Chapter Eleven

When Harry walked into Potions the next day, Ernie was already sitting at his table, saving his seat. He flashed the Hufflepuff a quick smile and sat down at the table, removing his potions textbook from his bag. There were still a few minutes until class officially started, so the only people in the room were Harry, Ernie, Professor Slughorn, and Malfoy, who was bent over his own textbook in concentration. Harry watched a small crinkle form above Malfoy's left eyebrow; he never noticed it before, but when he thought about it, that tiny crease was always present whenever the Slytherin was deeply focused on something. The sound of a clearing throat caused Harry to tear his gaze away from Malfoy.

"Do you think he's up to something?" Ernie asked, sparing a glance in Malfoy's direction.

"What?"

"I assume he's bound to be up to some sort of trouble if you're keeping such a close eye on him." The Hufflepuff whispered, leaning in closer to Harry. "Do you know what he's up to?" Harry thought for a moment and decided to go along with Ernie's assumption; he himself wasn't really sure why he was staring at Malfoy, but maybe his habit from sixth year was returning and he was subconsciously keeping tabs on Malfoy after all.

"No," Harry answered honestly, because in truth, he didn't know what Malfoy was up to. "It's probably nothing though," he found himself insisting. "Malfoy hasn't caused any trouble yet, and I doubt that he's going to."

"He's been keeping to himself though," Ernie nudged Harry's elbow. "That's awfully suspicious."

"Well it might be kind of hard for him to make friends when everyone is so obsessed with what happened during the war," Harry remarked bitterly, slightly surprised at how quickly he was jumping to Malfoy's defense. After all, only yesterday, he'd also assumed things about Malfoy because of his Death Eater past.

"Serves him right." Ernie nodded, completely ignoring the sharpness of Harry's tone. "Pureblood git."

Harry bit back a defense and instead started rifling through the pages of his textbook. A few non-hostile conversations with Malfoy and now he's jumping to the Slytherin's defense? He shook his head, trying to rid any thoughts of his former rival.

The last few students shuffled in as class began, and Harry stopped pretending to read his textbook in favor of paying attention to Slughorn.

"Good morning class," he greeted, hands held over his belly. "The month is almost over and we're almost finished with our Polyjuice Potions. Now, all they need to do is brew for the next few days, and then we can sample them at the end of the week."

Harry's potion certainly looked better than the first day of class; at least now it was behaving like the potions textbook said it should. But as opposed to the murky brown color it was supposed to be, Harry's potion was more of a deep burgundy. He only hoped that he was the only one who was going to be testing the potion, because he really would rather not accidentally poison anyone else.

Ernie's wasn't much better, although his was slightly closer in color to what it was supposed to be. In fact, most of the cauldron's around the room contained potions that may have looked similar to Polyjuice Potion, but were off in one way or another. Terry Boot's was closer to green than brown; Padma's looked about right, but smelled of roses, which Harry knew from experience was not correct; Zabini's appeared perfect at first glance, but it wasn't bubbling at all like the textbook said it should, and Michael's resembled something closer to a soup than a potion.

The only person who seemed to have gotten the potion right was Malfoy. His Polyjuice Potion looked like a snapshot right out of the book, and was boiling perfectly. Harry swallowed his annoyance. If only he still had the Prince's book, then he'd be able to beat Malfoy.

"Next week, we'll start brewing our Amortentia. This will take less time than our Polyjuice Potions, but you must be even more careful brewing this love potion, for a batch of botched Amortentia is highly dangerous." Slughorn began to walk around the classroom, his low drawl echoing off the walls. "What are some unique qualities of Amortentia?" Padma's hand shot up. "Yes Miss Patil?"

"It's mother of pearl sheen?"

"Correct. Mr. Boot?" He called on Terry, whose hand came up right after Padma's.

"It has spiral steam."

"Absolutely. The way the steam rises from the cauldron is a defining characteristic of this particular love potion." Harry recalled the flowery scent (that he now knew had belonged to Ginny) from his sixth year and raised his hand. "Mr. Potter?"

"It smells like whatever you're attracted to." He put his hand down and glanced across the room, finding Malfoy glowering at him.

"Or whomever," Slughorn added with a wink.

The rest of class continued uneventfully. Harry nearly fell asleep while listening to Slughorn drone on and on about Amortentia and its powerful properties, but luckily, Ernie nudged him to keep him from letting his head fall onto the desk. Instead of sleeping, Harry doodled. He drew a snitch, a broom, and a sketch of Sirius, Remus, James, and Peter on the train to Hogwarts. Of course, Harry was no artist, so his picture was rather crude, and even he had trouble telling the boys apart.

