Eventually we had to switch books; even Draco's huge tome came to an end eventually, particularly since he wasn't really reading it, and we both went off and came back with others. I brought a stack, he only brought a couple.
:So...let's plot, shall we?: I felt a bit duplicitous, and I can't entirely deny that I liked it. :Let's start at the beginning. We've got to see less of each other for a little bit, I agree, but that doesn't mean we can't talk to each other. Though the word 'talk' has become frustratingly inadequate lately.:
Draco waved this away impatiently. :We can discuss the inadequacies of the English language some other time. If we're going to keep on conversing when we're apart, we're going to have to become better at concealing it. We can't have people noticing; that would give us away as surely as becoming suddenly glued to each other. I think it would really be wisest to keep silent except when we're sure we won't be observed, like now. Or, say, History of Magic and the like. Odd moments here and there when we're unobserved or it'd be normal for us to be staring blankly into space. But no more often than we usually do, mind.:
I didn't like it, but I had to agree. :Surely we can get better at concealing it though! We just need practise, more practise.: I tried not to think of myself as pleading, but I knew secretly I was.
:Harry, I hate to be the one to point this out to you, but you're not the most subtle. I'd far rather not take the chance, especially considering who we'd be trying to fool. Snape, McGonagall, Hermione, even Dumbledore if that misfortune should strike us—they'd NOTICE if you were talking to me most times. They'd at least notice that something was going on, even if they didn't know quite what. That's precisely what we're trying to avoid.:
I sighed a little. :Fine, if you really think it's best. But I don't like it.:
:Neither do I. But I really think it's best in the long term.:
:Okay, fine. What else? See less of each other—like how much less?:
:Oh, I don't know—just start out with not cursing at each other in the halls, I suppose. A nod or something at first. Civility. Maybe partner each other in Potions again next week, or the week after, or Care of Magical Creatures. Your lot has seen me over in the evening once, so maybe we do that again a couple of times a week, maybe once on the weekend. After a couple of weeks of that, I can come visit you at the Gryffindor table, or likewise. The harder part is going to be to convince the Slytherins, honestly. You Gryffindors are inclined to forgiveness and friendliness.:
:I know. But, Draco, it's going to be awfully hard.:
:I know. But there's always the evenings. I suspect I'll be going to bed early rather often from now on. I may have to feign some sort of malaise.: He smiled briefly.
:Draco—I've got an Invisibility Cloak.: I wasn't sure what I could do with it that would be wise, or at least not horribly risky, but at the same time I couldn't really make myself care about the risk. Anything that made it possible to see him more often.
:Oh, do you. I'd suspected something of the sort. That should...come in handy. How well do you do without adequate sleep?:
:I've not gotten adequate sleep since I've been on the Quidditch team. I seem to still be here.:
:Well, then. We needn't spend our nights alone, as long as we can come up with reasonable excuses for taking to bed early. Can you manage that?:
:Easily. I often go to bed early anyway, just because I really DO suck at chess, I always wake up earlier than everyone else for Quidditch practise, and I do my homework faster than Ron anyway.:
:Alright then. I tend to have erratic sleeping patterns, so no one will notice when I head to our dormitory, or whether. With a good Silencing Charm, your Invisibility Cloak and a bit of luck, no one will ever know where we're spending our nights. Particularly if we wear our watches and have an Early-Waking Charm set on them. Meticulously.:
:That makes the days sound...more bearable.:
:It won't be forever. In a few weeks at the most we should be able to openly prefer each other's company, at least as friends. We just need to be most careful about not mindtalking to each other.:
:Which will be bad enough in itself.:
:I'm sure we'll be able to sneak it in in odd moments. We've just got to be careful. Remember, if anyone suspects it, or if Hermione thinks it's not gone away, we're in danger of having it TAKEN away.:
:High odds we're playing against.:
:But look at what we're trying to win. It's worth the effort.:
I had to agree.
* * *
Shortly afterwards I left the library alone. I passed a single seventh-year Ravenclaw on his way to the library, then headed outside. The sunshine was wonderful, beating hot on my face and hair
—like Draco's chest pressed against my face, petal-soft skin burning mine—
and making me raise my face to it with a faint smile. I headed towards Hagrid's cabin first, keeping my eyes open for Ron and Hermione. I spotted them on the edge of the Forest, a short walk from Hagrid's. Ron was sprawled in the sunshine, limbs flung out, and Hermione was sitting in the shade-dappled area just barely out of the sun, half-reclined with her robes stuffed under her head.
"You just missed Hagrid," Hermione said as I sat down next to Ron. "He had to go check out a rumour of Libertine Stoats running rampant in the forest."
I sprawled like Ron, savouring the heat of the sun, but taking Hermione's example and pulling my robes off for a pillow. "I'll catch him later, maybe, or tomorrow."
"So what happened with Malfoy last night?" Ron asked sleepily.
"We talked for a long time, then I sent him off," I said, taking a chance.
"I didn't hear you talking, weird," Ron said. He didn't sound anything but lazy, though, not suspicious in the slightest.
"He cast a Silencing Charm to keep from keeping you all up." Again, technically true, I thought. "We didn't want to disturb anyone, and we had a lot to talk about."
"How's the link, Harry?" Hermione asked.
