Chapter Text
The corridor was dark and quiet as Harry closed the door to Umbridge’s office behind him and began to walk back towards his common room. It was well after curfew and the few lights lining this hallway had been turned down low for the evening, casting long and jagged shadows across the walkway. Harry gripped his bloody hand as tight as he could, hoping the wound would stop bleeding soon. At least tonight had been his final detention and it could actually start to heal instead of being ripped open night after night. The sound of slow and steady dripping caught his attention and he turned back to see he was leaving a little trail of blood drops behind him as he walked. He readjusted his hold and tried to stem the flow, but he knew it was futile. He hoped the common room was empty when he got back so he could duck into the bathroom and clean up before he went to bed. He wasn’t ready to explain to the others what had happened yet.
He turned around a corner and sucked in a sharp pained breath as his hand slipped over the words carved into his skin. He wanted to cry, but he gritted his teeth and lightened his hold on his wrist, hoping to keep it together for just a little while longer. He’d been through worse. He’d survived way worse than Umbridge and he would do so again.
“Potter,” a voice hissed from beside him. He jerked in surprise and turned his head wildly, but the corridor was still empty. Was he losing it?
“What the…” he started to say, but before he could finish, the tapestry on his right side slid back and an arm with a pale hand darted out and snagged him by the sleeve of his robe. He yelped as he was dragged into a cramped alcove and when the tapestry fell back into place it was pitch black and he couldn't see anything.
“It’s ok,” a voice said behind him. He could hear the steady breaths of whoever the speaker was, and their voice was low and mellow. He was still freaking out, but he imagined that listening to that voice in another situation would be wonderfully calming. He also didn’t recognize it, though it was distinctly male.
“What are you…” Harry tried to speak, but another voice from a person standing in front of him cut him off. How many people were in this little alcove?
“Quiet and give me your hand,” they said. And this voice he recognized and he felt a shiver run down his spine. He yanked himself away, but in the small space that just meant he backed directly into whoever was still standing behind him.
“Malfoy,” he hissed, trying to keep his voice a whisper, but most likely failing. “What are you doing? What do you want?” Anger began to bubble inside him. Anger and embarrassment. This was just one more thing that Malfoy would use as ammunition against him. One more thing to hold over his head. He moved to try to exit the alcove, but before he could, the strong arms of the person behind him wrapped around him. One at his waist and one across his chest, pulling him back and securing him to their front. He wriggled and the stranger holding him chuckled, low and throaty.
“Draco isn’t going to hurt you and neither am I,” he whispered, dangerously close to Harry’s ear. He stilled when it became apparent that struggling wasn’t going to loosen the iron grip around him.
“Lumos,” Malfoy said and the light at the end of his wand illuminated the cramped space. It really was nothing more than a narrow space behind the tapestry, stone walls were unadorned and dark with flickering shadows. Malfoy was pale in regular daylight but in the light cast by his wand, he was translucent. Gray eyes stared at Harry and a little crease marred the space between them. He looked worried.
“I promise,” Malfoy said softly, “I am not going to do anything bad. Can I see your hand, please?” Malfoy said please and Harry thought he might have an aneurism. Malfoy looked concerned and not like he wanted to start a fight and he was saying please.
“Did I fall into an alternate dimension or something,” Harry said, shock causing him to lose control of his filter, blurting out the first thing he thought. The person behind him laughed again, that deep rumble vibrating through Harry’s back where he was pressed against them. They squeezed their arms a little tighter for a moment. Almost…affectionately?
“No,” Malfoy said, exasperation clearly winning out over concern on his features now. “It’s still this same old shitty one. Can I PLEASE have your hand now before you bleed to death?” Harry didn’t know what to do so he silently raised his bloody hand towards Malfoy who handed his lit wand to the stranger. Those large hands took the wand but didn’t release their hold around Harry. He wiggled again just to test it, but they held strong.
Malfoy took his wrist gently and hissed in surprise when he saw the wound, open and angry red, dripping blood still. He immediately leaned down to a bag that was sitting on the floor that Harry hadn’t noticed before. He pulled out a little black cloth bag with a drawstring top. It was velvet and had a stitched monogram on the side: DLM sparkled in silver thread.
Malfoy pulled out gauze and began to press it to the wound lightly. Harry still sucked in a sharp breath of pain.
“Sorry,” Malfoy murmured, eyes flicking up to look at Harry for a brief moment before affixing back on his hand.
“What the fuck is going on?” Harry asked. Maybe it was blood loss causing him to hallucinate his rival tenderly cleaning blood off his hands, or maybe he’d passed out in Umbridge’s office and this was all a strange fever dream. Whatever the case, something weird was happening. And who the hell was holding him?
“We noticed that you were injured. We wanted to help and decided we didn’t care about hiding anymore,” the stranger said. Malfoy nodded once, but didn’t look up from where he was working, bowed over Harry’s hand.
“And who is we? Who are you?” Harry asked, wriggling a little, but gaining no traction in escaping the cage of this person’s arms.
“How rude of me,” they said lightly. “You are right, we have never been properly introduced. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Potter. My name is Blaise Zabini. I would be honored if you would call me Blaise.” Harry stilled as a mental image of the boy behind him pushed to the forefront of his mind. Tall, though everyone was taller than Harry it seemed, and broad chested. Dark brown skin and dark eyes with close cropped hair. Gorgeous was something he’d heard the Gryffindor girls sigh to each other on more than one occasion. He’d never spoken to him before tonight.
“Hi,” Harry said, unable to think of anything to say to that formal introduction that was so fiercely juxtaposed against their awkward embrace.
“Hello,” Blaise whispered. Oh great, he was Blaise in his head now.
“This will hurt,” Malfoy said, and when Harry looked down he was tipping the contents of a tiny vial onto Harry’s hand. He probably should have been more worried about Malfoy pouring something on him, but he couldn’t muster the energy to be concerned at the moment.
Malfoy hadn’t lied, whatever that potion was stung like hell. He gritted his teeth and breathed shallowly as it burned and Blaise’s arms, once again, tightened around him.
“Good,” Malfoy said, watching as the bleeding in Harry’s hand finally abated. “You were right, Blaise, whatever the bitch is using, it’s cursed.” Harry felt Blaise nod behind him, but he didn’t speak.
“It’s a quill,” Harry said. Malfoy pulled a little bottle with a screw top out of the black velvet bag and dipped his two fingers in, spreading the ointment over the cut. It didn’t hurt quite as bad as it had before. “I write with it on parchment and the quill cuts open my hand to use my blood as ink.”
“She’s a psycho,” Malfoy murmured, jaw clenched and eyes hard. Harry didn’t think he’d ever agree with Draco Malfoy about anything, but on this they were united.
“Can someone please explain why you’re here? Why are you helping me? Why are you acting differently?” Harry asked, watchin Malfoy wrap gauze around his hand so gently it bordered on reverence.
“Blaise told you, we’re tired of hiding from you,” Malfoy said, and even in the dim light from the wand, Harry could see his cheeks flush.
“Hiding?” Harry asked. He’d had to look at Malfoy’s arrogant grin and demanding sneer almost daily for 4 years. If he’d been hiding, he was shit at it.
“Yes,” Blaise said behind him. “We–” he cut off abruptly and all three of them tensed as they heard voices coming down the hall. Blaise tightened his grip almost protectively and pulled Harry further back into his chest.
