Chapter 13

Harry usually believed in coincidences.

He knew that a lot of the students taking Divination and some who'd chosen Arithmancy claimed that there wasn't such a thing. That their paths were set and everything was already there in the stars. Or a crystal ball. Or even on the bottom of a teacup.

"You just have to open your Inner eye to it, Harry", Lavender always liked to say, but Harry found it hard to concentrate on a cryptic third eye he was sure he didn't have with Ron rolling his so brilliantly behind her back.

So Harry thought it to be bad luck, but still a coincidence that he'd been teamed up with Malfoy this lesson. Given that he'd spilled the whole year's budget for Potion ingredients onto his head he found he was actually quite fortunate Slughorn hadn't thought to punish him this way sooner. And, once again, he regretted not having taken that extra second to study the labels. Slughorn wouldn't have missed Tincture of Thyme or Honeywater quite that much.

This though …

"Something wrong, Potter?", Malfoy asked, when Harry had jerked back his hand and turned to look at the Slytherin next to him.

Had this been coincidence?

Malfoy's face didn't give him any clues. It was impossible to read.

"No."

He averted his gaze and reached for the bowl filled with small Baneberry branches again, cautiously placing one hand under it and the other on the rim. And when Malfoy handed it over swiftly this time, he silently let out the breath he'd been holding.

"Pluck only the red ones. We need exactly nine equally large ones", he instructed before getting back to flipping the pages of Advanced Potion-Making. Calmly. Like there wasn't anything out of the ordinary going on. Like he just wanted to finish his Potion and have Slughorn award him another O. And maybe there really wasn't anything odd going on. Maybe Malfoy's thumb had brushed over the back of his hand like that by chance.

The bowl hit the desk at an angle with a dull clank, making a few berries fall out. But, with the way he'd been balancing it between his palm and fingertips, it was something of a small miracle he hadn't dropped all of the contents on the floor. He looked to his right, but the expected taunt about his clumsiness didn't come. Malfoy was still studying the textbook.

Harry frowned.

He'd been prepared to tell him their stupid deal was off properly again, but, oddly enough, the blond seemed to have forgotten about it all on his own. Had something happened on the weekend? Or did he maybe, somehow, already know that he didn't have anything on him any more, because Ron was in on his secret now? Had he given up? Or was he just waiting for Harry to let his guard down?

Malfoy turned, looking bored. "Are you done yet?"

"Er..." Harry quickly plucked the last berry and held his hand out. "Will these do?"

"Let me see."

He had already tilted his hand a little, planning to drop them into Malfoy's. But instead of holding out his hand, he reached further and grabbed him, halting his movement.

Harry's eyes snapped up. "What are you doing?"

Malfoy just raised his eyebrow, making him feel as if this had been a silly question.

"Didn't you know, Potter? Baneberries are poisonous. No reason for both of us to touch them, is there?"

Harry pressed his lips together, watching carefully as Malfoy drew his wand and touched it to his palm, flipping each and every one of the bloody berries.

"I get it. You can let go of me now", Harry said. His wrist started to feel warm, which shouldn't be possible since the hand holding him really wasn't.

Malfoy didn't look up, but Harry thought he'd heard him snort. "So you can spill them everywhere? I don't think so, Potter."

Harry wanted to groan.

And again, maybe it was coincidence, but he wondered if it was necessary for Malfoy to draw the tip of his wand over his skin like this. Barely, but still touching him. And maybe he was just being thorough, but did he have to be quite that slow? Hadn't he already checked those three before?

"Relax, Potter, I wouldn't hex you in class."

"I know that", Harry said, a little irritated. "But could you get on with it? I am the one holding up poisonous stuff."

The Slytherin just kept on working.

"I could put them down, you know? If you want to take your time."

But thankfully Malfoy decided he was done then and sat back, finally letting go of his hand and tucked his wand into his robes. He met his gaze, one brow arched. "It's fine, if you don't squish them."

"But you just said –"

"Add them to the Potion, Potter. You have about...", he threw a glance into the cauldron, "... two minutes before it blows up, if you don't."

The Draught kept bubbling peacefully, turning a deep azure blue and Harry wasn't sure if that was because he'd been just in time or because Malfoy had been lying so he'd comply without making a fuss.

He rubbed his wrist absent-mindedly, but let go quickly when he saw his stare.

"You must be Longbottom's best student, Potter. Burning yourself with berries has to be an advanced skill. If he wasn't over there melting his cauldron I'd think I've been teamed up with him again."

"Shut up, Malfoy." He tugged on his sleeves some more, letting them fall to his knuckles.

"I hope you're not planning on forgetting to add important ingredients too. Longbottom seems to be particularly fond of that."

Malfoy's eyes were trained on him and with the look he was giving him, it was hard to remember he couldn't possibly mean anything specific by that.

