Chapter 4: Small Talk
The first day of fall comes and goes without any real notice. One morning at the end of September, a persistent rain descends upon Hogwarts that lasts for 13 days, making the air heavy and damp. Many Slytherins can be heard complaining about the conditions in the dungeons. All but one of course.
Draco scarcely speaks to anyone these days. After that night he nearly fell off the Astronomy Tower, he keeps to himself and avoids Harry Potter like a plague. He's already skipped two Potion classes (making up for the lost work on his own time), and avoids studying in the library or eating in the Great Hall. Besides attending his classes, he only leaves his room to fly after dark or to steal some food from the kitchens. He knows it's a bit overdone – it's not like the git's going to corner him at the Slytherin table – but he can't risk Potter sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.
He's grateful for the fact that no one notices his absence, or simple doesn't care. Life's simpler this way. Even so, Draco does acknowledge that life's a little lonely, if not completely dull. This attitude of keeping to himself does not bode well to last. One of Draco's many faults is that he enjoys the attention from others far too much, and although he will never admit it, he misses his friends.
He's following his Mother's advice to 'keep your head down', but when he starts carrying a conversation with his own reflection, he knows he must interrupt his solitude for the sake of his sanity, no matter how threatening or dull the company of others prove to be.
So after several weeks of keeping to himself, he decides to eat dinner in the Great Hall. His usual spot has already been taken and he finds himself sitting on one end by himself. It's odd, how he feels like a different creature amongst these people he's known for years. While he's preoccupied with thoughts of life and death, they're concerned with the usual canard. He can't help but roll his eyes when he overhears a Slytherin girl squeal at the possibility of being asked out. The high-pitched giggles that erupt from her are too much to bear after days of silence.
McGonagall thankfully interrupts Draco from chucking his spoon at the silly girl. "I am pleased to announce that we will be having a Halloween celebration this year." Cheers erupt from everyone, but Draco merely continues making little patterns in his mashed potatoes with the tip of his fork. "The Great Hall will be open to everyone at dinner, and parts of the school grounds will be open to sixth, seventh and eight years. More information will be given to you by your prefects as the date approaches. That is all!"
An excited buzz fills the Great Hall immediately, which only results in Draco feeling more out of place. Deciding that he's had enough of being ignored for one day, he makes a move to get up, but someone squarely sits in the chair next to his. He's surprised to see a familiar face smiling at him pleasantly, if not a little absently. Draco notices her wand sticking out behind her ear, half of it hidden in her long, blonde hair.
"Have you lost your way again, Loony?" he arches an eyebrow in a bored, superior manner.
"Hello to you too, Draco. I noticed you sitting here by yourself and I thought maybe you could use some company," Lovegood says airily.
"I don't need your company!" Draco replies in an appalled tone.
"Of course you don't! Does gillyweed need the Blibbering Humdinger?"
"... Gesundheit?" Draco asks, because he has no idea what Lovegood just said. Lovegood smiles as she reaches for the peas in front of him. "What?" Draco says irritably, "I've never heard of this 'Blibbering Hamburger'."
Lovegood doubles over in laughter, clutching at the table for support. "Hum - dinger!" She manages to say.
"That's what I said," Draco replies, trying very hard not to let his lips curl in amusement.
"Oh Draco. My father would have had a heart attack if he heard you mistaking one of the most magical and purest creatures in existence for a cheap, muggle – although delicious - meal."
At the mention of her father, Draco looks away from her guiltily. He heard that Mr. Lovegood was almost driven insane trying to keep his daughter alive last year. He even betrayed Potter to protect her. He remembers how his aunt forced him to keep watch of the prisoners in the Malfoy Dungeons, with Luna amongst them. Aunt Bella must have known how much he hated it, because she asked him often, usually wearing an expression of spiteful glee.
He remembers how pitiful the prisoners looked as they clung to the rays of light that spilled from the high windows. But Luna never seemed to be bothered by the darkness. She would try to engage the other prisoners to talk with her, and when that failed, she would hum endlessly to herself. He scowls at the memory of her shabby clothes and half-starved look, and can't help but hate himself for being partly responsible.
"Your mind goes to dark places quickly, doesn't it?"
When he turns to look at her, he notices a small, almost sad smile. "What do you want, Lovegood?" he asks dryly.
"I never got a chance to thank you." He now stares at her hard, trying to catch any trace of insincerity in her features. "You weren't cruel. When the other Death Eaters were on guard, it was always unpleasant. But you only sat around brooding most of the time, similar to how you were just a moment ago."
"Maybe I was indifferent. Isn't that the worst form of cruelty?"
"Yes, but you weren't indifferent."