“And you’re sure he couldn’t have slipped by you on his way to the tower?” The saccharine voice of Umbridge said. Malfoy grabbed his wand and whispered “Nox” just as the voices stopped outside their hiding place. They were plunged into complete darkness as they listened.
“No, Ma’am,” Filch replied, voice ragged and wheezing as if he’d just jogged there. “I know this castle like the back of my hand and there ain’t no way.”
“Hmmm,” Umbridge hummed in thought. “I see. And I had so been looking forward to giving him another week of detention for being out after curfew.” Harry clenched his one hand into a fist at his side. The other was still being held tightly by one of Malfoy’s cool hands. It was HER fault he was out past curfew, that cow.
“Would serve the little whelp right,” Filch agreed, readily. Umbridge twittered out a girlish laugh and Harry wanted to throw up in his mouth.
“I will no doubt find cause to renew our nightly detentions in the near future. Thank you for your help, Argus. Good evening,” she said. Harry heard the click of her kitten heel walking quickly down the hallway and he desperately hoped she didn’t notice the trail of blood leading from her doorway to this alcove. Filch began to whistle lightly as he walked off in the other direction, the tune becoming quieter until it disappeared completely.
Blaise let out a long sigh behind him. “I’m sorry, Ha…er…Potter,” he said. He had wanted to call him Harry, hadn’t he? “We don’t have time tonight to explain. But we will.” The light glowed again suddenly from the tip of Malfoy’s wand at his whispered spell and Harry watched him nod. Almost eager.
“We will explain everything,” he promised. “We will send you a message. Just don’t get any more detentions and please, don’t tell anyone about this.” The boy’s eyes were deep gray and worried. Imploring. Sincere, Harry thought. He was being real right now.
“Ok,” Harry whispered. What would he tell anyone anyway? That Blaise Zabini gave him a hug and Draco Malfoy bandaged up his wounded hand? They’d think he’d lost his mind. He still kind of thought that too, to be honest. Malfoy looked relieved at hearing that confirmation though and he smiled a little. Not a sneer or a scoff, a real smile. It made his face look different, Harry thought. Softer, somehow.
“Thank you,” he breathed out. “Can you get to your tower alright?” Harry nodded mutely and suddenly the warm embrace that he’d been trapped in since being tugged into this alcove released him. He felt almost cold without it.
“We will talk,” Blaise said, squeezing his hand on Harry’s shoulder once before backing away and lifting the edge of the tapestry. He scanned his dark eyes left and right down the corridor before nodding the all clear. Harry and Malfoy followed him out into the deserted walkway.
“Goodnight,” Blaise said, looking Harry up and down before shooting him a crooked grin. Malfoy hovered next to him, shorter by several inches than his friend. He rubbed his hand nervously up and down his arm, in an uncharacteristic display of his discomfort. Although, Harry supposed, everything the boy had said and done tonight had been uncharacteristic.
“You’ll explain?” Harry asked, not quite ready to walk away yet. Malfoy nodded immediately and dropped his hand from his rubbing.
“I promise,” he said. Harry believed him. He didn’t know why, but he did.
“Alright. Goodnight then,” he said, and then in a true show of trust, he turned his back on the two Slytherin’s and made his way cautiously to the Gryffindor tower. He didn’t run into Filch or anyone on the way and he hid his bandaged arm from view when he entered the common room. He didn’t need to, though. The room was empty. The fire in the hearth was smoldering embers and the room was dark and cool. He made it to the 5th year dorm and collapsed into bed gratefully, pulling the curtains shut around him and drifting into a deep sleep listening to the sounds of his roommates soft snores and gentle rustling.
—
Breakfast the next day was subdued. Harry felt out of sorts and poked at his food instead of eating it. Hermione was reading a large book and eating toast with jam delicately, making sure no crumbs got on her pages. Ron wolfed down his food, as per usual and chatted with Seamus and Dean across the table. Harry couldn’t help himself, he glanced over at the Slytherin table.
Malfoy was easiest to spot. His hair was bright and caught the morning light where he sat, bookended between Crabbe and Goyle. He looked just the same as ever. Haughty, pompous and rude. Punchable, Harry had always thought.
But last night he had looked different. Nervous, shy, genuine. Was that the real Malfoy, or was this one?
They had said, ‘We’re tired of hiding from you’. Harry’s eyes roamed the table until he found Blaise seated near the end. Alone. He was sitting by himself and writing in a small notebook at his elbow. His tall frame bowed over the table and his face scrunched in concentration. Harry had never paid attention to him before, so he wasn’t sure if it was unusual for him to be on his own or not.
“Harry,” Hermione’s voice broke his ruminations and he glanced over to where she was staring at him.
“What?” he asked, obviously coming in late to a conversation in progress. Hermione huffed in annoyance.
“I said, did you start your Potions homework yet?” Harry shook his head glumly, thinking of all the backed up homework he had waiting for him. His nightly detentions had made it nearly impossible to keep up, and he would likely be spending the weekend in the library. Oh, joy.
Ron excused himself awkwardly and slunk off on his own, declining to go to the library with them. Harry barely even noticed. His eyes flicked back to the Slytherin table where Blaise had just stood, tucking his notebook into the pocket of his robes. He walked slowly towards the exit and just before he turned to leave, his eyes darted towards Harry and they locked gazes for the briefest of moments. Harry shivered.
Blaise left the great hall and soon Hermione was dragging Harry out as well. He hadn’t really eaten, but he wasn’t feeling very hungry. He’d come down for lunch later.
As they walked past the Slytherin table, Harry heard Malfoy say something and the small knot of Slytherins around him laughed. Harry chanced a look in his direction, but Malfoy was pointedly not looking his way. Harry almost felt disappointed when they left the great hall and Malfoy hadn’t looked at him once.
---
Harry had been right. The weekend was awful. And not just because of the mountains of school work being foisted on the 5th years, although that was the main source of his misery.
No. Harry was antsy. He was having trouble concentrating on his work because it was Sunday night and he still hadn’t heard from Blaise and Malfoy. They had said they would send a message. They had promised they would explain. But here he was, chewing his nails and desperately trying to finish his charms work before its due date tomorrow morning, agonizing over when they would contact him.
“Harry, you’ve torn through your parchment,” Hermione pointed out. Harry lifted his quill and sure enough there was a hole punched right through. He sighed and tapped it with his wand to fix it.
“Mind if I see that?” Ron said, pointing to the essay. It was almost done anyway, so Harry slid it over to his friend dutifully. Hermione rolled her eyes, but didn’t comment.
The library was pretty quiet on a sunday evening. Most students either finished with their assignments or sticking to their common rooms as the weekend drew to a close. They finished their work and Harry gratefully tucked all of his finished assignments into his bag and they made their way back to the dorms for the night. Ron had been quiet this weekend, but Harry wasn’t complaining. He was alright with not being berated for his odd behavior. No one had even asked what was wrong with his hand. He had been terrible at trying to hide it, but it appeared no one cared so he stopped trying.
Harry slept fitfully that night and rose early on Monday morning. He sipped on pumpkin juice at breakfast and nibbled a cucumber sandwich at lunchtime, but didn’t finish it. After lunch he was tired and feeling empty as he walked into the Defense classroom and glared balefully at the pink monstrosity standing at the front of the room, an off putting smile plastered on her wide face.
Harry didn’t even make it ten minutes into the class before gaining another week of detentions. The bitch had goaded him right off the bat and he, like an idiot, had risen to the bait.
