Severus noticed that there was a spring in Draco's step recently. When asked, he responded cryptically that he had "talked to Harry."
Harry.
When the devil had he started calling Potter Harry?
Severus noticed that Harry was staring at Draco during dinner, something that filled the blond with delight, which Potter would then notice and appear even more disconcerted. Severus was getting tired of this. Draco was yielding nothing, so he decided to talk to Potter instead.
He had to admit that Potter's grades had improved in the course of the year, though he was technically only privy to his Potions grades. This new bout of maturity seemed to have allowed him to balance his schedule. What's more, with the new Slytherin tactic on keeping low, he no longer had to guard his cauldron at all times, which led to less hostilities and less accidents that bound him to detention.
Potter, admittedly, had a much neater hold on his temper this year too. Severus had ceased baiting him, wary of his political status, but that didn't mean he wasn't watching him for his usual display of disrespect and temper. So, he now had to properly call on him to wait after class, which felt like biting in a lemon. Standing before him, Potter's stance wasn't nearly as hostile as it once was, which either meant his control had reached new bounds or Potter had finally, somehow managed to garner some respect for him. Severus was fairly sure it was the former.
He had his bag thrown over his shoulder, but he sat at one of the front desks as if he didn't want to stand up for too long, which Severus found amusing. He folded his hands and decided that his old intimidation tactics weren't going to work anymore.
"Have you noticed any sort of change in my godson recently?"
Harry blinked, caught off by his abruptness (and probably such a personal reference to Draco as well). "Other than the fact that he's being rather decent, sir?"
He raised his brow. He hadn't realized his ambivalence had extended that far.
"And do you know the reason for this change, Mr. Potter?"
The boy – no, young man – was staring at him now with a suspicion that he had something that Severus wanted. He hadn't known he was that astute either or willing to barter.
"I'm sure Malfoy could tell you the reasons better than I could."
"I'm sure he could as well, but I think I'd like to hear what you think."
"What makes you think Malfoy would talk to me?"
Severus found himself rather stuck, having underestimated him and revealed his hand too soon. He had no comment to refute that and was forced to yield. He wasn't sure that Potter understood the game he had initiated, but he was looking to Severus as if it was his turn and the man was frustrated to reveal himself at a loss.
He picked up a paper and his quill, dipping it in red ink. "That will be all then, Mr. Potter."
Harry rose, surprised that that had been it. He had kept out of trouble for the first part of the year, and he was sure Snape had formulated some secret incident to get him expelled. But the man was just worried about his godson, who it appeared had told him nothing of his sudden conscience. Which was interesting. He wasn't entirely sure what it meant, but he had no doubt that it was indeed interesting.
o.O.o
Draco, because the git always bristled and refused to respond when he called him Malfoy, was actually not that bad. Harry had been dubious, more or less convinced that this wasn't some ridiculous prank. He was still wary by habit, but the boy actually made fond company. Sure, his humor was a tad more sadistic than Harry's, and he had in no way lessened his conceit, but his opinions, loud and mostly unwanted, were… honest to a certain extent. He had no ounce of modesty and was quick to think someone was making a joke of him, which had done more harm than good in his still raw associations with Ron. Harry more often had difficulty taking him seriously.
Before, he had thought Malfoy just a spoiled bully, which he still was, but more and more often, Harry was comparing him to a small child instead. Malfoy's maturity was seen only in rare bouts, like his proficiency at potions, which bested even Hermione. He was still a self-absorbed prat, but Harry noted that he did listen, which was more than he could say of Ron, who had to be told something at least six times before it made it through his skull.
At first, the license that Draco took with them was minimal. A small smile. A wave here and there. Maybe an added comment in class. When they had been paired together in Transfiguration for an assignment, he had eagerly moved his things to Harry's desk before Harry had the time to do more than grumble. It was a weeklong assignment, requiring out of class preparation, and Draco was very considerate in allowing him to work around his quidditch schedule. Again, Harry couldn't help but be reminded of a small child. Children had always been a weakness of his, something Malfoy might or might not have known, though he doubted he was acting that way on purpose.
Eventually, he dared to invite him to the Gryffindor common room to study. They had a potion test coming up, and Harry admitted he could use the help. Surprisingly, Draco was much easier to listen to than Hermione. Maybe it wasn't that surprising though, as Hermione had a penchant for rambling about obscure things that he weren't entirely sure pertained to the topic.
