"What do you mean you went sneaking out at night?" Hermione fussed while they sat in the Great Hall for lunch, the day before classes started back up.
"Harry was out every night going to look at the mirror," Greyson defended. "And while him and Ron were playing and what not, I was digging through more books and still I couldn't place where Nicholas Flamel is."
"Greyson and I found this mirror and it would show me my mum and dad," Harry explained, eyes still shining excitedly despite having experienced the vision multiple times. "Greyson even saw them. I had my mum's eyes. Didn't I Greyson?"
Greyson looked up and blinked. "Oh yeah," he confirmed quickly after a moment too long, caught off guard by that fact. "But we poked around in the restricted section, but we didn't get far. The first book Harry plucked from the shelf screamed at him and he dropped the lantern, smashing it. Nearly had Snape and Filch after us. A bloody mess that was. The dogs aren't even that bad."
"Harry, Greyson, you could have gotten expelled," Hermione stressed, looking traumatized at the very notion.
"But we didn't Hermione," Harry pointed out as he shoved potatoes in his mouth.
"But Fred and George were fun to hang out with," Greyson smiled. "Those two are bloody geniuses, though. We were working on some really cool pranks and gags. Didn't get very far, but it was fun."
"Greyson even brought us treats from the kitchens on Christmas," Ron chirped, adopting a dreamy look. Greyson was surprised not to see drool. What a lovable idiot.
Hermione looked behind her as Percy's unmistakable sniveling rose above the noise of the Great Hall and frowned as her eyes caught on the area where Percy's black and silver tie, prefect blazer that had a black and white braid on it, and even his prefect badge were noticeably missing. "What happened to Percy's prefect uniform? He always wears it."
"Oh, McGonagall took it from him," George informed her happily as him and Fred each sat on a different side of Greyson.
"Apparently, McGonagall doesn't care much for bigots," Fred chimed in happily. "Oh, Greyson, you left this in our room. Jordan was confused about this dragon book in his bed."
"I was wondering where I put that," Greyson said, taking the book back quickly and checking it over fretfully.
Hermione frowned, obviously trying in vain to piece together the puzzle before her without all the parts. "Why was-?"
"McGonagall let me stay in Gryffindor for the break," Greyson explained. "Fred and George let me stay in their room and Percy was an ass because I was allowed to stay in Gryffindor."
"I didn't know that could be done," she murmured and sat in quiet contemplation about how the rules worked about that sort of thing. Her mutters were a familiar and soothing backdrop as Greyson lovingly began reading through his tome once again.
Greyson enjoyed the bustle of school starting back up. It was nice to have something productive to occupy his mind that he could actually make progress in, unlike his efforts in trying to learn about Flamel. Harry hardly had any freetime with Quidditch practice happening, and neither did Fred and George with their own classwork and activities. That left most of the work to him, which would be fine if he had something to go off of at the very least.
Greyson sat with Ron and Hermione while they waited for Harry to get back from practice. He smiled and waved his brother over when he saw him enter the Great Hall, but it slipped away when he saw his face twisted in upset.
"What's the matter?" he asked worriedly as Harry slumped at the table.
"Snape's coaching the next game," he told them quietly as he leaned into Greyson for comfort.
"That's great," Greyson smiled, while Hermione and Ron said in unison, "That's terrible."
Both of them looked at Greyson and he looked back in confusion. "What? If Snape's refereeing than he can keep a better eye on Harry and stop Quirrell from his nonsense."
"Snape was the one who tried to kill me," Harry huffed, exasperated. "Not to mention he hates Gryffindor. If we make the slightest error or get close to overtaking Slytherin, he'll call us out. And he was threatening Quirrell, not lecturing him."
"I'm sure it will be fine Harry," Greyson tried to reassure him, setting a hand on Harry's arm. "You're an amazing Quidditch player and you don't break any of the rules. It'll be fine."
"Of course you'd say that," Harry rolled his eyes. "You're his class pet."
"No I'm not!" Greyson squawked, pulling back. "I am not a class pet."
"He gives you like a zillion points every class lately," Harry pointed out wryly.
"Hermione, is he being serious?" Greyson asked, looking for someone more logical than emotional to help him out. He met her eyes and beseeched her to see reason.
"Well..." she trailed off, looking uncomfortable at being dragged in the middle of their disagreement. Greyson felt bad for a moment but he wasn't walking back now. She rallied after a moment and met his eyes head on. "Harry is right, Snape does tend to like you more than anyone in the class, except maybe Malfoy, ever since you stood up to him. I feel like he's been testing you since then, and… and you passed, I suppose. I've been trying to figure out what you did to get him to let up and I can't figure it out but he seems almost impressed with you lately. He gives you about 50 points per class. It is infuriating." For a moment, she seems almost red in the face at the effort she's putting in to explaining the situation without having a solution. After another moment she calmed and then added one last thought, but doesn't seem to be pleased with her final conclusion. "He is also your head of house, which may be part of it."
