Chapter Fourteen
It was three days before Malfoy returned to lessons.
When the Slytherin walked into their shared Potions class, Harry did a double take, before a grin spread unconsciously across his face. He's okay, Harry's mind sang happily. He noticed the limp, still left over from the bloody hippogriff attack. He saw how drawn and tired the blonde looked. But he didn't mind, because Malfoy was actually alive and breathing and very much not burnt to death.
"Ladies and gentlemen, can I have silence please!" Slughorn's voice barely made it over the chatter of the students. He clapped a couple of times, reminding Harry of a performing seal, and called out a couple more pleas for quiet before everyone started listening to him. "Unfortunately, today we will not be continuing with the plan I had set out for us. It appears that there is thievery abound in Hogwarts; almost half the stock of powdered bicorn horn and nearly all the Boomslang skin has gone missing. Therefore, we will be studying the complex theory behind the Growth Potion, instead of completing the practical."
Harry groaned along with everyone else. Potions Theory lessons were almost as bad as History of Magic, and involved a considerable amount of note-taking. Slughorn expected everything he said to be copied down, and the man was very fond of his own voice.
Around halfway through the lesson, Harry decided that the Growth Potion – by all accounts a hideous-tasting brew that worked similarly to Polyjuice, only with permanent effects, to speed up the growth process – was possibly one of the least valuable concerns he currently had.
He found a scrap of parchment in his bag, under the pretence of having dropped his quill. He scrawled the note, charming the parchment quietly in order to make it hug the wall of the Potions classroom as it made its way towards the intended recipient.
Malfoy – I think we need to talk. I want to help. Potter.
Harry had reasoned it was pretty obvious who'd sent the note, but he'd signed it anyway. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the Slytherin unfolded the parchment under his desk and scanned it.
The reply made its way towards Harry quicker than he'd expected. For a second he was confused, until he realised that the blonde had written his reply, in small, elegant script, on the back of Harry's own note.
We have nothing to talk about.
Harry, Ron and Hermione were poised at the portrait hole of Gryffindor common room when an apologetic Seamus found them.
"Sorry, you lot, but Hagrid's just sent me to tell you not to go and visit him today. He was on the second floor when I was coming back from the library."
"What?" Ron gaped, open-mouthed. "But I rush– I mean, I put in so many extra hours so we could go down there today!"
Seamus shrugged, grimacing. "He says sorry."
"Why can't we go down there, Seamus? Did Hagrid say?" Harry frowned. This wasn't the first time their friend had made this request, and it hadn't escaped his notice.
A voice from a few metres away floated towards them. "I'll bet he didn't, but I can tell you." Ginny stood and joined the group, ushering them away from the portrait and shutting the book she'd been reading with a snap. She held herself with a certain amount of self-importance.
"What's going on, Gin?" Ron frowned. He seemed put out that his younger sister was in the loop, while he was so clearly ignorant.
"Well." She shot them a significant look. "Harry, you'll remember, that time a few weeks ago? Remember what I told you?" Ginny paused, only continuing when Harry nodded obligingly; it earned him curious looks from Seamus, Hermione and Ron. Her voice was hushed, and her eyes flickered warily around the common room to check that no unwelcome ears were listening. "They've been having problems with the Forbidden Forest lately. All sorts of things that live deep inside it have been coming out. Apparently, there were giant spiders crawling around near the greenhouses, can you believe it?"
Ron shuddered. Harry knew that he was remembering their own incident with the Acromantulas in their second year. He registered alarm; the creatures lived far enough in that there had never been any concerns that they would come anywhere near the castle. Something big must be disturbing the Forest if it was getting this bad.
Ginny wasn't finished. "It's a real issue, Hagrid's really worried about it. They've been getting the Aurors to deal with it, but apparently if it gets any worse, they're going to have to stop people leaving the castle unsupervised."
Hermione's eyes widened, and she gasped. Harry felt a tug on his robes, and saw that she'd grabbed hold of him; her gaze slid to his meaningfully.