Ron patted his back in what was obviously meant to be a consoling gesture, but it fell flat as he mumbled condolences and walked away. Hermione just told him to stop reacting to Umbridge at all. Then she wouldn’t have an excuse to punish him. Easy for her to say. Ubridge wasn’t calling her a liar.
Harry skipped dinner and laid in his bed until it was time to leave for his detention. He dragged his feet and only passed a few people in the corridors as he made his way slowly towards his own torture.
When the door swung shut behind him as he entered her office, he felt Umbridge’s cold eyes boring into him as he took his seat. She told him in her sticky sweet voice to write the same as last time and then she picked up a stack of papers and began grading them at her desk. Harry took up the cursed quill and tore into his flesh.
It wasn’t as bad as it had been on Friday. The stuff Malfoy had put on his wound had healed it faster than it would have, so it didn’t bleed nearly as much. It still hurt so bad he wanted to cry. But he remained silent for the entire detention, never showing on his face how much pain he was in or how much he wanted to strangle the woman responsible.
“That’s all, you may go,” Umbridge said hours later. Harry rose mechanically and turned on his heel, leaving her office without a word or a glance in her direction. He stumbled a little as he dragged himself up the staircases and down the deserted corridors. He made it halfway down the fourth flour corridor when a classroom door burst open in front of him. He was so tired he barely flinched, but he did reach for his wand before halting his hand mid-way.
Malfoy’s face popped around the corner of the door and gestured at him hurriedly, glancing up and down the hallway nervously.
Finally, Harry thought, and didn’t even second guess his decision to follow the blond into the empty classroom. The blackboard at the front of the room had a crack running down the middle and all the tables and desks were pushed up against the walls in a messy clutter.
“Hand,” Malfoy said without preamble, holding his own out expectantly as Blaise, who had been standing just inside the classroom, shut the door behind him and muttered a sealing and locking spell at it.
Harry held out his hand without a fuss and Malfoy took him by the wrist, turning it up to look at the wound.
“Could be worse,” he said, and he sounded relieved. He pulled his little black velvet bag from a pocket in his robes and plucked the things he wanted from it. Blaise walked up behind Harry and put his hand on his shoulder, oddly reminiscent of their last encounter.
“How did you know?” Harry asked and the hand on him squeezed lightly. Malfoy snorted though and looked up at him as he cleaned the wound.
“Rumor travels fast in this school. We heard before dinner was even over,” he said. Harry rolled his eyes, of course. Nothing was ever a secret at Hogwarts for long. And he had been given detention in front of his whole class.
“Thanks,” Harry said awkwardly, shuffling his feet and wishing he could sit down. Malfoy smiled a little, but didn’t look up, focused on his task.
“Can…” Blaise said behind him and Harry turned his head as much as he could to look up at him. He was looking upset, maybe? Or anxious? “Can I call you Harry, please?” he asked. Harry couldn’t help the light laugh that escaped him at that question. It was so silly and sweet and so totally out of place in the current situation.
“Yeah, alright,” Harry said. He grinned until Malfoy put that stinging stuff on his cut again and then his face contorted in pain and he closed his eyes tightly as he breathed through the discomfort.
“Harry,” Blaise said as soon as Malfoy had finished and began to spread the soothing ointment. Harry opened his eyes and looked back again. “Do you want to sit down?” Harry looked around at the dusty floor and tried to imagine either of the pristine Slytherin’s deigning to dirty their robes by sitting on it, but his legs were about to give out and he gratefully nodded. Blaise pulled his wand out again and scourgified the floor and then conjured a blanket which he spread out. Of course, that solved that problem.
Malfoy seemed to barely notice any of this happening around him as he was wrapping Harry’s hand with white gauze carefully. He merely followed silently as Blaise directed Harry to sit, kneeling in front of him and continuing his ministrations. Blaise settled behind him. Again. What was with that boy and wanting to be behind him? Harry scooched to the side a little so he could see him better just as Malfoy finished his wrapping and patted Harry’s hand gently before putting away his items.
“You’re really good at that,” Harry said to him, inspecting his wrapped hand. Malfoy flushed bright red at the compliment as he shoved the velvet bag back into his robe pocket.
“Thank you,” he said, stiffly.
“Did you teach yourself?” Harry asked, suddenly very curious. About everything. And he was going to get answers.
“Some,” Malfoy said. “Sev…Professor Snape taught me some as well.” Harry couldn’t help but be impressed.
“Draco wants to be a healer,” Blaise said, and Harry could hear the pride and affection in the boy’s tone. Malfoy was still blushing furiously as he tucked his loose blonde hair behind his ear. Harry now noticed that it was in soft waves around his face as opposed to gelled to within an inch of its life. He liked it much better this way.
“Am I going to get answers now?” Harry asked, suddenly unable to contain his desperation to know the truth.
“Of course,” Blaise said softly. His voice was so low and melodic. “Draco, would you mind if I go first?” So polite. He had been so polite last time too.
“Go ahead, mine will take longer anyway,” Malfoy said in a stilted manner. He had spoken to Blaise, but his eyes hadn’t left Harry’s face as he spoke. Harry swallowed and Malfoy’s gaze flicked to where his throat had bobbed and then back up to his eyes.
“Harry,” Blaise said. Harry looked away from Malfoy and his hungry stare to look at the boy sitting near him. “I don’t know if you know very much about me or my family, but I would guess that you are unfamiliar with either, am I correct?” Harry nodded, not willing to speak and potentially stop either of them from explaining what’s going on.
Blaise smiled sadly, but continued. “That is what I thought. The Zabini family is small, but fierce. I proudly call myself a Slytherin because I know what it means to be clever enough and dedicated enough to go after what you want, regardless of the obstacles. However, we have never been supporters of the Dark Lord and we have remained neutral through the last war and up until now. I have sought to remain so and in order to do that, I have made few friends among my own house. Draco is the only person I would consider so.” At this the boy looked at Malfoy and smiled softly. It made him seem gentle and warm when he did.
“I do not wish to join the Dark Lord, however I fear that my mother is having a change of heart regarding her neutrality. I am concerned with the direction my family is beginning to lean. I do not choose to follow a light side or a dark side. They are both pieces of the greater whole that is magic and I do not distinguish between them. I choose only to follow my heart's desire.” Blaise reached forward and took Harry’s hand in his own. It was warm and soft and as he threaded their fingers together Harry felt his chest clench.
“You,” he said.
“Wha–What?” Harry said, stupidly. But Blaise didn’t seem perturbed. He squeezed Harry’s hand and continued.
“I don’t say much normally, unless I have to. But I do pay attention. And I have watched you often.” Harry felt his face flush at that admission, but Blaise didn’t look embarrassed. He looked relieved, maybe even hopeful. “I see you and I want to know you. I choose to follow where you might lead me. Unequivocally, I am yours.” And then he bent over Harry’s uninjured hand and kissed the knuckles, gently brushing his lips across Harry’s skin.
Harry was baffled, but his hand tingled where Blaise’s lips had touched and he felt warm through his whole body. He opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know what that meant, really. Malfoy cleared his throat and Harry tore his eyes away from Blaise’s dark gaze to look at him. He sat stiffly on his heels with his hands fisting the fabric of his pants. His knuckles were white and bloodless and he bowed his head, hair falling over his face and obscuring his eyes from view.
“I’m sorry,” Malfoy whispered. Harry was surprised, but he supposed that was the theme for the night. “I am so, so sorry.” Malfoy drew in a long rattling breath before turning his face back up and looking at Harry with red rimmed and glassy eyes.
