A/N: W00t! I now have over 100 REVIEWS! Thank you all SOOO much for your support! As a thank you...
Before we get started on this chapter, I want to take a moment to answer some of the questions brought up in the reviews! Some of you have been asking really good questions, and I'll try to answer them as well as I can!
But first the reference in chapter 14, and other important things I shamelessly stole from published works. Okay, not really. I call it paying homage, since I only use things from works that I absolutely adore, and only if they work in what I'm writing. To answer an early review, YES, that line was from Artemis Fowl, something I only realized after I had written it, and liked so much that I let it stay. The reference in chapter 14 is the Triple-Thick Whippy Choco-Banana Shake, which appears in the book Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, two of my favorite authors in the universe. That's about all for the references, at least up until this point. I may slip some more in later, but I don't know. They kind of fall in without me knowing about it... heheh... I guess I read too much.
Now: THE REVIEWS!
aliba: I was planning to have Hermione be the one to notice the "loose ends" in Draco's story. Let's just say there's a reason Harry hasn't asked, and it's not that he's being a polite host! #wink#
Remi: No, I actually don't watch Queer as Folk. I want to, but we don't get good channels, and I can't afford the DVDs, and do you think my parents are going to buy them for me? Nuh-uh. I'll be buying them once I get to college, though. #counting the days# So, it's an unintended reference, but if you want to think of it like that, go right ahead! I'm happy if my readers are happy. For anyone else reading this, and wondering about that one, "Zephyr" comes from "Zephyrus", one of the... Greek gods, I believe. Had to do with winds, etc. I just thought it made an awesome name for an owl.
Bishie: KILL DRACO? How could you think I could do such a thing! #sobbing at the thought# I may have bruised him up a bit, but to... #sniff# never! Never! Draco will not die, I tell you! He will not! (as long as my muse lets me have my way. currently, I have no plans involving any sort of character death. I want a happy ending!) And, as I mentioned before, that line was so straight out of Artemis Fowl, into my head and out onto my comp screen before I could even think about it. And it does work so well where it is.
AnnF: A VERY good question! Points to you for picking up on that one! Here's my theory, which I will summarize briefly. Do you think Draco Malfoy went his whole life without doing magic, before he came to Hogwarts? How about all of the other wizarding families, especially the ones on the "Dark Side"? I think being in a magical area makes it very difficult for the Ministry to track down just who is doing what. Also, I said earlier in this fic that I merged the universes of the books and the movies (mostly to make it more convenient for me), and in the movies, Harry is seen practicing a variation on "lumos" in his bedroom on Privet Drive. Now, that screamed 'the writers haven't read the books!', but it also comes in handy here. Let's just assume that 1) the Fidelus Charm not only protects the location of Grimmauld Place, but also what goes on inside it, and 2) there is some stipulation that allows for practicing spellwork. And seriously folks, would anyone staying there turn them in?
Muerte Roja: #yanks on Towel!Draco's arm# Hey! No stealing my wet Draco! Get your own wet Draco! #gives life-size model of Towel!Draco as compensation#
TO ALL MY REVIEWERS! I grant unto all of thee free "GryffindorShirt!Draco" and "LycraShirt!Harry" plushies! Make merry! Read the fic, and keep reviewing!
And to all you fluff fans, prepare to be happy! I was going to have them go on a bit longer as they were, but... #mumbles# I sorta wanted to get them together faster too... #stops mumbling# SO- some fluff, a little bit of realization, and a ride on the train! Enjoy!
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Chapter XXIX - Leaving Grimmauld
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Draco was musing. He had caught himself doing that on more than one occasion recently, and his own behavior was beginning to annoy him. Musing was not something he did. Sulking, certainly. He was an accomplished sulker. Also an accomplished pouter, plotter and schemer. Musing, however, was new. He wasn't quite sure that he was even going about it properly.
