The following morning was Friday again. Before either of us were really ready
it was time for double Potions again. Ron looked extremely offended when
I joined Draco of my own will, but Hermione just seemed troubled and told
Ron to shut up. Crabbe and Goyle ended up paired together, and I couldn't
help wondering if they'd be able to get through the class without some sort
of chaos—hopefully not as extreme as we'd seen two weeks ago.
:Don't worry. They're not quite as stupid as they seem, truly.: I'd not meant to be transmitting my thoughts, but underneath the dismay some part of me was GLAD to hear Draco; I found that I'd really missed him! Oh gods, so alarming. NOT a good idea, to come to like an enemy. ...And yet I had missed him, and was glad to hear him again...glad to be close to him... I tried not to think about that right now.
:You're sure? They've always seemed pretty damned idiotic to me.: I thanked all the gods I could think of that he couldn't determine quite why I was shaking, though I knew he saw me doing it and could sense at least foggily my mental disruption as I chopped dried caterpillars.
:Yeah, they're stupid, alright, but they won't cause any horrible catastrophe as long as they're not paired with someone they don't like. Then they lose any sort of intelligence they ever had and just become grunting jerks. —You're okay, aren't you, Potter? Truly, you don't have to worry about them splashing us with some other mismatched concoction, I swear. They're lucky to get their potion to do ANYTHING, let alone do something sort of near what it was supposed to do.: Draco didn't budge from his task of mixing 18 drops of squid ink with an exact half-handful of crushed cockatrice eggshell.
Our potion was progressing perfectly; I suppose it didn't hurt that we each knew what the other was doing at every moment, so we could have the next ingredient ready precisely when it was needed. I could feel Hermione and Ron's eyes on my back, but I ignored them; it seemed enough at this moment that I was near Draco again, and it felt right enough that I didn't question it. Time enough for that later.
:I'll take your word for it...though I'm really twitchy about mismade potions, understandably, I think.: I shredded my square of Pronghorn Antelope horn carefully as we 'talked'. It smelled odd, unpleasant actually, and Draco and I both wrinkled our noses as I dealt with the greasy thing—it had rough and prickly hairs poking up from it as well, and was just thoroughly nasty.
:I'm SO glad you took that bit.: He made a face into the cauldron, the contents of which were glowing a soft lavender. :I know I'd never be able to handle that thing without retching.:
:Maybe you should hop into my head then,: I said. :Come smell and feel it through me, and if you get sick, it won't be you that has to deal with it.: I grinned at him. :Surely I shouldn't have to be the only one to experience this.:
:I get enough of an idea through you, thank you,: he said. :I CAN smell it from here, you know, and I DO get a feel for what you're feeling; I'd rather not deal with that foul thing any more personally than I've already had to, thank you very much.: I glanced at his slender, pale hands and silently agreed that he needn't touch anything like this with them; they were lovely hands, really, long fingered and slim, and oughtn't to be made to handle anything oily and harsh like this chunk of hairy horn in my hands, which was slowly shredding away with a foul smell.
:You're rhapsodising again, Harry.: I flushed, cursing myself for letting things slip yet again, but when I glanced up at him I saw he was grinning.
"Er—sorry." Somehow normal speech seemed very impersonal now, and that was reassuring.
But he didn't reply out loud, as I'd half-hoped. :Truly, I don't mind; I was just giving you a hard time. Relax, will you?: He winked at me, and I couldn't help but smile back at him.
:Still, it's sort of—embarrassing, you know? And I wasn't even meaning you to hear that bit.:
:I know. You leak a lot more than I do. Perhaps because you're not as used to concealing yourself as I am, I think. And—don't be embarrassed. To be honest, it's—one of the nicest compliments I've ever gotten.: Now HE was blushing; I could feel it almost as strongly as if it were me.
:Subject change, shall we? I think I'm done with this thing.: We returned to the potion with relief.
The class was over before I knew it. Malfoy and I parted company at the door, somewhat reluctantly. "Later, then," I said as he walked away, and he turned back for a moment with a smile and a wave.
