“I don’t care what McGonagall says, I don’t trust him,” Harry said stubbornly.
Hermione gave him one of her long, appraising looks, at last she nodded. “All right, Harry,” she said at last. “I’ll go with you on this one for once – you’ve been right before when everyone around you has denied all the evidence.” She cocked her head. “So what do you want to do?”
Harry prodded a sausage with his fork and stared at the glistening meat with a glum eye. “We know he’s after the book. Do you still have it?”
“Of course.”
“At Hogwarts?”
“Yes.”
“Then the first thing we need to do is put it somewhere safe.”
“Where?”
“Grimmauld Place. No one but us can get in there. No one can touch it. They can’t apparate there, or accio it or anything.” He took a bite of the sausage and chewed reflectively, thinking about that dark, dingy house. The atmosphere was a little better these days, since Kreacher divided his time between there and Hogwarts, but he still disliked the place entirely – too many bitter memories.
“That’s a good idea,” Hermione replied. “How do we get it there?”
“I’ll take it over next weekend. When we go to Hogsmeade – I’ll apparate there. It won’t take long.”
Hermione made a small noise in her throat and looked up. Turning, Harry saw Malfoy standing beside them. He nodded almost pleasantly. “You said I could sit with you, Potter.”
“That’s right.” Harry sidled over a little more, giving Malfoy room.
As Malfoy seated himself, Harry became aware of a strange hush that had come over the entire hall. He looked about quickly and saw almost all eyes on him and Malfoy. He rolled his own and turned back to the Slytherin, ignoring the looks.
“I’ve been thinking, Potter,” Malfoy said in a low voice as he helped himself to breakfast. “I’ve put a block on you and Granger, but you’ve still got a fly in the potion. The Weasel doesn’t have blocks on any... sensitive information.”
“He won’t go near us at the moment,” Hermione said, and Harry saw her lip tremble. “He’s really angry.”
Malfoy glanced over at Ron. Harry followed his look and saw, once more, Ron sitting beside Lavender Brown, talking quietly. As he watched, Ron’s eyes found his own. He gave a sneer worthy of a Malfoy and turned away, giving Harry his back. Harry sighed. “I don’t think he’s going to be trying to make up any time soon.”
Hermione let out a long sigh, blinking rapidly. Harry reached over and took her hand. “He’ll come round. I know he will. He loves you.”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m not sure any more.”
“Come on,’Mione. Remember in the forest... he came back then. Remember what he said – that Dumbledore gave him the deluminator because he knew that Ron would always want to come back.”
“What are you talking about, Potter?” Malfoy asked, one brow raised quizzically.
“Never mind.” Harry poked at the yolk of his egg and stirred it around his plate, making a huge mess. “What do you need to do to block Ron?”
“I need about a minute with him and I need him to be looking into my eyes.”
“Maybe we should just stupefy him?” Harry suggested.
“It won’t work,” Malfoy and Hermione echoed each other.
“Why not?”
“I have no idea. I just know that anyone under any kind of body-bind spell can’t be blocked.” Malfoy motioned to Hermione. “I’m sure you know why.”
“It’s because of the sixth law of paralysis and something to do with combinations of magic.” Hermione started to lecture. “If one could body-bind, then stop brain functions in any way, then it could easily lead to death. It’s like... well, most body-bind curses wear off after a while. Otherwise they’d be Unforgivables.”
“There are Dark magics that’ll do it,” Malfoy added. “But there’s no way I’m using any of them. I would be sent right to Azkaban.”
“I wouldn’t expect or ask you to,” Harry reassured. “But now we need to think of a way to get Ron talking to us again.”
“I’ll work on it,” Hermione said softly.
“Thanks, Hermione.” Harry squeezed her hand, feeling a flood or warmth for this brave, clever girl who had stuck with him through everything he had gone through over the years.
“Very touching, Potter,” Malfoy mocked. “I’m off to Herbology. See you later.” He pushed his plate aside and left. Harry watched him walk out of the hall, noting the speculative gazes and whispers.
“I’d better go too,” Hermione said. “I’ve got to run to the library before class. I’ll see you there.”
Harry gave her a short wave, then stared down at his ruined eggs, realising that he had made such a mess they were completely inedible. Sighing, he pushed them away and got up. Carefully ignoring Ron as he walked past, he suddenly remembered that he had forgotten his Herbology homework. He would have to hurry to get it.
He rushed up the stairs, panted out the password to the Fat Lady and ran up to his dorm. Grabbing the homework, he stuffed it in his bag, then glanced around, mentally going over his timetable and any work he had either forgotten or had missed altogether.
As he pondered, his eyes fell on Malfoy’s bedside cabinet. He remembered seeing the small vials of memory within and, curiously went over and tugged at the door. It was locked. Glancing around quickly, he tried a simple unlocking charm and, much to his surprise, the door swung open. The pensieve was there, sitting innocuously with its mercury mirrored surface. Behind it were the vials. Harry knelt down and took one, turning it in his fingers, almost overwhelmed with curiosity at what memory it might contain.
