Chapter 11
Quill Confidant
Harry conceded that the correspondence had stopped when it needed to. He did not want to rush the progression, lest Malfoy sit and think back at one point and conclude that Harry was pulling a fast one on him. That was for the moment Harry's biggest concern: keeping the situation believable. Hence he largely did not mind that he had half the day to do nothing but stare out of the window up at the foreboding line of tall trees whose collective canopy watched balefully over the manor.
For the sixtieth time he glanced at his wristwatch, watching time crawl forward. He had timed his arrival into the current timeline so that the time matched that of the timeline he had left behind. So it really was 17:42, only seven days behind. He perhaps should have thought his prospective stay at Malfoy Manor through a little bit more and brought along his Quidditch Through the Ages book. Even his textbooks would have been better than this endless brood-inducing stretch of hours until the next day when he could resume sending notes to and receiving them from Malfoy, further pushing things forward to a stage when Malfoy was in a frame of mind for to consider inviting Harry over to the manor. It was at this point that Harry thought he could tactfully begin turning Malfoy against Zabini. If not, then at least get himself closer to Malfoy to influence him accordingly.
The following hour found Harry bent over the escritoire, writing a note to Malfoy. He had succumbed to desperate measures. The only entertainment he could hope for was writing Malfoy and hopefully reading him, damn the likelihood that he had pissed the other off with his last note. The bookstand had no books and the armoire he had earlier explored in his boredom was empty as well: the room was never inhabited.
I'm shocked you've never seen Voldemort. Isn't your father in his army? I thought maybe he'd visit every once in a while or something. He's tall and very skinny and very pale, almost glowing-pale, and he has these snake-like red eyes.
-Father never lets me attend me the meetings with.
Are you putting my Cloak to good use?
-I don't need to at home. Hogwarts is a different story.
Ah. So are you seeing anyone?
-To set the record straight, I'm NOT dating Pansy if you suspected that like the rest of the school. She's vile. A good friend, but vile.
Fine. You haven't answered the question.
-Not at the moment. You? I know the Mudblood's taken by the Weasel. Oh I know, that other Weasley with the short temper? She kind of reminds me of you anyway.
I'm not dating Ginny. She's pretty but she's like family. I'm not seeing anyone.
-Good to know.
Malfoy was not helping him but Harry had to force the conversation onward.
What kind of music do you listen to?
-Don't listen much. Sometimes I turn on the gramophone.
What do you do for fun?
-Do you want to come over here and see how I live my life? What is this, a Daily Prophet profile? Father wants me out of the papers, if you must know. Unless you were a reporter all along...
Please. I want nothing to do with the Daily Prophet. At least we got rid of that foul Skeeter woman, but the Prophet isn't necessarily better for it – no one knows still that Voldemort's back.
-Speaking of the Dark Lord, I could get into serious trouble if my father found out I'm talking to you. How do you think he'd take his son talking to the enemy?
I'm not YOUR enemy. Unless you want to join the Death Eater ranks. I might kill you at some point then, yeah.
-What if I'm already a Death Eater?
I doubt it. I probably would've found out.
-Really? How so exactly?
Oh let's say Voldemort and I share a connection.
-Of course you do. You're both the subject of the legend of the Boy Who Lived. Anything else?
A lot else. Don't worry about it. Just know that I would probably—I'm not saying I would surely know—but big moments tend to cause a stir. They make him… extremely passionate, and I can feel it.
-Right. Well if you aren't going to talk I'm certainly not going to try clawing things out of you. You're not really subtle with making a mystery of yourself.
I wasn't trying to.
-Of course not. I know how these things go - I've been to enough brunches and banquets. I know what you're trying to do.
Malfoy, I'm not trying to be fake here.
-You're certainly succeeding in doing so. I'm not curious enough about your life to dog the truth out of you.
Fine. Let's move on. I actually WOULD like to come over there and see how you live. I'm not a reporter though.
-I don't know. I think it's early days for that. And I'm still trying to fathom that I'm speaking to Harry Potter on a rational level.
See? Miracles happen! Let's play a game of secrets: we both exchange things about each other the other doesn't know.
-Pass?