Harry had the foreknowledge to announce Draco's visit beforehand. Many of the anti-Slytherin supporters were in Gryffindor, but Harry had already bluntly told the house that he wouldn't tolerate that type of prejudice around him. A few people, Seamus included, stormed out of the room, unwilling to brace another of Harry's rows. Ron grumbled and immersed himself in a chess game against himself.
It was weird having Draco in Gryffindor Tower but not as weird as he expected. Soon, the tension was forgotten as they both became immersed in their potion texts. About an hour and a half into it, Harry's neck started cramping, and he declared a minor break.
"I didn't realize you were such a ponce," Draco threw at him.
Harry started to stiffen, his first response to anger because he was sure he had worked harder in a day on Privet Drive than Malfoy had worked in his life, but he stopped. Hermione and Ron carefully skirted the issue of Harry's summer life, so he hesitated to respond, regarding Draco narrowly.
The blond gave him a self-satisfied grin, which shocked Harry for a moment because usually people looked nervous when he looked at them like that. People were still hung over his defeat of Voldemort, believing he had some wild, ancient power that could erupt any moment when he got angry. Which was bullocks. Harry's magic was just as average as the next bloke's.
What was incredibly shocking was that Draco was teasing him. Only Sirius had ever teased him. Well, in a manner that wasn't vicious, which he wasn't entirely sure wasn't the case here.
"Says the boy who's hardly worked a day in his life," he drawled, smiling.
Draco made a show of being affronted. "I work."
"On what? Your hair doesn't count."
Draco frowned sullenly. "Potions count as work."
"I'm sure stirring and chopping takes up a lot of effort. It must be such a strain."
Draco gave an indignant huff that seemed to say he didn't think Harry was worth responding to anymore and stood up. Harry struggled to keep his grin in check, mostly because Draco's pride was beyond ridiculous. He reclined back in the seat, rolling his neck. Anyone beyond the range of the couch was glaring at the Slytherin as if he might try to steal something, so he couldn't really wander about. He ventured the area around Ron, who was busily arranging his chess troops. Focused, he didn't notice Draco peering over his shoulder, thankfully at a respectable distance, until he spoke.
"You play?"
Ron jumped, making a wild corkscrew movement as he twisted in his chair. Hermione snorted, then hid her face in her book.
"What the bloody hell?" the redhead yelled.
Draco ignored the screech, his eyes on the board. "I didn't know you played. Are you good?"
Harry watched Ron struggle to be insulted, but the desire to boast outweighed his need to bicker.
"Yeah. A bit."
Draco smirked. "Dare a game?"
Ron's eyes brightened heatedly. His grin answered the challenge. No one in Gryffindor could beat him at chess. It was one of the few things he prided himself in. There was no way he would pass up a chance to completely humiliate Malfoy.
"You think you're up for it," he sneered back.
Harry and Hermione both were much too amused by this new dimension of the two to interfere in what could possibly be a fatal competition. Malfoy seated himself across from him, making a show of crossing his legs.
"You first then?"
o.O.o
"I swear I almost had him! That little git plays dirty! I just know it!"
"How can you play dirty in chess?" Ginny asked.
Ron ignored her, continuing his rant at the top of the stairs. "I'll get his scrawny arse! There's no way he can beat me again! I'm going to wipe that bloody grin right off his bloody face!"
Harry smiled. The game had been interesting. He had suspected the Draco knew how to play just from the way he challenged Ron, but he hadn't expected the two to be so evenly matched. They had gotten no more studying done as the two had sat across from each other for close to three hours, concentrating solely on the board. Ron had grudgingly admitted that Malfoy was a fair hand, and though he was still raving about the loss, Harry could see the hint of admiration in his gaze. Harry didn't know if he realized that he had invited Draco back to the common room for another game. The swearing and finger pointing hadn't exactly been amicable, but another rendezvous had certainly been the point.
Harry was rather impressed that Draco hadn't made a big deal of the win. Of course, there was a smug, bloated air about him when he declared checkmate and reclined back in his seat like the king of the world, but he openly admitted that Ron was extremely talented, turning the compliment into self-praise at the same time. He looked eager to play again.
Having Draco around was turning into quite an entertaining affair.