving the Wizarding World from another attack of You Know Who.
However, it has been really nice writing to you.
Yours Sincerely
Silvergreen
Harry stared at the words, a smile forming on his lips because Silvergreen was obviously avoiding his questions. The curiousness about this girl grew in his stomach as his heart sped up in ecstasy. The cliché about him saving the wizard world didn't annoy him this time. He dropped his bag in a rush and had a piece of parchment within seconds.
Dear Silvergreen
It doesn't really seem fair to me that you know everything about me, but that you haven't spilled any details about who you are. You even use a pseudonym to write to me.
So, you can entrust me some of your secrets. There's nothing I can't handle.
What's more, your life doesn't seem silly to me at all. Please feel free to write me an extensive reply.
Yours sincerely
Harry
He reread his answer several times, just to make sure he would remember what he had written. His smile had been glued on his lips the whole time. He replaced the note, concealing it neatly underneath the navy blue box. Then he turned around to leave the room, pushed open the door only to bump into a tall, slender figure. The man fell onto the ground in a muddle of robes.
"Sorry! I didn't see you - Malfoy? What are you doing here?" Harry cut of his apology, as he saw a blonde head between the black robes. At first he had thought it would have been the person he was writing to, but as he recognized Malfoy seconds before, disappointment filled his stomach.
"I have every right to be here, Potter. I could ask you the same question." Harry knew the boy was right, but that didn't cheer him up at all. All the rapture from getting a reply left his body, upon seeing the grey eyed Death Eater.
"I won't answer it either. I'm not even surprised to see you here," Harry bit back. It only confirmed his presumption.
"And why's that?" Malfoy's voice was cold. But that didn't impress Harry one bit.
"I know you're up to something. And I also know that it's in the Room of Requirement. I saw you here before."
"I saw you here before too, Potter. Are you up to something too?" Malfoy retorted, but Harry could sense he had hit a soft spot. The deeper he dug, the surer he became.
"The only thing I'm up to, is figuring out what you're constantly doing here. Besides, I'm off, I already had to bear with you all afternoon." Harry turned around and left, his coat swirling behind him, leaving a dumbfounded Malfoy before the shrinking door to the Room.
To be continued…
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