The Secret's In The Telling by Sakuri

chapter 19

"Do you live to be unhelpful…?"

"I do try."

The Gryffindor sighed and raised a hand to rub his eyes tiredly. "I haven't even told Ron and Hermione…"

Grey eyes rolled in annoyance. "Merlin, Potter, you're making too big a deal of this. Trust me, the only part of your big explanation they'll hear or care about is the bit where they get to hex me in the name of 'training'. They'll adore you even more than they do now, and wonder what new spectacular talent you used to get me to agree to this…"

"Hmm. Maybe."

The Slytherin made some dismissive noise and returned to watching his smoke rings.

They were silent for a few moments, before Draco mused innocently, "Well, either that… or they'll think I Imperioed you, Weasley'll attack me, you, being the hero, will jump to my defence, and we'll all go down in a rain of curses… But, y'know, hope for the best and all that."

"Oh God…"

Draco had never been good at Divination, and Harry supposed it was just as well. Both of his 'predictions' were inaccurate. For one, the Gryffindor doubted his entire audience could adore him any less right now. And secondly, Seamus and Ginny had dived on Ron before the redhead got too close to the Slytherin, so the rain of curses had also been avoided.

Just.

Currently, Harry looked out helplessly at his hostile audience. Malfoy, ever unhelpful, lounged nearby on the table, one leg swinging idly as he examined his nails, seemingly unconcerned by the goings on around him – though he'd started badly enough when Ron first lunged at him. As if to make up for that slight slip in decorum, he'd spent the long minutes afterwards making sure everyone who saw him noticed his blatant lack of concern. He sat safely behind Potter, protected, for the most part, from the hexes that waited on Gryffindor tongues.

"Surely Dumbledore can't still expect him to be here!" Hermione protested, for maybe the third time. "Not after what happened, I mean…"

Harry sighed. He was finally going to have to take a stand, he realised, and this was the point he might lose the support he needed. Still, it had to be done.

"Malfoy's not here because the Headmaster told him to be. Well… not just because. I asked him to come."

Hermione couldn't seem to respond to that, and, next to her, Ron groaned and covered his eyes. "Harry, mate, you're killing me here!" Meanwhile, the rest of the DA began to mutter worriedly to each other.

The Slytherin in their midst raised his hand as if they were in class, and called out, "For the record, I was all for never seeing you people again."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry muttered tiredly, though he was largely unsurprised. The Slytherin had come in here determined not to be cooperative. To the rest of the gathering, he tried to speak calmly and concisely, clinging to his act of leadership. "I realise… well, that this isn't a popular decision, for the moment, but I think, if you hear me out, you'll understand that… well, that –"

"Oh, get a backbone Potter!"

Harry whirled on the blond, green eyes narrowed.

Malfoy looked unconcerned. He finally deigned to move himself, hopping lightly off the table and brushing imaginary dust from his designer-faded jeans. It had come as a shock to learn that the Slytherin owned more than one outfit of muggle clothing, though less surprising to note they were just as expensive as any of his robes.

They glared at each other for a moment, the Slytherin with his hips slung to one side and arms folded, the Gryffindor with clenched fists at his sides.