"And they say Ravenclaws are smart."
"You gave me an apple once. Remember that?"
"After I already bit it."
"You opened the window a few times."
"It was the only way I could stand the horrid stench down there."
"You never once told me to shut up!"
"It would have been futile."
Luna smiles at that. "True." Her eyes seem to wander away from his face as she reflects on what to say next. Draco doesn't understand how this little game even began, but he's sure he's winning.
At last, Luna has a response: "You were terrified." As soon as she says these words, her eyes light up slightly. She thinks she's won.
He smirks evilly at her now. "Only for myself. I never gave you any thought."
"I don't believe that, but even if that were true, it still shows that you're human." She grins at him before drowning her peas in gravy, as if her vague response is all the proof that Draco needs in order to feel worthy of her thanks.
Draco turns towards his own plate as he contemplates her last argument. He doesn't really understand her point, but he's finding it very difficult to hide the unexpected smile that crept up on his face.
This particular Thursday morning feels much too cold and close to winter for the start of October. The sun hasn't risen yet, but this makes little difference to Harry. He was always the sort to sleep in and always risked being late for class. That isn't the case now, as he avoids getting ready or eating breakfast later with his friends. It's just too embarrassing how long it takes to get the simplest things done, so he aims to be the first one at the Great Hall.
By the time his friends meet him there, he's already done eating and cleaned up the juice he's knocked over.
"I'm looking forward to Potions today," Hermione yawns. "We're brewing the Wakefulness Potion."
"We're actually brewing?" Harry asks with dread.
"Yes, Professor Slughorn mentioned it last week. Why don't you partner with me and Samantha today? I'm sure he won't mind."
"I might have to. The last two classes were only manageably because there wasn't any brewing involved." Harry can't help but sigh. "Do you think Malfoy dropped the class?"
"Let's hope," Ron says in between bites, "that he did."
"Yeah," Harry says, not bothering to hide the gloominess in his voice. "Do you know if he's been missing other classes?"
"Harry, NO! Don't even go there!" Ron abruptly says. "The last thing you need is to get obsessed with Malfoy this year. Remember sixth year?"
"I wasn't obsessed! And anyway, I was right that he was up to something."
"Even so, it isn't a good idea to follow him around this year, not with him being all spiteful and you being all ... never mind. It's better if you just forget he exists," Ron says with enthusiasm.
"Ron's right. Even if you can take care of yourself, you have poor judgement when it comes to Malfoy." Then Hermione adds gravely, "Remember the end of sixth year – when you used Snape's curse on him?"
Harry bows his head slightly in shame, "you know I wouldn't have tried that spell if I knew what it did."
"I know. But when Malfoy is involved, you're not exactly rational."
"Okay, Okay. You don't have to worry. I don't think he's plotting anything evil." He's just going to get himself killed. With his friends' worries soothed momentarily, Hermione and Ron begin discussing their plans for the Halloween Dance, but Harry's mind is elsewhere. When Malfoy didn't attend class for two weeks in a row, Harry feared the worse. He almost went to McGonagall to explain what happened at the Astronomy Tower. Wouldn't he be partly responsible if Malfoy seriously attempted to hurt himself? A part of Harry knows that the right thing to do would be to tell someone; at the very least Slughorn. But he can't help but wonder if he misunderstood the whole situation. Maybe Malfoy really did like the view. Harry snorts at that thought.
He knows that something's wrong with Malfoy. He just doesn't know why he should care, because he doesn't have a Hero Complex!
Harry and Hermione begin their descent to the dungeons for Potions. When Harry opens the door, he feels Hermione nudge him on his side, trying to tell him something. As he takes his seat, he catches a familiar tannin scent and his stomach does a nervous little flop. Malfoy's back.
Although Harry can't know for certain, he feels Malfoy's eyes fixed on him. He consciously takes out his parchment and enchanted note-taking quill, trying his best to appear normal and unfazed. He places his knapsack on the floor beside his chair and is unsure of what to do with his hands. Placing them on his lap seems most natural, and Harry can't help but wonder if his expression appears neutral as he faces the front of the class. He's never been so aware of himself before. Why is he acting like this?
At last, Slughorn asks the class to collect the necessary ingredients from the cupboard. Without thinking it through, Harry gets up to do so.
"Potter, maybe I should go?"
Harry shrugs for a response and walks away quickly, before Malfoy can say anything more.
At the cupboard, he realizes how stupid it is for him to have gone. How the hell is he going to know which ingredients are which? He picks up a random jar and sniffs the contents, sighing at how ridiculous he will feel when Malfoy laughs at him for going back empty-handed.
