Chapter Nine: Malfoy Is Hot
"Friends? We are supposed to hate one another! Our friends hate one another, Potter!"
"Do you hate me?" Harry asked. After a long pause, Malfoy shook his head. "Our mates will come around. Seamus already loves you. And I bet Hermione and Ron will once I tell them you won't be so awful any more. You - you're not gonna go back to acting like you did last year, are you?"
Harry felt something tighten in his stomach at the thought. Please don't go back to being a bully.
Malfoy rubbed his neck. "No. I won't. My days of mocking muggleborns and creating 'Potter Stinks' badges are well over. I won't follow in my father's footsteps anymore." He snorted. "Look, Potter, I'm sorry. For the badges. Took me a day to make them. I had to get the transfiguration right, getting them to change and say Support Cedric Diggory. I was jealous that you'd got your name put into the Goblet of Fire, but that isn't a good excuse for what I did. I shouldn't have given them out."
The Triwizard Tournament had taken place during their fourth year at Hogwarts. The badges had irritated Harry at the time, but knowing that Malfoy now regretted making them, it made him think that the Slytherin had truly changed since then. And I can't believe he actually spent an entire day trying to make those stupid things.
"Thanks, err, Malfoy, for apologising. Those badges weren't...they weren't nice. Had to see 'em everywhere and I didn't want the attention anyway. I didn't even put my name in the Goblet of Fire."
"Oh. I thought you did. All the Slytherins thought so."
Harry shuffled on the spot. "You know, Hermione would love you as a study partner. You're really smart."
"I doubt Granger would like that." He looked down at his arm, where his sleeve was bulging from the bandages. Harry wondered if he ever took the bandages off, although he doubted it. "I can imagine that studying with Granger in the library would be helpful, though. She and I are taking Ancient Runes together, you know." He sniggered. "Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy, they're all so awful at revision. That's why they didn't get into NEWT level Potions."
"Just shake my hand already." His right arm was beginning to ache from holding it out.
Malfoy titled his head. "I can't. I want to -"
Harry dropped his arm. "Then why don't you?"
"I can't, Potter. We can't be friends, it's not possible."
Malfoy turned and pulled his school robes on. He then grabbed his wand from the bed and pocketed it with his left hand. He's left-handed, Harry realised. I don't know anyone who's left handed.
"Why isn't it possible? You said you were sorry, Malfoy. Or was that a lie?"
The Slytherin flinched. "We can't be friends because the Dark Lord would find out. The other Slytherins, Crabbe, Bulstrode, Nott, the Flints...any one of them could talk to the Death Eaters. And you've already sent my father to Azkaban! You and your friends made sure of that last summer." It was the first time Malfoy had brought up the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. A look of despair crossed his face. "I don't hate you, Potter, my father brought his incarceration on himself. The thing is, however, how do I know that you won't betray me? Lock me up? I know you had others who went with you to the Department of Mysteries, Bellatrix told my mother and I. Longbottom and Lovegood were there too, weren't they? How do I know those two won't betray me to the Slytherins if they see me acting friendly to you?"
"Neville wouldn't do that. Luna wouldn't, either."
"You place a lot of trust in them. One word to Nott, and I'd be toast." He sighed and titled his head, to look downcast at the floor. "I'm sorry. You can't help me, Potter; my mother's life is on the line. The mission the Dark Lord gave me, I can't fail it."
"We could tell Dumbledore. He could help."
"Dumbledore couldn't even save Sirius. He's still in St. Mungo's."
"But Sirius is doing okay," he insisted. "Tonks said he just needs is a Mind Healer, to help get over the attack. She's trying to find someone. And if he can go two weeks without any incidents, then he can go home."
Malfoy looked up and stared at Harry, as if he were digesting the information. "Who is Tonks?"
"Tonks is your cousin, Nymphadora Tonks. She's the daughter of your mother's sister, Andromeda. Andy was kicked out of the Black family for marrying a muggle." Harry stared at him in surprise. "Didn't your mum ever mention her?"
"No, my parents are awfully secretive," he replied shortly. "Anyway, we should get to class. We both have Potions next? You can walk me there."
Harry silently went after him down the stairs, an eerie feeling of hopelessness welling up inside his chest. He scarcely noticed his surroundings as he left the common room. He couldn't take his gaze away from Malfoy. The boy looked astonishingly composed around other students. Harry imagined that Malfoy would break down and start sobbing at any second, that if any student brought up Voldemort, then he would collapse and beg Harry for help. Malfoy never did, though; he just kept on walking.