Hermione had had enough. She seized me by the arm as I reached the hallway and towed me straight to the dormitory. Ron couldn't seem to find anything to say; he just shook his head and snorted a lot. I was sorely tempted to laugh at him, but I didn't want to take any chances with Hermione when she was like this, so I held my tongue.
We climbed through the portrait hole and Hermione shoved me into a chair. She pulled up another one and sat facing me while Ron paced behind her. "Alright, Harry. What's going on? You keep getting distant, you go off and join Malfoy during Potions of your own will, and though I think you exchanged a whole five words with him during the entire class, you both act as if you're carrying on a conversation. What aren't you telling us?" Thank the gods, she didn't sound angry, just very serious.
"Nothing's really going on, 'Mione. There were just some...other effects...of the potion." I suddenly found my feet very interesting. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry."
"Too late for that," she said dryly. "What other effects, exactly?"
Draco was suddenly there in my head with me. :Are you going to tell her?:
:I think I ought to. She IS one of my best friends, you know. I hate keeping secrets, and I really hadn't meant this to be a SECRET exactly, I just didn't know how to talk about it.: I paused. :Do you mind?:
:No—:
Hermione reached out and grabbed my knee. "Harry, you're doing it again. Tell me what is going on."
"Er—sorry. One sec. Please."
:What was that?:
:I was saying, I think it's a good idea to let her know. She seems awfully concerned.:
:Unusual of you to care how a Mudblood feels,: I couldn't help responding.
:I don't think this is the time to have this conversation, Harry. Just get on with it.:
:Fine.:
"Sorry, 'Mione." She was really upset now, I could tell. I felt like a total ass. "When I got to the hospital wing, Malfoy was there too. And, er, well, we couldn't talk or anything, but we could...hear each other's thoughts."
:So eloquent, Harry. Ever thought of becoming an orator?:
:SHUT UP. I'm doing the best I can here.:
Hermione's eyebrows seemed to be trying to migrate to her scalp. "You could hear each other's thoughts."
"Well, yeah. Actually, we couldn't NOT hear each other's thoughts. And, um, we still can."
"You still can hear each other's thoughts."
"...Yeah."
Ron burst out laughing.
"Pull the other one, Harry. Come on, couldn't you think of a better excuse for acting weird? You and Malfoy hearing each other's thoughts! Oh right." He said a few more things, but they were unintelligible since he was laughing so hard that he actually fell down.
"Harry. Tell me you're joking. Please." Now I felt really bad for this whole thing. I'd never seen Hermione look so serious, and that's saying something, I tell you. She's a master of serious looks.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I wish I could. But I'm not joking. Malfoy and I seem to have gotten some sort of...telepathic link or something." Ron was dragging himself off the floor into a chair, still snickering but starting to slow down a bit.
"Did you tell Madam Pomfrey? Or talk to Professor Snape?" She seemed to be softening a bit; I felt like I could breathe again.
"Yes, we told them both, and they said they couldn't do anything about it and we'd have to wait for the potion's effects to wear off. And mostly they have, really. Except for...this bit." It occurred to me that other than that one scribbled message, we hadn't talked to Snape or Madam Pomfrey about it. Somehow it hadn't seemed important after a while, and now, suddenly, I knew I didn't want it to go away. Scary. Very scary.
I waited for Draco to say something, but all I got was silence from him. Either he hadn't picked up on that thought, or he was waiting till I was done talking to Hermione and Ron to discuss it. Very polite, I thought.
:I can be when it suits me, you know.:
So much for him not hearing me.
"Maybe you should talk to Professor Dumbledore, Harry." I'd almost forgotten about Hermione for a moment; my attention snapped back to her.
"I don't know...it'll probably just go away on its own, that's what Snape said anyway."
Ron burst into the conversation. "You mean to say you're stuck with stinking Malfoy in your head? And you're not trying to do something about it?!? You have gone mad, Harry! You've got to get rid of that slimy ferret-boy as soon as you can! Today! Now!" He'd forgotten to laugh now, unfortunately, and seemed about to start pacing again. Sigh.