“I don’t know how to explain in a way that will make you hate me less, but I will try.” He cleared his throat again before running his hand through his pale hair and continuing. “When I was little, mother bought me a book. It was a picture book of famous witches and wizards. It was supposed to teach history, but I was 7 and wasn’t interested in that. I’m still not, if I’m being honest.” Blaise laughed softly and squeezed Harry’s hand a little where he still held it. Harry found himself smiling as well, which seemed to light a fire in Malfoy’s eyes.
“My favorite chapter was about you,” Malfoy stated, twisting his hands together nervously. Harry’s eyes widened, but he didn’t comment. Not yet. “I must have read it a hundred times. They had this illustration of you and I used to watch it move for hours. I knew you were my age because they had your birthday written under the picture. I wanted to be just like you. I wanted to be best friends with you. I wanted us to run away together and fight evil.” Malfoy flushed aggressively at this. The pink in his cheeks splotchy and bright. “I begged to write you letters or send you gifts, but I was told no. Father took the book away and burned it. I cried so hard but he told me not to talk about you anymore. I didn’t understand at the time, but I learned later. I learned that to be a Malfoy I had to act a certain way, talk a certain way and behave exactly as I had been instructed. The punishment for failure is harsh and I have failed many times.” His voice cracked. His eyes looked vacant and far away as he stared into that middle distance without focusing. Harry leaned forward a little and caught his eyes and watched them clear as their gaze focused on Harry.
“I tried. I tried so hard to be what they wanted, even though it felt like ripping myself apart to do so. I wear a mask designed to fool my parents and the world into believing I am the perfect pureblood heir. I do not have friends, I have allies. I have rivals. I have tools to be used and pawns to be sacrificed. Until I heard on the train that you were coming to Hogwarts I had halfway convinced myself that I could be a Malfoy, that the mask was real. And then I embarrassed myself in front of the only person I ever wanted to know. The person I had dreamed would see a weak and pathetic little boy and whisk him away from everything.
“You, rightfully, snubbed me. I was a prat. I was overbearing and rude and so eager to impress you that I forgot that in my mask I am not worth knowing. I am sorry for how I behaved. I am sorry for everything I have said and done. I do not believe what my parents believe or wish to follow in their footsteps. I know it isn’t enough, just the words. I know you don’t have any reason to believe me, but wanting to know you is one of my earliest memories and I don’t want to not know you anymore. I couldn’t stand not interacting with you and so I bullied and harassed and teased and if I could take it all back I would. I found the only way of gaining your attention and I exploited it. I am sorry.” Malfoy bowed his head and Harry realized that he was actually bowing. Bent over at the waist and formally bowing as well as he could from his position kneeling on the floor.
“I…” Harry said and Malfoy’s head snapped up to look at him. Harry licked his lips and his mouth felt very dry. “Thank you. For telling me. I believe you.” How could he not? No one made up a story like that. He didn’t think even Malfoy was that manipulative or that good of an actor.
“Do you have any questions, Harry?” Blaise asked. Harry looked down at where their hands were clasped together.
“When you say you were hiding, you meant that you were pretending to act a certain way…because of your parents?” Harry asked. It seemed bizarre, but he was getting the impression that their lives were more complicated and a lot darker than he realized.
“Correct,” Blaise said. Malfoy was now also staring at where Blaise’s hand gripped Harry’s. Harry sighed and held out his injured hand delicately toward the blond boy who looked startled for only a moment before taking Harry’s bandaged hand and clasping it between his cool ones. He looked relieved and Harry thought it was cute that something so small could make him so happy.
“So you…like me?” Harry asked, he was still kind of confused about what all of this meant. Blaise had said that he wanted to follow Harry. Malfoy had said he wanted to be friends, but he also wanted to hold his hand?
“We like you very much,” Blaise agreed. Malfoy nodded.
“More than anything,” he said.
“You want…to be friends?” Harry asked, still feeling a little lost. Blaise opened his mouth, but Malfoy cut in quicker.
“Yes please,” he said, softly. He was trailing his fingers up and down Harry’s palm, over his fingers and up his wrist absently.
“But…not in public, right?” Malfoy’s fingers twitched, but continued their light touch.
“Yes, for now we must still play our parts,” Blaise said. He was giving Malfoy an odd look, pursing his lips a little in a frown and clenching his jaw.
“Ok,” Harry said. He didn’t know what that meant. Being secret friends with these two, but he did know that he was interested in trying. The way they looked at him and touched him and worried about him made him feel special. In a way he never had before.
—
Following his detention the next evening Harry rounded a corner and found Malfoy leaned casually against the stone wall near a classroom door, waiting for him. He straightened immediately when Harry came into view and brushed his hair back from his eyes where it was hanging loose again.
“Hello,” Malfoy said with a hesitant smile. Harry tried to grin back, but it came out as more of a grimace as his hand throbbed painfully where he held it. Malfoy made a little upset noise in the back of his throat and opened the door to the empty classroom for him. Harry slipped inside.
Blaise had already cleared a space in the center of the room and laid out a blanket. He had also lit several candles and they bobbed in the air around the room, flickering warm light off the walls.
“Good evening,” Blaise said, formally. Did he ever speak in a more relaxed way?
“Hi,” Harry replied, taking his seat on the floor and giving his injured hand to Malfoy gratefully. The boy began to clean his wound in a way that was becoming a habit.
“How was your day?” Blaise asked, seating himself, once again, behind Harry. Harry let out a frustrated sigh as he turned his head back awkwardly to look at him. Malfoy froze where he sat and Blaie’s eyes blinked in concern a few times.
“What is it?” Malfoy said, slowly returning to his healing.
“Blaise always sits behind me,” Harry complained. He realized it sounded stupid, but he wanted to look at him while they spoke. “I can’t see him.” Malfoy snorted and shook his head, flicking his eyes towards Blaise quickly.
“Go ahead and tell him,” he said. Blaise sighed and slipped a large warm hand over Harry’s shoulder, but didn’t move from his position.
“I like sitting where I can watch,” Blaise murmured. Harry heard the insecurity in his tone, and realized this was a confession of sorts for the quiet boy.
“You can’t watch from right here?” Harry asked, gesturing with his uninjured hand to the spot between himself and Malfoy.
“Blaise feels most comfortable as an observer. He wants to sit near you, but doesn’t want to be in the way,” Malfoy said calmly. It seemed when he was talking about his friend and not himself, he wasn’t a nervous wreck.
“I can move, if it bothers you,” Blaise said immediately. Harry shook his head. He still didn’t really get it, but if Blaise was more comfortable where he was, he didn’t want to ruin that.
“It’s fine. I was just curious,” he said. Blaise’s hand ran from his shoulder, down his arm and back up again in a comforting touch.
“Thank you, Harry,” he said. They sat in silence for a few minutes as Malfoy finished cleaning and bandaging Harry’s fresh wound. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable though. It didn’t feel strained or awkward. It felt nice.
Finally Blaise broke the quiet.
“Here,” he said, pulling a small box from his pocket and handing it to Harry over his shoulder. Harry took it and opened it. It was sweets. Lemon bars.
“Oh,” Harry said, taking one out of the box. It was sticky and covered in powdered sugar and his mouth immediately began to water. He took a large bite and realized he was ravenous. He’d skipped dinner again tonight. Harry groaned low in his throat and took another bite, it was tart and sweet and delicious. “Thank you,” he said, although it might have come out garbled around his mouthful.
