𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐀 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐀

Chapter 13

Dinner with the Slytherins was surprisingly pleasant, with Nott and Parkinson having great discussions about class. Malfoy was unusually quiet, at least from what Harry had gathered from watching him, and all in all it was rather nice. Harry sat back and watched, and saw how Malfoy's friends became people, human if you may, talking to each other in a friendly manner about quite trivial stuff, joking and laughing and taunting each other in a kind manner. So similar to his own friends.

"Anyway, I'm dying to find out, what really happened today?" Greengrass suddenly asked Malfoy and Harry. The other three Slytherins also turned towards them, observing closely.

"Er..." Harry began, but Malfoy thankfully stepped in.

"How low of you to try and trick Potter into telling you without him knowing if I want you to know or not." His voice was teasing yet stern, and Harry watched a grin spread across his face.

"Oh, you hardly even told us what happened last time, Draco! Don't you see that we're worried about you?"

"Coming from you, no. You think this whole thing is exciting like one of your weird novels and you just want to know because of the thrill of knowing."

"I'm offended." Greengrass gasped and put a hand on her heart dramatically, but her façade cracked two seconds later and she giggled together with Bulstrode.

"That was my intention." Malfoy smiled and Harry's heart skipped a beat, being able to see that smile so close up.

After dessert they all got up and were soon accompanied by Hermione and Neville on their way to the Tower.

"Ron wanted to stuff some more cake down his throat, he'll come soon enough," Neville answered Harry's unspoken question. "And he was a bit grumpy that you had to sit at the Slytherin table. Did they eat you alive, by the way?"

"Surprisingly no, it was rather nice actually."

"I can imagine, sitting next to Malfoy with Nott and Parkinson talking over your head." Neville winked, and for a second Harry wondered when exactly his friend had become so bold. Probably around the time that he sliced Voldemort's snake to pieces in front of the whole school.

"Shut up you," Harry retorted goodnaturedly. Neville smiled and dropped the subject, and soon they arrived at the Tower. Malfoy and Hermione sat down at their now usual table, accompanied by Parkinson who was talking to them both about some theory she had about how to tame Hermione's wild hair.

"I think I'm actually going to study, Neville," Harry proclaimed.

"Good luck my friend."

"Could you perhaps go to my room and get my Transfiguration book and a scroll and some ink, perhaps? Since I can't actually go anywhere you know, not even sit at a different table from Malfoy."

"You know that table thing only goes for the Great Hall," Neville said with a knowing glance.

"It was what I was referring to, what do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing. Sure Harry, be right back." And with that Neville climbed the stairs, and was actually back just a few moments later with the things Harry had asked for, and some book about Herbology.

"How did you get it so quickly?" Harry asked.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I just used 'Accio Harry's Transfiguration book'?"

"No."

"Pity, because it's the truth, but I had to do it like three times before it actually worked." Neville laughed and promptly sat down at Hermione's and Malfoy's table beside Parkinson leaving the only empty spot for Harry beside Malfoy. Harry glared daggers at Neville as he sat down, but Neville pretended not to take notice of him. Harry sighed and opened his book, painfully aware that Malfoy was looking questionably at him.

After some time of actual reading, Malfoy elbowed Harry in the ribs.

"What the – " Harry started, but the look Malfoy was giving him made him shut up. Malfoy flicked his eyes upwards and then back to Harry, and then up again, as if to tell Harry to look, and he followed Malfoy's gaze. He saw, right in front of him, Neville sneakily lifting his eyes from his book to look at Parkinson, and then snapping his head back to his book staring at it when she did exactly the same, both of them with a faint blush on their cheeks.

It took about three seconds for Harry to understand exactly what was going on right before his eyes, and when it did he had to cover his mouth with his hand not to exclaim "Oh my God!" or similar.

Malfoy scribbled something down on the parchment that Harry had lain between them with the intention to write notes down, but he hadn't found something worth the effort.

I know, Malfoy's neat handwriting said. Harry took his quill and dipped it in his inkwell to answer.

When the hell did this happen? His handwriting looked even more terrible under Malfoy's fine words, and Harry hoped Malfoy wouldn't comment on it.

I think it's just starting

What makes you say that? Harry looked up to study the two in front of him and then threw a quick eye at Hermione to see if she had noticed anything, but she was so absorbed in her book that she wouldn't have noticed if a hippogriff had crashed through the window. He looked down at the parchment to find that Malfoy had answered him.

I believe we are about to witness Pansy and Longbottom growing fond of each other. Draco made a face as he finished writing, as if the thought itself could deteriorate his brain.

Isn't she like, fond of you? Harry couldn't help but ask, because it really seemed like it sometimes, like when Malfoy put his arm around her waist, how he defended her and hugged her when she was crying. You kind of got the impression that they where together didn't you?

He looked at Malfoy's face when he read what Harry had scribbled down, and much to his surprise he saw Malfoy trying to suppress laughter. Shaking his head, Malfoy picked up his quill again and Harry watched as he wrote his explanation.

I can see how you would think that – but no. No. I play for a different team than she does, and she knows it.

I took a while for Harry to process this. What the hell did Malfoy mean "play for a different team"?