"Who are those people?" Ernie whispered over his shoulder. Harry nearly jumped out of his seat. Slughorn was so entranced by his own speaking voice that he hadn't noticed that everyone in the class except Malfoy was blatantly not paying him any attention. Ernie had leaned over to Harry's side of the table and he was glancing over Harry's doodles, his eyes fixed on the image of the Mauraders on the train.

"Has anyone told you that it's rude to look over other people's shoulders?" Harry whispered back pointedly, covering his doodles with his arm.

"Yeah." Ernie shrugged. "I choose to ignore those people." He shot Harry a grin that he couldn't help but return. He lifted his arm off his paper, letting Ernie look at it again.

"That's Remus." He pointed towards a rough sketch of a lanky, scarred boy, laying across the train bench with his head in another boy's lap.

"Our old Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor?" Ernie raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but when he was in school." Harry moved his attention to the long haired boy who was playing with Remus' hair. "That's Sirius."

"As in Sirius Black?" Ernie looked alarmed. No matter how many times it was said, people still had a hard time swallowing the fact that Sirius was a good man after all the Ministry propaganda. Harry nodded.

"He was my godfather." Harry's eyes wandered over to the chubby blonde boy in the corner of the compartment. "That's Peter Pettigrew." His gaze shifted to his father and he smiled fondly. "And that's my dad."

"They were all friends?" Sometimes Harry forgot that not everyone was aware of the Marauders history.

"Yeah, they were."

When class was finally dismissed, Harry waved Ernie goodbye and headed to the Great Hall for lunch. He arrived at the Gryffindor table and took a seat next to Ron.

"How was Potions?" Ron asked, mouth already stuffed full of food.

"As boring as ever." Harry rolled his eyes. "I swear, the only reason Slughorn even teaches is because he's so fond of the sound of his own voice."

"And of all the recognition he gets from his little Slug club." Ron muttered bitterly. "Has he invited you to any of their parties yet?"

"No, I don't think he's having any this year."

"He is." Ginny took a seat across from Harry and Harry immediately brightened in her presence. It had been a week since Ginny asked him for space, and he was overjoyed to finally have his friend back.

"Really?" Ron reached across the table and grabbed a few more sausages. "Why hasn't Harry heard about them then?"

"Maybe he's not on the invite list." Ginny shrugged and then looked at Harry. "Sorry." Her expression was anything but apologetic though; she knew how much Harry despised Slughorn's parties.

"Thank Merlin for that." Harry loaded up his plate and began to eat. "Are you invited?"

"Unfortunately." She rolled her eyes. "I take it that you wouldn't want to come as my plus one then? As friends." She added quickly.

"No thanks," Harry waved off her invite. "How about you take Ron instead? Since he's so eager to attend," he teased, elbowing Ron in the side.

"I don't want to go to Slughorn's stupid party!" Ron pouted. "And even if I did, I couldn't go with my sister as my date. That's just pathetic."

"I'm pathetic?" Ginny demanded, her eyes glinting dangerously. Ron swallowed.

"No! I just meant, well, er- I mean," He looked at Harry helplessly. Harry held up his hands as if telling Ron 'you're on your own mate.' "It's not you, it's just the fact that you're my sister. People would think I'm lame."

"You are lame." Ginny stuck her tongue out at her brother and he huffed. "Besides, I think I'll just take Luna. She really liked the Christmas party, Merlin knows why, and if I brought her there's at least a chance I'll have a halfway decent time."

"That's a great idea," Harry agreed. He was the one who brought Luna to that party as his date, and while he hadn't exactly had the greatest time, she'd definitely made it better.

Hermione finally came into the Great Hall and sat down beside Ginny.

"You all have a free period after lunch, right?" Hermione skipped all her usual greetings.

"Yeah," Harry and Ron said simultaneously.

"No, I have Charms." Ginny took a bite of her chicken.

"In that case, will you two come with me to Hagrid's after we're finished eating?" Hermione asked the boys. "I want to check how he's doing, given all his new responsibilities."

"Alright." Harry nodded.

The three friends finished up their lunches fairly quickly and Harry shot Ginny a wave when they exited the Great Hall.

"Anything interesting in Sirius' diary so far?" Hermione asked Harry while they trudged towards Hagrid's hut. The ground was covered in muddy puddles from last night's rain.

"Nothing much." Harry felt muddy water seep through his socks and he grimaced. "It's just a lot of memories of his time with my dad and Remus." And Peter, Harry added in his mind.