Blaise chuckled and Malfoy looked scandalized that he’d spoken with his mouth full.
“Harry,” Blaise started. “Why didn’t you eat dinner?” Harry swallowed dryly and lowered the pastry from where he had been about to take another bite. He didn’t really want to talk about this. Malfoy noticed his hesitation though and reached out his hand, placing it on Harry’s knee.
“You don’t have to tell us,” he said, shooting a look over Harry’s head at his friend.
“I’m sorry,” Blaise said, squeezing his shoulder. “I was just worried.” Harry didn’t know what to say. No one paid attention to him like this. None of his friends, none of the teachers, he frequently skipped meals and had never been questioned about it before now. It felt strange to think that two people he barely knew cared more than his friends of 4 years.
“It’s ok,” Harry said. “I just…don’t feel hungry sometimes. When I’m nervous or sad or angry it feels better to be empty…or something.” That sounded stupid, he thought. They were going to think he was crazy. Maybe they would change their mind about being his friend now.
“When you’re happy, do you feel like eating?” Blaise asked. Harry nodded silently, he still held the half finished lemon bar in his hand and he could feel where it was making his fingers sticky.
“So you were happy just now?” Malfoy asked cautiously. Harry had been feeling content. He had wanted to feel full to match that feeling. He nodded again.
Malfoy’s smile lit up the whole room and he eagerly leaned in, removing his hand from Harry’s knee and taking Harry by the wrist. He removed the sticky pastry from Harry’s hand carefully and took a small bite, pink tongue licking at the corner of his mouth to catch the powdered sugar.
“I’m happy too,” he said with a grin. Harry felt the tension drain from his shoulders and he laughed softly. Behind him, Blaise leaned forward and put his chin on Harry’s shoulder. Malfoy held out the lemon bar and Blaise also took a bite, humming softly as he chewed.
“Me too,” he said in Harry’s ear. Harry buzzed with an electric current of pleasure. It felt so normal to share food, but it felt like more too. They were saying it wasn’t weird. They were accepting him in a way that felt natural and good and he didn’t have to hide. He laughed again and when Malfoy held up the last bite of the dessert he opened his mouth and accepted it eagerly, chewing happily and feeling more content than he had in weeks. Months. Maybe ever.
—
Wednesday night, Blaise met him practically right outside of the Defense classroom door and walked with him through the dark and empty castle. He seemed to be chewing on his cheek as if he wanted to say something.
“What is it?” Harry finally asked as they made it to the 3rd floor landing, peering cautiously around the corner to check that the coast was clear. Blaise glanced at him from where he walked at his side.
“I was wondering if you would be willing to call Draco by his first name,” he said quietly. “He is desperate to feel closer to you, but is too afraid to ask. If you were to call him Draco I think it would make him very happy.” Harry hummed thoughtfully. He’d never thought about him as anything other than Malfoy. Although maybe that wasn’t entirely true, he’d often thought of him as ‘git’ and ‘prat’ too, but that didn’t count.
“I can do that,” he said. “It might take some getting used to, but when we’re alone I don’t think it would be too bad.” He grinned at the idea of Malfoy...er…Draco…calling him Harry. For some reason that made him giddy.
“Thank you,” Blaise said, leading him to the empty classroom that they had chosen for tonight’s meetup. It was similar to all the others. Obviously disused and stacked with spare desks and broken items. Outside the window it was dark and he could hear rain lashing against the glass.
Ma…Draco sat on the blankets with all of his healing items already out and ready. He smiled hesitantly as Harry settled in front of him and held out his hand. Well, here goes nothing, he thought.
“Hello, Draco,” Harry said evenly. He tried to make it sound natural and not stilted and awkward. He didn’t know if he’d managed, but Draco’s little intake of air and widening eyes were a good indication that his gesture was well received.
“Hello…” Draco said, cautiously. Harry was a little disappointed he hadn’t said it back and the thought must have shown on his face, because Draco flushed in embarrassment. Blaise, who had just shut and sealed the door, came over to kneel behind Harry as usual.
“Draco, I believe, would like to call you by your full name and not your nickname, is that correct?” Blaise said, and Harry scrunched his face in confusion. Full name? Draco nodded in a rush and swallowed thickly before speaking.
“If that’s ok, I know you go by Harry with your friends and if you prefer that, of course I will call you by that name,” he said in a scramble. Harry was still confused.
“I…I don’t understand…” he said. Draco’s face fell and Blaise placed a hand very gently on Harry’s lower back.
“What don’t you understand, Harry,” Blaise asked calmly. Draco was fidgeting, but the boy behind him was steady and warm and it made Harry feel better just knowing he was there.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What full name?” he asked. Blaise ran his fingers a few inches up his spine and back down soothingly.
“Draco would like to call you Hadrian, if that is alright with you.” Harry was lost. Why would Draco want to call him that?
“Why?” he asked, confusion and desperation causing his chest to feel tight. He had a strange sensation that something bad was about to happen. Like plunging into a frozen lake and the shock was about to catch up to him.
“That’s what I always called you when I was little,” Draco said, still looking unsure where he sat. “I always liked the way it sounded.” He smiled hopefully. Obviously he had thought this would make Harry happy. It just made him feel lost and alone in his confusion.
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Harry whispered. “My name isn’t Hadrian.” Blaise stopped the motion of his hand on Harry’s back and Draco’s mouth fell open in surprise. The rain drummed against the windows in the intervening silence.
“Of course it is,” Draco said, face flushing and hair falling into his eyes. “I’ve read every book that even briefly mentions you. I’ve saved every article and I even tried to get Gringotts to send me a copy of your birth certificate, but they said it was ‘a gross violation of client privacy’ but their letter listed your full name in their denial. Hadrian James Potter. I…” He swallowed hard and looked so lost. “Why don’t you know that?”
“Draco,” Blaise said evenly. His hand pressed fully to Harry’s back, fingers splayed wide in a steadying touch. “Harry, have you ever been to Grigotts?” The question was surprising and a little insulting if he was being honest.
“Of course I have,” Harry snapped. He was feeling on edge and wildly out of his comfort zone. “I…” he trailed off thinking about when the last time he’d been to the bank was. “I went first year to get money from my vault…Hagrid took me.” Malfoy looked completely scandalized by this.
“And when you were there, did they give you your portfolios? Did they run your inheritance test and set up your statements to be sent to you by mail? Did they take you through the main family vaults as well as your inheritance vaults?” Blaise’s voice was calm and low, as usual. But the things he was saying were causing Harry to panic. He instinctively leaned back into the heat of Blaise’s chest and the boy immediately wrapped his arms around him. It felt so nice, Harry closed his eyes and pretended he wasn’t about to have a meltdown for a moment.
“I don’t know what any of that means,” he said, eyes still closed. “I went with Hagrid and he gave the goblins my key, we went to my vault and took out money to do my shopping. Every year after that someone has gone for me. I don’t even have the key…I don’t…” he gulped air in raggedly and Blaise’s grip tightened, holding him hard against his chest.
“Oh,” Draco said softly, and Harry finally opened his eyes to see the blond was staring at him with wide eyed horror.
“Please, someone tell me what’s going on,” Harry begged. Draco nodded immediately and repositioned himself so that he was seated closer to Harry, their knees brushing together.
