Chapter Text
“Scared, Potter?”
“You wish.”
— — — — —
To say Draco Malfoy spent time thinking about Harry Potter was probably an understatement at this point. His friends knew it, he knew it. He also knew that it was because Potter picked Weasley and Granger over him. He never understood how Potter could make such a mistake. Afterall, what did Weasley have to offer? Draco was smart, he always did as well as Granger, and was half as annoying.
Draco had hoped that joining Lockhart’s dueling club would appease his father, and impress Potter. It didn’t go exactly as planned on either front, but that was besides the point. For that matter, so was the fact that Potter is a parselmouth. It was all fun and games to spread rumours about Potter, but he knew that he couldn’t possibly be the Heir of Slytherin, not when he was so horribly Gryffindor-ish.
Draco had learned a lot during that duel, that he was horribly under qualified to take care of himself, and that Potter was made of fire. Since then, everything else in his life had been white noise, all he focused on was Harry. And the thing is, he noticed.
He noticed the way Harry flinched when someone dropped a plate or set a serving spoon down too hard.
He noticed that when the Weasel would wrap an arm around him, Harry’s entire body went rigid.
That’s when Draco knew that he really only saw a small part of who Harry was, but he didn’t know what to do about it.
— — — — —
“Pansy, stop!”
“Just show me, I want to see.”
“Fine.” Draco walked into the dorm he shared with Theo and Blaise to find Pansy and Daphne sitting on his bead with Blaise nearby.
“What’s going on?” Draco asked, wandering over. Both Pansy and Daphne’s mouths clicked shut and they stared at him blank faced, Blaise just laughed.
“They found a muggle psychology book in the library and stole it.”
“Blaise!” Daphne swats him in the arm with said book. She hit a little harder than she likely meant to. After the end of year feast they were all a little on edge between what happened in the chamber, and Gryffindor winning the cup again. They were meant to be packing.
“What’s psychology?” Draco asked, distracted by the cover of the book that was being waved around.
“It’s the study of the mind,” Daphne answered.
“Muggles have all sorts of theories about why things are the way they are.” Pansy said and Draco snorted.
“Come on, you lot have got to start packing.” He said, moving to open his own trunk.
“Don’t leave it all till tomorrow,” Blaise said to Pansy teasingly.
“You’re all awful.” Pansy declares as she gets up, smooths her skirt, and drags Daphne back to the girls’ dorm.
— — — — —
After everyone had fallen asleep, Draco laid awake. He wasn’t particularly excited to go back home. He loved seeing his mother, of course, but the pressure his father put on him, simply by being in the same room, felt as if it never stopped growing. Staring up into the dark ceiling of his bed, Draco thought more and more. He would likely be taking dueling lessons after the debacle, along with his usual tutoring, he supposed that taking up the majority of his time wouldn’t be a bad thing. It’d give him an excuse at least, for some distance.
Time passed and he realized that sleep was becoming less and less likely, he rolled over, pulling his covers over his head, resolved to just cocoon himself until he passed out when he kicked something off his bed. The crash of the book hitting the floor made Draco wince. He waited, listening for Blaise or Theo to wake. When they didn’t he sat up and opened the curtain, leaned down and picked the book up. It was Daphne’s from earlier.
At this point, Draco figured he had nothing to lose. Worst case scenario he’d just sleep on the ride to the platform tomorrow. He pulled his wand out from under his pillow and settled back. He opened to the first page and cast lumos.
It was the morning and Draco regretted every life choice he’d ever made. In his defense, he didn’t think the book was going to be interesting, much less applicable to his life, but the section on PTSD was horrifyingly informative.
In fact, it described Potter’s behavior to the letter.
Draco stared at the floor where he’d left his curtains open last night as morning light filtered into the room. He didn’t know how to deal with this. Potter was the boy who lived, the saviour of the wizarding world, one third of the golden trio. How the hell could it be that he was being abused?
The anger that Draco felt was hard to explain, especially in his sleep deprived state. He’s never been one to stand up for someone, definitely not out of the goodness of his heart, but no one must know what’s happening to Potter. They can’t. Dumbledore would never let his golden child suffer.
He was reeling, and he knew it. He just couldn’t pull himself back in, couldn’t un-know. Around him, the sounds of Theo and Blaise getting up and ready to go crept to him. It didn’t register until Blaise poked his head around the corner of the curtain and frowned when he saw Draco.
