Chapter Text
The train ride felt deeply unsettling. In the past, Harry had always been happy to return to Hogwarts. Each time he stepped onto the train from Platform 9 ¾, he felt excitement, relief, and joy. But, now, his body wasn’t buzzing with the usual happiness. Happiness just didn’t feel possible. It all felt too soon. Staring out the window now, Harry felt apprehension, unease, and sadness. It had been four months since the Battle of Hogwarts and Harry still hadn’t fully recovered. The exhaustion that had permeated his skin and settled in his bones still lingered.
Hermione and Ron sat across from him, playfully arguing about something. Ginny was at Harry’s side, holding his hand and trying to get his attention. Neville was also in their train car, reading an herbology book, and Luna was there doodling in a journal.
“Harry, pay attention,” Ginny chided. Harry tore his eyes away from the passing countryside and met Ginny’s frustrated gaze. “I’m trying to talk to you about quidditch. I’m the sole team captain this year and I need help strategizing.”
“Sorry, Gin,” Harry muttered. “Keep going. I’m listening.”
Harry promptly zoned out. He nodded and hummed when it felt appropriate, but he didn’t actually say anything substantive, nor did he really retain any of what Ginny said. Quidditch just felt so trivial. Harry and a handful of other classmates his year had returned for 8th year: Hermione, Ron, Dean, Seamus, Neville, Anthony Goldstein, Hannah Abbott, Fay Dunbar, Susan Bones, Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Ernie Macmillan, and Justin Finch-Fletchley. They had all decided to finish their Hogwarts education and take their NEWTs before entering the workforce. The remainder of their class, on the other hand, had decided to begin working without having finished their coursework or taken their NEWTs.
Because the focus of his 8th year was finishing his education, Harry had decided not to continue with quidditch. He told everyone that he didn’t want to remain on the team because he wanted to put all of his energy into studying. But, truthfully, he just didn’t see the point of quidditch anymore. Harry didn’t find it nearly as fun as he used to. None of the other 8th years were continuing with quidditch either, though their reasons seemed different. Dean and Blaise wanted to focus on partying, Ron wanted to focus on his relationship with Hermione, and Susan Bones really did want to focus on her studies.
During that train ride, Harry tried to convince himself that he should make the most of this year. He should do well in his classes, spend time with his friends, continue advancing his relationship with Ginny, avoid thinking about all that had been lost in the war and the toll it had taken on him, and just try to have as much fun as possible. It was a lot easier said than done, but Harry would try. He had to. He had no other choice.
Eventually, Hermione roped Harry into a conversation about their coursework. They discussed it all the way up to the castle. The entire time, Ginny held Harry’s hand.
The Welcoming Feast managed to be fun. Harry smiled, cheered for, and congratulated the new class of Gryffindors. He genuinely enjoyed catching up with the friends he hadn’t seen in awhile, and the food was much better than what he’d been eating over the last year. Being on the road while searching for Horcruxes, food was scarce. Since the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry had been spending most days alone at 12 Grimmauld Place, where he was responsible for cooking for himself. That meant he was eating mostly boxed or canned food. Over the summer, he occasionally went to the Burrow, and they always fed him well there. But the vast majority of the food he’d eaten over the last year had been bland and pathetic. So, he thoroughly enjoyed the feast and ate as much as he could manage.
After the meal, Harry and his friends went to the Gryffindor common room until curfew, at which point they migrated to the 8th year dorm. McGonagall had designated a living quarters specifically for the 8th years, which meant that Gryffindors, Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws were all living together and sharing a space. The rooms were divided into groups of two: Harry and Ron, Dean and Seamus, Neville and Anthony, Hermione and Hannah, Fay and Susan, Blaise and Theo, Pansy and Daphne, and Ernie and Justin.
In addition to living together, the 8th years were also taking all of their core classes together. The next morning, Harry groggily dragged himself to Transfiguration. He was sitting with Hermione and Ron, and had just pulled out his quill and parchment when he caught a glimpse of platinum blonde hair.
“What the hell is Malfoy doing here?” Harry whispered aggressively, head snapping towards Hermione and Ron.
“He’s here for Transfiguration,” Hermione responded matter-of-factly.
“But why?” Harry demanded.
“He’s come back for 8th year,” Hermione continued. “Just like the rest of us.”
He is NOT like the rest of us, Harry thought to himself.
“He shouldn’t be here. It’s not like anyone wants him here,” he muttered under his breath.
Hermione let out a heavy sigh.
“He’s required to be here as part of his probation, Harry. It was a condition set by the Wizengamot,” Harry could tell that Hermione was growing angry with him and he watched as she fought to keep from cocking an annoyed eyebrow.
“Why didn’t I see him yesterday on the train? Or at the Welcoming Feast?” Harry pressed on.
“I’m fairly certain he moved in over the summer, immediately following his trial,” Hermione explained. He could see that she was growing antsy as the start of class approached.
“Why did he have to come here?” Harry took note of how childish he sounded, but he just couldn’t help it. He could never be reasonable or levelheaded when it came to Draco Malfoy.