:Nice to know I'm loved.:
:You've earned this from him, you know.:
I didn't expect a response, but one whispered into my mind anyway. :...I know.:
"He's not that bad, Ron, really." :What happened to being beautiful and brilliant?!?: :Shut up, I've got to start somewhere.: "We've done a lot of talking—well really, we sort of had to, didn't we?—and once you get to know him, he's a...good...friend."
Ron just stared at me, aghast. Hermione looked thoughtful.
"Can you hear him now, Harry?"
"—Yes, why?"
"Tell him from me that I still think he's a bloody bastard, but I'm willing to consider the possibility that he's not an entire loss since he's obviously won you over."
"He can hear you, 'Mione, I don't have to tell him anything if he's paying attention. And he is." I winced a little; to be honest, I was a bit afraid to hear Draco's response, and I most definitely did not want to be in the middle of this discussion. But he surprised me yet again.
:Tell her thank you for the second chance. I'd apologise to her, but I think I ought to do that in person.:
:You're kidding.:
:You know I can't lie to you convincingly like this. I HAVE been a bastard. And...I've done a lot of thinking about things. I'd like to give not being a bastard a shot, I think. At least try it out, see how it fits me. I can always go back to my normal state of bastardhood if it doesn't work out.:
I laughed; Hermione raised just one eyebrow this time. "He says to tell you thank you for the second chance. And he's going to try life as an ex-bastard for a bit."
"Oh really. ...Interesting. You know, Harry, this may well be the best thing that could have happened to Malfoy." Ron sniggered. Draco said nothing. "But what are you going to do about getting rid of this thing? There's got to be a way to get rid of it. Dumbledore would know how, I know he would. Or at least he'd be able to figure something out if you'd just tell him what's going on." Hermione had finally relaxed; she still looked concerned, but she didn't look like she was made of stone anymore. In other words, she seemed about back to normal.
Ron, on the other hand, was still horrified that I'd used the concepts of 'friend' and 'Malfoy' in the same sentence. Before I could answer Hermione, he said, "Harry, you can't honestly believe that Malfoy's not a total git! After all the things he's done to you? To us? He's a waste of space! A—"
"Ron, shut up. Please." I rubbed my forehead; I was getting one hell of a headache. "I'm telling you, he's different when you get to know him. And I'd have to say I've gotten to know him. And 'Mione, I really think it'll just wear off like everything else has. You're not locked up in the dorm anymore, are you? And Ron's not being a right git either. —Well, not unusually so—"
"Hey!"
"—so there's no reason to think this won't go, too." Even though I no longer wanted it to. "Snape said that what could be treated had been, and everything would wear off eventually. So why worry?"
"It's lasting longer than anyone else's side-effects, it could be something else that really needs to be treated—"
"I don't think so, 'Mione. If it gets worse, or becomes a problem, I promise you I'll go talk to Snape again or even Dumbledore. But for now things are fine, alright? Don't worry about me. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but I sort of wanted to avoid this whole thing, you know?" I was exhausted. I really, really hate arguing with friends. For one thing, I have so few of them that it scares me to have trouble between us—what if they just go away? "And we've missed dinner, dammit." My stomach was growling.
"I'll go get something from the house-elves." Ron levered himself to his feet. "But I still think you're completely barking mad, mind you." And he was gone. I looked at Hermione, afraid she wanted to continue badgering me to go see Snape.
"Well, I don't agree with you, but as long as you swear you'll go if anything changes... Maybe you should ask Malfoy to come up here and have dinner with us, Harry."
"What?"
:WHAT?:
"If you're going to try to be his friend, Harry, the least he can do is try to be civil to your friends. I'd like to see exactly how hard he's working on this being nice thing." She rose and picked up her books. "And while you talk to him about that, I'm going to put my things away." And she was gone.