Knowing that his chances of getting caught was very high, taking into account his other clandestine glances into past pensieves, he wavered between watching the memory and putting it back in the cabinet. Eventually he put the vial back and locked the door. He knew now that Malfoy didn’t have it under any special protection. He could take one at the weekend, to Grimmauld Place and look at the memory in the pensieve there where he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed. He would be able to return it before Malfoy even missed it.
Satisfied with his decision, he left for his Herbology class.
**********
Hermione sat near Ron during the Herbology class. Harry kept away, purposefully not sitting anywhere near Malfoy either. Instead he paired up with Luna and watched his two friends as Luna twittered on about pimple-kneed starfish fruit, or something Lunaish.
As they re-potted, then tamed a large Lionplant with a chair and small whip, Harry kept an eye on Hermione. She started off by asking Ron for a trowel, then asked Neville, who was paired with Ron, for advice on taming the plant, then she asked Ron for some more dragon’s dung. She made a comment on how well he was packing the dung around the roaring and snapping plant, avoiding its sharp teeth. Ron was giving vague or standoffish comments back, but Harry knew Ron well and saw the pleased flush that crawled up his cheeks.
By the end of the class, Ron was talking back to Hermione. He wasn’t exactly being over-friendly, but Harry could see that it wouldn’t take long before he had forgiven his girlfriend and would be back to normal. He glanced at Malfoy and decided that, to help matters along, he would speak to him as little as possible.
Which made mealtimes awkward.
*********
After class, he joined Hermione as they walked back into the school. “Hermione, I’ve thought of a way to get Ron back – at least to you,” Harry said in a low voice.
“I have too,” Hermione said, “but I don’t think you’ll like it much.”
“Let’s hear it.” Hermione’s ideas were usually better than his on. It was better to just hear hers first rather than offer his own idea and get shot down in flames.
“I think we should – at least for now – pretend that you and I have... well, not fallen out exactly, but maybe I’m not happy with your closer friendship with Malfoy either. We’ll start sitting apart at meals, which means Malfoy can still sit with you. That way Ron and me can get back together, and he can get used to the idea slowly.”
Harry smiled, remembering that when Ron had thought that Harry was crushing on Malfoy he’d been amused by it and not repelled. Maybe he could use that too – or perhaps it would be too much. Ron really was irrational when it came to the Malfoys – but with good reason. Maybe this idea wasn’t such a good one after all. He tentatively offered his back up plan. “That was kind of my idea as well. Actually, I had another idea, but if you think...”
“What was the other idea?”
“That I just go back to hating Malfoy.”
Hermione stopped in mid-stride. “You can’t do that.”
“Why not. He’s the cause of it all and I would rather have Ron’s friendship. Look at breakfast this morning – Malfoy sat with us – admittedly because I asked him - but if he’s with us, then Ron won’t come near us. Malfoy’s the cause of all this hostility.”
“But he needs you, Harry,” Hermione said earnestly. “He needs a friend right now. Can’t you see that?”
“Are you kidding? Yeah, I agree with you – he needs someone, but I’m not sure it’s me he needs. Every time I try to help him, he gives me that arrogant, supercilious sneer he’s so good at. I don’t know what he wants from me, but it isn’t friendship.”
Hermione laughed softly. “Didn’t it ever occur to you that Draco doesn’t know how to make friends? You have to show him. No, Harry. Let’s do it my way. I think we’ll have more success, and it means that we’ll be closer to getting Ron’s memory blocked.”
Harry stared after her as she continued to walk. Fuck it. Even when they agreed on ideas, he was still shot down.
************
He continued to keep away from Hermione and Ron all through charms. Once more, he kept his distance from Malfoy, but grew aware of the long stares Malfoy was shooting in his direction. Once he looked back and was sure, that in the Slytherin’s eyes, he saw hurt and a touch of bewilderment, almost as if he was wondering what he had done wrong.
So he gave Malfoy a small, reassuring smile and was relieved to see a modicum of arrogance reappear. He realised that, according to Malfoy’s mind-set, if Harry ignored him after so many days of attempting friendship it was construed as unacceptable, but if he showed warmth and Malfoy rejected him, it was back to normality and Malfoy was happy that way.
So that was the way Malfoy wanted – or rather, needed – it to be. He had to be in charge. Harry had to be the one running and making the effort. It was like some perverse game of kiss chase.
So after the lesson, Harry let Ron and Hermione exit the class first so as not to antagonise Ron, then fell into step with Malfoy.
“What are you doing this weekend?”
“Why, Potter?” Malfoy asked airily. “Asking me for a date?”
Harry couldn’t help snickering. “You wish.”
“If you must know, I’m returning home to visit my mother.”
“Give her my regards.” Harry let Malfoy digest that for a moment. “By the way, Hermione is doing what she can to bring Ron back. It means I can’t talk to you much like I have been. I don’t want to spoil all her work.”
“Don’t worry, Potter,” Malfoy sneered. “I really won’t miss you all that much.”
“Funny.” Harry grinned. “I got the feeling you were already.” He walked away before Malfoy could splutter a reply.