“I am sorry,” Draco said. “You are heir Potter, I assumed you knew what that meant. I will be better about what I say and assume from now on. Yes, your first name is Hadrian. Obviously I will not call you that if it makes you uncomfortable. When you first went to Gringotts you should have been given instructions for how to run your family, since you are the sole surviving heir. You should have been set up to receive your portfolios and monthly statements with information about your vaults and investments. The fact that you were not is highly concerning and we will need to discuss what to do moving forward. But not tonight.” Draco leaned forward and brushed Harry’s hair back from his face.
“Tonight has been a lot, and I am very sorry. We will fix it though.” Draco tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes which still looked sad and worried. Harry wriggled a little in Blaise’s grip until the boy got the idea and released his arms from their hold. Harry lunged forward and wrapped Draco in a tight hug. Draco stiffened in his arms for a moment before returning the hug almost desperately.
“Thank you,” Harry said. He didn’t know why, but everyone he knew was keeping things from him. His name, his inheritance…maybe they weren’t doing it on purpose, but maybe they were. Harry suddenly didn’t know who he could trust. Except he did trust the two people in this room, weirdly enough. They were the only ones who seemed to want to tell him anything important.
Draco buried his face in Harry’s neck and hugged him tightly, breathing deep and running his hands up and down his back. Harry clutched the back of his robes and held on for longer than a hug was probably supposed to last. Not that he’d had many to compare it to.
“Oh, Morgana your hand,” Draco blurted and moved back hastily from the embrace. Harry laughed lightly as Draco scrambled with Harry’s wrist and continued to clean and dress the wound. He pushed his glasses up on his forehead and wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. He hadn’t cried, but they were feeling hot and itchy, nonetheless.
“Everything will be ok,” Blaise said behind him, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry breathed in deeply and let all the tension he was feeling out on the exhale.
“I trust you,” he said, and he didn’t miss the quirk of Draco’s lips or the gentle squeeze of Blaise’s hand.
—
Thursday was when Hermione finally noticed Harry’s hand.
“What happened?” she said, setting aside the essay she’d been reviewing at breakfast and snatching his wrist. He hissed in pain as she roughly grabbed the slowly healing wound. The one he’d be tearing open again in a few hours. It was weird that he looked forward to his detentions now. Not because he was suddenly a masochist or anything, but because of what happened after.
“Sorry,” Hermione said, pulling her hand back and releasing Harry’s wrist.
“It’s ok. It’s nothing, just cut my hand.” He didn’t like lying to her, but he also didn’t feel very inclined to tell her anything either. It had taken her almost two weeks to notice anything was even wrong, he didn’t feel very loyal at the moment.
“Why don’t you go to Madam Pomfrey?” Hermione asked, but at that moment Ron slipped into the empty seat next to her and began to fill his plate. His elbow came dangerously close to knocking over her tea. She snatched the essay off the table and out of harm's way, making an irritated noise at him. Ron rolled his eyes at her.
“Don’t do revisions at the breakfast table and they won’t be in danger of accidental drownings,” he said, giving Harry a look over her shoulder. That look seemed to say ‘can you believe her?’ Harry averted his gaze without engaging in their bickering as Hermione began to argue back. Harry tuned them out and went back to his new favorite past time; watching his Slytherins.
Draco was holding court in the middle of the table, pale face twisted into a pompous sneer and bright hair swept back and subdued with far too much product. His eyes were vacant though, Harry noticed. Whatever his face was doing, it didn’t reach his eyes. They were blank. So unlike how they would light with a bright intensity when he laughed, or smiled at Harry warmly or ranted about Umbridge, which he did a lot.
Blaise was sitting with a 4th year Slytherin girl at the end of the table. He had his arm thrown casually across her shoulder and Harry felt his heart jump into his throat. Why did he suddenly feel the need to throw a chair across the room? The girl leaned in and said something to him and Blaise laughed, shoulders shaking lightly. Blaise looked over just then and his eyes caught Harry’s across the room. Harry looked away as fast as he could and stood abruptly startling Hermione out of her argument. He swung his legs over the bench and began to move, chest feeling tight and anger bubbling under his skin.
“Where are you going?” she asked, snatching his hand as he passed her. He yelped and pulled back as she, once again, raked her fingers over his injury. She released him hurriedly, apology in her eyes.
“Forgot something,” he said, cradling his hand. They had drawn some attention from the Hufflepuff’s nearby and Harry lowered his head and made his way to the exit. He ducked into the first empty hallway off the entryway and leaned heavily against the wall. He closed his eyes for a minute and breathed through the dull throb in his hand until it subsided. When he opened his eyes, Blaise was in front of him.
“Fuck,” he said, jerking sharply in surprise. Harry looked around, but Draco wasn’t there. Blaise tugged his sleeve and led him to an alcove behind a suit of armor where they would be hidden from anyone passing by.
“Are you ok?” Blaise’s dark eyes were scanning his face with worry and he reached out to brush Harry’s hair back from his cheek.
“Yeah,” Harry said, lifting his injured hand up. “Hermione grabbed my hand and it hurt, but I’m ok.” Blaise’s concern didn’t abate and he bit his cheek again, which Harry had noticed the last time he’d wanted to say something, but was holding himself back. “What?” Harry asked, leaning forward in the small space so that they were just a little closer together and he could feel the heat from the boy’s body.
“You looked upset before that,” he said. “You got up and were leaving abruptly when Granger grabbed you.”
“You noticed that?” Harry said, embarrassment flooding him. He had been angry. He’d been upset that Blaise was…what…dating someone? The thought turned his stomach.
“I notice a lot,” Blaise said with a twist of his mouth, but his eyes remained focused and worried.
“It was nothing,” Harry tried, but he didn’t think Blaise was buying it. “I…I’m not ready to talk about it yet.” That seemed to calm the concern in the boy’s stare. Blaise lifted his hand and ran the back of his two fingers from Harry’s shoulder and down his arm lightly.
“When you’re ready,” Blaise said, softly. Harry’s breathing hitched a little. The stark difference between this and the way Hermione or Ron would berate him and wheedle the information out of him was refreshing. Blaise wanted to be there for him, but was trying to give him space to breathe.
“Thank you,” Harry said, gratefully. Voices began to grow louder as students exited the great hall and headed to class. Blaise’s eyes darted to the hallway and back to Harry. “Go,” Harry said. “I’ll wait a few minutes.” Blaise nodded his head in acceptance of the plan and gave Harry a last small smile before leaving their sheltered spot. A little seed inside Harry’s chest thrummed with satisfaction.
Umbridge decided to up her game that night, keeping him so late that midnight was long past by the time he stumbled out of her office. He was feeling woozy and nauseous as he dug the cloth that Draco had given him out of his pocket and held it to the oozing cut. It was charmed to be highly absorbent and Harry would have been more impressed with the spellwork if he wasn’t about to pass out. He didn’t make it up the first flight of stairs before he slumped down and pushed his forehead against the banister, breathing heavily.
Draco found him there.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispered, kneeling down beside Harry and brushing cool fingers across his forehead.
“M’ok,” Harry mumbled and pushed himself to his feet. He only wobbled a little, but Draco made a tutting noise and gently swung Harry’s arm around his shoulder, stooping a little and wrapping his arm around his waist to support more of his weight. They shuffled, slowly and a bit awkwardly, up the stairs and to a classroom where Blaise was nervously pacing a hole in the floor.
“He was on the stairs,” Draco said, voice laced with anger and disdain. Blaise’s face fell and he immediately came over and helped Harry lower himself onto the blanket.
“I’m fine,” Harry said, getting his breathing under control. He still couldn't do anything about his head spinning, but he imagined sitting still would help that. Draco scoffed.