:...Er...heh. Want to come to dinner?:
:I...suppose. Although I've actually already eaten. No one kept me from dinner to ask me why I'm acting strangely. Maybe because pairing with you in Potions aside, I've not BEEN acting strangely.:
:Sure, make it my fault.:
:Isn't it?: He laughed; it tickled my mind and felt somehow like I'd stepped into a shaft of sunlight, warm and bright. :Anyway. You'll have to meet me somewhere, I don't know where the Gryffindors shack up.:
:I never thought I'd hear you say 'shack up'. Funny.:
:All sorts of things are changing, aren't they?:
:Looks like it, doesn't it? Meet me—hmm—oh, just meet me in the Great Hall.:
:Why do I have this feeling you DO know where the Slytherins shack up?:
:Maybe because I do?:
:I should have guessed. Damn you, you sneaky bastard.:
:Hey, can you blame me for snooping around?:
:...No, actually. I am a bit envious though. I thought I was the king of sneaky bastards.:
:Sorry to seize your title, Your Majesty.: I headed out the portrait hole and down towards the Great Hall.
:You're not forgiven.:
A passing second-year looked at me oddly as I laughed out loud.
:You know, I really LIKE you now, Draco.:
:Don't let Weasley hear you say that.:
:Didn't intend to. For a while anyway. ...So what exactly's happened that made you stop acting such a nasty prat? I can't imagine you apologising to Hermione even a week ago, let alone planning to come to the Gryffindor commonroom and be civil to my friends.: A sudden thought struck me and I asked, alarmed, : —You ARE planning on being civil, aren't you? :
:Yes. I am. And I just...thought about what you'd said. A lot. And...being nasty is sort of lonely. I figure why not try being pleasant and see what happens?:
:I really hate that you pick up so much more from me than I can from you,: I complained. :It seems unfair. You always know what's going on with me, and I never get anything from you unless you want me to.:
:Like I said, I think it's because I've been keeping myself to myself for—well, all my life, really. And you haven't. Not trained in deception, you know.: He sounded a bit bitter. :Just another difference between Gryffindors and Slytherins, I suppose. We're hardwired and raised for subterfuge and you carry what you feel and think on the outside for all to see.:
:That...makes sense.: I was almost to the Great Hall. I remember, when I was a scrawny first-year, the walk between the Great Hall and the portrait hole had seemed to take aeons. I'd been exhausted half that year 'til my legs got stronger.
:You were cute. Scrawny, yes, but cute.:
I emerged into the Great Hall and spotted him instantly, sitting all by himself at the Slytherin table. He rose as soon as he saw me and walked across the Hall to meet me. I took a quick moment to admire the fluidity of his movement before replying.
:And now I'm a great, gangly thing, lost to the realms of cuteness forever, I'm sure.: We grinned at each other as we left the Hall, side by side.
:I'd not say that, exactly, just graduated from cuteness and destined for better things.: I snickered. :Laugh if you want, it's the truth.:
:Right.:
:One of these days, Harry, you'll learn how to take a compliment properly.:
:Never.:
He changed the subject suddenly. :We must look strange, wandering around like we're lost in thought and laughing to ourselves randomly.:
:I'm quite sure we do. I've been getting a lot of odd looks.:
:Ah, too easy an opening. I won't even take advantage of it and mock you cruelly. It's not sporting.:
:Since when do you care if it's sporting or not?:
:Since today.:
:Good enough. ...It's going to take a while to get used to the 'new you'. I keep expecting you to act one way and then you don't do it.:
:Yeah, well, six years of negative reinforcement tends to do that.: That bitterness was there again. We were only a few yards from the portrait hole, but I stopped dead and when he kept moving, seized him by the arm. He blinked at me, confused.
—such long eyelashes he has—
"Listen to me, Draco." My voice echoed weirdly in the hallway. I wasn't used to hearing it anymore, and his name slid smoothly off my tongue, but unfamiliar. So strange. His attention was instantly caught.