"Harry! Hey, Harry!"
He was following Malfoy down the Grand Staircase. Harry blinked and ahead. There was a boy running wildly up the stairs. He had a roll of parchment in his hands. Harry quickly recognised him as Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on the previous year's Gryffindor's Quidditch team.
"Letter for you," Sloper panted, as he made to stop and stand on the same step as Harry. "From Dumbledore himself -"
"The headmaster always send you private letters, Potter?" Malfoy cut in, shooting Harry a glare. "Never mind. Don't be late, I'll see you in class."
Harry didn't have time to explain himself. Malfoy turned and raced off down the staircase, bookbag swinging at his side. Harry winced.
"What's his problem?" Sloper asked, looking over his shoulder. He turned back. "Anyway, listen, Harry, have you spoken to Katie Bell lately? I heard she's the new Gryffindor Captain. And, well, you know her. Do you know when she'll hold trials?"
"I'm not sure. Ask her, I won't be on the team this year."
"Oh, yeah, cause of that vampire thing. I'm surprised you even came back to Hogwarts, seriously."
Harry snorted and side-stepped Sloper, ignoring him. As he carefully went down the staircase, he unrolled the parchment.
Dear Harry,
I would like to start some private lessons with you this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at eight p.m. I hope you're enjoying your first day back at school.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops.
Harry wondered if he should be glad that Dumbledore was planning to host lessons with him. It would mean that he'd miss Malfoy heading off for his detention this Saturday with Snape. A detention Malfoy got for me.
Later, Slughorn gave Ron and Harry separate copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage. Harry's version was older, the cover battered and worn. The previous owner had written all over its contents, so much so that reading it had proven very difficult.
Slughorn had offered a prize, a small, single bottle of Felix Felicis (Liquid Luck), to the student who could brew the most perfect concoction of a Draught of Living Death, a complex, powerful potion that could sink the drinker into a deathlike sleep. Harry had won the prize. The previous owner of his Advanced Potion-Making copy had written different instructions to those actually in the book. Harry had won the prize following those instructions.
The rest of the week passed by much the same. Ron gave him disapproving looks, mainly because he wanted the book for himself. Hermione was short with him, because she didn't believe in cheating.
Malfoy had been the worst. While he hadn't returned to his usual, snarky self, he had grown quieter in his manner towards Harry. Harry hadn't been able to get the blond to speak more than two words to him again. The blond only spoke to Seamus and Corner in the dorm room. Harry knew Malfoy was annoyed that Harry was receiving private letters from Dumbledore. He also knew Malfoy suspected that he was cheating - or at least, getting some unconventional help - at Potions.
And it didn't help that Malfoy was evidently content to make friends with anyone that wasn't Harry. Seamus had suddenly taken to hanging out with Malfoy more, going as far as to introduce him to Dean Thomas and invite him to join in study periods with other Gryffindors in the library. It was beginning to make Harry dislike his own House members...especially Seamus.
When Saturday came around, Harry found himself walking towards the Grand Hall alongside Seamus, Corner and Malfoy. It was dinner time. Harry had planned to meet with Ron and Hermione in the Hall after dropping off his bookbag in the dorm, and so he hadn't minded walking down the Grand Staircase alongside his fellow dorm mates.
That was, until they crossed a crowd at the bottom of the staircase. A group of soaked first years, a Gryffindor and two Hufflepuff students, were blocking the entrance to the Grand Hall. Or rather, it was the poltergeist in front of them who was in their way.
"It's Peeves," Harry said.
He'd had enough run-ins with Peeves over the years, but each time, there had always been someone who had made the poltergeist leave. Harry didn't know what to do by himself. Percy Weasley, Remus Lupin, Argus Filch - they'd always been there. Harry had never dealt with the poltergeist alone before.
Peeves was holding a giant water balloon in his arms. He'd clearly been conjuring them and letting them loose on the first years. It was just surprising that no one in the Hall hadn't yet noticed the commotion outside.
"What do we do?" Corner asked, scared. "I don't know any spells that can affect a poltergeist."
"I do. Move aside, Corner." Malfoy stepped around Corner, and then past Harry and Seamus. "Hello. First years, I'm a prefect for Slytherin House. I can help. Come behind me. That's it." The first years slowly backed up. Malfoy was beckoning with his hands, encouraging the three terrified students to gather behind him. He then turned around to face Seamus. "Think you can cast warming charms on them?"