No. What do you really think of me? I want you to be COMPLETELY honest. I want to start this properly, all of it.
-Ah. Starting off with an easy one. Okay. Give me a minute to get my thoughts together.
Okay. While you're getting them together, answer me this: why do you always have your hair gelled?
-Because it's convenient that way, I don't have to stress about it.
Are you making it like that with magic? Is it a Glamour?
-Yeah.
So what's your natural hair like? And are you really as pale as you are at Hogwarts? That might be a Glamour too for all I know.
-It's white-blond, goes below my shoulders. For an apparently straight guy, Potter, you're asking some really suspect questions. I'm really this pale and I suggest you shut it before I stop responding.
Why don't you wear your hair like that then?
-I told you: because when it's gelled it's easier to manage. I don't have to tuck it behind my ear or toss it like a girl. I can't get my hair to behave like my father's. He must be using some spell to control it like that too...
Ha-ha. So why don't you ask him for that spell?
-He probably isn't using one. He doesn't.
There are a lot of guys with long hair and they're not girly at all.
-I bet they're six feet tall, have a girl on their arm and hang out at places like the Golden Tap?
Oh so your issue is that wearing long hair makes you feel like a girl because you're not as… manly?
-It certainly invites questions. Let's move on, shall we?
No, I want to get to the bottom of this. So what if you're three heads shorter and have long hair? You're still not a girl.
-Potter, we're not discussing this topic any longer. Now you're disrupting my thoughts-gathering.
Fine. I personally don't find anything wrong if you had long hair. At least you won't look like a bratty snob.
-You should think about tidying yours up too. It looks likes it breathes or some potions experiment gone wrong. Try running a comb through once in a while. Unless you're doing that whole just-hopped-off-a-broom windblown look to attract girls. Failingly, I might add.
You and I both know Harry Potter wouldn't struggle to get girls. I don't even have to try. But I don't.
-Yeah and every second word out of her mouth would be how amazing you are and that she's read everything about you – actually she doesn't read at all. You wouldn't be the first celebrity she's shagged; she would probably have hung with some of the Weird Sisters in that backroom behind the High Table during the Yule Ball last year. My guess is if you pick your dates from your current pool of admirers you'd have very little to chat about.
Point taken. Are you nearly done with your thoughts on me?
-This is the only time I have ever thought about you so much, so enjoy and dispose after use. To be honest I cannot tell you how right furious I was when you brushed me off, not after I had looked forward to seeing you in person for so long. Yes I did buy in your legend in spite of myself and in spite of my father telling me the opposite of what every book I had read was telling me about you. I thought I had you in the bag. You were famous and I was rich – we were going to make good friends.
-But of course it didn't turn out like that exactly. You pushed me aside for the likes of the Weasleys. I swear my life flash in front of my eyes. Thank Merlin that happened in front of your friends and not mine. Otherwise I would've probably duelled you right then to save face and probably would've won because I knew the basics already where everyone else was only going to learn them that year.
-To my utter horror that wasn't the last of your obnoxiousness. You became an ever bigger git, somehow managing to get away with every conceivable thing and the teachers just let you do it (at least I thought so, and it was entirely unfair because Slytherins have to contend with preconceptions from the other Houses and it's already hard to get away with things as it is). So after you embarrassed me countless times, what else could I think of you? I hated you with a passion.
To be fair, you brought your embarrassment down on yourself - you kept getting in our way and staging those riveting monologues about Ron's mother's weight and how stupid I was and stuff. You have to admit you had a hand in it.
-Whatever, Potter. I want to know the real story behind the legend. What happened when the Dark Lord nearly killed you? Can you remember? You have to remember.
No I don't. I just remember a green flash, which must have been the Killing Curse, and my mother screaming. She was trying to protect me but Voldemort killed her and then came for me. I can't remember what happens after the flash.
-Wow. And that's how you got the scar? He tried to cast the Killing Curse on you but somehow it failed? Moody said something like that last year.
Yeah. Somehow.
-So where did you grow up? There's hardly any news coverage about you in those first few years after the Dark Lord's death.