:Forget what's happened, what's over. It's gone, it's done. You can't change what you were. There's no use hating yourself for it.:
:But—: His eyes shimmered just a bit in the torchlight. I prayed he wouldn't cry; I didn't think I could bear that. :I wasted so much time. I hurt so many people, so many times—:
:NO.: I gripped him by the shoulders and gave him a little shake. :That's OVER now. Make what amends you can and let it go. LET IT GO. What matters isn't what you have been, it's what you ARE. You've not killed anyone, just been an arse. And don't worry about wasted time! You've the rest of your life now.: He stared at me with silver eyes heavy with unshed tears, and I knew they'd spill over before it actually happened. I brushed them off of his cheeks, ending up with his face cupped in my hands. :You've been hurt by all this too, Draco. Don't make it worse. What matters is today. NOW. And everything's going to be okay. I swear it.:
I'd hoped to calm him. Instead he sucked in one great, gulping breath, and burst into tears. I pulled him into my arms and murmured quiet reassurances into his silky hair. At that moment I'd have given anything, anything at all, to make things better. Instead all I could do was feel his pain beating in pulses in my head and try to comfort him.
Thank all the gods, the hallway was deserted. Everyone was in the commonroom, I suspected. It was a Friday, after all. There were 'beginning of the weekend' parties to be held.
Finally he cried himself out; it felt like it'd been hours, but probably was only a few minutes. He sniffled a bit, and I took the chance of letting go of him with one hand to pull my handkerchief out of my pocket. He took it and turned away to use it.
:I think I've made a mess of your robes.: His mental 'voice' was flat and emotionless, directly opposite his outburst.
:Like I care. They were dirty anyway. Are you okay now?: I asked, still quite concerned. I'd never seen Draco lose control like that, ever. And I suspected that it hadn't happened often before, and then always when he was alone and quickly suppressed.
:Fine.:
:Let's go to the restroom, shall we? There's one just this way.: He didn't protest, but followed me almost meekly as I set off towards the closest boy's toilets. He kept his head down and had stuffed my handkerchief into one pocket.
In the restroom, he washed his face in cool water, and I took off my robes and bundled them up under one arm. I don't mind being cried on, nor used as a handkerchief, but I'd rather not walk around with bogies smeared on my clothes if I can help it.
He looked slightly the worse for wear, but his eyes weren't nearly as red as I'd expected them to be, and weren't swollen at all. :Gods damn you, you even CRY pretty. How the hell do you manage it?:
He laughed weakly. :Pure luck, Potter. An accident of birth.:
:Now, don't use my words against me.:
Draco looked up at me suddenly, his eyes hard. :If you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you.:
:Oh right! Who am I going to tell? Why would I tell anyone?: I threw my hands in the air, exasperated. :Of course I'm not going to tell anyone! Relax, Draco, will you? You're not weak for crying, and I'm not going to tell anyone, and everything's STILL going to be alright, so just settle down!:
He stared at me again for a long moment, then nodded.
:...Just remember, will you, that I'm not out to get you?: I added with a sigh. :I'm not trying to be the enemy.:
:...I'll try to remember. I'm sorry.:
:DON'T be. Just get some of your old arrogance back together and get ready to face Hermione and Ron.:
:—Oh gods. Yes. I'll...need just a second more.:
:Sure, take as long as you need.: I was in no hurry to get there myself, come to that. I didn't trust Ron to be civil. In fact, now that I thought about it, Ron might not even know Draco was coming! Oh gods. I buried my face in my hands.
"Um, Harry?" His voice sounded as strange to me now as mine did, and he had reached out to clasp my shoulder with one hand. "I thought you said everything was going to be alright."
I answered him out loud as he'd done, understanding that he might need a bit of space just now. "It will. I just hope Hermione's told Ron that you're coming."
"Oh, fuck."
"Yeah."
"Maybe I should...er...maybe you should go in first, and let him know?"
I considered this for a moment, then shook my head. "No, best to just bull it through. He'll probably be speechless for a while, but if you're civil 'Mione will make him at least be polite. Mostly. Anyway. We'll deal with him. Okay?"
:Okay.: I took it as a good sign that he was ready to talk mind-to-mind again, instead of shutting me out.
:Let's do it, then.:
And we headed back to the portrait hole.