Again. Brilliant plan, Draco. How can you, of all people, keep the Boy Wonder of the Wizarding World interested? It was the following day at breakfast and Draco was contemplating the man who might very well be the love of his life. Amend that, pathetic life. Nothing Draco had ever done was particularly heroic, honorable, or worth repeating three weeks after it had taken place. So what was the game plan? Oh, yeah. Right. One of those. No, unfortunately he didn't have one.
Harry had sat down near his devoted followers and had been waiting for Draco, apparently, for now he looked up and stared at him impatiently. Reluctantly Draco rose from his seat and glanced nervously at the Slytherins, some of who were giving him curious and slightly suspicious looks. Dragging his feet behind him he approached the Gryffindor table where nearly everyone glared ominously back at him. A number of catcalls and insults were thrown his way as he neared the cluster of sixth and seventh year students, including his favorite Gryf.
Approaching them, he noticed the concerned expression spreading across Hermione Granger's intelligent visage. "Granger, how are you this morning? Prepared for DADA? I understand that there will be an exam later this week, but I know that since you take such excellent notes that you'll do well. Perhaps we can compare notes after the prefect meeting on Wednesday." He shifted his glance, without waiting for a response from the dumbstruck girl. "Weasley," he nodded at the red-haired boy, who had grown until he was easily 6'1" in his bare feet. "How is Quidditch practice coming? Enjoying the good weather we're having? A lot more fun to be out of doors flying when you're not in danger of freezing your arse off, eh? The poleaxed expressions on the faces around him more than made up for this humbling performance, Draco decided.
"Miss Virginia, you also have practice. Are you also enjoying this spell of fair weather?" He glanced at the youngest Weasley's robes; a gleaming badge reminded him that he would see all three of these students at the prefect and head meeting. He said something to that effect before greeting Longbottom; "Perhaps you can explain Professor Sprouts' Friday lesson. I seem to have misunderstood the proper process of repotting, if my score results were anything to go by." His tone remained self-deprecating and cordial. Then he found himself without another option other than to turn and confront Harry.
The other boy's face was impassive, and gave away nothing. ² Hello, Harry. Did you sleep well?" He was annoyed to recognize that his voice was lower and more intimate than he had intended. He hated showing how much he needed Harry. Unlike the others, though, Harry was not slow to respond. "I slept very well, thank you for inquiring, Draco. I trust you also had a restful night. You'll need your strength for the challenges of the day, I expect. Have a seat. You don't mind scooting down a little, Neville, do you? Good. Good." Draco dropped bonelessly into the seat across from Weasel who glared with more suspicion than the Slytherins had, into Draco's bemused countenance. Harry poured him some pumpkin juice and helpfully scooped strawberry jam and gooseberry preserves onto wedges of wheat toast before plopping the plate down before the dragon amidst Lions. For lack of more stimulating conversation, he picked up a wedge of toast and chewed thoroughly.
Hermione Granger leaned over the table and spoke in an undertone to Harry. "What are you doing? Why are you serving Malfoy breakfast? Have you completely diminished all sense of self-preservation, Harry?"
Vaguely offended by this display of distrust, given his honest and friendly treatment of the muggleborn witch, Draco swallowed his mouthful of toast with jam and prepared to deliver a clever set-down. Harry interjected before he had his mouth empty, however. "Hermione, I'm ashamed at you. We should always treat others with respect and kindness when they act similarly to us. Draco has been unfailingly polite this morning, surely we should give the benefit of the doubt?"
He smiled genially at the rest of the table, and with difficulty, managed to hide his amusement. Draco, though, was all too aware of his reaction and shot his foot out to kick Harry in the shin, beneath the table. "OUCH! Hey, what was that for, 'mione?" Hermione looked puzzled and shook her head in ignorance. Harry turned to glare at Draco briefly before subsiding back into his seat. Ginny looked to be a trifle exasperated with her brother's silent fuming and promptly introduced the topic of Care of Magical Creatures class, and Hagrid's latest mistaken attempt to broaden his student's first-hand knowledge of the world's most dangerous living organisms. Draco could feel his stomach knotting in anticipation of being attacked during lessons. Oh, joy, another opportunity to catch up on my first-aid know-how at the hospital wing.
The rest of breakfast passes more or less uneventfully, with the exception of the loud speculation at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables about Draco Malfoy's global positioning. It wasn't until they were preparing to leave the Great Hall that the trouble started, Ron and Hermione began to lead the way toward the Transfiguration classroom for morning lessons, when they simultaneously recognized that Harry had appropriated Draco's hand and was dragging him behind them. Chaos exploded throughout the hall. "Uh…Harry, why are you holding Malfoy's hand?" Neville asked more calmly than anyone else would have managed, under the shock.