The subject of his musing was fairly fluid, he had gone from worrying about going back to school to worrying about his father and the Death Eaters to worrying about the "something", as they'd referred to it the night before. He had woken up a few hours earlier, once again tangled up in sheets and Harry. It was becoming a habit, and not one that he was anxious to break. And that was what had led to his current train of thought- what was going to happen when they got back to school? Because really, there was no way that little tradition was going to continue. Even if Harry wanted it to, as well, which was still in doubt. Draco wasn't even certain that he wanted it to. It was a tearing decision, either way he thought about his emotions, he couldn't be sure where they lay. Half of him wanted to walk into the school and move right into Harry's bed in Gryffindor Tower, and the other half was absolutely panicked that the first half was thinking anything of the sort. Then there was the last little bit of himself, which had exempted itself from the previous fight to remind him that he had no idea what Harry thought about any of it. Not a clue. He still really didn't have a clue what "it" was. It was... a thing. An attraction, certainly. He felt that much clearly, he just wasn't sure what he wanted out of it.
He had always been a bit attracted by Harry. Not necessarily to him, but by him. Harry was just one of those kind of people who attracted others. Being rejected by the little, dark-haired eleven-year-old that Harry had been once had stuck with him, grown into this hatred that he hadn't ever understood. But he had accepted it. Worked with it. He managed to be around the boy, even if it wasn't as a friend. He had an excuse to be near him, talk to him (well, taunt, really), touch him. Draco was realizing, a bit late, but realizing, that maybe this feeling he was having wasn't so strange and new after all. Maybe not. And that was almost a scarier thought. Terrifying, for it had connotations he didn't want to deal with, consequences he wasn't sure he could handle.
But maybe there was a chance. Harry hadn't run away from him yet. When they woke up tangled together, he didn't shove Draco away. He had even accepted Draco's kiss, and though it was brief, more of an assurance that the other boy was actually there than anything else, Harry hadn't shoved him away. He had even bought him a present a few hours later. Maybe it wasn't hopeless. 'Or maybe he's just being a good friend,' he thought, a bit sadly. He stared into the sitting room fire, watching the flames lick over the half-burned logs and up the flue, an endless stream of maybes running through his head. Thusly absorbed, he didn't even notice when the subject of his most current musing stepped into the room and sat down on the rug beside him.
"Ready to go back?" Harry inquired softly, joining in Draco's stare-at-the-fire routine. He had found, over the last few weeks, that the blond enjoyed being able to just sit and think. It wasn't something he would have associated with the Slytherin before, but somehow now seemed to fit him. Draco shrugged.
"I suppose so. It's going to be different. I bet most of my House is gone, for one. Crabbe and Goyle won't be back." He shrugged again. Harry listened interestedly. Draco hadn't before spoken of his friends (really more like 'cronies', Harry privately thought) from school, and he was curious as to why he had suddenly started.
"Why?" He ventured, hoping that his interjection wouldn't make the blond clam up. It didn't, but he got a rather pointed 'Are you dumb?' look before Draco continued.
"Isn't it quite obvious? I won't believe that you're stupid enough to not realize what's brewing." Harry looked at him sharply, causing Draco to sigh heavily. "No, I don't know exactly what. If I did, I would have told you already. But I know as well as you that something big is coming. I can feel it. It's like a storm coming in, this oppressive feeling." He shrugged and looked down at his folded legs. 'Well, that sounded stupid, now didn't it Draco?' He berated himself, wondering why he had started this conversation. He had managed to avoid it for most of the summer, and now he had gone and dug himself into it. Harry was nodding, though, not looking at him like he was some crazy person.
"I know. I've felt the same way before. And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply..." He trailed off, not quite sure how to phrase what he was getting at.
"That I am somehow privy to the Dark Lord's plans?" Draco finished, spitting out the words distastefully, but giving Harry as much of a smile as he was able to once he had. "Don't worry. I know you didn't." He sighed again, tucking his knees up near his chin and wrapping his arms around. "What are we going to do?" He asked quietly.
