Rivals Not Enemies (Drarry Slowburn)

THE APOLOGY

Thursday was uneventful. Defense with Professor Knotcrown consisted of the basics—things The trio were well-versed in. Hermione decided to strike up a conversation with Harry. "Any progress on your Animagus form, yet?"

Harry fumbled his words‭, "‬Since yesterday‭? ‬No—well‭, ‬I think I know what type of animal I need to meditate on now‭. ‬Malfoy helped me a lot‭. ‬We've made a sort of truce‭."‬

‭"‬That's very mature of you‭, ‬Harry‭."‬

"Why the tone of surprise?"

Hermione shook her head as she wandlessly turned a page of her textbook‭, "‬It's hard to let go of past grudges‭. ‬I'm sure he feels the same way‭, ‬considering that he was always awful to you‭.‬"

"He was worse to you, Hermione." Ron reminded her, "Harry and I were both witnesses! What he didn't say to your face, he said behind your back and—well, friends are supposed to protect each other."

Harry tried to calm Ron down but only uttered  "Malfoy's probably never—" before he was interrupted.

Professor Knotcrown boomed, "Potter! Weasley! Chatter can wait until after class."

Harry and Ron apologized swiftly. Hermione expressed her regret, as well, though she wasn't the one in trouble.

Harry knew Hermione was right, but he just didn't feel slighted by Draco anymore. Sure, he still made backhanded comments, but he was used to that.

Part of him even liked it, as it didn't feel like Draco made them with malice, but just with blunt honesty. He appreciated the absence of sugar-coating when it came to his delivery of critical cynicism.

Truthfully, he had traits similar to those of his friends. Draco was studious and smart like Hermione‭, ‬though Harry would never admit it‭. ‬He had determination akin to Ron's, and even his witty retorts reminded him of his red-headed friend. He felt no ill will towards Draco, but Harry knew he might be alone in that opinion.

-x-

Lunch was grand, filling, and came with a side of pudding.
Hermione ate quickly so she could get back to her Arithmancy worksheet. As she looked up from it, she asked Harry, "Have you started on your Polyjuice potion, yet?"

"We decided to try something else," Harry confessed.

Hermione tipped her chin inward, like she suspected foul play in some straightforward case, "Like what?"

"Like the one I showed you. With all the runes?"

"Right . . . I've been meaning to ask—where did you find it?" Hermione brought her voice to a firm whisper, ‭"‬Because no one has‭ ‬ever‭ ‬been able to remove the Dark Mark‭, ‬like‭, ‬in the history of all magic‭."‬

"It was in an old book we found."

Hermione put down her quill clumsily, causing Ron to mouth "oh no" to himself. At this point‭, ‬Hermione didn't even need to speak for Harry to know when he was in trouble‭. ‬She combed locks of frizzy brown hair from her face and took a deep breath‭. "‬Please tell me this‭ '‬old book‭' ‬won't be the next Half-Blood Prince fiasco‭. . ." ‬she pleaded desperately‭.‬

"It's okay, Hermione. This one hasn't been . . . tampered with. It's. . ." Harry could not say "safe," so he settled on "not super dangerous." He relayed the title of the book to Hermione, hoping that would quell her worry. It did not.

"Do you even know if this potion will work?" She asked, flustered.

"Not entirely. . ."—Hermione seemed to stop listening with the vivacious throw of her hands up and into a fold—"But we have a few theories. And could you stop that?"