"What were they like in school?" Ron asked, joining the conversation.

"Well," Harry thought for a moment. "My dad was really funny honestly. He's a bit full of himself," Harry smiled, remembering how his dad's arrogance used to bother him, but now, he found it quite entertaining. "But he's also very kind. Although, all he seems to want to talk about is my mum."

"Your mum's in the diary?"

"Yeah, but I only saw her briefly on the train. Sirius really didn't like her. And out of all of my dad's friends, she only liked Remus; they seemed pretty close."

"What was Remus like?" Hermione asked. She was always fond of their former professor; Harry assumed it was because they were both wicked smart and were good at keeping their friends in line.

"Quite different. Happier, I think." Harry paused. "He's quite witty and he's really not the perfect student I thought he'd be. Him and Sirius were really close."

"But I thought Sirius was your dad's best friend?"

"Yeah," Harry remembered Sirius' behavior around James and Remus. Him and Harry's father acted like brothers. But there was something rather unique about Sirius and Remus' relationship that Harry couldn't quite put his finger on. "But him and Remus were…different. I don't quite know how to describe it."

"And Sirius? How was he in school?" Ron nudged Harry in the side. "I'll bet he was cool, he seems like he would've been."

"Honestly?" Harry grinned. "He was a bit melodramatic. Remus actually called him a drama queen."

"Really?" Hermione's eyes sparkled with laughter.

"Really," Harry confirmed. They finished the rest of their walk to Hagrid's in comfortable silence, neither Ron or Hermione daring to ask what Peter was like when he was younger.

They finally reached the hut and found Hagrid playing fetch with Fang in his pumpkin patch. He waved them over and they eagerly went to him. Ever since becoming the Head of Gryffindor, Hagrid seemed to have gained a previously unknown confidence. His impressive size and height was only emphasized by his newfound swagger.

"Hullo you three," Hagrid grunted, chucking what appeared to be a dragon bone across the yard while Fang happily bounded after it. "Good to see yer lot. Whad'ya come down fer?"

"To see you Hagrid," Hermione replied. Fang trotted over to her, bone in mouth, and she patted his head. "We haven't seen you much since the start of the term. We've missed you."

At this, Hagrid's eyes began to water. His lower lip trembled as he looked at the three teens in front of him.

"I'm so sorry Hermione, Ron, Harry," he glanced between them, tears threatening to spill onto his cheeks. "I've just been so busy with being Head 'O Gryffindor an' all that, I haven't had a chance to talk to yer much." He sniffled and blew his nose on the inside of his fur coat.

"It's not your fault Hagrid," Harry began while Ron looked helplessly between his friends and a blubbering Hagrid. "We've been busy too. We just wanted to come and visit, that's all."

"Oh," Hagrid said, wiping his nose on his sleeve. He sniffled one last time and smiled. "In that case, do yer lot want to come in fer a spot 'o tea? I'm brewing a pot and I got some rock cakes."

"We'd love to, Hagrid," Ron managed to say. Hagrid's rock cakes were, at best, unappetizing. They followed the half-giant inside his hut and sat around the table. Hagrid brought over the tea kettle and poured each of the trio a cup. He also loaded up a plate of his infamous rock cakes and placed those on the table as well, though Ron, Hermione, and Harry made a point of pretending they weren't there.

"So what've you three been up ter? Final year a' Hogwarts, must have a lot ter do." He sat down and Fang curled up beside his chair.

"Harry's certainly got a full plate this year." Ron smirked and elbowed his friend.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry glanced at Ron, who shrugged.

"Just between classes, the Quidditch team, dealing with your fangirls, and detentions with Malfoy for the rest of term, you don't have a lot of time on your hands."

"Detention with Malfoy?" Hagrid raised an eyebrow. "Are those two fightin' again?" He looked at Hermione, but Ron answered.

"Like they ever stopped."

"Not that I blame yeh Harry," Hagrid said reassuringly. "I'm sure the lil' prat deserved it fer wha'ever 'e did."

"It's not like that," Harry glared at Ron. "I'm in detention with Slughorn because I… er-" Hermione was looking at Harry with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, as if she was saying I-told-you-so-in-sixth-year-and-you-didn't-listen. "I sort of cheated during Sixth year."

"I never asked," Ron said suddenly, cutting off Hagrid, who looked like he was about to say something in response to Harry's admission. "Why is Malfoy in detention?"

"Not sure actually. Git won't tell me."

"Now wait jest a minute 'Arry. About that cheating thing…" Harry sat and nodded while Hagrid gave him a ten minute lecture on the importance of academic integrity, which he found slightly ironic given Hagrid's expulsion in his third year.