And how would you know that? Have you researched me or something? I told you before that I lived in the Muggle world and only came into the Wizarding world at eleven. I stayed at my uncles and go back when school's out. And Voldemort didn't die. He said he was reduced to a ghost-like state. He was just spirit and roamed the forests of Albania for many years without a body.
-Merlin, Potter, warn me before spooking me out like that, yeah? Not all of us are as fearless as you. Now every time I meet a ghost I'm going to think of the Dark Lord.
Ha-ha, sorry. Why don't you call him Voldemort?
-I can barely say the name.
Say it then.
-No.
Why not?
-No one ever does.
That's how he stays scary. If you say the name he'll become less scary.
-I have no need to fear him less. I should fear him more than any other person at Hogwarts – my father works for him.
You're afraid he might hurt him?
-I don't know. I think he already has...
How?
-Well, mainly around the time you started spreading rumours that the Dark Lord was back, there were nights when Father came through the Apparition chamber shaking like you've never seen a person shake before. There were always these blue veins around his eyes and in his forehead. And there was always this look in his eyes like he was haunted or something. It was probably the Dark Lord torturing him, he's the only one I can think of you can do this to a person because the Cruciatus Curse doesn't do anything that bad.
Maybe. Do you want to move on?
-Yeah. What do you think of me?
The most infuriating, irritating, annoying human being I have ever met and existing on this planet.
-That's it? After I gave you three paragraphs?
I thought you were this heartless git who had no blood in his body because you were so pale and therefore could not have any feeling in you (I was eleven; give me a break). You hurt people right in front of them like you had no soul, without even touching them. It wasn't the first time I met a character like you – Dudley isn't any better a human being – but you were the first one I saw use words and not fists to hurt just as badly.
I admit I hated you with a passion too. There was always that look in your eye, a dangerous glint that told me I needed to be careful about my next move 'cause it could take me to the infirmary if I'm lucky and detention or suspension if I'm not. I'd try to pound you to the floor after you gave me one of your one-liners. Yeah, it was really ugly. I have to agree with Hermione that how something so handsome could have been so ugly on the outside.
-Ew! The Mudblood said I was handsome?!
She actually said pretty.
-Pretty?! You're lying. You need to forget about that girly thing earlier.
She really did say you were pretty but ugly on the outside. Of course she meant good-looking pretty, not as in girly pretty - that wouldn't make sense - you look nothing like a girl.
-And I'd like to keep it that way. So then we are on even grounds. We both thought the other was a git. End of story. Glad we ironed that out.
You still sound like one now.
-Thanks. I practice it at home. And in case you don't recognize it that was sarcasm. See, I know you're thick but I don't know how much exactly.
I know sarcasm, thanks. And I know you worry about looking like a girl too. At times I thought about it, I must say.
-Get off it, Potter. Trying to get back at me by hurting me with words is, firstly, unoriginal because apparently I invented that, and secondly, it's pathetic. Find a smarter way to feel better about yourself. Merlin, you're still a git even now. I guess one cannot take the git out of oneself – it's incurable.
Harry knew he was lying in his next words but Malfoy never played fair, so why should he?
I was never on anything. I'm telling the truth. Think about it: a boy smaller than most of the third-years with these rare grey eyes I've never seen before, and this pale skin that made you look like any small thing was deadly to you and makes the person want to shield you from all the bad forces in the world that be, and this skinny body with no muscles, and a ring on his finger, and the way he crosses his legs and folds his arms in class... Wouldn't you start to figure?
-What on Merlin's sweet earth is all of that got to do with anything?! I HAVE to wear the ring! Grey eyes and pale skin aren't feminine! Everything you just said isn't the least bit feminine! And if you think crossing your arms and legs is feminine then I have a bridge I want to sell you! Do you come from the Black Ages or something?
I'm just saying all of those things add up into this picture, you know, and it wouldn't be surprising if you were gay, that's all.
-Oh, I'm girly AND gay now? I think this conversation is over.
Oh come on, take me on, Malfoy. I could be girly or gay too, you just have to find things about me. The things I mentioned are very broad.
-I have neither the energy nor interest to point out feminine things about you because I have better things to do. Like sweeping some clouds.