Neville did forget a lot of different things after all. And lately it seemed to be getting worse.

He had books laying around the Common Room forever, without remembering when he'd gotten them or that he'd read them before. He sometimes mixed up the schedule, bringing A Modern History of Magic to Charms or gloves to History. And Harry still found it hard to believe that he'd completely forgotten about their conversation when he'd told him it didn't matter if he liked blokes.

"Why would I do that? It's my grade too", he said, glaring back. And Malfoy just gave him another look before he pushed the mortar to his side of the desk, throwing in some root and the pestle.

"Don't leave any lumps", he said with a strange undertone in his voice and got back to stirring the Potion, his lips moving silently as he counted the turns. And Harry was glad he'd just reminded himself that this was his Draught too, because he'd probably ruin it, if he kicked the git in the shin.

For the rest of the lesson their talking remained limited to Potion-related matters. And Harry only had to answer in monosyllables, with the exception of the occasional "Shut up", when Malfoy insulted his work, because the squares he'd cut were the size of his forefinger's nail instead of his thumb's.

And once, he was glad for it. Because thinking about accidentally stepping on the Slytherin's toes as hard as he could distracted him from the unsettling thought that some of the things that kept happening weren't coincidences. He didn't want to think about what it meant, if Malfoy actually did it all on purpose.

It had to be coincidence that he'd cupped his hand, when taking the vial of Bulbadox Juice from him. Probably thinking he'd drop it.

And there had to be a reason why he didn't just summon the ingredients from the far side of the desk, choosing to lean over him every time.

Also, even if he didn't know what it was, Harry was sure there was a perfectly good explanation why Malfoy's leg was resting that close to his all of a sudden. If he moved just half an inch to the right …

By the time they were finished for the day Harry was rigid and very aware of each and everyone of Malfoy's movements, growing even stiffer, whenever his hand moved in his direction, hoping he wouldn't touch him, while at the same time awaiting that he would.

So when he heard the bell he knew his sigh wasn't one of pure relief.

"Bring your cauldrons to the front", Slughorn said. "We will carry on next time, that's, ah, yes, Wednesday. We should have five lovely purple Potions by then."

Malfoy levitated their work across the room and returned, wearing a smug smirk, obviously content with the result. So it was probably either identical or better than Hermione's.

"Congratulations, Potter, you didn't mess it up just yet", he said.

Afterwards Harry couldn't say if he might have given in to the urge to slam his foot against his leg by mistake, if Malfoy hadn't somehow managed to brush his fingers over the back of his hand again while reaching for his book, having him freeze up on the spot. His mouth had to be very close to his ear this time, because Harry could feel the drift of air, when he spoke.

"It's fortunate, because you won't be able to fake this one", he whispered and Harry was glad he was sitting down.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy", he replied, proud that his voice hadn't betrayed the utter dread he felt. But when the Slytherin spoke again, he knew, he might as well have swallowed his tongue. Maybe that would have helped pushing his heart down his throat into his chest again.

"Is that so? I guess Longbottom isn't the only one having trouble remembering, then."

He knew everything.

"I'm sure he doesn't know everything, Harry." Hermione's forehead was wrinkled. The shadows, cast by the flickering fireplace, danced over her face, making her look more worried than she probably meant to appear.

"He's just throwing you hints and waiting for your reaction. Trying to make you slip up."

He sighed, taking his hand out of his tousled hair. "No. I didn't realise then, but he had me grind up Asphodel, Hermione."

"Are you sure?" The crease between her brows deepened. "That wasn't one of the ingredients."

He threw his arms in the air. "I know! And he knows it, too, because I never saw him add it, either."

Hermione stayed quiet for a while, letting herself fall back in the armchair. "Well, even if that is the case and he knows the Essence of Insanity didn't work, there is no reason to think he knows why you did it. You hugged the whole class." She scrunched up her nose at the memory.

"Neville figured it out."

"Neville knew something was off beforehand. For all Malfoy knows, you might have done it to help Neville's grades. Everyone knows he's struggling with Potions."

Hermione's eyes were bright like every time she'd worked out a solution. And somehow this made him feel a lot better.

She was right. Of course. She was always right. So what if Malfoy thought he'd faked the effect of the Potion? He couldn't prove anything. He was just throwing out his net, hoping to catch him in a lie.

"Thanks, Hermione", he said, smiling.

"Any time."

But when he went to bed that night he realised the stifling sensation in his stomach hadn't fully left him. Because there was another matter that might or might not be connected to the first.

So Malfoy knew the Potion hadn't worked. That was one thing. But what about the touching? Had that actually been accidental?

Maybe he was just transfiguring a molehill into a mountain there. But just this time Harry was inclined to believe Lavender was right.

With Malfoy there were no coincidences.