“He had no choice. His father is in Azkaban, his mother is on house arrest in a Ministry-owned property, and Malfoy Manor was sold for reparations. He had nowhere else to go.”
For some reason, that made Harry’s heart momentarily ache. But it wasn’t because he was feeling bad for Malfoy… No way… Instead, it was because it reminded Harry of his own past: nowhere to go but Hogwarts. Harry shook those thoughts from his head and looked back in Malfoy’s direction. He was sitting between Pansy Parkinson and Theo Nott. Watching them, Harry found his scowl deepening.
“I hope I don’t have to interact with him at all,” Harry practically growled.
“I don’t think you will, mate,” Ron finally chimed in. “This is your first time seeing him. It seems like he’s probably trying to stay out of your way.”
“I haven’t even heard a single sound come out of him yet,” Hermione added. “My guess is he wants to keep a low profile and get this over with as quickly as possible.”
“Good riddance,” Harry spat. “The less I have to do with Malfoy, the better.”
Neither Hermione nor Ron responded to that. Harry probably would have continued to rant, except the professor called for everyone’s attention.
For the entirety of class, Harry kept casting angry glances in Malfoy’s direction. Hermione was right, it seemed like Malfoy was trying to keep a low profile. Malfoy didn’t speak during class, not even whispers to his friends. For all 90 minutes, he just diligently took notes, calmly and quietly. It was almost like he wasn’t there. But, no matter how hard Harry tried to ignore his existence, he couldn’t help but be distracted by that head of platinum blonde hair.
When class ended, Malfoy collected his things and scurried out of the room. He was the first one out the door. He didn’t even wait for his friends. He just rushed out alone, head down. Harry didn’t even hear any footsteps. It truly was like Malfoy wasn’t there.
Their next class was Defence Against the Dark Arts. The first thing Harry did as soon as he walked into the classroom was search for that platinum blonde. But he didn’t see it. Even after class had begun, Malfoy never showed up. When class ended, Harry told Hermione and Ron he’d meet them in the Great Hall for lunch. When the room was empty, he approached the professor. The professor was an Auror from the Ministry that Harry had encountered in passing a few times. Harry wasn’t sure he was the most equipped person to be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Harry wasn’t sure that anyone but a handful of living people were qualified enough for that job. And maybe that was a good thing…
“Professor,” Harry spoke up as he approached. “A moment?”
The man startled at first, but, as soon as he saw it was Harry, he relaxed.
“Ah, Mr. Harry Potter,” the professor said, a smile sliding across his face. “I’m very excited to have you as a student. Honestly, I think you should be the one teaching the class.”
“Oh, thank you Professor. That’s very kind.” It was Harry’s default response to any praise that he received. There were just so many people who approached him to express their gratitude or compliment him profusely. And he never knew what to say. So his default was always ‘thank you’ and ‘that’s very kind.’
“What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?” He asked with a quirked brow.
“I was wondering…” Harry hesitated for a moment. “Draco Malfoy wasn’t in class today, but I know he’s here to finish out his 8th year. Is there… some reason he wasn’t in class?”
The professor’s brows furrowed. He had a very expressive face and he looked conflicted, like he wasn’t sure whether to honestly answer Harry’s question. But then he shrugged and it seemed like he’d weighed the options- Harry Potter vs. Draco Malfoy. The choice was obvious.
“Mr. Malfoy has been exempted from Defence Against the Dark Arts,” he responded simply.
Exempted… Harry had never heard of anyone being exempted from a class. Certainly Malfoy needed to take the DADA NEWT, right? And why would he get to be exempted but not Harry? Harry pretty much already knew everything that was being taught in the class. If anyone deserved an exemption from Defence Against the Dark Arts, it was Harry.
“Do you know why?” Harry couldn’t help his curiosity. He tried to keep his voice as indifferent as possible, but he wasn’t sure he had succeeded.
“No,” it seemed like an honest answer. “All I know is that he won’t be a student in this class.”
“Okay. Thank you Professor,” Harry said with a bow of his head. He couldn’t lie, he was a bit disappointed, but he schooled his expression to make sure it didn’t show on his face.
“Of course, Mr. Potter.”
While Malfoy had been absent from the Welcoming Feast and breakfast, he was in the Great Hall for lunch. Harry took his seat at the Gryffindor table next to Ginny. Hermione and Ron sat across from them. Malfoy was seated at the Slytherin table, all the way at the end. He was surrounded by his posse- Pansy, Theo, and Blaise. Harry noticed that Theo’s arm was draped across Malfoy’s shoulder and it caught Harry off guard. He wasn’t sure why the sight of Theo’s arm slung over Malfoy’s back affected him, but it did.
Harry tried his best to avoid looking at Malfoy for the duration of lunch, but he failed miserably. Every few minutes, he would cast a glance in Malfoy’s direction. While Malfoy had been silent in Transfiguration, he seemed to be chatting with his friends now, smiling and laughing. Though, Harry took note of the fact that Malfoy’s smile didn’t seem to reach his eyes. Another thing Harry noticed was that Malfoy wasn’t eating. He didn’t take a single bite of any food for the entirety of the meal. Harry only saw him take a few sips of water. That was it. This, too, caused something to twist in Harry, though he couldn’t fully explain exactly what it was or why he was feeling it.
