𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐒 2008

He Was He and I Was Bunny (3/4)

He Was He and I Was Bunny Part 3 of 4

A few weeks and several dozen attempts at conversation later, Harry was getting nowhere. In fact, judging by the content of his rantings to Bunny, Malfoy seemed more annoyed with Harry than ever.

“I’m telling you, Bunny, I think something happened to Potter during the final battle. Dark Lord scrambled his brains or something before he snuffed it. Today he actually asked me if he could borrow a quill. Borrow a quill! What the fuck is that? Did he actually think I was going to give him my property, like we’re friends or something? Besides which, it’s not as if Granger doesn’t go around with a spare quill or fifty. I swear, he’s very disturbed. Probably dangerously so. They should really put out a bulletin about it or something, make people aware of the threat.”

Harry felt the pressure of time. It was already February. He only had a few months to get Draco to warm up to him and with the way things were going, even a few years wouldn’t be long enough. No, he needed to step up his game. He had to find some way to get Malfoy to spend time with him, entice him with something he wanted, something he couldn’t say no to. He wracked his brain, trying to think of something he had that Malfoy wanted.

And then he had it. It was perfect. It was something Malfoy wanted, and what was more, it was something Harry wanted too. So even if things didn’t work out with Malfoy, he’d still feel really good about it. But if it did work out…

Now all he had to do was get Malfoy to talk to him long enough to pitch the idea.

***

Draco had barely had a chance to put a slice of toast on his plate before he felt someone standing over him, radiating impatience and anxiety. This seemed to be happening more and more lately and frankly, it was starting to put him off breakfast.

“Potter,” he said without looking up from his toast, “I know it’s challenging for you but it’s actually quite easy to tell our tables apart. Yours is the one crowded by a hundred fawning idiots, drooling all over themselves in an attempt to be noticed by one of Gryffindor’s many heroes. Ours is the table people avoid as though we were serving the plague for breakfast. Though really, if you find it so confusing, I’m sure one of your many admirers would gladly escort you to all your meals.”

“I need to talk to you,” Potter said in that blunt, urgent way he had. Honestly, Draco’s wit was completely lost on the idiot.

“You are talking to me.”

“No, I mean, I need to talk to you about something.”

Draco shook his head and turned to face the other boy. As usual, Potter looked like he had just wrestled a kneazle. He had to do it on purpose. No one could go about looking that bad by accident. “Potter, do you even understand the concept of a conversation?

“Look, just, meet me in the library after class.”

“Why? Just because you say so?”

“Come on, Malfoy.”

“Really, Potter. I know you’re used to the whole world following you around blindly, pissing themselves every time you deign to look at them but you can’t just demand that people meet you places without an explanation.”

“I just gave you an explanation. I need to talk to you.”

“And I’ll say it again: We are talking.”