I knew it was she I really had to worry about. Particularly since Ron had had quite a few Butterbeers last night. "Actually, it's a lot fainter than it was yesterday."
"Really?" She sounded excited and pleased, though not enough to sit up. "That's excellent, Harry, really excellent. Do you think it will keep on fading away?"
I hated lying to her. "It sure feels like it. I don't think it'll stay."
"Oh, good," she said relievedly. "I was really worried, Harry. Let me know if anything else happens with it, okay? I want to look at some things in the library just to be sure, but I want to know if anything changes."
"I will, 'Mione." But I knew I wouldn't. I felt like something scraped off of the bottom of someone's shoe.
:It's only for a little while, Harry.: It flashed across my brain so quickly I couldn't be sure afterwards that I'd not imagined it.
"So, Harry, are you serious about this thing with Malfoy?" Ron asked.
"This thing, Ron?" I forced myself to keep my voice level. "Yes, I'm serious. I've gotten to know him a lot better in the last few days than any of us have in the years before. He hides a lot from everyone."
"So you say," Ron muttered. "I'd like a lot more proof before I'll take his word on it."
To my astonishment, Hermione responded before I could. "Ron, he apologised last night. At least give him a chance to show he means it, will you?"
"Herm, I'd have thought you of all people would understand, with all the times he's called you a Mudblood—"
She cut Ron off. "Yes, and that means that if he apologises and means it, he's got more to lose than we have by believing him. If he means it, half his own crowd won't like him for it, and you know they leap on weakness. Which that would be. And if he doesn't mean it, we've lost nothing, really; just shown we're secure enough to trust in the good nature of people."
Ron wasn't entirely convinced. "Shown we're gullible, you mean."
I saw my chance and leapt in. "I'd say it shows that we're strong enough to give even our enemies a chance to play fair, rather. And you can't say he cheated at chess last night, for example."
"That's true...he didn't...he's a good player, though, he could have had me a few times." Ron pondered this. "You've been in his head, Harry, you ought to have a good feel for what he means and what he doesn't. Right?"
"I'd say I've got a better understanding of him than anyone else ever has, yes," I replied confidently.
:Justifiable confidence.: I was getting better at letting no hint of these silent communications show in my face, I thought. But I didn't dare try to send back; I knew that Draco was far better at concealing his thoughts and feelings from the world than I was, and I didn't dare risk triggering suspicion. Receiving was one thing, broadcasting what I thought/felt to him and yet not anyone else another.
"And you really think he means all this?" Ron continued.
"I believe he does, absolutely," I said as firmly as I could.
"Hm. Then maybe he isn't such a bloody prat as he's seemed. I still don't know why he's thought he could get off on acting like an arse for so long and then change his tune and expect to be believed, though." Ron threw a piece of grass up into the heavy sunlight; it arced down slowly and landed on my chest. I flicked it off of my turtleneck, which was becoming ever so slightly too warm, and reminded myself not to even think of taking it off.
"Because he's insecure, Ron," Hermione answered. "Haven't you ever realised that? He's terribly insecure, he always has been, and can you imagine anyone better to have mindlinked with an insecure person than Harry?" I said nothing; I didn't really think I was all that therapeutic, but then Hermione's always been better at understanding people than I have.
"...I suppose not," Ron answered slowly. I felt a real dunce, if Ron could see what Hermione was talking about and I couldn't. Maybe it was just something I couldn't see from the personal angle, like, say, the small of my back.
"Alright, Herm, I'll give you that. I'm not saying I'll let him off for any of the things he's said and done, but...I'll wait a bit and see if he's serious about being sorry for all of it. And for you, Harry, since you seem so set on it." He rolled over, cooling his front in the faintly moist grass.
I rolled over as well; he was wearing only a t-shirt and jeans, and this damned (necessary!) turtleneck was making me heat up far too quickly. "Thanks, Ron." I suddenly felt sleepy, breathing in the scent of the grass and feeling its coolness and faint prickliness against my face and stomach, while the sun pounded down hot on my back and legs, the back of my head, even my feet.
"For some reason, every time you say 'Herm' I think 'worm'...probably a mixture of it rhyming and the word 'helminth', I always used to think it was herminth," I said half-dreamily.
"Worm?" Hermione exclaimed.
"What the hell is a helminth?" Ron demanded simultaneously.
"Seriously, Ron, don't you ever read?" Hermione answered, disgusted. "Helminth is a word developed from Greek meaning a worm or a wormlike creature, especially parasites. Ugh."
"Sorry, 'Mione." I hadn't meant to offend, I just hadn't really thought. Again. I was getting tired of eternally sticking my foot in my mouth, and silently vowed to keep my mouth shut for a while. "I didn't mean I thought of you as connected with worms, just when Ron says that, that's what I think of..."
"It's okay, Harry." This time she did bother to sit up. "Ron, the next time I hear you call me 'Herm', I'm going to transfigure you into a worm. Don't even ask what I'll do if you do it again after that." She glared at Ron until he looked up at her, imprints of grass pressed into his face, and swore he'd do his best not to do it anymore.
"Thanks a lot, Harry," he grumbled, after she'd finally lay back down.
"Sorry, Ron, I didn't mean to..." Gods, but I have a talent for saying exactly the wrong thing sometimes. Especially when I don't mean to. I could have hit myself.
:Whatever happened to forgiving oneself, Harry?: