To Tell a Tale
Malfoy grinned, sticking out his right hand and saying proudly – though not arrogantly – "Hello there. My name's Draco Malfoy. You are?"
Harry, not having meant it quite so literally, smiled back, a fond gleam in his emerald eyes. "My name is Harry. Harry Potter. Pleased to meet you – may I call you Draco?"
"Only if I can call you Harry." A soft smirk applied itself to the pale boy's handsome face.
"Deal." And they shook hands, finally friends.
-0-
Walking down to potions companionably, the boys talked and playfully shoved each other when bad puns were made, until they came to the thick wooden door that led to Professor Snape's classroom. A line of mingled Slytherins and Gryffindors trailed through the dungeons, meandering towards their respective favourite and least favourite lesson.
"Oi! Malfoy. Cosying up to Potter eh? Does poor little baby Dray need protecting from big bad Lucius?" A group of slytherins laughed, jeering, apparently not having learnt their lesson from lunch.
Before Draco could even think to protest, which he wouldn't have done anyway – everyone saw, - Harry had pushed him behind himself and had his wand pointed towards the group. Theodore Nott, the new apparent 'slytherin prince' paled, before drawing his own.
Luckily for him, as Harry was so furious he could have Incendio'd him, Severus Snape chose that moment to open the door to the potions lab.
"What in Merlin's name is going on here?" The dark, slender man barked. Scanning the scene before him, and noticing Harry's protective stance, he glared. "Who, might I ask, is trying to maim my Godson?" His glare was now directly focussed on Nott, who had the audacity to smirk back.
"Me, Professor. Malfoy isn't worthy of the slytherin name; I was just putting him in his place. Especially as he's chosen to cosy up to our star Gryffindor. "
Snape, unamused, narrowed his eyes. He had of course known about Harry and Draco's newly formed friendship from the night before, but he'd thought that – just maybe – his Slytherins would have been accepting enough. He had clearly thought wrong. "Detention, Mr. Nott. Filch's office this evening. I will personally make sure that you have the job of scrubbing Myrtle's toilets with your very own toothbrush."
Nott spluttered but, finally taking in the seriousness on his Head of House's face, backed down.
-0-
The walk to the abandoned classroom they'd found was solemn. They'd agreed that was where they would go on their mutual free periods, just to talk and strengthen their new-found friendship. Once inside, the door firmly shut and locked behind them, Draco crumbled into a heap on the stone floor, wrapping his arms tightly around himself protectively, silent tears trickling down his – somewhat paler that usual – face.
"Hey. It's okay Draco, they'll get what's coming to them, just you see," Harry assured, sitting down beside the boy and slinging an arm over his shoulder. "Snape sorted it, right? And if they try anything else, I'll personally have their heads."
The alabaster boy nodded, not really feeling that reassured. Instead, he curled himself into the darker boy's side, biting his lip.
"What's up? I can tell there's something you're not saying."
Malfoy groaned. Was he really that easily read? Merlin, if his father knew…
A choked sob forced its way out of his mouth and starting off a new spew of tears. "I-i… I want to talk to Uncle Sev. He always makes it better, even when he has no idea what's going on."
Harry smiled at the use of the familial nick-name, absently reaching his hand up to rub soothing circles on Draco's back. "I think that'd be a good idea. Want me to come with you?"
"Yes, please. If I'm not being too much trouble?" Malfoy looked up, silvery eyes locking onto bright green ones, where he saw a fierce emotion that he couldn't name. He did know that it wasn't a bad one directed at him though; the quirk of Harry's lips gave that much away.
"Of course you're not. We're friends, right? I'd be happy to." Harry smiled at the boy properly now, pearly whites showing and all. "I'm honoured that you would trust me enough, to be honest with you."
Draco blushed, looking away. Of course he trusted him – he always had, just not for things like this, he guessed. "Thank you."
Harry motioned for the other boy to stand up, as his legs were starting to cramp up, which Draco did without fuss. Both boys standing, they walked towards the abandoned desk where they plonked themselves, Draco telling Harry the whole story from when his father first started abusing him when he was six, up until this moment in time, preparing Harry for what was to be said when they approached Severus.
Harry's fists were clenched the whole time, him unconsciously occluding his own memories of abuse so as not to break down and make it about him. This was Draco. He deserved help. Harry didn't – or so he thought.