Harry blinked. "About Voldemort?" Draco flinched a little, but shook his head as emphatically as he could with his chin super-glued to his knees.
"At school."
Harry regarded him thoughtfully. He had been wondering the same thing, though perhaps not on as many levels as Draco had. Harry had mainly been preoccupied with how they would get the other members of Gryffindor, the other members of the DA, even, to allow Draco in. He knew his assurances would be trusted, but only so far. And that so far wasn't necessarily far enough. Draco and the other members of his House had been downright cruel and sadistic in the previous year, and he had no illusions as to the other Houses' opinons of them after that. It would be slow going at best.
"I'm sure once everyone gets to know you it'll be fine. I mean, even Ron sort of doesn't completely hate you now." He grinned, and Draco couldn't help but crack a smile in return. The youngest Weasley brother was still his harshest critic, taking everything he said in the worst possible way, and usually being smacked across the back of the head by his sister or Hermione for it.
He was rather surprised that he was getting along as well as he was with the members of Harry's little group. He would grudgingly admit that he respected Hermione, she did have the highest grades in the entire school, let alone her year, but he was surprised to find Ginny Weasley almost enjoyable to talk to. So perhaps there was one decent Weasley out of the lot. She still tended to ask him a lot about Harry, which he was slightly confused by, as she'd been friends with the boy far longer than he had. And then there was Neville Longbottom, who had been a favorite target for he and his friends in the past. It was quite a surprise to get along with him, particularly since technically it was Draco's relatives who had been responsible for Neville's parents' condition. And he was also rather shocked to find Neville almost proficient at spell work. Surprises after surprises and again. But for some reason he couldn't fathom, he was comfortable. He felt at home here, with these people he had never really spoken to, except to insult or threaten them. It was surreal, but he couldn't help but smile.
"I know. I hope so, anyway. But I wasn't really talking about that." He leaned a cheek on his far knee so that he was facing Harry. "I was talking about this." He made no gestures, just looked at Harry, expecting him to work it out. He could tell when Harry's thoughts moved in the correct direction, he got this adorable blush that made his eyes stand out even brighter, and looked distinctly uncomfortable. Draco just kept looking, which didn't really help Harry's comfort factor.
"I- I don't... wha- I... I-" Harry's little blush just intensified as he stammered.
"HARRY! Is this mine or yours?" Ron burst into the sitting room, waving a Gryffindor t-shirt around like a banner. Harry turned to him, grateful for the interruption. Draco was not so much, and managed a glower in the redhead's direction before quite pointedly turning away.
"I'm already packed. Must be yours, then." Harry shrugged, which sent Ron scampering back upstairs to add the shirt to his trunk. When he looked back, Draco had his head turned the opposite direction from before, and was now looking steadfastly at the wall.
"Look, I-" He began to address the back of Draco's head, only to have that head shake slightly, its blond mane shimmering a bit in the firelight.
"Nevermind. It was a stupid question." He mumbled. 'Stupid. Stupid! Now what are you going to do? Next you'll be declaring your intentions to switch into Gryffindor and start a Muggle Culture Club or something! Stupid! What's gotten into you!' He shook his head again, which earned him a puzzled look from Harry, though he wasn't able to see it.
They sat in silence for a while, then Draco nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the fingers in his hair. He tensed, waiting for something, though he didn't know what. Whatever it was, it didn't happen. Harry's fingers just kept trailing through the blond strands, sometimes just combing through, sometimes taking hold of a small section and twirling it lightly before letting it fall. Draco melted as the hand made its way down to play with the hair around the nape of his neck, sending a little shiver down his spine. Then the hand moved forward and around to lighly brush the shell of his ear, encouraging him to lift his head off his knees. He did so, quaking. The hand, Harry's hand, kept moving. Harry's wrist twisted, bringing the backs of his fingers around to skim lightly across Draco's face, tracing the line of his cheekbone. Fingertips lightly brushed across his lips, making him suck in a tiny gasp as they floated over, leaving Draco suddenly and completely aware of what 'trails of fire' felt like. Then the hand spread itself out, cupping Draco's far cheek neatly and turning his face to Harry's. Draco suddenly and without warning found himself unable to think.