"What does him being the head of Slytherin have to do with anything?" he asked sullenly, not ready to admit defeat yet.
"Well, it does change your perception of things," she pointed out patiently.
"I sort of hate my house sometimes," Greyson said. "Though the lake view is cool, I still don't like anyone in it… I don't understand why I was put in Slytherin, honestly. I don't feel like one."
"You like Malfoy, though," Ron squeaked. "You and him talk every time in potions class."
"He's my partner and I do well in all my classes," He told them forcefully, brushing off the accusations with a physical wave. "You guys are being ridiculous." He rolled his eyes and pointedly ignored all their worried looks directed right at him. "Listen, I'm going to the common room to work on my potions report. I'll see you all at breakfast." Those three were always thinking the worst when it came to Snape. Sure, even he was very suspicious at first, and is still a little suspicious now, but Snape didn't come across as cruel or mean to him. Strict, yes. Demanding, yes. But not a killer or anything like that… Right?
"Snake skin," Greyson said once he made it to his house's entry wall. Walking into the common room, he shook off the doubts his friends had planted in him. He only had a few professors he trusted to even a small degree, and he was reluctant to let go of the only one he had gained favor with without noticing, by just being himself. It was one of the few things he had to be proud of since starting at Hogwarts that didn't have anything to do with Harry. He sat down in one of the empty chairs in the common room and started trying to read his potions book to distract him from his quickly spiralling thoughts.
"Potter never suspected a thing!" he heard Malfoy's nasally and loud voice boom from the other side of the room and his head whipped around to search him out before he could stop himself. He was back! Their room had seemed almost lonely lately without his snide comments. A rush of warmth and relief filled his chest before abruptly plummeting out of his body and through the floor as the words registered in Greyson's mind. Malfoy had a huge grin on his face as he boasted, "I gave him a dragon book and he never even knew it was me!"
Greyson blinked. Malfoy? Malfoy gave him his book on dragons? If he gave him that... then he gave Greyson the one on the lineage of wizards. The handwriting had undoubtedly been the same. He sat there staring at the only person he believed to sometimes be as big of an ass as Percy and Uncle Vernon when he got in a mood and he gave him two of the books he absolutely cherished?
Eventually he gathered his wits and ignored his rabbiting heart and Malfoy's continuing conversation to make his way to their dorm room in a daze. A few minutes later Malfoy joined him, sitting at the desk like he was a king on his throne and brushing through the gel in his hair without even glancing at his roommate. Greyson swallowed as he took a deep breath in preparation to talk to Malfoy. He'd just strike up a sort of friendly conversation and then ask him why he'd give him gifts secretly. Easy. "How is your report going for Potions class?" he asked.
Malfoy looked up at him, as if startled he'd spoken first. "Oh, it's going well," he drawled, trying to sound snobby and indifferent but failing and just sounding unsure and defensive. Was he as awkward at this as Greyson was? The thought was strangely comforting.
"That's good," he nodded and stared at Malfoy's side of the room that was as barren as his save for the handful of extra posh things he had. "How was your holiday?"
Mal- Draco frowned. "It was fine. We held the annual Winter Ball at our estate."
"Estate?" Greyson repeated incredulously before nodding. Actually, that sounded like Malfoy. He couldn't imagine him growing up in anything other than an estate. "You must have one big house."
"Big doesn't even cover it," Draco preened. "It's like a small castle. It's in Wiltshire."
"That's cool," Greyson smiled, glad they were relaxing with each other. "It must have been great growing up in a place like that."
The flash of sadness on Draco's face took him by surprise but it was soon replaced by an air of what Greyson was learning was forced happiness and pride. "It was," he insisted a little too intently, regaining that snobby demeanor, and striking a chord with Greyson. Suddenly, Greyson felt worried for him. How bad was his home life? If he had everything he could want (an estate!), then what could make him upset about his home? Did he have his own Uncle Vernon to deal with?
Greyson looked at the floor, trying to think of what to say despite his suddenly dry throat, when Draco suddenly stood up. "I think I'll take my bath and then turn in. Goodnight, Potter." He gathered his things quickly before leaving the room, avoiding even looking in Greyson's direction the whole time.
Greyson frowned as he stared at the door Malfoy had just practically ran out of. Who exactly was Draco underneath that armor he had on? Draco gave him books and bragged about his generosity and apparently had a gorgeous estate but Draco also acted like an ass to everyone unless he could secretly send them gifts, it seemed. But why? Draco was a much more complex and layered person than Greyson had initially believed and he was ready to peel back those layers now that there was a Slytherin he wanted to be friends with. He had no idea how to become friends with people, even though he had a few now. But as he looked to his bed at the gifts he had been given, he decided Draco was worth him trying.