When lunch was finished, Harry moved to follow Hermione and Ron to Potions, but he was pulled into an alcove by Ginny. She immediately wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck and pulled him down into a kiss. Harry’s hands settled on Ginny’s hips as he gladly returned the kiss. Their tongues danced for over five minutes and Harry continuously fought against the desperate urge to grind down into Ginny. He didn’t need to be hard in front of Professor Slughorn. When it became apparent that Harry would be late to Potions, he disconnected his lips from Ginny’s.
“Noooo,” Ginny whined through kiss-swollen lips. “Just a little longer.”
“I’m already a couple of minutes late, Gin,” Harry sighed. “Later, I promise.”
Harry let go of Ginny’s waist and, thankfully, she unwound her arms without any further protest. Harry then hurried to Potions. When he arrived, the only open spot left was next to Malfoy. There was no way in hell that Harry was going to sit there. Instead, he noticed that Ernie, Justin, and Hannah had a group of three, so he figured it would be okay for him to join Hermione and Ron. He began to move in their direction.
“Mr. Potter,” Professor Slughorn called out. “Wonderful to see you! Glad you could join us. Have a seat with Mr. Malfoy, please.”
Harry looked in Ron and Hermione’s direction. They both wore expressions of absolute pity.
“I was actually hoping to join Ron and Hermione,” Harry explained, using his nicest, most courteous voice possible. Slughorn had always liked Harry, so Harry was fairly confident that Slughorn would grant his request. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem that was the case today.
“Groups of two,” Slughorn responded simply.
“Yes, but there’s already one group of three, so I thought there could be another,” Harry pressed on, unwilling to give up so easily. He did NOT want to be partnered with Malfoy. These pairings were supposed to be for the entirety of the semester.
“No. Only one group of three,” this was the most stern and serious Harry had ever seen Slughorn. Well, with the exception of that one time he kicked Harry out of his chambers after realizing Harry was trying to extract information from him. Harry couldn’t figure out why Slughorn was taking Malfoy’s side. He hadn’t even invited Malfoy to be a part of the Slug Club. Harry had figured that meant Slughorn didn’t particularly like Malfoy. What had changed?
“Take your seat next to Mr. Malfoy, please,” Slughorn continued after Harry had hesitated two moments too long.
“Yes, professor,” Harry resigned. He made his way over to Malfoy cautiously. When he reached him, he slid his books onto the table and plopped down in the chair aggressively.
“Malfoy,” Harry spat, making his voice as cold and aggressive as possible. Harry was anticipating the usual sneer in return.
“Potter.” Malfoy’s voice was like a whisper and Harry couldn’t help but startle. He had never, never once heard Malfoy sound like this. It was almost… meek. And there was a sadness swimming in Malfoy’s eyes that deepened Harry’s confusion.
Harry couldn’t make sense of it, but he decided it was a little rude to keep staring at Malfoy with such a horrified expression. So, he turned his attention towards Professor Slughorn, who was explaining that they would spend today’s class brewing Scintillation Solution. The winners would get a vial of Amortentia. After Slughorn had clapped his hands, signaling that they could begin brewing the potion, Harry reluctantly turned towards Malfoy. He noticed that Malfoy was wordlessly collecting all of the ingredients and that his Potions book was closed. It seemed like Malfoy was cocky enough to believe he didn’t need to follow the recipe provided in the book. However, much to Harry’s surprise, Malfoy didn’t make any smug comments about Harry’s inaction. He didn’t even look in Harry’s direction. For some reason, it made Harry’s anger dissipate.
“To be honest,” Harry began quietly. “I’m, um… Not gonna be much help with this, Malfoy.”
He hated to admit it, but Harry was bad at Potions. The only reason he had passed his OWLs and made it to this advanced course was because he’d had Snape’s old Potions book. Looking at Malfoy now, who was calmly and quietly preparing ingredients, Harry couldn’t help but feel a little bashful.
“That’s okay,” Malfoy responded softly. There was no animosity in his voice whatsoever. Contrary to what Harry had braced himself for, Malfoy didn’t tease him at all. “I was planning on working alone anyway.”
Harry was in a bit of a daze. The Scintillation Solution took two hours and fifty minutes to brew. The first hour passed between them in absolute silence. Malfoy worked on the potion, while Harry watched. As class progressed, Harry began to feel himself growing more and more uneasy. It was just so unusual. Things had never been like this between Harry and Malfoy at any point during the last seven years. Typically, at least one of them would be trying to get a rise out of the other. Harry kept casting glances over to Hermione and Ron, who were looking at him sympathetically. But that just made him feel even more unsettled. His friends felt bad for him because they, too, expected Harry and Malfoy to be bickering. But it had been an hour and Malfoy had treated Harry like he wasn’t there. By a certain point, it just became too much for Harry and he had to break the silence.
“I, uh,” Harry began awkwardly. “I didn’t realize you were coming back to Hogwarts for eighth year.”