Okay I'm sorry, I don't really think you're gay or girly. Those things I just was talking about, anybody could be feminine or gay if you go on them. People aren't the same, you know? You need to explain to me what that means, "Sweeping some clouds." I've also heard a few people at Hogwarts say things like "Merlin, isn't he the eighth sage."
-I don't think I'm feeling too charitable with wizard knowledge tonight. I feel for you – I really do. Doesn't Weasley fill you in on some of these things? Or is he as useless as he is poor?
"Keep it together, Harry. Keep it moving," Harry urged himself through clenched teeth.
He tells me about some stuff. I'm going to find out about these things either way, you know, even if you don't tell me. I'm not going back to the Muggle world.
-Unfortunately.
For some, yes.
-Myself included.
Still?
-You think us sending letters back and forth to each other is going to change things that much?
Don't you at least hate me a little less now? I do you. I'd die for you. Under certain conditions of course.
Harry snorted loudly to himself but reminded himself that Malfoy was less than twenty metres away from him. Perhaps a bit too strong. He was not lying about what he said: if there ever arose a situation in which Malfoy's life was in danger and Harry sacrificing his life would save him he definitely would, as he would do for his friends, a child, a woman, even a man he did not know. He did not think highly of himself but he honestly felt that he would not be able to sit and do nothing. The only thing that could give him pause was if he knew more lives could be saved.
-Right. Because you're everyone's hero. Not all of us ordered one. I'll leave heroes in the mo'strips.
What's a mo'strip?
-I repeat: I don't feel particularly charitable with wizarding knowledge tonight after you insulted my masculinity.
I'm sorry. I was just making a point.
-How cheaply you value your life. If only the Dark Lord knew he could spare you the torture of having to live.
I don't want to die, believe me. But some of us do have hearts and care about other people. I'm sure you do too.
-I've no need to.
Harry had tossed the letter aside and dismissed it as another stormy flare from Malfoy's closed-off heart and had begun to write a reply. But he could not help thinking deeply on it. He took the missive again and stared at the words. Was Malfoy really this heartless? He had everything he needed: his future was probably guaranteed since, as he has claimed, his family was growing richer by the day. So did he have a need for people? If not, what reason would there be in investing emotions in social connections. Why have sympathy or empathy if one had little incentive to do so? Was a person inherently good or did he have to be taught to be good? What if the person was brought up with a cold-hearted, grey-eyed Death Eater? It might be that Malfoy had never been more truthful with Harry than in the very words at which Harry now stared. It might be Malfoy was not ready to assume a level of honesty that would prove to Harry he was not as bad a person he would like Harry to think he was.
You don't care about people?
-I said I've no need to. Why care about them if it doesn't bother you? If it doesn't matter?
Do you want to marry one day?
I have to.
Why?
To keep the name live.
Harry shook his head in dismay. He could almost understand where Malfoy was coming from. But it was surely wrong to be this callous and devoid of emotion relative to other people. Then again, you are a pampered heir to a huge fortune. Your marriage would be merely a convenient arrangement to ensure the continued survival of the family name. There was hardly any space for emotions to live, hardly any reason given to care about people. But did Malfoy's parents not have a moral centre to pass onto their son? Were they really so clinically pragmatic? Was Harry reading too much into this?
Right. Do you have a pet besides your owl?
-I wanted a pet python but Father wouldn't let me have it. Draconis is not a pet, he's just a delivery owl with a permanent home here.
Does he live in an Owlery over there?
-Most of the time, no, he's usually hunting or flying or whatever he does when he's bored in there.
I still don't believe you're entirely heartless. No one is, except for Voldemort but he's not entirely human anymore, is he?
-I've no interest in proving anything to you. I actually thought he would look worse than how you described him. I was thinking of this scaly man with slit eyes and a tail whipping around under his robe.
Ah so you thought he'd look like a snake? What put that in your mind?
-Duh, because of Slytherin - he's the air of Slytherin. Everything about him is positively serpentine.
Yeah but remember Salazar Slytherin was completely human. And Voldemort was at one point completely human as well.