“You are far from fine, Hadrian. You’re about to pass out,” he said. So upset he hadn’t seemed to notice that he’d called him by his first name. His real first name, apparently. Harry didn’t hate it. He was also delirious. Draco dropped heavily onto his knees in front of him and began his nightly ritual of tending to Harry’s ever-present wound. Harry was starting to forget what it was like to have two whole and functioning hands.
“There has to be something we can do,” Blaise said. He hadn’t assumed his usual seat behind Harry and was still pacing, running his hand over his short hair and chewing on his lip. “This cannot continue.” Draco hummed his agreement, but he was focusing hard on his healing now. Harry liked watching his face as he concentrated. He got this little scrunch between his eyebrows that made him look angry and Harry found it endearing. In his exhausted state he didn’t hesitate to reach out and smooth his thumb between Draco’s eyes, pressing the crease flat.
Draco froze at the touch, blinking in surprise. Harry pulled his hand back and put it in his lap, sheepishly.
“Sorry,” he said, feeling silly.
“It’s alright. You can touch me,” Draco said, blushing furiously and concentrating his gaze solely on his work and not on Harry’s face, which was currently grinning widely. He reached out and slid his finger over the spot again, then followed the arch of Draco’s brow above his eye.
“So pretty,” Harry said. Draco’s eyes were mesmerizing. Shadowed gray and silver, like mercury, trapped and swirling.
Draco choked on a shocked gasp and coughed roughly into his elbow as Harry laughed.
“Thank you,” Draco said, his flush so intense it reached the tip of his ears and colored his neck. “So are you.” Harry snorted his derision and shook his head.
“It’s ok, you know,” Harry said, slurring a little and finding it hard to keep his eyes open. Draco looked concerned, but responded.
“What’s ok?”
“You can call me Hadrian. If you want to. Only you though,” Harry mumbled, while fuzzy black shapes crowded his vision and his ears rang.
Then he blacked out.
When he woke up he was very warm, but very groggy. He tried to sit up, but moaned hoarsely as his head pounded with the motion. Cool hands threaded through his hair and pushed him back down into his warm pillow.
“Don’t try to move yet, Blaise is getting something to help,” Draco’s voice was quiet and subdued. Harry turned to look towards the sound and realized Draco was directly over him. And Harry was using his lap as a pillow, while Draco moved his hands soothingly over his scalp.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Draco,” Harry started. Draco shushed him and continued his gentle petting. Harry relaxed slowly and didn’t try to rise again. They sat in silence for a few moments before Harry felt the urge to break it.
“Does Blaise have a girlfriend?” He blurted out, unable to suppress the question any longer.
“What?” Draco asked, catching his finger on a snag in Harry’s curls. He delicately untangled it before speaking again. “No, he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Why?” Harry wished he could see Draco’s face, because his tone sounded clipped and stilted.
“I saw him with a girl at breakfast this morning. He had his hand over her shoulder,” Harry said, feeling a strange relief and an overwhelming embarrassment.
“Oh,” Draco said. “That’s his mask. His mother is famous for marrying wealthy wizards who all die under mysterious circumstances. People see him and assume he’s the same way. He looks an awful lot like his mother. He leans into the ‘playboy’ persona by chatting up different girls. Always in public. He never dates any of them, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Harry turned and pressed his face into Draco’s legs, breathing out a heavy sigh.
“Please, don’t tell him I asked,” Harry requested. He felt dumb for not thinking about it that way. Blaise and Draco both played parts. They had lives and lies that had nothing to do with Harry at all and he was getting worked up over nothing. Almost like….
The door opened before he could finish that thought or Draco could answer. Blaise walked in clutching a messenger bag to his chest and breathing hard.
“Had to run from Snape in the dungeons just now,” he said, giving Draco a hard stare. “I think he knows you're out of bed and he’s waiting for you.” Draco snorted and didn’t seem concerned. If Harry knew Snape was waiting to ambush him late at night in the dungeons he might be wetting himself.
Blaise handed the bag over and Draco began to dig around inside, eventually pulling a vial out and uncorking it. He guided Harry to lie on his back and sit up a little so he could drink it. Harry didn’t even question what was in it until after he’d already swallowed.
“Blood replenisher,” Draco said before Harry could voice his question. “It’ll help with the headache and other symptoms. You’ll need to drink lots of water though.” Harry nodded mutely and allowed himself to lean back down onto Draco’s legs. Blaise sat beside him and put his hand on Harry’s where it rested on his stomach.
“Please don’t do that again,” Blaise requested. Harry rolled his eyes.
“Have you met me?” he said. “I can’t make that kind of promise.” Harry had meant it to be teasing and more than a little self deprecating, but Blaise’s jaw locked and the tendon in his neck stood out as he ground his teeth. Draco’s eyes went hard and he tightened his grip on Harry’s shoulder where he’d set his hand.
“No more,” Draco said. “No more mysterious detentions in the forbidden forest, no more secret chambers beneath the school, no more escaped murderers or dragons or hour long jaunts in the lake in February. It ends now.” He was seething and Harry was startled by the level of anger rolling off of him.
“Don’t forget returned Dark Lords, werewolves and dementors,” Blaise added, unhelpfully, Harry thought. Draco’s grip tightened even further as he ground his teeth.
“I’m ok,” Harry said stupidly. All of those things had sucked, but he was still alive.
“That’s not the point,” Draco snapped. “Promise me.” His eyes turned pleading and his eyes roamed Harry’s face desperately. “Promise me, no more.” He was really worried, Harry thought. He was terrified of something happening to him.
“I promise I’ll do my best,” Harry said. Draco nodded and seemed satisfied with that answer. “Oh,” Harry added. “And Sirius wasn’t trying to kill me, so you can take ‘escaped murderers’ off the list.” Both boys went still and Blaise leveled him with a hard stare until he felt compelled to explain.
He spent the rest of their time together telling them about third year while Draco fussed and made him sip water and Blaise gasped at all the exciting parts of his story.
—
Friday felt bitter sweet. On the one hand, Harry was done with his detentions with Umbridge. He could finally train with the quidditch team and catch up on sleep and homework. His wound would heal and he was looking forward to it. On the other hand he was terrified that as soon as he wasn’t in need, Blaise and Draco would disappear. The thought consumed him through his entire detention and as he was dismissed by Umbridge for hopefully the last time, he had a swooping moment of fear that tonight would be his last night with his Slytherin’s as well.
Blaise met him by the staircase tonight, and as Harry approached him he smiled broadly and straightened from where he’d been leaning against the banister. Harry felt that sinking in his stomach again, but returned the smile as warmly as he could. His hand was pulsing hotly and dripping into Draco’s spelled rag in a steady drip.
“Hi,” Harry said as Blaise fell in beside him and they quietly made their way upstairs. Blaise casually placed his arm across Harry’s shoulder as they walked and tugged him so that he was pressed close to his side. It felt effortless and easy and wonderful. It also felt important.
Draco was waiting by the door when they entered instead of his usual place seated on the blanket. He watched with shadowed eyes as Blaise removed his arm from around Harry and shut and spelled the door. Harry didn’t miss the edge of want in Draco’s face. Did he want to touch him the way Blaise had? Harry didn’t hesitate to close the distance between them and wrap his arms around Draco’s waist and bury his face in the boy’s chest. He smelled amazing. Like mint and something smokey. Maybe his cologne?