Malfoy was silent and Harry wondered whether he’d even heard him. But it was only a moment before Malfoy opened his mouth to respond.
“It’s a condition of my probation,” Malfoy’s voice was still so small.
“Right, right,” Harry shifted awkwardly in his seat, unsure of what to say. For some inexplicable reason, he felt like he should keep the conversation going. “Are you… Are you glad to be back?”
“Not particularly,” Malfoy answered matter-of-factly. “But there are worse places I could be.”
“I suppose so…” Harry wasn’t sure what was more uncomfortable- the awkward silence between them or this very amicable exchange of words. He was debating whether to keep going, whether he actually wanted to keep conversing with Malfoy or if he was just curious about Malfoy’s odd demeanor. He was in the midst of trying to decide when Malfoy took the initiative to speak.
“Thank you again… for speaking on my behalf at the trial,” this was the softest Harry had ever heard Malfoy’s voice. “I briefly thanked you afterwards, but everything was so hectic and we never really got a moment to properly talk.”
Harry hadn’t testified on Malfoy’s behalf because he felt any type of affection or camaraderie towards Malfoy. He’d felt no desire to help his school bully, the person who had tormented him for so many years. Truthfully, he’d only done it because Narcissa Malfoy had begged him, and because Hermione had encouraged him and told him it was the right thing to do. Harry had never for one second thought that Malfoy would actually be grateful. He’d given Harry that small, quick thank you after the trial, but Harry assumed it was a formality, and that it had been brief because Malfoy hated the idea of expressing any gratitude towards Harry. But now it seemed like Malfoy was genuinely thanking him, like he had an actual appreciation for Harry and what he’d done.
“Sure, yeah,” Harry mumbled. “No problem.”
Harry continued to watch Malfoy brew the potion, though now he was watching him a little closer. Who could say exactly why? Maybe it was because Harry still didn’t trust Malfoy and suspected this new version was just some kind of ploy? Or maybe it was something else? Harry wasn’t sure. But, as he watched Malfoy, he noticed that the blonde was trembling severely. Malfoy was trying to cut something but kept having to reposition the knife because his hands were so unsteady.
“Your hands are shaking,” Harry commented before offering, “Do you need me to cut that?”
“No, it’s quite alright,” Malfoy responded quickly. He didn’t sound angry or annoyed or even frustrated. He sounded embarrassed. Harry left him alone for a moment longer, but then Malfoy’s hand slipped and the knife almost sliced his finger. Harry moved quickly, gripping Malfoy’s wrist.
“Let me do it, Malfoy,” Harry snapped. Thankfully, Malfoy didn’t argue. He just passed Harry the knife and let him complete the chopping. Once Harry had finished and Malfoy had returned to brewing, Harry resumed watching him closely.
“Do you always shake like that?” Harry asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
Harry wasn’t sure what kind of response he was expecting. Honestly, he thought Malfoy might get defensive. But, instead, he said nothing. He only looked at Harry briefly and gave him a soft smile. And in that smile Harry saw so much pain. It was a sad smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes- eyes that Harry hadn’t realized were so glassy and sunken. The smile seemed to be saying, ‘don’t worry about it.’ It only lasted a few moments, and then Malfoy returned to the potion. Harry didn’t have the heart to say anything further.
Another hour and forty fives minutes of silence passed. There were only a few minutes left until the potion would be complete. For some reason, the idea of the potion being done and class being over made Harry disappointed.
“I’ve never heard you be this quiet before, Malfoy,” Harry tried to tease, feeling the irrational urge to spark a conversation between them again.
“Well, I’ve recently realized that everyone, including myself, just wants me to be as silent and ghost-like as possible.”
Harry felt his stomach drop. Something about that answer made him sad. He opened his mouth to say something- though he hadn’t quite decided what- when Malfoy’s hand shot up.
“Professor. We’re finished,” Malfoy called out. Professor Slughorn enthusiastically turned on his heels and approached their table with a wide smile.
“My, my, my! Let’s see what we have here,” Professor Slughorn sang. “I dare say it’s perfect!! You can tell from the way it sparkles. Well, congratulations to Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter.”
Professor Slughorn reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial.
“One vial of Amortentia. Here you are,” Professor Slughorn moved to hand it to Malfoy, who seemed startled by this. Harry watched as Malfoy slowly opened his palm, almost like he was unwilling to do so. When the vial had been placed against Malfoy’s pale skin, Slughorn continued, “I apologize for not having two. I figure you can work it out between yourselves.”
Slughorn then turned back to the rest of the class and yelled, “Everyone else, continue brewing until the period is over!”
“You can have it,” Malfoy said suddenly. Harry turned to see Malfoy offering him the vial.
“But you did all the work,” Harry protested, his eyebrows knit in deep confusion. In what world would Malfoy refuse a prize? Especially if it meant taking a prize from Harry?
“I don’t need it,” Malfoy replied softly. “Take it, Harry.”