"It wasn't stupid." Harry's thumb brushed across his cheekbone, sending a little thrill vibrating through the blond. Harry was so close that he could feel the body heat radiating from him, despite the fire. Feeling a sudden wave of bravery, or perhaps pure idiocy, Draco lifted his own hand to cover Harry's, and turned his head just far enough that he could plant a soft, swift and unsure kiss on the other boy's palm. He felt Harry stiffen slightly and raised his eyes to meet Harry's, relaxing his grip on the hand somewhat. If Harry wanted his hand back, he could take it. He didn't. Draco gulped, wishing his brave streak would just end already.
"Is this okay?" He was sure he hadn't meant that to come out a whisper, but his voice had other ideas. Draco could feel the knot in his stomach, tightening more and more by the second as he waited for Harry's response. Slowly, Harry's thumb began to brush over his cheekbone again, and he leaned into the touch, letting his eyes flutter closed. If this was the last time he'd get to do this, he would make sure to enjoy-
"Yes." Draco's eyes snapped open and his hand fell away, taking Harry's with it. Harry was smiling at him. "I think it's very okay, actually." Harry admitted, mumbling toward the end. Draco's grip on his hand shifted, from holding to holding, and Harry found that he definitely didn't mind. It was a bit odd, as they were holding the wrong two hands, but as Draco shifted almost into Harry's lap in order to make them both more comfortable, he found he didn't mind that, either.
When Mr. Weasley's voice rang out from the front hall, reminding everyone to hurry up, they stood, dropping the connection between their hands for the moment it took to brush themselves off, then resuming, this time with the proper hands.
"We'll work it out. It'll be okay." Harry said softly, as much for himself as for Draco, and he willed himself to believe it. What was he getting himself into?
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A few minutes later, most of their trunks were piled in the front hallway of Grimmauld Place, a grim reminder for most that school was only a few hours away. Ron was busy looking glum, and Hermione's chatter about how wonderful their classes were going to be this year probably wasn't helping. Neville had last been spotted in the kitchen, calling and searching for Trevor, with Ginny's help. Draco had watched these proceedings amusedly; the Weasley girl was barely able to contain her giggles every time she called out to the toad. Harry was perched atop the pile of luggage, thinking.
What, exactly, had possessed him to do that? One minute he was flailing about, desperate to come up with some kind of answer that would get him out of the trap Draco had so neatly laid for him, and which he had stepped right into; and the next minute, he was scraping and clawing to get back into it again. It was just... He sighed heavily, drawing a half-glance from Draco but no one else. Taking a breath, he decided to think through this whole thing as reasonably as he could. Point One- what should be point one? He wasn't entirely sure. 'You just had a severe urge to kiss a boy!' was making a play for it, so was 'Said boy is Draco Malfoy!' But really, the only thought that had a serious claim to be point one was; 'But it feels right, even with all that.' Harry could feel the beginnings of what would surely become a migraine if he kept going like this.
'It's Draco. Okay, you know Draco. You've known two Dracos. Sort of. So what's the change? Find it, it has to have something to do with this mess.' Harry thought about it. What was the difference between the boy he'd shared a mutual hatred with for five years, and the boy who had been cuddled into his side less than half an hour before? He wasn't sure. It seemed like there should have been some major change, something he could identify. 'Well, idiot,' he suddenly realized, 'He probably hasn't ever been away from them before.' The them didn't need to be elaborated on. Draco's father, the DeathEaters, Voldemort himself, perhaps. So was that Draco from before just a mask? Or was this one? One of them had to be fake, didn't it? What other explanation was there?