Draco threaded long fingers through his hair and ran them down Harry’s neck and back soothingly as Harry held him. Draco breathed out a sigh that Harry thought was contentment and he smiled into Draco’s robes. He had been right.
Draco backed away with a flush and led Harry to the blanket where all three of them took up their respective positions. Draco bent over Harry’s hand. Blaise kneeling behind him, but slightly to the side so that it was easier for Harry to look back at him, with his hand touching Harry on the shoulder or arm or back. Harry between them, wondering how it had only been a week since he’d been dragged into that alcove and had their gentle but insistent friendship thrust upon him. He was immeasurably happy even though his hand stung like a bitch.
“This is the last time,” Draco said, warning in his voice. Harry felt that bubble of happiness implode and worry gnaw at his gut. Did Draco mean the last time they would meet or just the last time for detention. He swallowed and tried not to freak out, but what he was feeling must have been on his face or his posture.
“What is it, Harry?” Blaise said. Harry glanced at him cautiously as the boy touched his arm lightly. Draco looked up too. He hadn’t noticed Harry’s sudden change in mood until Blaise had said something.
“Nothing,” Harry said. What he always said when people asked what was wrong. ‘Nothing’, ‘I’m fine’, ‘It’s ok’. He shook his head though. He didn’t want to do that with them.
He took a fortifying breath and drew on his Gryffindor bravery.
“No, that’s a lie. I’m scared…” he started. Draco’s hand froze and Blaise drew in a small breath, but both of them waited for Harry to continue. It felt weird being honest about how he was feeling, but also kind of freeing. “I’m scared that after tonight, we won’t meet anymore. Because I’m not going to be hurt and won’t need help. It made me sad to think about.” He swallowed dryly and heard his throat click. He looked down at where his hand was white knuckled, gripping the hem of his shirt in his lap, waiting for one of them to respond. The silence stretched for a few beats of his heart before Draco burst into laughter.
Harry whipped his head up in confusion. Draco was laughing harder than he’d ever heard before. He clutched his side and bent over a little, face pink and eyes closed tight in his mirth. Behind him, Blaise began to chuckle as well. Low and deep and throaty in that way that made Harry shiver. He swung around to glare at Blaise and then looked between the two of them in shocked confusion.
“Oh, Merlin, Hadrian,” Draco gasped between ragged breaths and sustained laughter. Blaise reached forward and wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist tugging him back into his chest and nuzzling Harry’s neck with his face affectionately.
“Alright, explain,” Harry said, becoming annoyed at being the butt of this joke.
“He hasn’t realized yet,” Blaise said, raising his head and grinning at Draco who had finally calmed down and was wiping his eyes with the corner of his robe sleeve.
“Realized what?” Harry said, frantically.
“You’re stuck with us,” Draco said, and Blaise nodded as well. “I’ve waited practically my whole life for this and I’ll die before I let it go.” Harry’s eyes widened, but Draco only smiled back at him.
“We are not going anywhere, Harry. We’re yours as long as you’ll have us,” Blaise added, smooth voice low and right by his ear.
“Ok, well you didn’t have to laugh about it,” Harry said with a pout, folding his arms over his chest and feigning anger. Really he was very pleased with their answers and looking forward to maybe doing things with them that didn’t involve so much blood and bandages.
“I’m sorry,” Blaise said gently, pushing his face back into Harry’s shoulder and rubbing his cheek against him like a friendly cat.
“I’m not,” Draco said. “That was hilarious. I’d do it again.” Harry lurched forward as far as Blaise’s arms would allow to try to swipe the smirk off Draco’s face. The boy leaned back out of reach with a chuckle, but then leaned in and snagged Harry’s hand so he could finish tightening the half wrapped bandage dangling there.
“Prat,” Harry mumbled, which caused Blaise to laugh again as he sat back on his heels, but left a hand wrapped around the back of Harry’s neck lightly. Posessively.
—
Tuesday, 19th September
Hadrian,
I miss you. I’m sorry we haven’t been able to meet this week, but I assure you we will arrange something soon. Send me your quidditch schedule so we can work around it, please. When we do get together I’ll review your potions essay if you’ll look at my defense assignment? I know it’s just Umbridge, but I do have a reputation to maintain. Blaise has been insufferable since Saturday morning. He is moping and drinking his coffee with too much sugar like he does when he’s upset. It always gives him a stomach ache, but he refuses to learn from his past mistakes. He says he’s suffering from ‘Harry withdrawals’ and I would mock him except I fear I have contracted that very same disease. I’m afraid the only cure is going to be several hours of uninterrupted time alone with you. Mother is sending me chocolate from her trip to France and I’ll bring it with me when we meet so you can try all of them. You’ll let me know which ones you like the best so I can order more of them. Can’t wait to see you,
-D
Draco,
I miss you too. Quidditch practice: Wednesday-6:45pm-8:45pm, Saturday: 11am-2:00pm. My potions essay needs so much help! I don’t know anything about antidotes and I will gladly let you tear it to shreds if it means getting a good grade. I would be happy to look over your defense assignment. Umbridge is a bitch and the stuff she’s teaching us is next to useless without practical application, but it’s still something. More than ever it’s important to know how to defend ourselves. I’d feel better if we practiced some defense together, honestly. I can show you a couple things, if you like. If not that’s fine too! Ew, Blaise likes coffee? I’m definitely a tea only kind of guy. I’m sure you’ve got a potion for upset stomachs in your magical medicine bag and you’re just holding out on him right? ‘Harry withdrawals’ sounds painful and I will be more than willing to sacrifice my time and presence towards the cure. Yes, please, to French chocolate! Hopefully soon…
H
Wednesday, 20th September
Harry,
I miss you. It’s been 100 hours since I’ve seen you smile and I think I shall perish if I go 100 more. Okay, Draco read that over my shoulder and told me I was a dramatic git. Seeing as Draco is in fact the uncontested champion of drama himself I find that he must know what he’s talking about. How was quidditch practice this week? I tried to watch from the library window, but it’s not the right angle and it’s too far away. I’ll need to find some kind of sight enhancing spell and try again. I like watching you fly. Don’t tell Draco, but I always secretly root for you even when you’re playing Slytherin. You look so very natural on a broom, as if you were born to fly. Maybe you were a phoenix in a previous life. I’ll see you in potions class today and I don’t think I’ll be able to pay attention to Snape’s lecture at all. You captivate my entire attention. We will send you a message with a date and time to meet soon.
Yours,
-B
Blaise,
I miss you too. It has now been 115 hours since I’ve seen you because I couldn’t write back until I was done with classes and quidditch today. I’m sitting on my bed using a textbook as a desk so people will stop wondering why I’m suddenly getting and sending so much mail. Ron and Hermione have already pestered me about it and I’m having a hard time remembering why I’m friends with them. They bicker at each other and berate me constantly… but you don’t care about that. Sorry. Draco is going to help me with my potions essay and I told him I’d look over his defense assignment in exchange. If you want I can do yours as well? Sight enhancing spell sounds awesome! Let me know if you find one. I won’t tell Draco, but when we play Slytherin in a few weeks I’ll remember that you’re rooting for me and not him and I’m sure it’ll help me catch the snitch. I never pay attention to Snape’s lecture, regardless of where my attention is, but maybe that’s why I need so much help with my homework. I hope you were able to pull yourself together enough to write down a few notes at least. Message soon please? I’m dying.
H
H-
Friday, 22nd September- 7pm- 5th floor, west side corridor, 4th door on the right.
-B & D
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