"On it, Draco."
Harry realised then that Malfoy was actually acting like a proper prefect, choosing to protect rather than misuse his powers and taunt the younger students like he had done in the past.
"Oh, it's little wee Malfoy, what a calamity! No longer perfect, he's the very first veela prefect!"
"Really, Peeves, haven't you other things to be doing besides hackling first years?"
Peeves made a cartwheel in the air. "No, no, no! Now it's entertaining! Mini Malfoy thinks he can protect first years and his fellow half-humans? Oooh, your father is in prison, your emotions must be out of control! Probably blow up the school!"
"I'm not the one attacking students, Peeves," Malfoy replied stiffly. "Get out of my way or I'll jinx you."
The poltergeist blew a raspberry at him. "You're no fun, no fun at all, wee Malfoy!"
"Your choice. Ebublio!"
A bubble formed in the air around the poltergeist, trapping him above the entrance to the Grand Hall. Peeves beat against the walls of the bubble with his fists but to no avail. The bubble kept him contained. Harry remembered that jinx. It had been used during the Triwizard Tournament, when fire-breathing salamanders had needed containment.
"First years, you go into the hall. Go now, Peeves won't get free." Malfoy ushered the young students through, then turned back to his dorm mates. "C'mon, the containment spell won't last forever."
Seamus slapped Malfoy on the shoulder. "Nice one, Draco," he said before going ahead into the Hall. Corner merely grinned in the Slytherin's direction, then followed the Gryffindor inside.
"That was good of you," Harry said.
Malfoy snorted. "Whatever, Potter."
The blond titled his head towards the entrance doors, motioning for Harry to enter. Harry sighed and left Malfoy to push through the doors and head for the Gryffindor table. He found Hermione and Ron, and he couldn't help but explain the reason he was late. And how Malfoy had protected them from Peeves.
"It's nice he's protecting the first years," Hermione remarked.
"I guess," Harry replied stiffly, as he grabbed a plateful of chips. "Seamus and he are on first name basis now. They were chatting all the way down the staircase."
She frowned. "Seamus has a muggleborn father, doesn't he? I'd have thought you'd be pleased that Malfoy is spending time with students who aren't pure-bloods."
"I am happy about that, 'Mione. But Malfoy and I haven't spoken, not since the first day back. I just don't understand why he's okay talking Seamus and Corner but not me."
"Don't know why you're complaining. I'll be glad if ferret-face, Crabbe and Goyle don't bother us this year." Ron laughed. "Malfoy tries anything though, mate, you just bite him one. Vampire beats Veela any day."
"Ronald Weasley, don't encourage him. You know Harry could be expelled if he bites anyone." Hermione scowled and placed her hands on the table. "And Veelas can very much hold their own. If you'd read anything about them, you'd know."
Harry looked down at his plate. It didn't feel right with him, the idea to research veela history behind Malfoy's back, learning all about the blond's creature characteristics and associated medical issues. He knew that veelas were just as tough as vampires, since Hermione had reiterated that fact enough times, but he wanted specifics, and he wanted Malfoy to tell him them.
Later that night, Harry finished his lesson with Dumbledore. He returned from the Headmaster's office to the dormitory, only to find Seamus sitting at the end of Malfoy's bed. Malfoy was lying on his back, shirt open and wrinkled, fringe plastered with sweat. His chest was rising and falling, flushed red in places.
Harry stared at the man's chest. When did Malfoy get handsome? He was lean, a little too skinny but definitely lean and fit. He had the body of a runner.
"I really think you should go to the Hospital Wing," Seamus said. "Don't you think so, too, Harry? Draco looks bad, right?"
Harry tore his gaze away to look at Malfoy's face. "What happened? Did Snape do something?" Malfoy was supposed to have just been attending his detention with Snape. He couldn't have been attacked by another student, could he? Or was he faking his illness to avoid detention?
"No...no, I need air. I need to get out."
Malfoy left the bed and made for the balcony's doors. He reached the door, and groaned, placing his hands on the door's frame. A quiet sob came out of him. And any thought of Malfoy faking his illness to avoid Snape's detention then evaporated from Harry's mind. Malfoy looked like he was in too much in pain to fake it.
