Draco couldn't decide which part was worst, the part where he was forced to attend the welcoming ceremony dinner and sit with a room full of people wanting to kill him, or the part where Mcgonagall pulled him aside to talk about the ghosts. He decided the room of people who hated him was actually more comforting than that conversation had been. She kept it short and to the point, but he would have rather she not acknowledge it at all then tell him she would keep him safe.
When he arrived, the sorting hat had just finished, what he could only assume, was another ridiculous song and Mcgonagall was calling out names of the first years. He had planned it out carefully the night before so that he would enter during the sorting to avoid as much unwanted attention as possible. He slipped in and sat on the very far end of the Gryffindor table, causing a few older students to shift down in their seats to get away from him. It wasn't as though he wanted to sit there either, but that end of the table was the closest to the door. Just in case he needed to escape for any reason. Any reason, like the scowls he was getting from every single student who noticed his presence. He started spooning mashed potatoes into his plate, careful not to make too much noise, but it was to late. As soon as one person spotted him, they whispered to their neighbor and so on and so forth. By the time Draco had actually started eating, half the hall had heard of his arrival and most of the student body had taken at least one moment to glower at him before getting back to their food. There were some special cases, ones who's anger could not be stilled buy a single glance. They continued on, muttering what Draco could only hope was non-magical curses.
Perhaps not everyone was sending their hatred his way. Potter greeted him with a faint nod, and Neville mirrored his movement as well. Draco was a little more than startled at Neville's greeting, but decided to put it up to Gryffindors and their usual 'honorable friendship code' nonsense. Being the only place in the room he could rest his gaze without assault, he watched the two of them interact for a moment, before realizing that something was missing. Where were his usual companions?
Curiously enough, they were sitting nearly half the table away from Harry, leaving the savior to sit with that Neville and Seamus. Unfortunately, Draco caught their eye and was forced to duel the Weasel in a battle of glares. Draco narrowed his eyes at the red head, and ended it with a well placed smirk. He celebrated by himself and enjoyed his one small victory of the evening. His cheerfulness didn't last long, however, because he noticed something even more alarming. They were glaring at Potter now, Weasley's lips curled in distaste while the two muttered between one another. Granger seemed less irate than her counterpart, yet she still looked at Harry with odd amount of distain.
He didn't think it was possible, but clearly the golden trio had broken up sometime over the past year. They looked utterly disgusted by Harry, as if his mere presence in the room was reason enough to burn the castle to the ground. Draco wasn't even aware that the two of them possessed the amount of deep seeded hatred needed to look at a person like that. Hadn't they always been the happier two out of the group? Something about the whole situation rubbed Draco the wrong way,and he left his food long since forgotten for the drama of his ex-enemies.
The last time he had seen the three of them victory had been theirs. They were grieving but happy enough to be cracking jokes about taking a holiday and something about camping had been hilarious to the three of them at the time. Now, it had become clear that something had gone horribly wrong somewhere down the road. This should have been cause for alarm for any usual friends outside of the trio, and Draco did notice how Longbottom seemed to overcompensating for the gap. He was definitely pushing into Potter's space too desperately, if the exasperated look Potter kept making when he looked away said anything.
But most importantly, Potter looked completely unfazed by his ex-best friend's attitude. Draco had observed a lot of arguments between the three of them over the years, particularly some rather explosive ones between Weasley and Potter, but every time they fought Potter always expressed great pain at the damage done to their friendship. He moped, sulked, and grew unbearably depressing.
But now, he was acting as if they didn't exist, or worse, that their hatred was beneath his interest. He looked bored with his food and unamused by Seamus's attempt at conversation. The effect was rather was unnerving. Especially when Longbottom said something, apparently highly amusing to most of the Gryffindor's around him, and Potter hardly managed to crack a smile. In fact, Draco could not remember hearing him speak since he sat down.
However, in the absence of the group's usual chatter,other's had started to pick up the slack. Their main topic? Draco himself.
"What's Malfoy doing here?"
"Why isn't he in Azkaban, where he belongs?"
"I can't believe he's actually sitting at this table. Does he think he's one of us because he didn't get in trouble like the rest of his Death Eater family?" a red-headed girl said; someone Draco vaguely remembered being latched onto Potter during their last year together.
"He didn't even do any good during the war," Seamus spoke up, louder than the rest, "it's his mum who actually saved Harry here. The twit wasn't even good at being a Death Eater, why would he think he could be good at anything else?"