The use of ‘Harry’ rather than ‘Potter’ sent goosebumps racing along Harry’s skin. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Malfoy say his first name, at least not without his last name attached and said much more aggressively. Hearing Malfoy’s soft, gentle voice say his name made Harry flustered. In his confusion, he accepted the vial.
“Professor, would it be possible for me to spend the remainder of the period in the library?” Malfoy asked, already collecting his things.
“Sure, Mr. Malfoy. That’s fine,” Professor Slughorn consented, his tone almost affectionate.
“Thank you, Professor,” Malfoy said with a bow of his head. He then turned and scurried out of the classroom without even glancing at Harry.
Harry was stunned. He couldn’t quite process what had just happened, but he stared down at the vial in his hands. For some reason, it radiated a warmth on his palm.
After that, Harry began to watch Malfoy closely. They continued to work together in Potions. They hardly spoke, but when they did, it was usually Harry initiating the conversation. Malfoy’s participation was always timid and always brief. It was like he didn’t want to be talking to Harry, though his tone was never rude or harsh. It was always just… sad.
Harry could tell that Malfoy wasn’t well. He didn’t eat at any meals. His eyes appeared to get glassier each day. They remained sunken and dark bags had formed under them. Malfoy’s trembling was worse. It was so violent that they had agreed Harry would handle all potion prepping that involved a knife.
Harry didn’t go out of his way to find Malfoy. The only times they were ever in the same room were during classes and meals. While Hermione insisted that Malfoy lived in the eighth year dorm, Harry had never actually seen him there.
Even though Harry didn’t seek Malfoy out, any time they occupied the same space, Harry watched him closely.
When Hermione’s birthday rolled around on September 19, they had a party in the eighth year dorm. Harry had wondered whether Malfoy might show up, and, every few minutes, he would look around the large common room, searching for that head of platinum hair. The crowd was large- all the eighth years, many seventh years, and even some sixth years. Even though Harry was holding Ginny’s hand, and was having a conversation with her, Ron, Hermione, and Neville, he couldn’t focus enough to actually engage. Malfoy never did make an appearance. At the end of the night, Ginny dragged Harry back to the Gryffindor dorm for sex and Harry forgot all about Malfoy. At least until the next day when they were in the Great Hall together at breakfast.
When Harry was in a space that absolutely did not have Malfoy in it or any chance of Malfoy entering it, he mostly forgot about the Slytherin. But, every time Malfoy was around, Harry was preoccupied with him. It had become deeply subconscious. Most of the time, he didn’t actually realize he was doing it. It wasn’t until his friends began to comment on him seeming distracted that Harry made a concerted effort to ignore Malfoy’s existence. But it just couldn’t be done.
It was the end of September and Harry was watching Malfoy at dinner. As usual, Malfoy hadn’t touched any of the food.
“Have any of you noticed that Malfoy doesn’t eat?” Harry asked, turning towards his Gryffindor friends.
“What?” Ron asked with a mouth full of food.
“He doesn’t eat at meals,” Harry continued. “He just kind of stares at his empty plate.”
“Uh, no, I haven’t noticed that, mate,” Ron mumbled. “Sorry.”
Neville, Seamus, and Dean all chimed in that they also hadn’t noticed.
“This whole month, I’ve never seen him eat once,” Harry commented distractedly.
“Why have you even noticed a thing like that, Harry?” Ginny sounded deeply troubled, and Harry thought he detected a bit of annoyance, though he wasn’t sure why.
“Malfoy has been acting strange,” Harry answered with a shrug. “So I’ve been keeping an eye on him.”
“You shouldn’t watch him so closely, Harry,” Hermione chided. “Maybe he doesn’t eat because he realizes he’s being watched.”
“Maybe…” Harry muttered with hot cheeks. He hated the idea that Malfoy knew Harry was watching him at meals, and he had to duck his head to hide his blush. But, even if Malfoy knew he was being watched, Harry wasn’t convinced that was the reason Malfoy wasn’t eating. Malfoy’s trembling hands, sunken eyes, and obvious weight loss made it clear the problem was much deeper than that.
After dinner, as they walked in the direction of the eighth year common room, Hermione pulled Harry aside.
“Harry. I think you need to leave Malfoy alone,” she said very seriously.
“What?” Harry was confused. He wasn’t quite sure why Hermione was lecturing him right now.
“You’ve been watching him for a month now, and he hasn’t done anything,” Hermione scolded. “There’s no reason for you to keep watching him. I don’t think he’s going to stir up any trouble.”
Ah. So that’s what it was. Hermione thought Harry was watching Malfoy because he believed Malfoy was up to something. She thought Harry deeply distrusted Malfoy and assumed his new demeanor was part of some nefarious scheme. Truthfully, that was what Harry had thought for the first few weeks. But it had quickly faded.
“Oh, no, Hermione, actually-“
“He’s changed, Harry. I can tell,” Hermione interrupted him. “He personally apologized to me for everything he’s ever said.”
“He did?” Harry couldn’t hide his shock. Now that was surprising.
