Harry Potter and The Boy Who Had No Choice

Nothing to Talk About

Chapter Twenty-Five

The next few days passed rather uneventfully. Harry's mornings consisted of watching Malfoy during breakfast, attending classes, and then watching Malfoy again during lunch. His afternoons were filled with more classes, Quidditch practices, and then dinner, where he once again kept his eyes on the Slytherin table. His evenings passed in utter silence, no more paper airplanes exchanged. Ever since Monday night, Malfoy cast Muffliato on himself as soon as Slughorn left the room. Harry tried to communicate through notes a few more times, but even when he didn't try to get Malfoy to talk about the kiss, he didn't respond.

Harry hadn't realized how Malfoy had become an integral part of his life over the last few months. Before now, they had barely gone a day without speaking; granted, much of their conversations consisted of insults and taunts, but Harry still found himself oddly missing their talks. He certainly wouldn't venture to call them friends, but he knew that they couldn't possibly be considered enemies anymore either. At the sight or mention of the blonde Slytherin boy, Harry's insides turned warm and jittery. He'd decided that he liked the feeling, even if he wasn't sure what it meant.

On Thursday afternoon, however, the two boys found themselves seated next to each other in Potions. Slughorn had decided to lecture the class that day, so instead of the traditional potions stations scattered about the room, there were rows of chairs and long tables lined up facing the blackboard.

When Malfoy arrived at class ten minutes into the lesson, he was forced into the only available seat: next to Harry. There was a moment when Harry thought Malfoy might just turn and walk right back out of class rather than sit next to him, but clearly, Potions was too important to miss.

Slughorn had started talking about the qualities of Amortentia when Harry leaned over to Malfoy.

"Can we talk about...?" he trailed off, whispering, though Slughorn was too enthralled by the sound of his own voice to notice any talking, and the rest of the class seemed to be napping. This was the first time in days that he'd gotten a chance to actually speak to Malfoy, and he found that his heart was racing and his hands were sweating, almost like he was nervous.

"No," Malfoy replied sternly. He kept his attention on Slughorn, but his skin paled at the sound of Harry's question.

"Let me rephrase that," Harry cleared his throat. "We need to talk."

"No," Malfoy snapped, glancing at Harry. "We don't. We have nothing to talk about."

"Well, yeah, actually. We do. We need to talk about the fact that you-"

"Nothing!" Malfoy hissed, careful to keep his voice low. It was clear from his tone that he would not talk to Harry even if McGonagall herself tried to force him to.

"Fine," Harry grumbled, trying to think of any other way to coerce Malfoy into talking.

Minutes passed and the only sounds were the drone of Slughorn's voice, the occasional snores coming from Ernie, and the scratch of Malfoy's quill against parchment.

Slowly, Harry slid his hand across the table. He made sure to keep his gaze at the front of the class, so Malfoy wouldn't notice his hand's movement. His eyes flitted towards this hand, which was now only an inch or two away from Malfoy's. The blonde boy seemingly hadn't noticed; his attention was still focused on Slughorn.

Harry tilted his hand ever so slightly to the right and felt his pinky brush up against Malfoy's. The touch did not go unnoticed by the Slytherin boy, whose eyes immediately landed on the two boys' hands. However, Harry pretended like he hadn't noticed the contact, and Malfoy didn't brush him away. Harry lifted his pinky and placed it over Malfoy's. At this, Malfoy looked alarmed and hastily yanked his hand away from Harry, placing it instead on his lap.