The older students laughed, sending mocking glances his way before starting in on a list of his failures. Their voices got louder and louder, until other tables were joining in to mock him.
Draco's hand had starting to shake, so he carefully placed down his fork and stared down at his food. He had heard enough. He had trouble enough just sitting there, never mind being forced to stomach so much verbal hate. Especially from people who didn't even know him, who had no idea what he had been forced to watch, to hear, to do...
Draco shuddered and looked back down the table, carefully schooling his expression into his usual mask of cold contempt. His eyes found Potter once more and he found himself watching his limited interactions with Longbottom again, if only to avoid the leering crowd around him.
It wasn't until those green eyes caught his own did he realize he had been staring at Potter for quite some time, and had somehow managed to tune out most of the angry threats to his person. They stared at each other for another long moment, before Potter gave him another sort of nod. It took Draco a second to realize he was jerking his head towards the door in some sort of message. He wanted Draco to leave? To leave with him?
Draco considered the unasked question, trying to figure out what the boy wanted. Perhaps he wanted to comment more on his name change? Or maybe he was going to drag him away somewhere and torture him the Crutcio curse. That seemed to be on everyone's mind tonight, and Draco hadn't even looked at the Slytherin table yet.
He decided to take a chance with the lesser of two evils. Or, comparatively, the a single wand verses a Great Hall full of wands. So he waited while Harry excused himself and left the hall, drawing a great deal more attention to himself than Draco was hoping for. First years craned their heads to see him, and the older students weren't holding anything back in their adoration for the hero. Everyone seemed to want to catch sight of their 'savior' as he left. So Draco used the lull in glare activity to sneak down past the rest of the Gryffindors and out the door at the other end of the hall. The silence was welcome, and he felt himself relax ever so slightly. It was good to be rid of the noise and hatred; now he only had deal with Potter and his mysterious head nods.
By the time he he made his way through the halls to the other entrance the hall was empty. He scowled and looked around until a soft cough from one of the shadows that alerted him of Potter's presence.
"Did you need something?" Draco asked, trying to sound bored rather than curious.
"Now that the semester's started, there's something I need to show you."
"What does this something entail?" Draco arched and eyebrow and glanced back at the hall. The last thing he needed were people finding him with their favorite hero. They would undoubtably assume the worst, and they might assume correctly.
"It's a place I think you might need, if those death threats they were muttering were anything to go by," Harry replied lightly, starting off in the direction of the library. Draco rushed to catch up, furrowing his brow.
"Worry about yourself, Potter. I saw where your so-called friends were sitting."
Harry froze and turned around slowly. "You noticed, huh?" he asked shaking his head, "of course you did... look, I don't want to talk about it where anyone can come out of the hall and hear. So let me show you the place, and I'll tell you whatever you want."
Draco studied him for a long moment, weighing his options. One, go back to the hall and possibly get stabbed to death by a fork, or two, go with Potter and probably be left to die somewhere where they would never find his body.
With a shrug, he chose to chance death by the hands of the wizard world's hero. Public execution just weren't his style.
"This is what you wanted to show me, Potter?"
"I know it doesn't look like much, but it's probably the last secluded spot left in the castle," Harry replied, a hint of pride in his voice.
"I do hope you plan to kill me sooner than later," Draco muttered, unable to take his eyes off the rusted metal all around them, "I would prefer a quick death over suffering one of the many diseases that are lingering here."
"Could you be optimistic about something for two seconds, or will it kill you?"
"If it kills me faster than—"
"I get it!" Harry snapped, throwing his arms up in frustration before throwing himself down on the pile of blankets. "I'll clean some more of it up tomorrow. I won't have time once classes are in full swing."
Draco hovered, not yet willing to approach the slightly cleaner looking area, if only to avoid being closer to Potter. But Harry was giving him that look that implied he was being stupid, which only served to infuriate him more.
"What exactly were you hoping to achieve with this place?" He asked, finally moving to sit down on the chair. He tucked his body in close and cast one most grimace at the area around him. "If you truly wanted to kill me, may I suggest a a few better... cleaner solutions?"
"I wanted to offer this place to, I don't know, get away from it all. That's kind of what I've been using for. Also, I don't know where you got this idea that I'm planning to murder you, but i'm not ,so you can stop."
Draco arched a disbelieving eyebrow at him and crossed his arms over his chest. The messaged must have been clear enough, because the boy followed the movement and cringed at the memory of his attack.