Thinking about it, the Draco he had known in years past was like a vicious caricature of the one he knew now. That Draco would be the result, if someone took his Draco's still-present though much-subdued pride, slightly vicious tongue, and rather sharp wit, expanded them, and added in a dose of mean. So did that mean that his Draco was the real one? Harry desperately wanted to believe his own conclusion, but he couldn't be sure. He just... couldn't. An hour before, he could have said it with certainty, but suddenly everything had been set on end. The nice, static world had become a kaleidoscope, and he felt like he couldn't remember which way was up. And the worst of it was, he couldn't stop blushing whenever he looked at Draco. One thought finally rang out, loud and clear. 'I need to talk to Hermione.'
He resolved to do so, as soon as they got on the train. Until then, he hopped down from his perch to aid in the everlasting search for Trevor.
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The ride to King's Cross was uneventful. Harry was even partially glad that Draco had stayed behind at Grimmauld Place for a while (he would be leaving a few minutes behind them, with an Order escort to make sure he arrived safely). Draco hadn't been happy about it, but he understood that it would be far too obvious of all of them if he just-so-happened to arrive with Harry Potter and Company. In the same car. In public, where everyone, everyone could see them. Genius he was not, but he could see stupidity when it was staring him in the face, and had agreed to stay back and arrive a few minutes behind the others. Though he had made sure to pout eloquently as they left ahead of him.
Harry just wasn't sure the blood vessels in his face would be able to stand the car ride if Draco had been with them. He knew, with unwavering certainty, that Draco would have taken the seat next to him, and that they would have been squashed close together for the entire trip. Thighs, legs, arms, shoulders, hips, all in contact. Harry silently screamed at himself for starting to blush at even the thought of it. 'How are you ever going to have sex with him if you can't even think about him without blushing?' Harry, who had been dragging his trunk along towards Platform 9 3/4, stopped dead in his tracks.
Hermione had been walking half a pace ahead of him, and was suddenly aware that his presence was missing. She half-turned and, catching sight of Harry's still form, called ahead for the others to wait. The little party stopped, everyone looking at Harry, searching for a reason for his sudden stoppage. Hermione approached him carefully, wondering what could possibly be wrong. Harry's face was white as snow, and his pupils were dilated, staring into nothing. She could barely make out a strangled noise coming from his throat.
Worried, Hermione asked, "Harry? Are you okay? Are you choking?" She reached out a hand to touch his shoulder lightly. The touch seemed to trigger some sort of change, because Harry's white face suddenly filled up bright red, and he blinked several times. He looked at Hermione, who he seemed to vaguely register at first, then suddenly recognize.
"Wha- Ah, I'm fine. F-fine. Really, fine. Y- yeah." He nodded a little, biting his lip nervously with none of the red draining away from his face. He cleared his throat awkwardly, wiping his palms on the shirt that Draco had left out for him that morning and taking hold of his luggage cart again. "Sorry. Let's go, hm?" He started walking towards the rest of the group, leaving a slightly confused Hermione behind him.
"What was that all about?" She wondered aloud, looking curiously at Harry as she followed.
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Harry and company were already firmly ensconced in their cabin on the train when Draco arrived on the platform, accompanied by a stern-looking woman in her mid-fifties. Harry watched them out the window for a moment. The woman appeared to trip over nothing, but righted herself quickly, shooting Draco a firm look to stop him from laughing. It didn't appear to be necessary. To Harry's eyes, Draco looked wound tighter than a piano wire, though he knew that to everyone else, the trademark smirk was enough to convince them that all was well in Malfoy-dom. Only one thing was confusing Harry.
"Who is that woman? I haven't seen her around before." He sounded vaguely suspicious to Hermione, something which she carefully catalogued to share with Ginny later. Until then, she would have a good laugh at Harry's expense.
"Harry, that's Tonks. Remember Tonks?" Hermione giggled as Harry blinked rapidly and smacked his forehead against the glass of the train window.