Draco Malfoy bent down, placing his hands on his knees. He shifted his shoulders, and titled his head as if he had an ache or an itch that he couldn't shake. His back shifted. Harry was reminded of Remus Lupin's transformation into a werewolf in his third year, but it was different this time. Malfoy wasn't screaming. He was moaning, sobbing really, and his back looked distorted, as if his bones were trying to reshape themselves.
A great wing burst out from his back, ripping through his shirt. The bones within the wing snapped and creaked as it opened wide, stretching above Malfoy's head. Another wing came out after. The wings resembled a thestral's, leathery and light, only they were both white. Thestrals had black wings. Ethereal white were the tips of Malfoy's wings, whereas the base of his wings were pinkish white, practically the colour of his skin. Harry was stunned by the sight. His wings were beautiful. Incredible.
His ripped shirt still clinging to his body, Malfoy turned and opened the door to the balcony outside. Is this why we have a balcony, for Malfoy? Sharply, Harry realised what Malfoy was intending to do. He's going to fly. He's going to fly around the school.
"No - Malfoy - there are dementors out there -" Harry called out, running towards him.
"Don't stop me." Malfoy grabbed the banister and leapt up onto it. He then flapped his wings and took off, leaving Harry on the threshold of the balcony doors.
"Okay. That - now that, was cool," Seamus said behind him, grinning.
"No, it wasn't," Harry replied shortly, turning on him. "There's dementors about. And teachers. He'll get in trouble." Harry went back into the dorm room. He went to his bed. "He needs someone. Someone to watch out for him...wait...wait a minute." Harry reached underneath his bed. He found his Firebolt broomstick, grabbed his wand and ran for the balcony. "I'll watch out for him. The teachers can stop me from playing Quidditch, but they can't keep me from flying."
"All right. Good luck, mate," Seamus shouted. "Go get him!"
Harry launched himself from the balcony. The air hit him, cold, hard, and relentless. He sucked in a breath, feeling as if all the heat was being bled out of him. Then he started to look for Malfoy. He can't have got far.
Malfoy was flying straight ahead, as it turned out. Heading for the Transfiguration courtyard, possibly, he was. Harry didn't know, but he kicked his legs back and pushed his broomstick forward. He needed to catch up to Malfoy.
What are you doing, Malfoy? You'll be seen!
It felt like he was a first year all over again, chasing Malfoy down for stealing Neville's snitch. Only this time, Malfoy hadn't stolen anything. Malfoy hadn't really done anything wrong. No, Harry wasn't out here trying to get someone's belongings back, or trying to win a Quidditch match by grabbing the golden snitch before Malfoy. No, he was out in the cold because Malfoy seemed sickly.
When Malfoy reached the courtyard, he looked over his shoulder. He flapped his wings and came to an abrupt stop in the air. He kept on flapping his wings, watching Harry's approach, but only for a brief moment, before then turning and steering towards the Forbidden Forest.
"Malfoy, you idiot -" Harry panted.
Harry kicked his legs back further, and bent his head to lean against his Firebolt. Malfoy was fast. Impossibly fast. How can he be faster than a Firebolt? It was strange and wonderful, and briefly, Harry forgot that he could be seen from below. It felt amazing to simply be flying again with someone.
Malfoy flew lower. He was flapping his wings more now, causing him to lose speed. He turned and glided down. He was headed straight for the Forbidden Forest.
"MALFOY - STOP!" Harry shouted.
Harry doubted that Malfoy could hear him. He was too far ahead. Even so, the blond thankfully turned right and went lower still. Harry did the same. They were approaching the south-side of the Blake Lake now.
Harry remembered the last time he'd flown across the Black Lake. It'd been a warm day and he'd rode Buckbeak at the time. It had been perfect. Now, the night air was getting to him. He was cold, and droplets from the waves splashed up at him. He wanted to fly higher but there was a chance of scaring Malfoy off.
Malfoy landed at the north-edge bank of the Black Lake, barely a short distance from the beech tree that Harry, Ron and Hermione had spent so much time studying beneath last year. As Harry landed on the sand and laid his broomstick down, Malfoy folded in his wings and scowled angrily.
"You're following me, Potter! Again!"
"I - I'm not trying to - I only - there are dementors about," Harry finished lamely, trying to think of how to formulate his reasons but halfway realising he couldn't even complete his own sentences with his teeth chattering so much. Perhaps flying after Malfoy hadn't been such a brilliant idea after all. "Just wanted to help."