Eventually, they moved away from the topic of Harry's expulsion and chatted about the Quidditch team, Sirius' diary, the new teachers, and Hermione's Arithmancy class (well, more like Hermione droned on about her class while Ron and Harry played with Fang).

After a few hours, Ron, Hermione, and Harry figured it was time to head back to the castle to catch dinner before Harry had to go to detention. Dinner went as usual; Harry was bothered occasionally by over eager girls asking about him and Ginny, but other than that, he had a heated conversation with Ron over the best Quidditch strategies. Once dinner was finished, he bid his friends ado and headed down to Slughorn's classroom.

Harry let out an audible sigh of relief when he realized Malfoy wasn't there: he wasn't sure he could deal with any more pestering, Merlin knows the fourth year Gryffindor girls bothered him enough, he didn't need Malfoy's unwarranted taunts as well. Harry could use a peaceful evening. Slughorn was sitting at his desk, humming as he poured over a large black book. He glanced up, caught sight of Harry and smiled.

"Harry! Good to see you." He closed the book and sauntered over to Harry. "Mr. Malfoy will be joining us shortly. He's running a bit late."

Harry resisted the urge to groan. So much for his peaceful evening.

As if on cue, Malfoy walked into the room. His usually slicked back hair was tousled and fell over his forehead messily. Harry let himself glance over the rest of Malfoy's figure, which was equally disheveled.

His clothes, that were normally perfectly wrinkle free and pristine, were rumpled and there was a spot of dirt on his left sleeve. His shirt was untucked in the front with the top buttons undone, and his tie hung loosely around his neck, exposing his collarbones. Even his distinct strut was reduced to more of a shuffle.

Malfoy caught Harry staring and shot him a dirty look that made Harry quickly look away.

"Glad to have you, Draco." Slughorn gave him a nod and then turned back to his desk to grab a heavy book. He placed the book on the table in front of the two boys, where it landed with a loud thunk. "Today, I need you two to brew some Calming Drought together. Madam Pomfrey's stock is running low." He started to flip through the book, finally landing on the page he seemed to be looking for. "Here it is. Page eighty seven. All the supplies you'll need are in the cabinet, and this is a fourth year Potion so you should have no trouble with it." Slughorn snatched his bag off his desk and started to head out of the classroom. "Have a good evening, you're dismissed as soon as the potion is finished."

As soon as Slughorn went out the door, Malfoy left Harry's side and started to walk towards the opposite end of the classroom.

"Where do you think you're going?" Harry demanded, feeling the urge to voice his frustration. "Slughorn wanted us to do this together." He grimaced on the word 'together.'

Malfoy glanced back at Harry and sneered.

"I'm fetching the ingredients, you idiot." He smirked. "Unless you think that the great Harry Potter is in fact so great that he can brew a Calming Drought without any of the necessary supplies."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and continued towards the Potions cabinet. When he returned with an armful of various jars and pots, Harry was reading over the instructions.

"Alright, so it looks like we'll have to-"

"Merlin Potter, are you really that thick?" Malfoy snatched the book away from Harry and slammed it shut. "You're in the N.E. Potions class, you should know how to brew a simple Calming Drought by now." He shoved a jar of lavender into Harry's hands and placed his cauldron on the table. "Here, you can prepare the ingredients."

When Harry stared at Malfoy indignantly, the blonde boy turned back to him and smirked.

"Unless chopping up some plants is too difficult for the Chosen One." Harry resisted the urge to strangle Malfoy and began to aggressively chop the lavender into small pieces. "Do be careful," Malfoy warned. "This potion will be used on actual students."

"I didn't know you cared," Harry snorted, but slowed down his knife and started to cut up the lavender more carefully.

"I don't, but I assumed the Gryffindor Golden Boy might care about the well being of his fellow students."

They worked in silence for a few minutes, falling into a rhythm. Harry was so focused on chopping up the ingredients that he didn't notice Malfoy staring at his hand until he spoke.

"I must not tell lies," Malfoy said. Harry turned to see the blonde boy examining the back of his scarred hand. Malfoy looked up into Harry's burning green eyes.

"Courtesy of Umbridge," Harry grumbled. He shifted his hand so Malfoy couldn't look at the scar anymore.

"She did that to you?" Malfoy stared at Harry in disbelief.

"Her idea of detention." Harry shrugged. "You honestly didn't know?"

One look at Malfoy's face and Harry knew he didn't have to ask. His stone cold expression flickered for a moment and Harry swore he saw hurt behind his eyes.