"I promise I'm not going to kill you," Harry said earnestly, "unless you keep complaining, than i'm not sure I can stop myself."
"Nice to see your self control hasn't improved any, Potter."
"Nice to see you haven't grown a sense of humor yet."
"Excuse me?" Draco gasped in contempt, "my humor is golden, you are simply too plebeian to understand it."
"If Crabbe and Goyle laughed at your jokes, i'm pretty sure only the peasants get them."
Draco stiffened at the mention of Crabbe, and did his best to school his expression. It was the first time his friend had been brought up around Draco in a long while. His mother had avoided speaking about any of his old friends as much as possible, and he hadn't exactly spoken to anyone other than Potter since his return. He was almost glad Goyle hadn't been able to return with him after their trials. Even if it meant he was alone, Goyle would not have handled the ghost situation half as well as Draco had. Not to mention his new found hatred for Draco after Crabbe's death.
As if sensing his discomfort, Harry leaned back into some pillows and started talking about the upcoming year.
"Do you think we can still play Quiddich?"
"I doubt it, we don't exactly have a house anymore," Draco answered, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Besides, no one would want to play with me, anyway."
"I wouldn't mind playing against you again."
Draco scowled at him, pushing down the temptation to shove Harry off the elevated walk way, just to hear him squawk. "None of our games were memorable, I can't understand why you would be eager to relive them."
"Not memorable?!" Harry hissed, sitting up suddenly, " they were brilliant! Half the time we got hurt, it was always a close call between who won and lost, and out of all the houses, you were the best Seeker I ever played against. You made it worth it."
For some reason, a blush was forming across his face, which only made Draco's scowl deepen.
"Either way, I no longer have a broom."
"Why's that?"
"I'm not allowed certain things... or I wasn't for a while, anyway." Draco paused and tried to remember if they said he could have his broom back. "I couldn't use my wand for a few months after the trail, as you know since you sent it back just as the ban was lifted. But I was banned from all magic, including broom sticks."
"That's barmy! What harm could you possibly cause with a broomstick?"
"I could run away," Draco answered dryly.
"Oh... right." Harry looked up at the window, avoiding Draco's gaze.
Why was he here again? To avoid the great hall and all its masses that loathed him? It wasn't exactly the best trade off, considering his current company and the familiar feeling of annoyance that had creeped up on him again as they spoke.
Draco swallowed a lump that formed in his throat and stared pointlessly at a little tea tray Harry had tucked away on the far end of the hideaway. Maybe he was finally losing his mind, to be spending time with Potter voluntarily instead of simply hiding away in the dormitory. But it didn't feel as bad as he expected it to, not nearly as exhausting as their old arguments used to be.
He had heard Potter creep into the dormitory last night, but decided it was better to fake sleep, and avoid any further conversation. Yet, here he was talking to him again, as though Potter never attacked him, or that things had somehow miraculously changed between them. It was nearly, just nearly, comfortable.
Still, he was testing his patience, and Draco knew he would be better off leaving sooner, before he got fed up and attacked Potter for real.
"I should go, I need to get my things ready for classes tomorrow."
"All you have to do is pack your books up in the morning."
"That's all you need to do, other's actually enjoy that thing called 'organization'."
"Fine, whatever," Harry muttered, standing and stretching his hands towards the beams up above them. "I should go say hello to everyone in the new dorm anyway, since no one was there last night."
"Won't you be surrounded by your usual pack of followers? Why do you need to socialize with the other house members?"
"For reasons I doubt you would ever understand. Making friends is something normal people do, Draco."
"Making friends... Making friends," Draco tapped his lip as if deep in thought. "Don't you have issues with that, like how your best friends seem to hate you suddenly?"
Harry visibly flinched and Draco turned his face away to hide his small grin of victory. It might be cruel, but Potter had opened up his wounds first. Besides, didn't he say he was going to talk about it?
"Oh yeah, that," Harry muttered, still standing but apparently not ready to leave just yet. Draco stood as a sign that he was ready to go, and scowled when Potter spoke up again.
"Look, some things that happened the summer before sort of made a crack in our friendship," Harry said in a flat voice, "I don't suggest sharing a tent with your friends while you're on the run, things tend to be said that can't be unsaid."
"Considering I no longer have friends and the Dark Lord is no more, i'm rather sure I won't have the chance to turn down such an adventure."