“What’s wrong?” This was met with silence. “Draco, what’s wrong?” More silence. Eventually Blaise just flicked him on the nose.
“What? Merlin, Blaise, you couldn’t just use your words?” Draco said frustrated and rubbing the tip of his nose.
“Oh, I did.” Draco scowled at him. “What’s wrong with you? You look like shit.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.” Draco stood and stretched, trying to evade. Blaise shared a look with Theo before Theo spoke up.
“Are you worried about going home?”
“No,” Draco said as he made his bed and pulled his clothes out for the day.
“Then what is it?” Blaise said, pushing.
“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Draco insisted. Blaise and Theo shared another look behind Draco’s back as he went to the bathroom. They let it drop, for the time being.
— — — — —
Breakfast was in full swing, and the Slytherins were enjoying their last meal together before being shipped off to their respective estates for the summer. None of them would admit it, but Hogwarts was the only place that they felt like they could be themselves, to an extent. After all, they did have an image to maintain.
Draco was only half listening as his friends made plans around him. He was, however, nursing a strong cup of coffee. When it had appeared Pansy had given him a look, knowing that he didn’t enjoy the drink, or have it all that often, but it seemed necessary.
Over the rim of the cup, he watched Potter enter the great hall with the Weasel and Granger, sitting with the rest of the Gryffindors. Since Draco’s discovery last night, Potter didn’t seem all that different. He was still the same arrogant boy who had denied Draco friendship and ran head first into danger at every turn just for the sake of praise.
It troubled Draco. The longer he looked, the more Potter blurred around the edges, the more Draco could see the parts of himself Potter hid.
“What’s wrong with Draco?” Pansy asked the group at large.
“He’s mooning over Potter,” Blaise answered without looking up from his eggs.
“I asked what’s wrong with him, not what he’s doing.”
“Is that not what’s wrong with him?” Daphne asked.
“Oh hush,” Draco said to them as they all snickered. Except for Theo, who was still dead to the world. He just wasn’t a morning person. “I am not mooning over Potter.” Pansy and Daphne both fixed him with a dry look.
“Can, will, have, Malfoy.” Blaise said. Draco grumbled and went back to his coffee.
The day moved on around him. He followed his friends to the carriages after they stopped back in their dorms for their day bags. He watched the grounds pass by from his seat. He heard Daphne’s family’s plans for a vacation in France, Blaise looking forward to Italian wine.
Theo was quiet as always about his summer. Draco caught his eye just before they all piled out of the carriages and gave him a small smile, internally promising that he would come up with excuses to get Theo out of the house a few times before term started back up.
They passed other students as they made their way out and turned on their act. They were second years, but it didn’t take long for them to realize that being a Slytherin meant something.
It meant cunning and ambition but it also meant loyalty. They were often public enemy number one in the halls, and if they showed weakness, or turned on each other, the other houses won. It wasn’t a perfect system, not by far, but it was the hand that they had been dealt. At this point they would fight for each other.
Draco slipped on a cold mask, one that was only broken by a smirk when he caught someone look.
Theo almost shrunk in on himself, all while maintaining his posture.
Daphne looped her arm through Blaise’s and stuck her nose in the air, ever the perfect daughter. Pansy followed suit.
They made quite a sight, and the other second years, and first years cleared out of their way.
It all fell away once they were aboard the train and in their own compartment. Daphne and Blaise sat together with their legs pressed together. Daphne rested her head on Blaise’s shoulder and they both looked out the window as the train pulled away. Theo sat next to Draco and ended up plunking his head onto Draco’s lap. Draco carded his fingers into Theo’s hair and he felt them both relax. Pansy sat next to the door, ready to hop up if anyone came by
The movement of the train lulled them all. Draco soaked up this time with his friends for all it was worth. He loved them, the ease of being together, of touching each other, it was never stilted or pained like with their families. It came like second nature to reach out, to protect, to love. Draco thought that that’s what made going home harder, they all faced something, and it hurt.
The green hills rolled past and Draco was struck again by what to do about Potter, because he knew he ought to do something. Anything. He wished he could talk to his parents about all this, but he knew their advice wouldn’t be constructive, and even then, what could they say that would make it better?
“What are you thinking about?” Theo whispered into the cabin.
“I think I need to write to my aunt,” Draco said. That settled it, he’d consult Maggie.