A/n: Yeeeej! So many reviews! More than I expected :D Grrrrrrreat! *lick my lips*
Chapter 16
Hogwarts
"You went through my things." Draco accused at last when Harry kept quiet.
To this the raven had no answer. He was guilty as charged. He had let his curiosity wander where he knew he wasn't allowed. But he didn't care. He was angry at Draco for being so mean and unreasonable, and above all for making him feel like he felt: at the edge, pushed into a corner.
There was a tense moment during which Harry seemed to hesitate about what to do or what to say, until he felt he could no longer put up with Draco's selfishness, pushiness, and many other tiring traits. The raven sighed heavily -it sounded more loudly under the covers than he'd expected- and lay back down, turning his back to his neighbour, deciding upon ignoring him and going back to sleep.
Unfortunately his curiosity for the words he had read in the notebook had made him more awake than before. But however much he wanted to know, he wasn't sure Draco would ever tell him, even if he agreed to his demands. He thought he might just give up now, instead of being disappointed later. He could not count upon Draco. Draco was not his friend, he reminded himself.
As grey-eyes watched the younger boy's weary expression (Draco's eyesight was much better than Harry's and he could discern much more in the dark space than Harry thought), and saw how he turned away and buried his head in his pillow, a feeling snuck up into his stomach. It was an unsettling feeling, for he had not yet experienced it before: he became aware that he might have gone one step too far.
Never had the white-haired, proud Malfoy thought much of how his actions and words affected others, despite the many warnings and lectures his mother had bestowed upon him. Still, he wasn't fully aware of it, had not yet realized it completely, but at least he felt it instinctively, a regret at what he had said.
It was because Harry had completely shut himself off. He had not gotten angry, or spoken his strange expressive language, or become shy and still; he had cut off all communication. That was a sign to Draco, which he could not have understood from anyone but the black-feathered one, a sign that Harry was no longer interested in him, no longer moving towards him, but rather away from him.
For anyone else, Draco would not have cared. Well, except for his mother of course, and maybe Severa if she had ever shown any emotion to begin with. But with Harry especially, it displeased him. He wanted to keep being admired as he had been a few hours before. His notebook having been looked through was not nearly as bad as he had pretended it to be, though he only saw it now. It had been a sign of interest in him, in his thoughts, in who he was. He wanted to keep things that way. But how?
Harry was lying still, maybe already asleep, and Draco was still sitting in the small hot space, holding up the sheets. He looked at his schoolmate, wondering how to get him to speak again.
It took him longer than any other child to finally come to the conclusion that he might try to concede, and give Harry what he had wanted. It was not something usual for him, and therefore it had not immediately occurred to him.
Grey-eyes cleared his throat. "Fine. I'll tell you about Hogwarts." He grumbled, grinding his teeth.
Green-eyes, who had naturally not been able to really fall asleep with Draco right behind him, feeling his eyes on him, turned around again, propping himself up on his elbows. "And Slytherin?"
"Yes." Draco sighed reluctantly.
"And Ravenclaw?"
"Yes."
"And Gryffindor?"
"Will you listen or not?" Grey-eyes snapped.
He had spoken so loudly that both boys held their breaths for a minute, listening for any sign they had woken Mrs. Malfoy.
"I'm listening." Harry said when the coast was clear. He settled back onto his pillow, ready to open his mind for the new exciting information he had not expected to have the privilege to know.
Feeling that his arms were growing tired of holding up the sheets, the blonde boy settled onto his back himself, propping up an extra cushion to hold up the covers, so that only their heads were still free of it.
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." He announced the full name in a proud whisper. "It's a school for witches and wizards; the best in all of England." Harry could not see the sparkle of life in Draco's eyes as he spoke, but he clearly heard it in his voice. It ignited his own imagination, his delight at fantasy. He immediately began picturing it in his mind as grey-eyes continued. "It's more than a thousand years old; a grand stone castle surrounded by mountains, forests, and a lake. It was founded by four witches and wizards, and they each gave their name to the houses that make up the current student body: Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. There is lots of competition between the houses, but the Slytherins are obviously the best. I'm a Slytherin. We belong to the oldest wizarding families!"
"What are the other houses like?" Harry asked, eagerly joining Draco in his own world, one he'd created during long idle hours.
"The Ravenclaws give priority to their studies, to knowledge. They're the ones more likely to be working in the library during the holidays…you know, like your know-it-all Granger friend."
It did not please Harry to hear the tone with which Draco spoke of Hermione. She certainly deserved much more respect. But as they were now talking of Hogwarts, and it did not feel like Draco had said anything bad on purpose, he let it pass. Besides, he was rather right. It was very much like Hermione, and it surprised him that Draco knew her well enough to know that. To his knowledge, they had only spoken when hostilities were opened in the middle of the school hallways. Those grey eyes were more observant than anyone ever expected.
"Hufflepuff is for the loyal ones. They don't have many more merits than that. They're more like your stupid friend, the red one." He referred to Ron. Again, the same feelings Harry had had about Hermione applied to his male best friend, but he kept listening quietly.
"And Gryffindor is for the stupidest ones. They're all gold and shiny, and like to show they can do it all, but they're always beaten by the Slytherins who are much cleverer. But I'll admit they have a kind of wild and careless bravery. You would be in Gryffindor."
"Me?" Green-eyes breathed, feeling his heart swell and forgetting he was among the 'stupidest' ones. He had delighted to enjoy viewing his schoolmate's world, but had not at all expected to be included, to be allowed to step into it. It brought him a whole new sense of joy and pride. Suddenly he felt even warmer under the quilt than he had before. He was sure his cheeks were flaming.