"Why..." he asked softly, his expression growing pained. He shook his head a little and continued on, "Whatever. The thing is... things happened this summer that drove the wedge in deeper."
"Things?"
"Personal things."
"Your explanatory skills have not improved either, Potter."
"I sort of... broke it off with Ginny early on in the summer," Harry revealed at last, looking awkward, "I mean, she and I were going to try again, but It just felt forced to me. Apparently, though, not so much for her. So it was a big ordeal, and I had a lot of angry red-heads breathing down the back of my neck. So I left the Burrow because, honestly, it was like the war all over again, only with more passive aggressive comments and undercooked food."
Draco snorted and gave him a small smirk. "You ran away?"
Harry bristled at this and turned to walk away. "Would you stay there? It's not like I deliberately led her on or anything, but they were acting as though I purposely hurt her. Then, one day Ron starts screaming at me about Fred and I..."
He stopped so abruptly that Draco ran right into him, nearly sending them both toppling down the ladder.
"Don't just—" Draco snapped, reaching out for the railing for support. He just remembered the numerous diseases in time to snatch his hand back. Unfortunately, this meant he toppled into Potter and was forced to be man-handled to keep them both standing.
"Merlin, you're... actually kind of light," Harry muttered, not bothering to hide his surprise.
Draco couldn't focus on his words, not when his arms were screaming from Potter's firm grip. He let out a gasp of pain and tried to pull away quickly, but Potter seemed determined to hold on, which only served to hurt him more.
"L-let go! Let go of me!"
"What is your problem lately?" Harry asked, looking down at Draco's arms. A frown formed, and he shifted his grip to Draco's wrist. "What's wrong with your arms?"
"Nothing, you ignoramus! Let me go!"
Harry's frowned deepened, and he let go of the other arm to pull up Draco's sleeve roughly. Draco hissed as the cool air touched the skin of his arm, trying more desperately to pull away from Potter.
"What... Draco, what is this?"
Draco looked away, unable to stomach the sight of it. "It's a burn. As you might remember, there was a fire..."
"You got burnt? Why isn't it healed?" Harry asked in a hushed tone. " and It still hurts?"
"Yes, Potter, I got burnt," Draco snapped, turning back to glare at the idiot, "I don't know why it won't heal, and yes it still bloody hurts so if you could stop digging your damned fingers into it, i'm sure I would feel much better!"
Harry let go immediately and tucked his hands under his arms, his face a mask of guilt.
"I'm sorry... I didn't know you were in pain. I..."
Draco let out a sigh and pulled his shirt sleeve down around the aching arm carefully. The constant contact of the fabric didn't help with the pain, but it did help keep up his already damaged pride.
"You couldn't have known, and I honestly didn't want you to."
"I—i'm sorry."
"Repeating it doesn't improve on the situation," Draco said, flashing a sardonic smile at him, "as I said, you didn't know."
"What happened, though? I mean, I pulled you out..."
Draco's smile fell away immediately and he had to force himself not to back away. After all, hadn't he just berated Potter for running away?
"It's not your average flame, Fiendfire." He paused and found a point near Potter's elbow to direct his gaze to. "I'm sure you would understand cursed scars better than anyone, Potter. This," he held up his arms and met Potter's eyes, "will pain me forever."
The silence that fell after he spoke was heavy and awkward. As Harry's mind seemed to catch up, a look of pity flashed across his face, sending a cold shiver of loathing through Draco's body. He hadn't felt such a strong hatred for Potter since...
Well, not since before the war. Not since the bastard attacked him in the boy's bathroom.
Draco sneered and took a step forward, unable to hide his contempt. "Don't you dare pity me. I am not to be pitied by anyone, especially not you."
Harry opened his mouth, undoubtedly intending to apologize, but Draco cut him off.
"Move. I wish to be in my bed before the rest of your pals can assault me in the common room."
"Draco, no one's going to—"
"Move."
Potter looked torn between arguing, and apologizing again. Luckily for the both of them, he decided to step to the left and let Draco past. With another glare, he slipped by to climb down the ladder without a single complaint for the rust.
He left the library silently fuming and instantly ran into a group of younger students. Several of them squeaked in fear and ducked to avoid him. He snapped something pointless and nasty at them and continued down the corridor in an increasingly fouler mood.
He should have known. Potter had been a blinkered git before, and nothing had changed. The next time the bastard offered him something, Draco would take the public execution over humiliation.