It was clear Malfoy had changed, but Harry thought it was limited. He didn’t realize that Malfoy had done so much growth and transformation that he was apologizing for past transgressions. It was a very un-Malfoy-like thing to do. Sure, Malfoy was now timid, he seemed sad, and he obviously experienced some degree of shame. But that didn’t necessarily mean he would feel bad for his past. It seemed that perhaps Malfoy had actually been grappling with his wrongdoings, which was something Harry hadn’t anticipated.
“Yes,” Hermione said defiantly. “He apologized to everyone. All of the 8th years, as well as Luna and Ginny. Everyone.”
Everyone except me…
“They were authentic apologies, Harry,” Hermione now sounded like she was pleading. “I could tell he meant it. Everyone could. Well, everyone but Ginny.”
“Ginny?”
“Yes, she refuses to believe he’s changed,” Hermione sighed. “You and her both.”
“Actually-“ Harry tried to clarify once again, but, once again, Hermione interrupted him.
“Just leave him be, Harry,” Hermione begged. “He’s trying to start anew. He hasn’t given any of us problems. And he’s not going to.”
Harry wasn’t going to be given the opportunity to explain himself to Hermione, and honestly he wasn’t even sure what his explanation would entail. He was watching Malfoy because he was extremely curious and perplexed by him. The current version of Malfoy was so bizarre and foreign. It was unsettling for Harry. But, at the same time, he was also a little worried about Malfoy. He’d never seen anyone deteriorate so quickly. But he wasn’t sure he could admit to Hermione or any of his friends that he was worried for Malfoy.
“Okay, Hermione,” Harry said with a smile.
“You promise?” Hermione asked with raised brows.
“I promise.”
“Good.”
The next day, after watching Malfoy push around eggs on a plate at breakfast, Harry approached Pansy. She was walking down the hallway with Blaise and Daphne. Luckily, Malfoy wasn’t around.
“Hey, Pansy,” Harry called out.
“What do you want, Potter?” Pansy snapped.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Harry tried to keep his tone even.
“About what?” Pansy sneered.
“Malfoy,” Harry stated simply.
Pansy’s angry glare melted and her expression fell totally flat.
“Oh… Fine.”
Blaise and Daphne continued down the hall, so it was just Pansy and Harry who remained.
“What is it?” Pansy questioned, her annoyance flaring up again.
“Have you ever noticed Malfoy doesn’t eat?” Harry decided to just come right out with it. There was no point in beating around the bush.
“Of course I’ve noticed!” Pansy scoffed. “I’m his best friend.”
“Well…” Harry cleared his throat. “Have you talked to him about it?”
“Of course I’ve talked to him about it,” Pansy sounded angry. “Like I said, I’m his best friend.”
“Right, sorry,” Harry rubbed his hands together awkwardly. “So…. What? He just doesn’t listen?”
“He listens,” Pansy’s voice dropped, in pitch and volume. She suddenly seemed very sad and she averted her gaze, looking down at the floor. “He affirms my worries, tells me it’s valid for me to be concerned, and apologizes for upsetting me. But then he still won’t eat. It doesn’t matter how much I plead or how frequently I bring him his favorite foods. He just won’t eat.”
“Oh.” Harry hadn’t been expecting that.
“Why do you care anyway?” Pansy snapped, her usual demeanor returning.
“It’s just something I noticed,” Harry replied innocently. “I was concerned I was the only one. But, I’m glad his friends are aware.”
Pansy scowled, her eyes narrowing.
“Take your savior complex elsewhere, Potter. We don’t need it,” she spat before quickly turning and storming away from Harry.
A few nights later, Ron asked Harry to vacate their shared room. He wanted to have some ~quality~ time with Hermione, and Hermione didn’t want to kick Hannah out of their room. And that was how Harry ended up walking around the castle for awhile under his invisibility cloak. He just explored the hallways, giving Ron as much time as possible. Eventually, he headed back to the 8th year dorm. He figured Ron still needed more time (it wasn’t the first time he’d been kicked out of the room and, unfortunately, he knew generally how much time was needed), but he didn’t want to keep walking around the castle. There were just too many areas that were still associated with bad, painful memories. It meant he avoided many of the spaces and didn’t have anywhere else to go. So, he slinked back and prepared to just hang out in the common room. However, he had only just stepped into the room, when he saw a head of platinum blonde hair peeking out over the back of the couch.
“Oh!” Harry startled. “Malfoy…”
His tone was conflicted. He was surprised to see Malfoy here. Malfoy never came to the common room and Harry hadn’t seen him in the 8th year dorm a single time. Harry was also uncertain whether he actually wanted to be sitting in the common room with Malfoy. They’d only ever talked in class, when there was an assignment to distract them and other people around. But now… what would they talk about? It was just the two of them. And Harry felt deeply awkward at the same time. He’d been making a concerted effort to look at Malfoy less. His friends had commented on how frequently he stared, and so he was trying to avoid even casually glancing at Malfoy. But now Malfoy was only a few feet away from him.
Harry plopped down onto one of the chairs across from where Malfoy was seated.
“Good evening, Harry,” Malfoy replied quietly. Harry noticed that Malfoy had a book in his hand, though he couldn’t see the cover.