Harry was sure Malfoy felt like a naive child who had been reading too many comic books where the bad guy was usually some monstrosity. If only Malfoy knew evil did not have to come in horrendous form. It came in innocent packages. His own father was a perfect example: sleek-haired, silky-tongued aristocrat by day and murderous Death Eater by night.
-How do you know he was completely human?
Who?
-The Dark Lord.
Voldemort?
-Yes, him.
Long story. Bottom line: he was tall, scrawny, rather handsome, dark-haired and a shifty little bugger.
-You're making this up.
Malfoy, think for a minute. You're talking to a person Voldemort has been trying to kill for a decade and a half. I've come to know a lot about him. I don't need to explain myself.
-Don't get your Barmees in a bunch, Potter. You just have to sometimes realize that you have to make things believable to me – I'm not the one in the Dark Lord's head or ever been so close to him to actually know his personality. This is all, if I'll be honest, simply amazing. I've heard stuff from you now that many people aren't privy to. I should be killed! (Joking.)
Fine. If you want to know more just... be open, Malfoy. Stop thinking on your words so much and just let yourself be.
-What in Merlin's cankles does that mean?
It means you're holding back. If you really want to know more about me just ask. There's no shame in showing that you're interested about me. I never hide my interest from you - I asked you all those questions.
-Fine. I'll do it only if you're completely honest and promise no one ever sees these letters.
No one has seen them. And I know you know that, otherwise you wouldn't have told me half of the things you have already.
-Well I haven't really told you anything dangerously personal, have I? But that's beside the point. I want to know how you know the Dark Lord once looked normal and why he looks the way you said he does now.
I WANT you to tell me things that are dangerously personal. We're friends now, aren't we?
-All of this should tell you I'm still adjusting to it. So bite me. Friends. Yeah. Whatever. This HAS to remain secret, Potter. We can't be friends at Hogwarts, it would not look right to everyone.
"You're not going to live long enough at Hogwarts to have people talking about our friendship because you'll be dead by the third week if you don't let me in, arsehole!"
That's fine. Say that again, that we're friends.
-We're friends if you answer my question.
There was this diary that had a memory of Voldemort when he was still human-looking. The owner was Tom Marvolo Riddle – that's Voldemort's real name.
-Fuckin' bloody hell, Potter. Didn't I tell you to warn me when you're about to tell me something scary like that?! Fuck. I know the Dark Lord's real name. I don't even know if his Death Eaters do... Potter, you're really fucking me up.
Call me Harry.
-Merlin. You want us to wank each other off too?
Maybe in the near future.
-Don't ever say stuff like that again. I am not friends with gays.
Those are pretty harsh words.
-Father says they kill our magical blood since they can't have children. It's a waste.
Right. I never thought of it like that. Well they're people too, you know. Forget about it. I want you to call me Harry.
-Fine.
?
-Is there anything else you know about the Dark Lord, Harry?
Call him Voldemort.
-I'm sorry but now you're pushing it.
You already know so much more about him. Isn't he a little less scary enough to call him by his name? Or do you prefer Tom?
-You're crazy, Potter. I don't want to talk about his name. This is scary to me. There, I was being honest like you wanted. Don't force me to say his name.
Okay I won't.
-Hang on, I don't get this. This diary had a memory of the Dark Lord. Where did it come from?
Your father dropped it into Ginny's bunch of books for her first year. I think he had kept it with him since Voldemort vanished or he was told by Voldemort where to find it somehow. Either way, at some point he got hold of it.
-I don't know about any diary. I've never seen it around the manor.
Would he allow you to see it?
-Right.
Anyway, Voldemort wanted to use this diary to open the Chamber of Secrets again to unleash the Basilisk on the school and kill all the Muggle-borns because his ancestor Slytherin would want it this way - a Hogwarts without non-magical blood.
-Yeah I remember that. Flying Pixies has your life been busy.
It was relatively quiet before I was eleven.
-Then the Dark Lord tried to kill you ever other year.
Yeah, basically. First year, second year, fourth year.
-First year? How come such a powerful person is trying so hard to kill a little tyke?
I don't know. Ask him. This has all been fine and dandy but I think it's time the microphone goes to you.
-Your life certainly has more juice than mine. I'm getting used to this honesty thing with you...