"Er." Harry looked up and realised Ginny was watching him. He plastered an expression on his face that he hoped was somewhere between horrified and impressed. "Wow. I can't believe they've managed to keep it quiet."
"How did you hear about it, anyway?" Ron demanded of Ginny.
She rolled her eyes. "I take Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid talks to me all the time; you know what he's like, he lets stuff slip. He ended up telling me everything last Tuesday when he was helping me feed a Blast Ended Skrewt."
Everyone winced at that; they remembered their own encounters with the things, which Hagrid being Hagrid had never understood other people's dislike of. Ginny nodded wisely, and then the sudden silence effectively ended the conversation.
Everybody went their separate ways; Ron, complaining loudly about how he'd worked himself half to death for nothing, disappeared with Seamus, no doubt to seek out Dean and find a way to procrastinate while causing maximum damage to school property. Ginny curled back up in her armchair with her book.
Harry waited until they'd all disappeared, before snatching Hermione's sleeve and pulling her out of earshot of everyone else. "What's up?" he hissed.
"I made a connection." She swallowed. "Ginny said the Aurors have been dealing with everything coming out of the Forbidden Forest."
He frowned, not understanding where she was going with this. "Yeah?"
"Well, it's just... If there was a big enough crisis, and all the Aurors were distracted enough... I think that it might have been possible –"
"For someone to get into the castle," Harry breathed. "Hermione, you genius. That night, with the fire in the Astronomy Tower, I bet you anything that all the Aurors were called to some sort of emergency down in the grounds. If they had a way in, anyone could have found Malfoy!"
"Exactly," Hermione agreed, bobbing her head. "And therein lies the problem: anyone."
The disastrous note-exchanging in Potions was merely the start of a long series of attempts to gain Malfoy's attention, and not a single one of them worked. Harry spent days trying to catch up to the Slytherin in a corridor, only to find that he had apparently Disapparated; he'd tried waiting after lessons, searching for him at mealtimes, and once had even asked an astonished Pansy Parkinson if she could deliver a request for an audience.
Harry finally decided that he'd had enough.
He knew he should have expected this; he'd known the bratty blonde for years. Malfoy was not the sort of person who was comfortable with sharing his feelings or secrets. Of course he was avoiding Harry – he was embarrassed about the show of emotion after the shock of the fire. The last time Harry had come across him showing any real weakness, they'd exchanged a flurry of spells in a duel that had ended with a near-death experience for the Slytherin.
Shuddering, he forced his mind not to think about that, or dredge up the mental images that were burned so deep into his memory. There were very few things in his past that Harry felt soul-wrenchingly guilty about, but casting Sectumsempra on Draco Malfoy in their sixth year was near the very top of the list.
He knew for definite that if he gave up on Malfoy, and the blonde's mysterious attacker made a move, then abandoning the Slytherin now when he needed Harry most would make it to the number 1 spot.
It was not the first time, and would definitely not be the last, that Harry had felt the wash of gratitude he did over having the Invisibility Cloak. Tugging the Marauder's Map from one of his inside pockets – its permanent home, now, since he'd taken to checking the map for Malfoy so often – Harry scanned the parchment for signs of his quarry.
He could barely believe his luck when the small dot labelled Draco Malfoy was revealed to be in the library, unmoving and most definitely alone. Now was the perfect time to strike.
Worried that Malfoy would finish his work and leave before he got there, Harry moved quickly through the castle, muttering apologies to the many people who he nearly knocked over in his haste. Before long, he was in the library – slowing down respectfully as he passed Madam Pince, who had been known to give detention for "barrelling through school like a lunatic" – and pulling his Invisibility Cloak over his head.
Harry made his way between the shelves quietly, trying to keep his footsteps from echoing. Judging by Malfoy's counterpart on the map, the Slytherin was sat on one of the study tables near the back of the library.
