The Secret's In The Telling by Sakuri

chapter 29

Ron sat down heavily on the bench next to the Irish boy, groaning and covering his eyes. "I leave for a few days...! What about Hermione? Why didn't she do anything? I bet that bastard's playing up his 'woe is me' act for all he's worth, and she at least should know Harry can't see through it!"

Seamus patted his shoulder consolingly and returned to his lunch.

xxx

They had agreed not to talk about it. Well. Not agreed, exactly. More like... simply refused to acknowledge that anything unusual had ever happened between them. Ever. If this was a rather confusing disappointment to Harry, whose Gryffindor instincts urged him to tackle the awkwardness between them and hopefully emerge with a favourable outcome, well, he didn't let it show. And if Draco had woken in the night once or twice, found himself staring across the room to where Vanima was coiled in a bubble of charmed heat he'd created for her, and heard the lingering whispers of Parseltongue that had featured so prominently in his dreams, he would never admit to the occurrence, and would conveniently forget about any such awakenings by morning.

So with this unspoken rule in place, it was an uneasy alliance they were starting out with, made harder by half-dead rivalries that threatened to reappear at any moment, a general air of controversy surrounding them and a tentativeness that Harry had never experienced in his other friendships. There were too many landmines to settle into any kind of comfortable relationship. He didn't know how he could trust or even like someone with whom he'd shared so much hatred in the past – and yet he did like Malfoy, git though he was. The Slytherin fascinated him.

Privately, Harry insisted that he wasn't attracted to Malfoy. Not like that, anyway. But...

At the very most, he told himself as justification, he was attracted to what Malfoy represented. The blond was everything that was rebellion and liberation and excitement and fury. He was everything that sensible people – Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore – he was everything that such people despised. Untrustworthy, dangerous, vindictive and cruel. He was the enemy.

Or had been the enemy, anyway. What he was now, Harry had no idea, and was finding it difficult to determine.

This in mind, it was with no small amount of awkwardness that they conducted their suddenly public friendship. Almost the whole of Gryffindor, with maybe only the exception of Hermione, thought Harry had lost his mind. No, strike that – the entire school thought he'd lost his mind, teachers included. And it had only been a few days. He dreaded to think what would happen once lessons resumed, and the spread of gossip would only move faster.

Still, he was not yet ready to abandon the blonde. He knew what it was like to feel outcast – he'd spent the majority of his second year outcast, and life with the Dursleys was even worse. Watching the way Slytherin now treated their former prince, as well as the way the other Houses were seizing the opportunity to even out the score against the blond, Harry knew it was probably only his presence at Draco's side that had prevented the werewolf from being hexed into oblivion by students bearing grudges.

Not that he doubted Draco could take care of himself. In fact, his presence served a dual purpose in also making sure the blond didn't hurt someone else in retaliation. God only knew what kind of curse he'd resort to if caught up in anger, Harry thought, absently touching the hairline scar that dissected his chest, courtesy of the Slytherin's previous spellwork.

Harry had to smile at the irony. There he was, the Wizarding World's Saviour, protecting a werewolf, an almost-Death Eater, the only other wizard beside Voldemort to have left the mark of his curse on Harry's flesh, and, really, a thoroughly spoilt, insensitive prat, when it came down to it .

When the blond had caught sight of his expression as he thought this over, and demanded in a snappish manner to know why he was wearing such an idiotic smile, Harry had only shaken his head indulgently and proceeded to ignore the tirade of scorn that followed.