"You're shivering?"
"Vam - vampires can't make their own body heat. Followed you - came straight out here, didn't I?" Harry hadn't brought his school robes with him. He hadn't needed anything more than a shirt and a thin jumper to meet with the headmaster indoors, and he hadn't thought to pick up something thicker before leaving to chase down the prefect. "Merlin, it's freezing!"
Malfoy's scowl deepened. "And you thought it was a good idea to follow me to the Black Lake, the coldest place at school. Where, if you fall into the water, you'd freeze to death. Great idea, there!" He took his wand out of his trouser pocket. "Accio jacket!"
One minute, Malfoy was pointing his wand upwards and staring at the sky. The next, his tailored, black jacket came soaring through the air. Malfoy grabbed it, and then walked towards Harry. He held the sleeves out for Harry, motioning for him to put his arms into the sleeves. The act happened so effortlessly but leisurely. Slowly.
Malfoy pulled the sleeves down to Harry's wrists, making sure that they completely covered his arms, and even checked that the jacket's collar ran high up his neck. Malfoy was touching him, his neck, his hands. And to Harry's shock, the blond was practically radiating warmth. Malfoy must feel like he's on fire, his hands are burning hot.
"You're really hot." At that, Malfoy pursed his lips into an odd little grin. Harry flushed, realising that he'd in fact spoken out loud. "Sorry, I mean - you're warm. Really warm, Malfoy."
Malfoy titled his head, his grin lapsing, and then he stepped a few feet back, to Harry's disappointment. "Veelas never - never, ever - get cold, Potter. We constantly run at a high body temperature, and can regulate our body heat enough to survive even blizzards if necessary, but 'f course, inside the school, it's awful. Some of the professors accept I can't wear a robe, others require me to. School robes, they make me sweat. Feel dizzy. It's stifling being stuck inside all the time."
"Is that why you've been taking so many showers this week?" Harry asked, thinking of their first day back. "I just thought it was 'cause you had weird bathing habits."
"Have you been counting how many showers I take?"
Harry smiled sheepishly. "I tried not to, to be fair." He shifted on the spot. "Err, thanks for the jacket, Malfoy. Again. You said on the train that you were having trouble with your magic? You seemed pretty fine just doing that summoning spell just now. And that shield spell you did in class earlier this week, protecting me from Snape, that was incredible! Did you...did you go to that detention today in the end?"
Malfoy snorted. "My magic only works when I feel safe and my thoughts are clear. That thing in class, Severus wasn't pleased by it. He made me write lines. Three hundred lines, 'I must focus on protecting myself, not Potter'." He winced. "I can't always control my magic. That explosion on the Hogwarts Express? Severus told me I'd cast an accidental, wandless bombarda maxima. Apparently, it took a good few house-elves to repair the damage that I did."
"No one was hurt, though." Harry grinned. "You protected me on the train when I was the one spying on you, and then protected me again in Snape's class. So far, as it stands this year, I kinda owe you."
Malfoy sighed at that. "All right now, enough, Scarhead. Why'd you follow me? I told you...I did say that we can't be friends. Are you really trying to get me killed?"
The way he said the nickname Scarhead, it was almost with affection. His tone wasn't malicious, but he certainly wasn't trying to be friendly. Malfoy really hadn't wanted anyone to follow him, and that made Harry inexplicably angry - that Malfoy had taken such a risky move as to fly without anyone to rescue him if he fell.
"You were ill, Malfoy! Lying on your bed, sweating - you looked like you had the flu! Then you decided to go flying, of course I took off after you. I was bloody worried."
"Well. I didn't know you cared that much." He sniffed and looked in the direction of the beech tree, keeping his gaze off of Harry. "You can't keep trying to help me, you know. I'm a Death Eater, Potter! You shouldn't..."
Harry didn't catch his last few words. He could hear something crackling in the distance. A leaf rustling, perhaps? Animals in the bushes? He looked around them, and his gaze settled on the Black Lake. The lake's surface was turning to ice.
"Keep your wand out and get to the tree!" Harry shouted, before remembering only then that he'd forgotten to bring his own wand.
"Potter, what -?"
Harry turned back to him. "Just do it!" In the far distance, Harry could see eight - no, nine - figures gliding across the Black Lake. Dark, shadowy figures, each one wrapped in a filthy grey cloak. "Malfoy, go - get back! Dementors! It's the dementors!"