Rivals Not Enemies (Drarry Slowburn)

THE FLOOLESS FLOO

A/N: Prepare for one of the longest chapters in the entire fanfiction. I don't know whether to say I'm sorry or you're welcome.
Also, Arithmancy (numerology) is super cool. I highly recommend looking it up!

Harry had a couple hours before he had to meet Ron for Wednesday herbology, so he killed some time by taking a long walk through the castle. He truly didn't wish to resort to it, but he finally put on his Cloak after the third clique of students seemed to whisper while gazing at him with concern. They weren't talking about Harry, though. He definitely heard an utterance of Draco's name.

The Boy Who Lived had spent his entire life being stared at, but now it was with something less like awe and more like disappointment.

Everyone thought they knew his life story—of course, they probably did—but he was certain that the student body was deluding themselves into thinking they knew Draco's, as well.

Using the Cloak felt a little like hiding from his problems, but it was all he could do at that point for some peace. Heading in the direction of Professor Vector's Arithmancy class, he located the lovely and familiar sound of Hermione's voice.

". . .Because a Heart Number is indicative of the inner personality—our fears, desires, and emotions we don't show."

"Very good, Ms. Granger—five points to Gryffindor!" chortled the professor.

The classroom door was wide open, making it easy for Harry to slip by undetected. He looked with familial admiration at the girl with wild and mane-like hair. Hermione beamed at the professor's congratulations. Beside her, a neater figure sat with a more placated demeanor than usual.

"How's potions?" Hermione asked Draco, more warmly than Harry had expected.

The Slytherin replied with a playfully smug grin, "It's fine. Just the partner that takes some getting used to."

"I suppose," she agreed, "Harry has a pretty explosive personality."

"That is objectively true!" Draco nodded dramatically, "I told him that he wears his heart on his sleeve, and he told me to piss off. He threw a tantrum because he doesn't like being so easy to read."

"Sounds like him," Hermione giggled.

Harry did not like the idea of Hermione agreeing with Draco on this matter but supposed that his vehement denial would make him seem more like the child Draco painted him out to be. He attempted to shrug it off.

Just say it to my face, he thought. Or . . . maybe they already have. The discomfort that Harry felt dissolved, but he still didn't like being told off—no matter how indirectly.

"You know," Draco began, "I was curious, so I tried to read his name."

"Through Arithmancy?" Hermione perked up.

"Yep, and his Social Number is the exact same as his Heart Number. That's some pretty damning evidence!"

Harry had no idea what they were talking about but listened anyway, still upset.

"What did you get for his Social Number?"

"Eight," Draco shrugged.

Hermione flipped through her textbook and used her index finger to read out her findings: "'Energetic, confident, dependable, and goal-oriented.' That's pretty dead on. Natural-born leaders that hate being told what to do. That describes Harry down to the tee, if I know him at all."

She did know him, Harry admitted. He was impressed at whatever odd math formula they used to determine his personality—such a concept sounded strange—but it worked fairly well. He just didn't like the fact that Malfoy used his name with it—or that he looked so prideful about it.