"Sorry, 'Mione. I guess I'm a little out of it today, aren't I?" Hermione was far from the only one who answered in the affirmative.
"And what was that earlier?" Ron inquired from his seat beside Hermione, "Why'd you stop in the middle of the station like that? Was your scar hurting again or something?" Harry smiled a little at the instant concern in his best friend's voice, shaking his head at the same time.
"No. It's alright. I just... spaced out for a second." He tried to pose his face in a reassuring look, willing away the blush that was threatening to come back at the thought of what had really caused his brief shock. "Er... anyway, Hermione, can I talk to you for a minute?" She nodded.
"Of course." He watched her for a moment, during which she showed no signs of movement.
"In private?" He hinted, with a slight nod towards the door. Hermione's eyes widened briefly at the realization, then she stood.
"We'll be back in a moment, then." She commented to the compartment's other occupants, looking at Harry for his agreement. He nodded it. The two exited to seek another compartment, preferably one free of inhabitants.
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Draco's arrival on Platform 9 3/4 was anticlimactic. He had half been expecting to be greeted with either a troop of Aurors or a troop of Death Eaters, not that he was sure which would have been better. As it was, he was greeted with the sight of ... nothing. Or at least, nothing unusual. The Hogwarts Express sat there steaming in all its crimson glory, waiting to transport the students to yet another year of sleeping, eating and goofing off, with some occasional class and homework thrown in the gaps. He sighed a bit as his cousin-turned-escort tripped over her own two feet. Again. He noticed the glare she sent his way, but didn't have the energy to respond in any way. He was using far too much energy already, being constantly on the alert for anything out-of-the-ordinary. It kept not coming, and he kept getting more and more tense by the second.
"Draco!" Draco whorled even as he recognized the voice coming from behind him. He sighed again, this time in relief.
"Pansy, dear. How was your summer?" He smiled at the Slytherin girl. Despite her tendency to be... well, the word "bitch" came to mind, so did "slut", although Draco knew for a fact that she actually wasn't, Pansy was one of his few close associates within his House. Also one of the few who he knew would not turn him in to the Dark Lord anytime soon. Or ever. In other words, a friend. And a friend was just about exactly what Draco needed at that point.
"Better than yours." Pansy replied bluntly, to which Draco conceded.
"Possibly. What have you heard?" Pansy smirked a little at him.
"You must have hit your head or something, if you think it's going to be that easy. We'll talk on the train, alright?" She started to leave without giving him a chance to answer. "Blaise and I are in the third car from the end!" She called out over he shoulder as she made her way down the length of the train. Draco sighed even as he smiled after her. Some things, then, hadn't changed much. If at all.
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Harry and Hermione actually managed to find an empty compartment on the same car; rather a feat, really. The problem was that once they found it, Harry didn't know where to begin. Luckily, he didn't have to.
"Let me guess," Hermione started, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, peering steadily out at Harry, "It's cute, blond, and answers to 'Draco'?" She deduced her correctness by the blush that flowed over Harry's cheeks. "So, what's going on? If it's about our blessing, you have it. Even if I have to beat Ron into giving his, but you know he's only looking out for you. Ginny and I are all for it." Harry blinked.
"Wha- You and Ginny? You knew? How could you know? I didn't even know until this morning!" Harry was gaping, and Hermione took pity on him.
"We're girls, Harry. We're trained to be observant when it comes to these sorts of things. We have known for about two weeks." Harry was still gaping, though at this point he looked a bit like a fish in a net, gasping for air and struggling to free itself. "Well, honestly, Harry! You two have been all over each other since before I got here! You can't expect us not to notice. Did something happen? Did he hurt you, Harry, because if he did, I know several excellent curses that would do just the trick-"
She was cut off as Harry shook his head. "No. It's just... you knew? You could have told me! I feel as if I've been run over by the Knight Bus and here you are telling me you knew already!" Hermione chuckled.