"No, I didn't," he said softly. Malfoy turned away from Harry and continued to stir the Potion. Somehow, his lack of aggression made Harry even more worked up.

"Not all of us escaped the war unscathed, Malfoy," Harry spat bitterly. He wasn't even sure why the Slytherin boy was pissing him off so much today, but something about his perfectly pointy face just put Harry on edge.

"You're not the only one with scars, you know," Malfoy retorted, the venom in his voice not quite matching Harry's.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry rolled his eyes. Malfoy couldn't possibly be talking about himself; the blonde boy didn't have so much as a spot on his skin.

"Sod off, Potter," Malfoy grumbled. He shifted away from Harry and gave him the cold shoulder, which Harry gladly accepted. He wasn't sure he could handle much more conversation.

By the end of the night, the two boys had brewed a large batch of Calming Drought and left the classroom without so much as a word. Harry made his way up to the Gryffindor boy's dormitory and fell into bed, exhaustion taking over his body.

The other boys were already fast asleep, having gotten back to the room hours beforehand. Moonlight streamed in from the window, glaring into Harry's eyes. Harry closed the curtains around his bed and turned onto his side. He waited for sleep to take over.

Unfortunately, after tossing and turning for several atongozingly long minutes, Harry's mind would not calm. His body was tired and limp, but his brain couldn't seem to shut off. He drowsily got out of bed and whipped on his robes, heading off to the Infirmary.

He wasn't sure if Madam Pomfrey would willingly give him some Sleeping Drought, but he desperately needed some; after all, he did have Quidditch Practice early in the morning. The walk to the Infirmary was surprisingly short, and when he opened the door, the all-too familiar smell of healing potions filled his nostrils. Luckily, Harry had managed to keep from getting seriously injured so far, so this was his first visit to Madam Pomfrey since the beginning of the new school year.

He spotted the nurse leaning over a bed across the room, so he started to shuffle towards her. He stopped when he realized she was tending to a student.

"That should help, but the bruising will stick around for another day or two," she said softly. Her face was twisted in concentration. Harry longed to see who she was talking to, but the curtains around the bed were drawn, so in order to see, he would have to get closer. "I do wish you had come to me earlier. I could've done much more if I'd seen you right away." Harry started to inch closer before he froze at the sound of a distinctly familiar voice.

"I thought I could take care of it myself." The aristocratic voice said, his tone bordering between insistent and haughty. The voice became softer and more dangerous as he continued. "I didn't want anyone to find out."

"But this is a rather nasty Stinging Jinx, Mr-"

"I don't want anyone pitying me!" Harry scouched back a few steps and stretched his neck to peer beyond the curtains. Sure enough, there was Malfoy, his annoyingly silver hair glimmering in the moonlight.

He was buttoning up his nightshirt, and Harry's eyes traveled over his lean frame. Nasty purplish green bruises littered the left side of his body, and Malfoy winced as his hands brushed over the damaged skin. But what caught Harry's attention were the thin, long, silvery scars that stretched over Malfoy's chest up to his collarbones. They almost glittered against his pale skin.

Is that what Malfoy meant when he said I'm not the only one with scars? Harry wondered. He wanted to move towards the bed and get a closer look, but all too soon, Malfoy's shirt was done up and he moved to withdraw the curtains around the bed. Harry retreated into the darkness and rushed out of the Infirmary.

He wasn't quite sure why he didn't want Malfoy to know he was there. Maybe he was embarrassed that he'd seen the Slytherin without his shirt on. Maybe he just didn't want to have to deal with another tense conversation. Maybe he knew that Malfoy would've never wanted Harry to see him that vulnerable. Or maybe….

Maybe Harry rushed out of the room because one look at those jagged scars was enough to make him feel sick.

Harry stopped in his tracks as the realization hit him like a freight train. Those scars could've only come from one thing: Harry and Malfoy's fight in the sixth year. When Harry used Sectumsempra on Malfoy, he didn't know the full extent of the spell and regretted casting it immediately afterwards. He was reassured by his assumption that Snape was able to heal Malfoy; that the only proof of that fight would be their memories. But Sectumsempra was Dark Magic after all, and scars caused by Dark Magic never healed.

Harry practically ran the rest of the way back to Gryffindor tower, hoping somehow that he could outrun his own guilt. When he reached his bed, he sat down and ran his fingers through his hair, catching his breath. He reached under his bed and opened Sirius' diary to the next entry, already knowing that there was no way he'd be able to get to sleep anytime soon, even if he did have the Sleeping Draught he originally intended to get.