Just Harry

Part 4

Harry lay back on his bed, head pillowed comfortably on his crossed arms. He was supposed to be studying for midterms, but he couldn't seem to focus. Instead, he found himself idly watching the Quidditch players on his Cannons poster as they zoomed around and preened at his attention.

Malfoy had returned early from his evening class one day to discover Harry with his head in his suitcase. He'd collapsed in a fit of laughter and taken the piss out of Harry with his habitual sneer firmly in place; he'd eventually relented and taught him the charms to disguise it as an innocuous muggle sports poster to any muggles that might visit.

Then Draco had pulled out a Falcons poster of his own and stuck it pointedly on the opposite wall. Now the teams constantly postured and sneered at one another, and Harry was nearly certain that both teams were suddenly much more competitive and vicious. He supposed he should be upset about Malfoy messing about with his poster (if he actually had; Harry wasn't entirely sure), but he couldn't bring himself to be anything but fondly amused.

The Cannons seeker caught the snitch and held it up proudly; Harry grinned, remembering the last game Ron had taken him to. The Cannons had been in rare form; he and Ron had yelled themselves hoarse. He'd been warmed for days by the glow of affection and cheer that day had left him. Ron had surprised him with the poster commemorating the game right before he'd left for university, declaring that he ought to have something to remind him of the best parts of the wizarding world he was leaving behind. Temporarily leaving, Harry corrected himself, with another glance at the poster.

He heard the familiar clatter that meant Malfoy had returned from class. He smiled. Something about the ritual sounds comforted him and made him feel at home, though he didn't want to examine that too closely.

"How was your exam?" he asked.

"Fine," Malfoy said, and Harry looked up to see him stripping his gloves off and unwinding his scarf, cheeks and nose pink and hair decidedly windswept. He also looked unaccountably pleased, which Harry took to mean that the exam had gone well, indeed.

"What class is it that you run off to so late at night anyway?" Harry asked, glad that he wasn't taking it.  They'd been told the weather was unseasonably cold and Harry believed it; trudging about campus in the dark sounded decidedly unappealing.

Malfoy looked up; a puzzled crease forming between his eyebrows. "Ceramics. I rather thought you knew that. How long have we been roommates?"

Harry ignored the jibe. "Really? Ceramics? I didn't know they let beginners in that class."

"They don't," Malfoy said smugly, "but I took several art classes at Hogwarts. Ceramics isn't much different in the muggle world."

"You what?" Harry asked, dumbfounded. "They had art classes?" He couldn't believe he'd missed that, Especially with how closely he'd paid attention to Malfoy's movements. Of course... "You're joking."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Just because you didn't see me take them while you stalked me under that invisibility cloak doesn't mean I didn't take them, you know."

Harry felt his cheeks flush; when he tried to speak he found that his mouth was dry and he couldn't come up with a single word in reply. He turned back to the poster, trying to hide his blush. He wasn't ashamed of stalking Malfoy, exactly, but... There was something there. Some feeling that he really didn't want to examine.

"So, chemistry tonight?" Harry asked, still staring at the poster. The Cannons' seeker smirked at him, and he felt the flush on his cheeks deepen.

"Yeah," Malfoy said, throwing himself onto his bed. "Give me a minute, though. I did just get out of an exam, after all."

—

Harry tossed his history book onto his bed, rubbing his eyes. "I can't believe it's almost midterms. How are we supposed to remember all this?"

Malfoy looked up from color-coding his notes, an action that reminded Harry uncomfortably of Hermione, then wandered over to peer at the stack of papers scattered across Harry's bed. "That's your idea of studying? No wonder you always needed Granger's help to pass anything. Budge up."

Harry looked up, surprised, but scooted over on his bed obligingly, shoving the piles of paper so Malfoy could perch cross-legged next to him.

"What are these?" Malfoy asked, holding a stack of papers carefully by the corner with the tips of his fingers.

Harry raised an eyebrow in a silent echo of Malfoy's expression. "My notes?"

"Really." Malfoy eyed them dubiously. "What's this on them?"

"Um. Coffee? Possibly ketchup."

Malfoy groaned. "You're hopeless, Potter. Luckily, we're in most of the same classes. Though you're on your own in gender studies, I'm afraid."

"That's okay," Harry said, grinning. "I'm actually halfway decent at that one, funny enough."

He didn't know why that surprised him, really. It wasn't like anything he'd taken at Hogwarts, so he didn't have uncomfortable associations with it, like he did with history and chemistry.

He gave a little shudder; chemistry didn't come any easier to him than Potions had, even without Snape there to torment him. Luckily, Malfoy had taken to it like he always had to Potions, so Harry had decent notes to study. And a decent study partner, he thought, smiling involuntarily. He glanced over at Malfoy to find him flipping through Harry's notes, occasionally turning them around and peering at them, a crease between his eyebrows.

"Potter," he finally huffed. "Your penmanship is absolutely abysmal. There's nothing for it. We'll have to burn these notes and just use mine."

"Hey," Harry said, swiping half-heartedly at his notes. Truthfully, he agreed with Malfoy. He wasn't going to learn anything from his sad attempt at notes. He eyed the color-coded papers currently laid out on Malfoy's desk.

"How do you do it, anyway?" Harry asked, turning back to Malfoy. "I can hardly stay awake through class half the time. How do you manage to write it all down — and so neatly?"

"That, Potter," Malfoy said smugly, "is one of the many ways that we both know that I am far superior to you."

Harry snorted. "Sure, Malfoy. Now stop gloating and grab those notes. I do want to sleep tonight, you know."