“What are you… what you are doing down here?” Harry stammered.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Malfoy shot back casually. Harry raised his eyebrows. Malfoy’s tone was a little more playful than it had been since the start of the school year and for some reason it was actually… comforting.
“Um. Ron kicked me out of the room so he could be with Hermione tonight,” Harry managed after a few moments.
Malfoy didn’t respond. He just nodded and gave a soft hum. His eyes were fixed on his book and Harry couldn’t help but watch as those glassy orbs scanned the pages in front of him.
“So why are you down here?” Harry finally asked, feeling suddenly uncomfortable by the silence. Harry didn’t have anything to do except stare at Malfoy, so he felt compelled to start a conversation. “Don’t you have your own room?”
“I do,” Malfoy answered, eyes floating up from the book to meet Harry’s. Harry felt his heart stop momentarily.
“It’s a bit drafty, though,” Malfoy continued. “I find it’s warmer in the common room. And… Well, I don’t really get an opportunity to be in the common room during the day… So, the middle of the night is the only time I can make use of the space.”
Harry flinched slightly at those words. As much as Harry had dreaded being back at school with Malfoy, he didn’t like the idea of Malfoy feeling like he couldn’t even occupy the common room when other people were around.
“What are you up to?” Harry asked, trying to make his voice as carefree and nonchalant as possible.
There was no reason for Harry to be asking that question. It was obvious that Malfoy was reading… but he didn’t want there to be any more silence. He, shockingly and inexplicably, wanted the conversation to continue. He actually wanted a conversation with Draco Malfoy to continue…
“Just reading,” Malfoy answered softly.
“What are you reading? The biography of some blood purist?” Harry teased. He’d wanted his voice to be playful, but they both detected the seriousness behind his words. Both of them could hear the sharp and biting resentment. It made Malfoy flinch.
“Dracula,” Malfoy sounded as though he was unbothered, but Harry had definitely seen pain flash across his face. “I suppose he probably likes his blood pure, though, since he drinks it after all. So, I guess you’re actually not too far off.”
It was a joke. Draco Malfoy had made a joke. He had taken Harry’s snarky comment and, unexpectedly, not reacted with his own frustration or bitterness. Instead, he made a joke out of it. And it was a funny one too.
Harry actually chuckled, which caused a small smile to bloom across Malfoy’s face as well. And that small smile made Harry’s stomach flip.
“I didn’t realize you read muggle books,” Harry continued after clearing his throat, suddenly feeling very flustered.
Malfoy didn’t respond to that. Instead, he closed his book and moved to stand.
“Well, I should probably go to my room,” Malfoy announced softly. Harry flagged that Malfoy didn’t say he was going to bed or going to sleep… just that he was going to his room. He wasn’t sure what to make of that.
“You… You don’t have to,” Harry quickly spoke up.
“Harry,” Malfoy sighed and Harry’s stomach flipped again. “You and I both know you don’t want to be in the same room as me. Especially not one-on-one.”
Harry didn’t know how to respond to that, because, truthfully, he still wasn’t sure whether he wanted to be in the same room as Malfoy, one-on-one or otherwise. As Harry was debating how to respond, Malfoy turned and headed towards the stairs.
“Goodnight,” Malfoy called over his shoulder.
“Night,” Harry mumbled, watching Malfoy’s retreating back.
A few nights after that, Harry woke up screaming. Another nightmare. His nightmares were less frequent now, but he still slept with a silencing charm around his bed every night so that he wouldn’t wake Ron.
Harry rolled out of bed. This had been a particularly graphic and violent and painful nightmare. Flashes of green, faces of dead loved ones, pitch black, the sound of horrible laughing. Harry forced himself to his feet, swiped up his cloth bag filled with snacks, and then dragged himself downstairs in his pyjamas. As expected, Malfoy was seated there, reading a book.
“Malfoy,” Harry said curtly, unable to hide the exhaustion in his voice. He slumped down onto a chair, curling in on himself.
“Are you alright Harry?” Malfoy asked sincerely. There was a hint of genuine concern in his voice.
“Fine,” Harry grunted.
“You’re sweating,” Malfoy observed. “Can I get you a glass of water?”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Harry said quickly and then added, “I’m fine.”
There was silence for a few minutes. Harry was staring at the ground, trying to get control of his breathing. He’d woken up from the nightmare hyperventilating and he was still trying to steady himself.
“I get nightmares too,” Malfoy practically whispered.
“What?” Harry looked up with furrowed brows, eyes connecting with Malfoy’s.
“I get them all the time, actually,” Malfoy continued with a pained, self-deprecating chuckle. “It’s worse some days than others. But it’s hard to predict. So, I just avoid sleep altogether.”
“That can’t be healthy, Malfoy,” Harry commented.
“It’s true I’m not a paragon of health,” Malfoy admitted playfully. Harry wasn’t sure why, but Malfoy’s nonchalance made Harry angry.
“How much do you sleep each night?” He couldn’t help but ask.
