Haha! A new chapter. This one has mostly dialogue (talking) and only a little action detail. I'm going to admit that this wasn't my best chapter; I disliked having so many short little lines. But please, read and review.

Chapter Nine – How do you know?

I'm going to regret this, Harry told himself. And when I do, Hermione will hear about it. All of it.

This time, he didn't bring his invisibility cloak. He had a feeling that the chances of being caught were one in a thousand here; no one really seemed to care. And as he did climb the stairs, he saw two or three Durmstrang students mosey around in the halls. He wondered if any of them where in the study hall room. Really, Harry didn't know what to expect.

He wasn't even going to go until Hermione stared him down over dinner. Ron had asked her what she was on about when Harry said, "No. No. Fine." Her stubbornness wasn't finished even when Ron persistently bugged them both. She simply sat there with her eyebrows raised as she drank her coffee.

What was going to happen? What was he supposed to say? Maybe I should turn back now and go to the library for an hour. Mess up my hair a bit and unbutton my shirt. Maybe she'll be satisfied then. But knowing Hermione, that was only a maybe.

He was sitting at the same table as before; no one else was in the room. Did Malfoy reserve that place or something? Could he reserve it for the nights and allow no one in, there by stopping Malfoy from coming here? Did Malfoy sit around in the study hall chambers all night back at Hogwarts, or was this a new thing?

"You came," Malfoy stated. Harry stared at him.

"Well you're sure Sherlock's son."

"What?" It occurred to him that Malfoy knew nothing of the muggle novel character.

"Never mind. What do you want?"

"I'd like for you to sit," Malfoy said softly, then rolled his eyes at Harry's expression. "No, no. Just take a seat somewhere. Oh, gee thanks." He muttered as the Gryf- er. . Harry took a seat two tables away.

"Yes?" He called.

"I don't have cooties," Malfoy pointed out flatly. But before Harry could reply with even some half witted remark (it took him a little time to think them up!) Malfoy began his speech, possibly planned.

"One hundred galleons said that Granger put you up to this, for the most part, anyway," He paused, and then threw in, "Yeah, you can't keep a secret, can you." It was rhetorical.

"Do you forgive me?"

"Do I what?" Harry pushed his glasses up a bit, rubbing his fingers over his scar – a nervous habit he was growing. He didn't want to like Malfoy; he enjoyed despising him. He wasn't about to fall for any sort of trap. Like "Moody" said, constant vigilance.

"I'm not going to like you," He pointed out. Malfoy retorted.

"How do you know?"

"Because – because – because you're mean," Harry mumbled weakly. Now did that sound pathetic or what? "You've been an ass for the past six years. I think I know by now."

"But I apologized. Harry, do you forgive me?"

"No – No – Wa- Wait – No. Wait – I don't know," He concluded. "I don't know."

"Okay. How about this, every day you meet me here for an hour. Maybe after awhile, you'll forgive me for everything I've done to you. I'm not who I used to be, Harry." There was a very odd look on Draco's face. His eyes were intensely focused on Harry; it made him fidget in his seat. That look . . . it was so . . . it craved for an answer; approval.

"Why me?" Harry finally asked, "Why me?" The blonde scratched his nose and his eyes flickered around a bit. Good, Harry thought, good. Now you know what it feels like to be in an awkward position. And then Malfoy's posture changed.

"You say it was if it's a bad thing. By now, you know, I am very much attracted to men. I'm sure you have been told many times that you're . . . very, very striking, and I for one agree," Harry flushed. No one really ever said that to him. "And then there's your personality. I just like you. You know that you can't help that, you know it. Almost as soon as I stopped hating you, I . . . liked you."

"But why did you hate me? You were the one who was rude fir-"

"Because at that time, I didn't think I was an ass. There are some things I regret, Harry. When you fought back, I summed you up to be the enemy. I knew we would be in the same year, I expected you to be some famous star when you waltzed in; with your nose so high you could drown. Then I got the message that you weren't the fool. It sounds cheesy, yeah. But it's probably the most honest thing I've said lately.

"I don't mean to blame my father on everything, but he is where I got all my opinions. Some I disagreed with, like you and the Dark Art, and some I agree with."

"Like . . .?" Harry asked. He knew the first one. "Mudbloods."

"Mudbloods and schooling."

"How can you be against the dark arts and muggle borns at the same time?" Harry countered and then threw in a big word, "That's like an oxymoron or something."

"They had meetings at the manor when I was five, Harry, five. I never liked their opinions on killing people. I still don't. But he and I both believe that mudbloods are just that – wizards and witches with muggle blood, dirty blood. They are less magical then we are."

"Oh?" Harry felt his anger starting, "So what am I? Half dirty? My mum was a-"

"You have pureblood in you."

"If I was a "mudblood," would you still like me?" Harry snapped.

"Yes. I don't care about your blo-"

"Then why should blood matter in the first place? Hermione is better at everything than purebloods and she's a muggle born! How is she any less magical?"

"The soul of magic, the core of it lies in blood. Give a muggle a wand and he can't cast a spell. Give him potion ingredients and he makes a mess. The magic is in us, Harry, it's in our blood! It runs through our veins."

"That doesn't make a muggle born and less of a person!"

"Yes. I know! That's why I don't like the dark arts!"

"Then why are you against them?"

"I just said why. They are not of the same magical status with us. They shouldn't study the same things as we do; they eventually will be unable to keep up. They may be smart, but not magically inclined!"

"So you are saying that they are less of a person!"

"Person, no. Magic, yes!"

"Then why do you hate all the muggle borns here?"