That was where Harry found him, still covered by the cloak, creeping soundlessly. The blonde head was hunched unobtrusively over a piece of parchment, surrounded by a pile of tomes that Harry could only assume had been levitated as opposed to lifted, they were so enormous. Malfoy was alone, looking almost small amongst the books and the parchment, and it made him seem oddly vulnerable. Harry stood there for a couple of seconds longer, a sad frown creasing his forehead. This scene was a far cry from the way Harry would have pictured the snarky Slytherin just a few years ago, and the thought made him feel strangely desolate.
"Malfoy."
The blonde whipped his gaze up, tensing as if he expected an attack, eyes searching frantically for whoever had spoken. His wand appeared in his hand – apparently he kept it tucked up in his sleeve, that was smart, Harry noted – and he looked ready to fly in any direction at a split-second's notice.
Recognising the fear in Malfoy's expression, Harry hastily yanked off the Invisibility Cloak, appearing suddenly in the middle of the library. It was too late for the Slytherin to make an escape now, and that was all Harry had wanted, not to scare the blonde senseless.
As he recognised the intruder, a scowl of anger spread across Malfoy's features. "Potter," he replied archly. "Have you still not gotten the message? I overestimated your intelligence, clearly."
Harry took a step towards him. "Listen. I'm not here to gloat, or crack stupid jokes, or whatever you think it is I want. Malfoy, I'm trying to help you."
"I don't require your help," came the stiff, formal reply. There was a distinct lack of emotion in Malfoy's voice. "Please leave. I'm busy."
"No!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm sick of you brushing me off like this! I know you're ignoring me, and that's not doing either of us any good. Please. Let me help."
This time, the blonde didn't reply, dropping his gaze back to his work. The scratching of his quill resumed, and for a few long seconds, Harry stared incredulously at him. After days of ignoring him, they'd reached the point where Malfoy was now planning to pretend he didn't exist at all – and it was absolutely infuriating.
"Fine!" Snatching a chair from the closest table, Harry pulled it so that he could sit, close enough to Malfoy to be obviously intrusive, but far enough away that he couldn't be suspected of sitting with the blonde. He decided stubbornly that he would wait as long as he needed to, and he wasn't giving up until Malfoy talked to him.
"I know what you're doing." The Slytherin finally cracked, his words sudden and too-loud in the silence that had fallen, after nearly fifteen minutes of ignoring the other boy's presence. His eyes smouldered with annoyance as he levelled his gaze at Harry. "And it won't work."
Harry smirked humourlessly. "Short of cursing me, Malfoy, you're not going to make me go anywhere."
The Slytherin shot him an icy glare, then rose to his feet in one quick, graceful movement, nearly knocking over his chair. Instantly, he began forcing books roughly into his bag, slamming shut the ones he'd borrowed from the library and sending them back to their shelves with a sharp, irritated flick of his wand. He flung his bag over his shoulder and made to leave, but was blocked by a quick sidestep that nearly caused the two of them to collide.
"Let me past, Potter," he snarled, attempting to stride past the barrier Harry had made.
Harry stared at him a moment longer, arms folded, but didn't make any more active attempts to stop him. "You need to listen to me."
"I don't see the point."
"You could be killed, Malfoy, you stupid bastard!"
The blonde sneered derisively at him. "Sorry, Potter, but I seem to have misplaced my ability to care."
At any other time, Harry would have snapped an angry reply, or thrown a curse. But in the face of what he'd seen Malfoy go through, and looking as he was at the closed-off, emotionless mask that the Slytherin was projecting, the words tugged unpleasantly at his insides instead of making him furious.
"Well, I care." He replied softly.
Malfoy started, and for a moment – just a fraction of a second – Harry thought he saw an open, honest warmth in the grey eyes. Then the Slytherin's face shut down, and the wall of ice slammed back into place. "No, Potter," Malfoy whispered, something close to hopelessness in his voice. "You don't."
And then, before Harry could open his mouth to reply, the blonde was gone.