Do you practice it with your friends?
-Obviously. I obviously don't lie to everyone. Merlin, Harry, you need to radically expand your idea of a bad person.
It was Harry's turn to feel childish. He had never seen another side of Malfoy beyond that which he encountered at Hogwarts, so he could excuse himself for not anticipating the fact that Malfoy acted normally among those close to him, perhaps as normally as Harry did around Ron and Hermione.
Right. So do you act like the rest of us at Hogwarts but at home you act differently? We all know you're rich. Is there a culture you have that you don't show at Hogwarts?
-Impressive. There might be hope in the search of your elusive IQ in the positive digits yet, Potter. Yeah, there are differences.
Like?
-Well, first of all, if you're rich you never brag that you're rich - first rule.
I figured.
-Did you now? Good for you. Your IQ has gained a single point.
I hope you know IQ is a Muggle concept. But go on.
-No it's not. Ignatius the Intelligent came up with it. How dare you? We're talking of a man who came up with the word 'earth,' invented the gramophone, radio AND chalkboard. Show some respect for once.
Harry's mouth fell open. Before he could let rip the loudest bark of laughter ever he bit on his fist again. This Ignatius fellow was the biggest fraud he had ever heard of! He was stealing Muggle concepts and peddling them as his own inventions! Harry could not believe he was about to respond to something so ludicrous. Was he in a dream that happened to be a parody of real life? Sometimes the Wizarding world felt like a parody of the real thing (a vivid image of a pink umbrella brandished by a hairy giant came to mind).
Fine. I thank him for inventing the chalkboard. Helped my life loads. Now I have to sit through boring classes all day. You were in the middle of answering my question.
-As I said, you don't boast about your money - you don't want people thinking you're pink money (remember I said old money was purple money? Pink is new money). Let me think... I caved very early on and started swearing and using slang I wouldn't dare use in front of my parents. Things like that.
How are your grades?
-How are yours?
Average. I make it.
-I'm usually in the top five every year which I'm told by Snape. I should be doing better of course. Father stopped telling me to get them up a while ago. They're never good enough.
Do your friends know your grades?
-Yeah, and they know why they're good. And I do actually like some of the stuff I study. What I don't get is why I have to study so hard when I don't need to.
Well, you're going to live in the real world after school and have to find your place in it. You might want to get a job even if you are rich.
-As if I'll need one. All this is just for principle. For show, for the eyes, because people like to watch and they like to talk. So yeah, that's how I act different. There are other ways but I can't figure them out now. But Blaise and I have a running campaign we like to call the Battle of Culture. We're trying to actively resist being "encultured" entirely or rather we're trying to justify why we aren't being model nobles. Blaise's case is understandable of course, he's pink money: his mother has gotten a lot of money from the seven husbands she's killed (probably) and each left her a large sum of money. All she has to do is keep good company, which she does.
What's your house like? Is it huge?
-Pretty much.
Could I see it up close?
-You must be mad. Harry Potter in Malfoy Manor? The world would end.
It wouldn't.
"It hasn't," Harry muttered to himself with amusement.
-Something is certainly going to give. It would be unnatural. Harry Potter in my home... Utterly unnatural.
Come on, be serious.
-I am being serious, Potter.
Harry.
-I am being serious, Harry.
What's the harm?
-My father could see you and haul you off to the Dark Lord? Isn't he trying to kill you, you forget?
I don't think I'm his priority right now.
-And since you know him so well, what would that be then?
I don't know. I have an idea though, but I don't want to scare you.
-Tell me.
I think he's going to break the rest of his Death Eaters out of Azkaban.
-Fuck me sideways...
I'd like to but I'm a thousand kilometres away.
-You need to stop, Potter.
Harry.
-Then stop doing what you're doing if you want me to use Harry. He's going to break into Azkaban?
After he was revived in the graveyard he said some of his followers had gone to Azkaban as a show of loyalty instead of trying to appear innocent by claiming Voldemort's forces had Imperiused them and forced them to do things he wanted them to do. ("Rather like your father," Harry observed tartly.) For that show of loyalty he's going to break them out.
-Merlin... He's not playing.
He's back.