"There is a House Cup every year," Draco continued, hearing Harry's question, but instinctively ignoring it, feeling he should not like to answer it honestly. "given to the house who has gotten the most points. The points are given by the teachers during the year, for good answers and participation in class and such. They can also be deducted as punishment."
"Who has won it last year?" Harry wondered.
"Slytherin, of course." Draco huffed.
"And before?"
"Slytherin."
"…"
"…"
"Slytherin can't always win!" The younger one complained.
"Of course they can. I told you they're obviously superior."
"Then Gryffindor would win all the other cups!"
"There are no other cups." Draco said matter-of-factly.
"Of course there are." Harry smiled, mistakenly thinking his neighbour could not see.
"Really?" The older one challenged. "Tell me which, then?"
It took a moment, but it was not all that hard for Harry, after having found a way to put his emotions into unknown words before, to invent one on the spot.
"Uh…the…the Quidditch Cup!" He exclaimed loudly and proudly at last.
Again, both boys waited anxiously for a sign they had made too much noise, and woken she-who-must-not-be-woken.
The white-haired boy was not pleased. He had had to try and try again, and cross out so many attempts in his notebook before he had come up with just the names of the houses. While it seemed to simply flow from Harry's mind, effortlessly. But it was not over yet. He had invented an entire school. Could Harry use his imagination in the same way?
It turned out he could. Harry had no trouble at all making up things, inventing worlds. Many hours of boredom had been filled in this manner. It was not long before he had told Malfoy of the popular wizarding sport played on brooms, and Malfoy, losing some of his resentment in his excitement, engaged himself into inventing rules for the game with Harry.
All night long they had hidden under the hot covers of the guest-room bed, having to come up for air from time to time, building onto what Draco had already moulded, adding details here, and entirely new sections there.
It had been a while before Draco had finally remembered he had asked a question too. And soon after, Harry had told Draco of the wise magician of his book, the book he had read the night before his life changed and which he had hugged at night, which now hugged the pictures of his parents and himself, under his floorboard. It was him, Dumbledore, who he admired most of all characters, who had died in the story, but who continued to live perpetually in his mind.
Hearing Dumbledore's description from Harry, Draco had agreed that he was without a doubt the best headmaster that Hogwarts could ever have. And this first name, first teacher had made them add many more names to the total. Draco choosing to name his head of house 'Snape' (Harry had rolled his eyes at that point, and had finally realized that Draco could actually see him under the sheets when he'd gotten a fist in his shoulder), and Harry, inspiring the character somewhat from Hermione, had decided upon the name of McGonagall, a severe but brilliant and righteous head for the proud Gryffindors. Harry had made her more than a worthy opponent for Draco's Professor Snape.
Debates followed of who were the best professors, the best quidditch players and such. There was no stopping the two…friends?...from keeping it up all night long, as was plainly visible to Narcissa at breakfast.
Finally, she thought, seeing what she had expected to see quite a bit sooner. Her heart was lifted, to see her son, if not yet very friendly, at least more accepting and engaging with their little black-haired neighbour. And it looked to her, though she was not sure it was a good sign, that Harry was much forgiving of Draco's somewhat meaner words and reproaches he uttered from time to time. Would this be an advantage or disadvantage to a growing friendly relationship?
For instance, Narcissa had prepared hot chocolate for them, and the younger one had burned his tongue in his haste to taste something he hadn't had in such a long time. The older one had rebuked him for it. Narcissa had not understood the word Harry had said then, assuming she had not heard correctly, but he had looked quite sorry, maybe even submitting.
The young mother decided to shake those continual worries away, telling herself they were both just tired and that it caused a lessening of spirits in Harry; nothing a good long nap couldn't cure. And so the boys were once more sent to their rooms, though this time Narcissa made sure Draco stayed in his own bed, and they didn't come out again before lunch.
The rest of the day was spent in much of the same conversation between green-eyes and grey-eyes. They built upon the world of Hogwarts, inventing a ministry of magic, but not getting very far upon that point. Quidditch was soon taken up again, it was much more interesting. Both Draco and Harry found themselves wishing to be seekers, the ones who chased the tiny golden ball with the fluttering wings.
It was a wonderful time for the raven. He felt truly accepted by his school senior for the first time since he'd seen him arguing with his mother in the street, and bumping into him at the park swings. But he did not live with the Malfoys, he was not a Malfoy. Even though he wasn't a Durlsey, he had to return to them some time.
Still, he tried to put it off until the last minute, and when Narcissa found it was time to bring him back, for it was a school day the next day, Harry asked her to bring her to Hagrid's address. The raven longed to see Hedwig one last time before school started again. It would give him something to hope for, seeing how well she was doing. Maybe he would even see Hermione there? They had visited together two times, after studying in the library.
Mrs. Malfoy was hesitant at first, for he said he would walk home from Hagrid's. She hoped he would be able to make it before dark. She deemed his coat too thin for the wintry frosts of England, but he was so adamant, and she had been the one encouraging him to speak his mind, utter his wishes.
Draco stayed home, cherishing all the additions made to his Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, while Harry was dropped off, and knocked on Hagrid's door.
"Ah Harry!" Hagrid exclaimed in delight as he saw the little head of black hair at his waist. Fang, his dog was out in a second, covering Harry's face in his saliva. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but it felt more like home than anything he'd experienced at the Dursleys, or even the Malfoys. It was so easy to speak with Hagrid.
"Yer missed Hermione!" Hagrid beamed. "Jus' here an hour ago. Such a good girl. Yer lucky to have 'er as a friend, Harry, I can tell yer."
Harry smiled warmly, in a good mood from his pleasant night with Draco. But he longed to see her now.
Hedwig. His heart swelled each time he approached the little makeshift nest Hagrid had made for her.