"Of course I couldn't tell you. You'd have run away screaming, and don't tell me you wouldn't have. I know you better than that. You have to realize it for yourself, or you'll never accept it. But anyway, now that you know I know, what was it you wanted to talk about?"
Harry collected himself, but just barely. Whatever he had been expecting from this conversation, it certainly wasn't that one of his best friends already knew exactly what he was going to tell her- worse, had known it before he had. He had been hoping to have some time to sort his thoughts out before the discussion got to this point.
"I'm not sure, really. It's just..." He trailed off, and she nodded at him to continue.
"It's just?" She prompted, after a pause.
"He seems so different. You know, from how he's always been. I mean, how can I suddenly like him at all, let alone like this?" He hung his head, suddenly finding his shoes to be exceedingly interesting. "He's been downright awful, to all of us. You especially. How can you be okay with this?" His look was almost imploring, and Hermione suddenly felt that there had to be more to this than what Harry was bringing up.
"Do you like him, Harry?" Hermione probed, trying to get him to open up a little. He nodded. "And does he like you?" she tried again. This time, she was rewarded with a shrug. "Then what's the problem?"
Harry sighed. "I don't know. Maybe there isn't one, I just don't know what to do! I get near him, and I can't think straight anymore!" He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Hermione was smiling beatifically at him.
"Harry, you two have always been like that around each other. The reaction just changed, that's all. You two always were connected. If you asked anyone in the school about either of you, the other's name would pop up at some point. You don't act like that for five years without some sort of reason; maybe this is that reason. Harry," she laid a hand on his shoulder, "Don't worry about it. Just do what feels right. That's all there is to it. And if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask." With that, Hermione returned to their compartment, leaving Harry to wonder exactly when his conversation with Hermione had become Hermione's conversation with him.
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Draco found his housemates just where Pansy had told him they would be. Blaise had apparently purchased half the country in the form of sweets, which were spread out all over the unoccupied portions of the compartment. Draco chuckled, a sound which alerted them to his presence.
"Draco! You've found us. Good." Blaise finished the last bite of his pumpkin pasty before continuing. "Pansy said she'd told you. Took you a while, though." Draco nodded.
"I still had to load my things." Pansy nodded her agreement.
"I saw you got a new trunk. And was that an owl? You finally got one?" She had been aware for years that Draco wanted one of his own. She probably would have gotten him one, but of course he would have turned it down on the spot. He was quite insistent that he did not need 'charity'. However, at her statement, Draco blushed and glanced down at the floor in an effort to hide it.
"Yeah." He finally uttered, feigning indifference as best he could.
"Must've got it when you were in Diagon Alley, yeah?" Blaise lounged back in his seat, letting his long legs fill up half the compartment. And effectively blocking the door. "I saw you there." He said it, bluntly and obviously as a cap to his previous question. Draco gulped, rethinking that day. Blaise hadn't been in the luggage shop, and that had been the only time that whole day when he and Harry had been apart. Which meant...
"What are you implying?" He carefully sculpted the words, executing his own 'fill up as much space as possible' routine. Blaise shrugged.
"Nothing, nothing. I'm not implying anything, Draco. You know me, that's not my style." Draco had to agree with that. Blaise was smooth, but subtlety was not his strongest point. He wasn't implying. He was calmly informing Draco that he knew. What that meant, Draco wasn't sure. Pansy sighed and kicked them both in the shins, scowling as both yelped and retracted their legs.
"Stop that. You'd taken up all my leg room, and I don't appreciate it." She sniffed. "Anyway, Draco, we heard about, well... you know. With your mother and all. I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but if you ever do, we're here."
Draco nodded, his face expressionless. He didn't want to talk about it, but it was nice, in a way, to know that someone knew the whole truth, and was still speaking to him. After a long pause, he half-smiled, and dug into the cockroach clusters, which had obviously been saved for him. Pansy and Blaise exchanged small smiles of their own, then proceeded to fill the rest of the train ride with the usual idle chatter.