𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇

Chapter 47

“What did you do with the book?” Draco asked when they reached the common room. He drew Harry into a corner, eyeing the other students suspiciously. They eyed him back, equally suspicious, but that was nothing unusual.

“It’s still in my cloak.” Harry patted the cloak he had not removed since they returned to Hogwarts. “I’m wondering where we should hide it now. Grimmauld Place obviously isn’t safe.”

“Maybe I should hide it?” Draco suggested.

“You’ve already been got at,” Harry replied. “I shouldn’t even be telling you that I’ve got it – at least if it weren’t for the fact that you’ve proven yourself trustworthy.”

Draco gave Harry a one-armed shrug. “I’m on my guard now.”

“Hey, Malfoy,” Seamus called suddenly.

Draco turned on the Irishman. “What?” he snapped.

Seamus cleared his throat and tried a smile at the Slytherin. “We’re trying to get a couple of Quidditch teams together – just us oldies – for fun. Harry suggested you might want to play.”

Draco shot Harry an unfathomable look, then sauntered over to Seamus. Harry automatically followed.

“You’re actually asking me to play with you?” Draco asked quietly.

Seamus managed to look uncomfortable. “There aren’t any other seekers in the seventh year.”

“And I suppose you looked long and hard before you asked me?” Draco commented, but he looked amused.

Seamus actually squirmed.

Draco snorted, but there was no real malice in the sound. “Are you playing, Potter?”

“Of course. I’m the only other seeker.”

For a moment, Draco considered, then he smiled. “You’re on, Finnigan. You have yourself another seeker.”

“Great!” Seamus noted something down on the parchment he was holding. “In that case, we can have a match tomorrow after classes.”

“Hold on.” Harry put out a hand. “Some of us haven’t been on a broom for a while. Wont you let us practise?”

“Sure, Harry. I suggest you do it now while it’s still light.” Seamus grinned cheekily. “After all, Malfoy is on my team tomorrow.”

The pair exchanged looks. Draco sighed in resignation.

“Let’s get our brooms.”

********

As the pair walked down to the storage rooms near the Quidditch pitch, Harry heard his name being called. He turned round and saw Hermione running towards them, her face pale.

“Harry. Ron’s at the hospital. I don’t know what’s happened, but it seems serious. Mrs. Weasley took Ginny out of school to see him.” She stood before him, her brows quirked in worry, her hands twisting in her scarf. “Oh, Harry... what do I do? I want to see him, but Professor McGonagall won’t let me...”

She was closer to panic than Harry had ever seen her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and held her close., glancing at Draco as she nuzzled her head into his chest.

Draco took a step back, making a hand gesture that seemed to say that it was Harry’s call. He could tell her the story that the obliviated McGonagall had obviously told her, or he could tell her the truth.

Harry agonised for a minute, holding Hermione close as she half-sobbed against him; then he made up his mind.

“He’ll be okay, Hermione. A couple of curses got mixed up and backfired on him, but he’ll be okay. Really he will.”

“You know about it?” she looked up at him, her eyes damp, but her cheeks dry. She was obviously trying to hold herself together in front of Draco.

“I was there.” Harry began to lead her towards the storage rooms. “Come on. We’ll tell you what happened. Let’s get out of sight first.”

********

Hermione stared at Harry as he finished the tale, then, after a long moment of silence, she turned to Draco. “You were with him? You hexed him?”

“I didn’t know he’d react like...” Draco started.

A hand went out and rested on his forearm. “It’s okay, Draco,” she said softly. “I understand you did what you had to do. Who knows what he might have done under the imperius – it doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“Hexam obviously doesn’t want to hurt me – much,” Harry said. “I suppose I still have something he wants that only I can give.”

“That’s not a good thing, Harry,” Hermione said seriously. “We don’t know the lengths he’ll go to, to get that information from you. Perhaps you should leave school.”

“What about Draco?” Harry asked. “He’s in danger too.”

Hermione’s dark eyes moved from Gryffindor to Slytherin, her expression thoughtful. “Is there something between you two that you aren’t telling me?” she asked finally.

Harry glanced at Draco. For a moment, Draco’s face softened, then, abruptly a curled lip replaced the half-smile. “Of course not, Granger,” he said harshly. “We’re merely working together. We’re certainly not friends – or anything else that your filthy mind might possibly cook up.”

“Oh.” Hermione drew back a little. “I only asked.”

But Harry barely heard her. Draco’s harsh words send a shiver of frozen disillusion down his spine. After everything that had happened over the last day or two, Draco – no, Malfoy – still hated him. He turned away, unwilling to let disappointment show in his eyes – and it would. Wasn’t he always being told that he wore his heart on his sleeve? In his face?

“I’m going to practise.” He grabbed his broom from the Gryffindor store-cupboard and stalked out into the field, wondering why he had even tried with Malfoy. The Slytherin confused him utterly, and now he wished that this tentative friendship – and whatever more – had never started. It only hurt.

Sitting astride his broom and kicking off into the air harder than he intended sent him shooting upwards. He flew in circles for a minute or two, getting the feel of his broom once again, enjoying the air on his heated cheeks as he saw Hermione walking back to the school.

“Fucking Malfoy!” he muttered to himself. “I’m not going to bother any more. Why should I? What’s the point? He can sit and spin for all I care.” Sure, he was telling himself this, but deep inside, he knew that he was lying to himself.

He spotted the last of the wan sunlight shining off white-blond hair as Malfoy came out of the stores, holding his own broom. Harry no longer wanted to fly with him, and, with a snort of self-loathing, he flew to the other end of the pitch where the gathering gloom would hide him. He ignored Malfoy, his heart stung too much, and he busied himself with only renewing his acquaintance with his old broom.

Malfoy did not fly near him, or approach him, even as Harry decided that the light was getting too bad, he was too cold, and he needed to go indoors for a hot bath. He landed and, without looking back, he went to put his broom away, then returned to school.