-Don't say that.
Are you scared?
-Of course I'm scared, Potter. What do you think?
Harry. I think you should be, especially you - you're probably the closest student in Hogwarts to Voldemort because of your father.
-I told you I've never even seen him before.
Right.
-Aren't you scared?
I am.
-You should be.
Yeah. But I have no choice, I can't sit back and watch him come for me and kill me. It's not a nice feeling knowing someone out there's out for your arse. It's like your mind can't rest. It's not that he wants to hurt you or make your life miserable - he wants to take it. First of all, you don't understand what dying means so you have no way of dealing with the possibility of dying. Secondly, my natural instincts are to protect myself, so just there I'm not free – I'm bound simply by being alive to react, my instincts force me to hope for life. And if I'm really honest, I'm glad he's looking for me this badly: I want to repay him in kind for killing my parents.
-Pretty deep stuff. But you think you, a fifteen-year-old boy, are going to kill the most evil man in all of history?
Watch me.
-I guess these could only be the words of a desperate man pushed into a corner. As you said, you have no choice, you're forced to believe that.
I think you've caught my drift. But this is supposed to be about you. I still want to come over and visit.
-Potter, we've been friends for mere hours. And not even real friends since we haven't seen each other face-to-face and said we're friends in each other's faces.
We could if you let me come over there.
Yes, being quill confidants was not enough, Harry agreed. The disadvantage in communicating by FlooPort was that Malfoy could choose not to respond to Harry's warning that his best friend was going to kill him in the future. It was easier to ignore a message than a person in front of him.
-I don't know, Harry... Aren't you trying to move too fast?
"I am, Malfoy, 'cause you don't seem to get the concept of time. I don't have it. I'm manipulating it to get some more but I really don't have much of it." The quill under Harry's hand shook as it slid across the parchment. As absorbed as he was in their exchange, Malfoy's reference to time panic returned to him just as strong as ever.
I want to know you better in person. I want you to know Harry in person. Can I call you Draco?
-You can if you let off the visit thing?
Please, Draco. You're the one who said we can't seem to be friends at Hogwarts, so let's get things going when we can, not when we won't be able to.
He did not receive a note for ten minutes after that.
-Fine. We have to figure out a way for you to get here. I cannot believe I'm inviting Harry Potter to my house.
You're inviting Harry - your friend, not Harry Potter the Boy Who Lived.
-Right. Lucky me. Woohoo, throwing confetti.
I think you can use your owl to send a letter to me at Ron's and then I'll follow it back to where you live.
-Your IQ has gained ten points. I wouldn't have imagined that coming from you. Okay, it sounds like a plan. Where exactly does Weasley live? Is he even on the map? In the countryside? Underground in the sewers?
Just tell your owl to deliver your fake letter to Ron Weasley's house or the Burrow. There aren't any other Weasleys out there that could confuse the owl, right?
-Oh trust me the Weasleys are one of a kind. No, there aren't other Weasley families. Quite one of a kind. I'll send the letter early in the morning because it will probably take a while to get there.
Okay. Don't write anything in the owl so Ron's mother doesn't get suspicious. What time do you think I'll get there?
-That would require I know where Weasley lives exactly to calculate roughly how long Draconis takes to get there.
Okay say he was going to Hogwarts.
-Just over half a day, maybe sixteen hours.
Okay I think he would take about nine hours to get to the Burrow.
-About one in the morning then, provided you leave the moment you get the owl. I'm not sure I'm comfortable with you getting here in the middle of the night.
Harry pulled at his hair. Malfoy was right. Harry was trying to rush things, but arriving in the middle of the night at a friend's house was simply not on. He just had to concede to reason.
Okay then time it so that I arrive in the morning as early as possible.
-You sound in an awful rush to get here.
Bite me.
-I said stop it.
I didn't mean it in a sexual way!
-Then I'd have to send him out at three in the afternoon, which is tomorrow.
"Dammit," Harry whispered, his foot tapping furiously now.
Fine. Send him out at three. That means I'll be there the next morning.
-That's right.
Okay. Can't wait.
-Neither can I.
That was sarcasm again. Another IQ point?
-Congrats.