"We definitely don't need beetle eyes," Malfoy drawls directly behind him, causing Harry to jump slightly.
"You shouldn't creep up on people like that!"
"I was walking behind you the entire time."
"Then walk a little louder!" Harry snaps irrationally. This was the first time he didn't hear someone walking behind him and it's unsettling.
"But where's the fun in that?" Malfoy mischievously asks. Harry can practically see his stupid, smirking face.
"Can we just get the materials? Let's get this over with."
"Sure. You can get the Asphodal herbs."
"Ha Ha. You made your point -" Harry starts to say impatiently.
"Potter, your left hand is next to it. Just reach out." Harry glares at Malfoy while his hand clasps the cool jar. He takes it up to his nose and sniffs, smelling dry flowers. "The apple seeds are in the jaded jar at your eye level, and Doxy eggs are three jars to the left of that," Malfoy says somewhat absently as he begins to gather some other materials.
"If you say so," Harry says dryly, but in spite of himself, he can't help but feel somewhat grateful. Harry grabs the two jars and sniffs at them both, instantly regretting smelling the Doxy eggs.
At their desk, both boys stubbornly refuse to acknowledge each other as they chop, prepare and stir ingredients. Their silence is only interrupted by short commands from Malfoy, such as "dice this", "pass me the herbs" and "stir thrice not twice!" As a result, they are the first pair to finish their potion successfully. Harry tickles his chin with the tip of his feather quill, debating if he should continue ignoring Malfoy or break the silence. Boredom finally wins him over.
"So… where were you?" He asks as casually as he can muster.
"What?"
"The past two weeks, why did you miss class?"
"Felt a little under the weather," Malfoy replies curtly.
"Are you … feeling better?" he winces at how senseless the question sounds.
"I'm here, aren't I?"
"Yeah," Harry frowns at Malfoy's rude tone. "I was thinking -"
"Potter, just stop talking."
Harry turns his face away and glares angrily into empty space. "Why do you have to be such a prat all the time? I just want to speak with you."
"Don't. Small talk is beneath me."
"Who says this is small talk? I want to know why you were at the Astronomy Tower that night. What were you doing?" Harry pointedly asks, patience be damned.
Malfoy lets out a long, dramatic sigh, "it doesn't concern you."
"It looked like you were going to … jump."
"So what if I was?" Malfoy coldly retorts. Harry is so unnerved by this statement, that he barely acknowledges Malfoy gathering up his belongings and getting ready to leave. Only when Malfoy quietly closes the back door behind him does Harry realize that he's gone. The same uneasiness he felt that night at the Astronomy Tower returns, only this time it's entangled with a sense of guilt that he should have said something. Any response would have been more appropriate than his silence, which surely may be mistaken for unfaltering indifference.
Harry puts his forehead down onto the cool desk, suddenly feeling wretched.
"Focus," Draco tells himself quietly, as he forces himself to read the same passage from his Arithmancy text once more. He must have read it about four times by now, without a single word registering in his brain:
Certain characteristics about a person can be brought to light by studying their name (please refer to the Review Chapter for more information.) Similarly, we can infer which characteristics are most prominent in incantations by looking at their phonetic structure.
Usually going to the most secluded corner in the library would help him focus, but he feels much too anxious. Stupid, nosy Potter. Why couldn't he just let it rest? Draco has no idea how much longer he could endure Potter's questions. The best course of action may be to make up some story to get Potter off his back, since avoiding him isn't a real solution. But if Draco's honest with himself, he isn't only avoiding Potter; he's avoiding a disturbing truth about himself.
He truly believes he wouldn't have jumped. He's too much of a Slytherin for that. But he also knows how close he was to death that night, and hates the fact that he owes Potter his life again. More significant than that, he hates how welcoming that brush with death was. Although Draco doesn't want to die, it's strange that he only felt alive when the possibility nearly became a reality.
Draco shakes his head to clear his thoughts, willing himself to understand the words on the page. Finally after some time of struggling, he begins to read with intent. So when Potter suddenly drops his filthy knapsack on top of his textbook, he finds himself completely off guard. "What the hell, Potter?" he asks angrily.
"Are you alone right now?" Potter asks.
"What? How did you even know I was sitting here?!" Draco asks indignantly.
"You skipped Potions class these past two weeks because you were avoiding me. That's the truth, isn't it?" Potter asks bluntly.
"How could I possibly avoid you? For someone who's apparently blind, you always seem to know where I am."
"Why were you at the Tower that night?" Potter asks in a low voice.
"You clearly have a specific reason in mind, so why don't you tell me?"
"Just answer the question! I know what you're trying to do and it won't work this time." Potter hisses impatiently.
