CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
[Anyway]
HARRY
The tiny café buzzed with laughter among the tourist and the cottage buildings surrounding it. Dozens of people rushed by the small patio on the crowded, red brick street. The poofy umbrella's centered in glass tables blocked them from the direct heat of the sun. There was a catchy" instrumental music to coming from inside the building that bleeds through the walls and burst to life every time a waiter opened the door. If Harry strained his ears he could almost catch the sound of a saxophone.
In front of him, Draco sipped on his hot chocolate periodically and glancing out at the surrounding mountains and the river gently moving its way downstream next to them. Harry had tried to tell him the choice was going to get him sick in the heat but the blonde didn't care. ("The elves don't make it right at Hogwarts.") Harry had settled for a glass of ice water as he watched the passing pedestrians ride by on scooters.
The silence between them was comfortable. It wasn't like when he was with Ron and Hermione, and don't get him wrong, but they always felt as if they had to be doing something. Draco seemed perfectly content in just taking in the moment. Harry watched him as the other looked off into the distance, his loose, blonde hair blowing across his face gently in the wind. He didn't seem to notice it or Harry's staring. He was caught up in his own mind.
"Comment puis-je vous aider tous les deux aujourd'hui?"
The moment fell apart when Draco looked up at the waiter. He was probably in his early twenties and had his thick black hair into a bun and black and white uniform that matches his tanned skin.
"Reviens?" He responds to Harry's surprise. The French didn't even seem to catch him off guard. The waiter seems delighted that he knew the language.
"À quoi ressembleriez-vous aujourd'hui? Je m'appelle Emelie et je serai votre serveur pour aujourd'hui."
"Je pense que je vais prendre la salade s'il vous plaît, " Draco responds in perfect french. He looks back at Harry. "What would you like?"
"Um. . ." He looks back down at his menu. Most of it was in French but there were pictures to the side to help him choose. He picks one of the sandwiches of the top of the list. The man nods at Harry stiffly but turns back to Draco with a smile.
"Ça va être tout de suite. Vous êtes mignon, n'est-ce pas? Je serai sûr de glisser dans un petit quelque chose de plus."
Draco's face turns a little red when the woman turns away. Harry tilts his head in confusion. "What did he say?"
He takes a big gulp of his drink. "It doesn't matter."
"It looks like it does."
"It does not."
Harry smirked but let the topic slide. "I didn't know you could speak French."
"I'm french."
"What?"
Draco playfully rolls his eyes. "The Malfoys are originally a french family. They only recently migrated to England in recent decades. Why do you think we don't have and 'ancient and most noble' title? We're new, relatively speaking."
"I don't know," Harry shrugged. "Never really thought about it actually. Maybe it's because all of you are snobbish prats."
Draco snorts. "You're not that far off. You should see my mother though when she gets angry. The Black family is downright lunatics."
Harry thought about Bellatrix. Then Sirius. Two entirely different branches of off the rockers. "Pretty much sums it up. Probably the inbreeding."
Draco makes a face. "Don't remind me."
Harry suddenly remembers Draco's confession in the shop. He tries to picture the snobbish, arrogant boy he once knew coming across his father and aunt he'd once admired so much torturing an innocent muggle. Even if he had been an insufferable git, he didn't deserve that.
"You know, Draco…"
The boy stiffens. He can probably already tell where the conversation was leading.
"What you told me in the shop. About your family. You do realize you were a child, right? You have nothing to do with it. Just because your family is bad doesn't mean you are too. Don't carry to guilt for something you didn't do."
Draco scratches his forearm covered in the dress-shirt sleeve before crossing both of them over his chest. It was an oddly insecure action from someone who was usually so poise.
"I suppose."
The short answer made Harry frown a little. Draco was the type of person who peppered up his vocabulary with complicated words to and long sentences whenever he felt nervous.
"You can hardly blame yourself for believing those ideals growing up. You didn't understand. It's a lack of perspective really, I guess. It's hard to break out of that. You did though."
Draco's attention shifts from the river back to Harry. His face is sharp and calculating, just like the way they used to be before everything had happened. It startles him slightly. Draco doesn't seem to notice. "Then what about you then? Your relatives were horrible too and you didn't grow up to be a magic-hating pig."
Harry winces. He guessed he earned it though. They didn't take about their home lives very often. It was a sore spot for both of them. There was mutual taboo on the topic despite what they both knew of one another's.
"Well… like you said. People are different. And the situations. It's like a potion, right? Different people in different situations are going to react differently. Some blowup, others modify themselves to their situation to survive. I was despised, you were doted on."
Draco doesn't respond. He plays with his lip instead. Harry was glad his words seemed to get into Draco somehow. "I wouldn't exactly call it 'doted on'."