"Because they think they're special!" Malfoy snapped, "I'm so much better than everyone else. I'm unique and yade-da. They first come here and their suddenly the next door Mary-Jane!" Later on, Harry would wonder where Malfoy got that phrase from. "THEY'RE SOOOO MUCH BETTER BECAUSE THEY GOT IN ON SOMETHING OTHER THAN FAMILY BLOOD!"

"NOT EVERYONE'S LIKE THAT!"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW?"
"HOW DO YOU KNOW THEY ARE?"
"HOW DO YOU THEY AREN'T?"

"HOW DO – I – me – Ohh forget it, Malfoy." Harry sighed, sitting back down. He could feel his face was red from yelling. "You're just jealous of them."

"I am not."

"Yes, you are."

"Cauldron cake?" Malfoy asked. What? Was this some new twisted pet name Malfoy concocted? Forget the past dispute and go on to be lovey-dovey? Was he supposed to reply with "Yes, pumpkin?" or something of the like? Oh. A cauldron cake.

"A cauldron cake," He chucked one at Harry. "Eat one, they're not poisonous. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach," Malfoy paused as Harry spluttered and choked, "I was only kidding."

"A real sense of humor," Harry said dryly, then look down at his cauldron cake; only having taken a small bite out of it. That was enough. The last thing he needed was to be dosed up on some love potion. "Can I go now?"

"You say that like its detention." Harry shrugged.

"Well, in a sense."

"You can leave anytime you want."

"What? You locked the door the last time," But this time, Harry was the one who had fooled himself. He sat far away from this door; having had his only go on setting distance between himself and Malfoy. He solved a problem and created one.

"Last time, I was desperate. I needed you to listen to me. Now, you can do what you want. Stay, chat, snog, leave, wor-"

"What?" Harry blinked, "What did you just say?"

"You can stay, chat, leave, or do homework. I'd rather the first two options." Was that a little smirk tugging on Malfoy's mouth? Oh yeah, Harry thought. I heard what I heard.

"What are we supposed to do? Talk over tea?"

"You don't need to be sarcastic."

"Well there's irony." Harry muttered. Malfoy looked away for a moment, as if thinking.

"Are you trying out for one of the teams this year?"

"Yeah, the first team."

"The third has a very nice team arrangement." Blondie-boy had his hands on his tables, making little circles in the wood with his fingers. He watched Harry with such focus and it was as if he were the only thing in the room. His fingers seemed to have a mind of their own; everything else was focused on Harry. It wasn't really a bad thing . . . just so . . . weird.

I should say something, he thought to himself. So . . . "The Chudley Cannons?"

"Their frontal chaser is weak. My opinion, half the team needs to get sacked. Especially the keeper." Harry disagreed.

"No. Walkers is pretty good for his age."

"I'm surprised he can even see the three hoops."

There is something about men and Quidditch. Harry felt it was a safe, non personal topic to talk about; at least he would kill some time. Or so he had thought. It went from different professional teams to their best moves, to the two owns' best moves. Harry learned how Malfoy had a passion for others' tactics and often had different opinions then that of the Slytherin team. And, being the Malfoy that he was, spoke of them with no doubt.

Upon ending their discussion on styles of brooms (with slightly suggestive comments thrown in, courtesy of Malfoy,) he saw that the clock had seemed to spin by thirty minutes. Not only was it amazing that he could talk about Quidditch for half an hour, but . . . Malfoy? Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.

Draco.

"Draco," Harry repeated blindly as he walked down the hall. Were anyone to have spotted him, they'd surely send him to St. Mungos. His expression was slightly glazed over; and who randomly spat out names while shuffling down the hall alone? It would have been quite a sight, if anyone saw.

But they didn't. They didn't see as Harry undressed and put his pajamas on, or curl into bed at 11:48 that night. They didn't see him stay up for another hour straight, staring at the ceiling of his bunk.

Waiting.

The next morning, Harry refused to go to breakfast before talking to Hermione in the hall. Ron was suspicious, but hunger won over gossip and he went for pancakes and left the two to their 'studies,' as claimed.

"So, what happened?" Hermione was grinning her pearly whites.

"Stop smiling like that, Granger," Harry grumbled lightly. That only made her beam worsen. "We talked."

"About . . .?"

"You."

"Me?" Hermione blinked. "Why me? What did he say? What did you say?"

"After we got into it, so to speak, he said that he agreed with his father on a few things. Like the school and . . ." He whispered, "mudbloods." Oddly enough, Hermione looked a bit relieved.

"Oh, all right," She looked at Harry looking at her. "Purebloods are sometimes like that. It's prejudice. Did he try to make you hate me?"

"No . . . He just said you aren't as magic as us."

"That's just a myth. We're every bit as equal." Hermione defended.

"I know that!"

"Okay. So what else did you guys do?"

"What do you mean, do?" Hermione pinked in her cheeks, biting her lip as to try not to smile. She shook her head.

"Not like that! I mean, did you talk about anything else?"

"Yeah. We talked about Quidditch for about a half hour . . ."

"Wow. For half an hour? That's really good Harry. You were nice to him, weren't you? Did he invite you back tonight? Are you going to go?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go. And stop smiling like that." And then Hermione popped a very surprising question.
"Do you think you might ever like him?"

"WHAT?" Did people just love to ask him random questions? Was it 'Scare Harry!' week or something? Did he miss a memo? "I do not like Malfoy. He's – he's . . . I don't like him. Especially not in that way. He's a guy. He-"

"Could you ever? Even as a friend?"

"I don't know. I've only really talked to him straight out once. Why are you so obsessed with this, Hermione? What's the big fixation?" She rolled her eyes and mouthed something short.

"I already told you, Harry. Do you have any idea how a true Gryffindor and Slytherin relationship would change Hogwarts?"

"We're not in a relationship!"

"At least give a chance, Harry. You never know!"

"But I'm not gay. I'm not."

"How do you know?"

How do I know?