"Well, I was trying to read."
"You're trying to distract me from talking about that night."
"Can you keep your voice down? Or better yet, can you leave me alone?" Draco flusters. The more Potter speaks, the more agitated he becomes; already people are glancing in their general direction to see who's bothering their Hero.
"I'm not leaving until you admit that you were trying to… or at least… you were thinking of... you know..." Potter stammers ungracefully.
"Thinking of jumping off the Astronomy Tower to smear my brains against the school grounds?" Draco inputs helpfully, enjoying the way Potter squirms. "I told you, I was enjoying the view."
"Bullshit!" Potter says a little too loudly. Now people are turning to stare at them curiously. Draco's back stiffens when he sees Greenberg approaching them, his steps full of purpose.
"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, unconsciously reaching for his wand.
'What?" Potter begins, but he's interrupted by Greenberg's arrival.
"Is Malfoy giving you a hard time?" Greenberg asks Potter in what he probably thinks is a charming voice. Draco just scowls at him bitterly.
"No, I'm fine Don, thanks," Potter says without really acknowledging Greenberg.
"Because I can probably get him to talk." Greenberg stands directly beside Draco, smirking at him nastily. He then pokes his wand at Draco's arm, but Draco just slaps it away in a bored manner.
"Don, this is sort of between me and Malfoy," Potter says.
"I bet you it was his idea to lure you into the forest that night," Greenberg continues, oblivious to Potter's mood. "He's probably trying to be the next Dark Lord or something."
"Thank you for that refreshing point of view, but this is strictly a Death Eater and Hero sort of meeting," Draco says with belligerent politeness. "So fuck off."
"You showed too much mercy with this one, Harry. If I were you, I would have let him rot in Azkaban," Greenberg says, ignoring Draco. "The kiss would have been just right -"
"Greenwood, can you please do me a favour and shut the fuck up about things that don't concern you?" Potter finally snaps.
Draco feels an unexpected swell of gratitude towards Potter and manages to smile innocently at Greenberg, whose mouth is hanging open in shock. "You heard the Golden Boy, skedaddle!" he says with glee. Draco sniggers under his breath as Greenberg storms away ungracefully, his expression half apologetic and half outraged. "Wow, I think you managed to get him off my back for a bit."
"What, he's still bothering you?"
"No." Draco says a little too quickly, "Potter, what do you want?"
Potter sighs, "I want to know why you were at the Astronomy Tower, standing on the ledge in the middle of a storm."
Draco can't think of why Potter is pretending to care, but he should try to get rid of him as soon as possible. "If you must know - I was high. Stupid, I know – but that's the truth."
Potter lifts his eyebrows in surprise, before he chews on his lower lip, appearing to think hard. "I don't believe you," he replies at last. He then begins to take his books out unceremoniously.
"What are you doing?" Draco asks in alarm.
"Going to study."
"Not here, you won't!"
"This is the only table that isn't full. I suspect it's because people hate you."
"But I hate you!" Draco says with emphasis.
"I hate you too, Malfoy," Harry distractedly responds, looking in his bag for a spare piece of parchment. Draco wrinkles up his nose in disgusts when Potter pulls out a stained piece of parchment that appears to be his History assignment.
Draco is tempted to gather his belongings and leave, but he catches Greenberg staring at him from across the library. Swallowing his pride, he lowers his eyes to his text and attempts to read again.
"So…" Potter begins to say. Draco looks up and narrows his eyes suspiciously. "What got you thinking about Dumbledore that night?" he says carefully, with his head tilted towards Draco's in interest.
Draco glances at Greenberg, who is still watching him intently, and then back to Potter who is waiting for a response. Deciding between the lesser of two evils, Draco gathers his things to leave. A few punches and burns cannot be worse than this.
"Where are you going?" Potter asks.
"Away from you. I'm not playing this game."
"Bloody hell, I just want to talk, Malfoy." Potter begins to gather his things too.
"That's never going to happen! We're enemies, remember?" He uncharacteristically doesn't rollup his parchment before shoving it into his bag and storming away. But as he leaves the library, Potter follows after him. Will it be terribly pathetic if he runs away from a blind man?
"But things are changing now," Potter says as he falls in step beside Draco.
Draco begins to walk a little faster. "Nothing ever changes, Potter!" Without fully understanding the urgency that he feels to get away, Draco breaks into a run through the corridors, needing to escape from it all. But amazingly, Potter keeps up. "Stop following me!"
"Stop running away!"
When Draco reaches one of the back doors that lead to the Quidditch pitch, Potter stops fully in his tracks. "Wait. I can't go out there."
"Good," is all that Draco says before he closes the door firmly behind him.