Harry looks down at the table, uncomfortable. "Wrong choice of words."
Draco rolls his shoulders. "It's fine. You have a point."
Manipulated was the right word. His uncle had never been one of too many words when it came down to it. There were times he said some vile things and those were the worst moments. He pictured Lucius Malfoy is the same position and cringed. The man was sharp, cruel, and would know all too well how words could affect someone.
In truth, Harry hadn't thought much about Draco's home life. He hadn't wanted to. It hurt too much. His father hadn't even hesitated to hold him under the cruciatus curse that night. It was hard to imagine just how many other times Draco had been subjected to it. When was the first time he was put under it? Five? Four? It was no wonder why Draco held himself with such etiquette. It was probably tortured into him. He could see it from his own experience. It was just like when Harry had stepped a toe out of line at the Dursleys and was punished for it by his uncle's fist. Draco had been too, with unrealistic expectations and with a wand. The thing was while he was expected to fail, Draco was expected to exceed.
Harry looks back out on the mountains again and the community below them buzzing with life. He could feel Draco's stare on him. Harry let him.
"Well, now you can say you have a favorite place."
That catches him off guard.
"What?"
"You said that you haven't been to very many places before. You seem to love it here. I'm not surprised. It really is a sight…"
Harry flushed. Right. That night at the inn. He was impressed Draco even remembered that. It had been late at night. Harry certainly didn't forget as it was one of the only times he'd calmed down so quickly from a nightmare. He hadn't expected Draco to remember it. The memory sort of embarrassed him now.
"Have you ever been to a restaurant?" He didn't say it with malice, ready to taunt him as the old him would have. It was a genuine question lined with regret as he was sure of the answer already.
At Harry's reluctance to answer, Draco nodded. "Well, I'm glad I could change that. Even if the hot chocolate is subpar."
Harry's mood shifted and he looked back up at him with a small crook at the corner of his lips. "You think everything is subpar." He mocks Draco's cheesy, upper-class English accent at the end.
"I have high standards."
"Uh-huh."
The waitress comes back a moment later with their food. Harry can't help but notice the large bowl of chocolate ice cream that comes with that they didn't order. Harry squints at it with suspicion. Draco picks up the note on top. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he tosses the paper aside into the garbage.
"What was that?"
"No idea. The man must have sent crazy. All there was on it was random numbers."
Harry's stomach jolts with realization. He doesn't know why it feels like a punch in the gut. Perhaps it's the fact that a man just hit on Draco. It's selfish, and he's confused about why he does it, but he doesn't bother to explain it to the blonde in front of him. He rather he is in ignorance of it.
"Dunno…"
The situation does open a question though… If Draco did know, what would his reaction be? Harry's stomach went into knots at the thought of Draco being disgusted. He remembers Remus's story on his godfather's internal homophobia because of the Black family. And if Draco was part Black… Merlin, he felt like he was going to be sick.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah. Fine. Free dessert, huh?"
The topic steers from there on to more lighthearted topics such as Quidditch and homework. Harry mentions how he's been promoted to captain and the upcoming game between their two houses. Draco off-handly comments he's been kicked from the team and Harry doesn't know what to make of it.
"Well, now I actually have to try and find the snitch if Ruburt is there… You were an easy shot."
Draco balls up a napkin and throws it at Harry. He catches it with practiced ease centimeters away from his face at Draco's distaste.
They reach Hogwarts just in time for Harry's checkup. It's a good thing as well as the floo trips make him feel nauseated.
Draco takes the potion ingredients to store up in his tower to 'mail off' at the right time. They say quick goodbyes and go their separate ways.
His good mood is ultimately ruined when he sees the crowd of people blocking the entrance to the infirmary. There's shouting as they all cran over McGonagall to get inside. Harry's heart thumps in his chest as he realizes something had happened. He pushes through the crowd urgently with a couple elbows to the side ( it really doesn't help the mark on his chest) to see his Head of Houses' relieved face.
"Mr. Potter! There you are. Where have you been?"
Harry doesn't get the chance to answer before he's pushed inside. The noise difference startles the inhabitants in the room, causing all their necks to snap towards him.
"Harry!" Harry is forced backward a couple steps by the fierceness of Hermione's hug. That was the second time today. What was up with that? Personal space, please. "Thank Merlin you're okay."
"What happened?" Hermione slinks off of him and examines him to make sure he's okay. Ron is behind her doing the same. They both look scared out of their living wits.
Harry sees the answer before they respond. There's a crowd of teachers surrounding a hospital bed and running around the wing finding whatever Madam Pomfrey yells out for. She was hovering over someone, presumably a student, hyper-focused on her patient. Harry looked over Professor Sprout's shoulder and his stomach filled with dread.