“Well, I regularly pull all-nighters where I don’t sleep at all,” Malfoy responded. “But, on nights when I sleep, I try to break it up in shifts so that I don’t dream. The shifts are usually 45 minutes to an hour. And I do a few of them. So, I’d say three or four hours a night.”
“That isn’t enough sleep,” Harry grumbled.
“It’s enough for me,” Malfoy’s voice was as empty as his eyes.
“When was the last time you slept through the night?” Harry pressed on.
“Probably fifth year,” Malfoy shrugged.
“How bad are these nightmares?” Harry was incredulous.
“Bad,” Malfoy’s voice was low and serious. “How about yours?”
“Also bad,” Harry confessed, his voice just as low and as serious as Malfoy’s.
“I imagine they involve the same group of people,” Malfoy added, his voice lighter this time.
“Probably,” Harry sighed.
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn’t want there to be silence. But it wasn’t because he was worried about staring at Malfoy- though that was certainly a possibility. But it was mostly because he was worried the images of his nightmare would come flooding back.
“Well, if you’re not gonna sleep,” Harry began uncertainly. “Do you want to eat something?”
And then, in an attempt to make Malfoy more comfortable with the idea of eating, he added, “I’m pretty hungry myself.”
Malfoy cleared his throat and bit his lip.
“Um… depends on what it is.”
“Well, let’s see,” Harry pushed away all of his dread and forced himself to be pleasant. For some reason, he worried that his misery might make Malfoy’s worse. “I have rolls I smuggled from the Great Hall, as well as chicken sandwiches I took from lunch. Some crisps I brought from muggle London. Oh, some apples. Some peppermint creams, nougat, Chocolate Frogs, sugar quills, exploding bonbons, and Fizzing Whizzbees.”
“Quite a bit of candy,” Malfoy noted with a chuckle.
“Yeah. I guess so,” Harry flushed. “I like sweets.”
“I know,” Malfoy said without missing a beat.
Harry felt himself startle and couldn’t help the look of surprise on his face. He saw that Malfoy was equally as surprised by his comment and that the Slytherin was blushing wildly.
“Um, anyway,” Malfoy rushed to say. “I- I think I’ll have an apple, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Harry replied, and he was surprised to realize he actually meant it.
Harry reached into his bag, found the apple, and offered it to Malfoy.
“I figured all those things were in your room,” Malfoy gasped. “You brought them all down here with you?”
“I figured I wasn’t gonna be going back to bed,” Harry admitted. He wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep. “So I brought snacks.”
It was true that Harry had brought snacks for himself since he wouldn’t be sleeping. But, he’d also figured that Malfoy would be in the common room, and he’d been thinking of ways to get Malfoy to eat. For the last few days, he’d been wondering whether there was any way he could convince Malfoy to have food. And he figured this might be an opportune moment.
“Thank you,” Malfoy said under his breath, allowing Harry to place the apple in his palm. Malfoy then brought it to his mouth and took a bite. Harry was transfixed by the image of Malfoy chewing. It was just so unexpected and foreign. It felt like he was witnessing some kind of once-in-a-lifetime spectacle. Harry tore his eyes away from Malfoy and forced them down to the bag in his lap.
“Just the apple?” Harry probed suggestively. He wanted Malfoy to eat more than just that one piece of fruit, and it was obvious to the both of them.
“Um… I guess I’ll have some peppermint creams as well,” Malfoy whispered, clearly uncertain of this choice. When he received the candy from Harry, he mumbled a quick, “Thank you.”
“Still reading Dracula?” Harry asked, tossing some peppermint creams into his own mouth.
“Yes. I’m about halfway through.”
“How is it?” Harry found that he was genuinely curious about Malfoy’s thoughts.
“Good. Have you ever read it?”
“No, actually I haven’t,” Harry replied, bringing a chocolate frog to his mouth and admiring the card it came with. Most of the muggle books he’d read had been during his childhood.
“Well, you’re welcome to borrow my copy after I’m done,” Malfoy offered.
“Oh… Thanks, Malfoy.”
After a few moments of silence, Harry let out a low rumble of laughter.
“Don’t you think it’s funny that you’re reading Dracula? Your names are basically the same. It means dragon, right?”
Harry watched a light blush tinge Malfoy’s cheeks.
“My name does mean dragon, yes. But it’s Latin. Technically, Dracula’s name is Romanian. In Romanian, Dracul is devil. The Romanian word is drawn from the Latin, but, technically, they have distinct meanings.”
Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. He’d known Malfoy was very smart and very nerdy, but he hadn’t expected him to be this nerdy. It was Hermione level nerdiness. And it was actually kind of endearing.
“Well, then I guess your names are more different than I thought,” Harry sighed, feigning disappointment.
“My parents may have had ‘dragon’ in mind when they named me… but I think it’s fair to say that, as a person, I’m more like the devil than a dragon.”
Malfoy’s voice was lighthearted, but Harry could hear the way it trembled slightly. Harry swallowed hard, fighting back a sadness that had begun to climb up his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but Malfoy stood.
“Goodnight, Harry,” Malfoy said under his breath. Harry hadn’t swallowed down his sadness enough to respond, so he just watched Malfoy go.