Katie Bell was playing there convulsing like a wild animal. White foam was coming out of her mouth and her eyes looked glassy. There were straps of the bed holding her down. She trashed out at the mediwitch a couple times, scratching her cheek, but the woman didn't seem to mind. She was casting spell after spell on the Gryffindor and pushing potions down her throat.
"...Mt. Mungos, I say... Poor girl…"
"What did you say it was...? Madam Rosmerta…. No idea…. Hagrid…"
Harry heard snippets of his teachers whispered conversations. Looking back at his friends, they seem to know exactly what he was thinking. Ron took his arm and pulled him back to the teachers would have more room.
"I have no idea what happened. We were coming back to the castle cause we didn't want to leave you alone when she just started screaming and flying in the air like the Bloody Barron. She was ahead of us on the path. I didn't see anything wrong with her."
Hermione nodded grievously. "She was talking Angelia. She's fine now but she was a mess. Kellah had to take her back to her dorm to calm down. Dumbledore had to call all the students back from Hogsmeade and to report to their Head of Houses. When no one found you… "
"We'd thought Malfoy had gotten hold of you," Ron confesses, causing Hermione to elbow him in the side. "What? You thought the same thing too!"
"Malfoy?" Harry's breath catches in his throat. What did he have to do with anything?
Hermione shifts awkwardly and looks back at Katie. "Are you sure you're alright?"
"Yes, Hermione. I'm fine. What do you mean about Malfoy?"
"We overheard Slughorn talking. He was the only other student not accounted for." Ron explains grimly. "It was him. I know it. I thought maybe he cursed Katie as a distraction-"
"Ron! Katie's situation is serious! She could die!"
Harry's skin feels like a thousand needles are poking at him at once. His brain isn't much better.
"I didn't say it wasn't! It's just suspicious, right? You can't tell me you don't find something odd with that either. The bloke's dad is death eater, he was spotted when Harry got attacked, and he's had it out for Harry every since we were eleven. I'm just saying that maybe he'd been trying to get to him."
"If he wanted to get to Harry he could have done something a lot easier than cursing Katie. We live in the same building for Godric's sake. Surely he would have thought of something else."
"I don't know…"
"I'm fine!" Harry cuts in before the two could start bickering again. "I was just taking a walk by the lake. I didn't hear anyone. I'm sorry I worried you, but I'm perfectly fine. I didn't see Malfoy at all. I don't think he has anything to do with this."
Ron frowns. "You aren't taking Hermione's side on this, are you? There is more than enough proof!"
"There's no proof, Ron. Only theories that you've jumped to."
Ron sputters. "You can't be serious. You hate him."
The photo strip from earlier that day burns uncomfortably in Harry's pocket. No, he doesn't hate Malfoy. Not anymore. He wished he could defend the blonde but he knew that would make the situation worse. They'd think he was Imperio-ed or something.
Draco would have no idea about the student lockdown until he got back to the Slytherin common room. He wouldn't have an excuse like Harry did. He'll no doubt be bombarded with questions and accusations of where he was.
The floo in the corner of the room roars to life as medics start to fly in. They lime-green scrubs tell they're from St. Mungos. Madam Pomfrey moves out of the way to let them deal with the young witch. Despite how confident she seemed, it was obvious the situation was out of her hands. She was just a school nurse after all. One that Harry was still refusing to talk to.
He watched as they move Katie onto a stretcher and into the fireplace. They were gone just as quickly as the came, leaving silence in her wake. The teachers whispered nervously among themselves and started back to their students to update them. Madam Pomfrey went straight over to the three of them to ask them saw. Harry pointedly looked away from her as the re-explained the situation.
Slughorn catches Harry's eye. He realized the excuse they had formed had caved in on itself. Harry had already told them he was at the lake and Slughorn has here most of the time. Still, he gave the man a stiff nod to his surprise. He would have to make the excuse believable when it came around.
"Mr. Potter?" Harry's attention focused itself back on the mediwitch and he narrowed his eyes. She looked exhausted. A part of him felt pity for her. She had just had the life of one of her student's in her hands and that would no doubt haunt her for a while. On the other hand, he was still spiteful for everything she had let happen. "Would you allow me to help you?"
She'd been like this ever since his explosion. Walking on eggshells around him, like he was a scared puppy. Harry had overcome that part of his life. He was stronger than it as he liked to believe. Her reaction to him now just held him back. Hermione and Ron didn't understand why he was so off-the-ends with her. He also thought it was none of their business.
He nods and lets himself be pulled into the hospital bed right next to where Katie had just been fighting for her life. There were a million questions in his head as he stared across at it. Most of them could be summed up with a single word: why?
