𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐆𝐨

𝐗𝐈

"Pilosus Figulus."

"Sorry dear, only Gryffindors are allowed in."

"But I am a Gryffindor!"

"You're what they call an 'eighth year', lovey. You have your own common room, no need to use this one," the Fat Lady said as I stood, begging for her to let me in.

"It's urgent!"

"I'm sure."

"Let me in."

"No."

"But I gave you the password!" I persisted.

"Yes, yes. How did you get it?"

"It–it doesn't matter how I got it. Open your damn self and let me through."

"I willn't," she smirked.

"I'm Harry bleeding Potter! I died for your ass and everyone else's in there!"

Just as the words left my mouth, I saw a Gryffindor first year skipping up the stairs towards the portrait.

I stood, a triumphant smirk on my face, as he said the password. The Fat Lady had no choice but to let him through, and I followed close behind, almost pressed up against the boy.

Inside, everything looked just as it did when I lived there. The blazing fire where Sirius' head came through, the squashy armchairs Hermione and I did our homework on, the chessboard Ron and I spent so many hours hunched over.

The only difference was the carefully painted portraits hung by the staircases to the dorms. Fred, Colin Creevey, and a couple of sixth years who's names I didn't know. They seemed to smile at me, stuck in their loops. Fred ushered me over.

"Well, if it isn't Roonil Wazlib! Nice to see ya, Harry!" He said, cheerful as ever. "Took you long enough though."

I was speechless. The last thing Fred ever said was a joke, and now here he was, joking around again, looking as alive as if he were really standing in front of me.

"Fred... Ho–How are you... moving around?" I stuttered.

He chuckled a little, wearing a playful smirk, "I don't know, how do you do it?" When I didn't answer, he said less cheerily, "George. He spoke to my portrait for me."

When I thought I could speak again, I uttered, "So, it's not you talking, it's George?"

"Not necessarily," he smiled sadly, "Georgie knew me better than anyone. I can't be that hard to act out, can I?"

Oh, I thought I said aloud, but now that I think about, I might have only said it in my head.

Suddenly, I had an overwhelming urge to get away from Fred. Something inside of me felt sick talking to a dead person. I remembered the reason I went in there in the first place.

"Ginny," I said hurriedly. "I need to find Ginny."

I heard Fred call after me as I hurried away from him. I found Ginny in a small corner near the fireplace doing her homework.

Maybe it was the rage at her for hurting someone, maybe it was the thought of Fred talking, maybe it was the bile rising in my throat, but I don't completely remember why I thought it was a good idea to point my wand at my ex-girlfriend.

"Woah, woah, Harry! What's gotten into you?" she yelled, horrified.

"Why'd you do it?" I yelled back, slightly in a trance. "When'd you start thinking it was a good idea to hurt people!"

"Harry... I–I don't know what you mean?" she had her eyes widened at the tip of my wand resting between her collarbones.

"Really? Cursing Malfoy with Dennis Creevey? Who else have you done this to!" I was furious.
I hadn't meant to be, I only intended to ask her civilly if she had really done it. Not that I didn't believe Draco, but I just couldn't accept how easily I did.

"You're mad about that?" she was aghast, "It's Malfoy! A Death Eater! A Murderer! A few temporary boils is nothing compared to that!"

"So you admit it?"

"Of coarse."

"He's not a Death Eater anymore," I was beginning to calm down now. I lowered my wand. "I know it hurts loosing Fred, but it wasn't his fault. Augustus Rookwood is dead, Ginny."

Ginny however, was far form calm.

"No, Harry! You don't know! Malfoy was on their side! He was one of them! You don't know what it's like to have associates of your brother's killer roaming the same school like it's nothing! And I know Dennis and everyone else who lost people in the war agree with me!"

Her words stung like venom, seeping through my robes and onto my skin. I did know what it's like. I knew, I knew, I knew.

"Why are you defending him anyways?" she continued. "You hate him!"

"I don't hate anyone anymore, Ginny."

"Leave me alone, Harry. I do what I want."

***

Ophiuchus's eyes brightened drastically when I returned to the common room, pale and shaken.

"Hiya, Glasses! Everything go alright?" she asked.

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks again for the password."

"It's no problem," she reassured me, "It was great fun hiding in with the three lady's in the painting next to the Fat Lady. My goodness, the things that woman says!"

"Unitatem," I sighed.

She looked crestfallen as her portrait swung open to reveal the incandescent glow of the common room.

Ron, Hermione and Neville were all waiting by the fireplace. Ron was in the middle of obliterating Neville in a game of Wizard's Chess while Hermione read Little Women.

"Harry, mate. Where'd you run off to this time?" Ron asked as I came into view.

"Yeah," Neville chimes in, "We haven't had a real conversation with you in weeks."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I've just been busy, you know, with... Astronomy and stuff."

"Oh. Of course," Neville replied. He studied me intently. "You should get some rest, you look an overgrown Mandrake."

"Yeah, yeah, thanks Neville. I'll do that," I said hotly.

With that, I dragged my feet to my dorm. I noticed a candlelight glowing from under the doorframe, and when I opened the door, Draco was there. His face had healed well, there wasn't a trace of what Ginny and Dennis had done to him. He too, was reading a book. I glanced at the cover that said The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde.

He had a quill in his hand, dragging it under the lines he liked and writing small footnotes at the bottom of the page.

"Finished Inferno?" I heard myself ask him.

Surprise was evident on his face as he looked up to meet my eyes. He must have thought that I wouldn't notice.

He hummed in response and said, "Couldn't. I think you have to believe in what muggles call 'God' to be able to fully comprehend the thing."

"Oh," I said weakly.

He went back to reading his book. Draco seemed to be quite intelligent. Far more than I would've ever thought. He knew astronomy like the back of his hand, he didn't even have to show up to classes to understand the topics, and he could analyze an entire book without finishing it.

"I spoke to Ginny," I said.

He looked at me through his eyebrows, raising one slightly.

"I told you not to," he said.

I didn't want him to get angry like last time we spoke of the topic, so I tried to speak delicately.

"It was useless anyways. Ginny's hard to talk to, so stubborn. I guess that's part of the reason why we didn't last..."

"You broke it off?" he asked with curiosity.

I nodded. "Around the time of my birthday. We just weren't happy. Or, I wasn't. I don't think Ginny was ready to give up just yet. She kept telling me just to wait it out until we both recovered, and then see what happened. But I knew it would never work."

Honestly, I had no idea why I was telling Draco any of this. I hadn't spoken about the breakup like this to anyone before. It wasn't such a delicate topic as one might think, I simply felt guilty for letting Ginny down. She believed so adamantly that we would work.

Draco was looking a little uncomfortable at that point, and I'm sure I did too. I wanted to change the subject as soon as possible—assuming he still wanted to talk.

"So, uh, what are you–"

"Go to bed, Potter," he cut me off.

"But I'm not–"

"You look like shit," he did it again, "I don't want to talk you."

I sighed, "I was only trying to be friendly."

"Well, don't," Great, he was mad now. "I don't know what stupid little idea you've got stuck in your minuscule brain, but giving me a potion and asking me for help with your homework doesn't make us friends."

I felt stupid. Rejected. Whatever it was, I didn't like it. I didn't like that anyone had the power to make me feel this way.

I shouldn't feel like this, not because of him. It should be Ginny or Ron or Hermione, not Draco.

Why was I so desperate for him to show me some kindness? This was Draco Malfoy. My bully. A cold hearted snob?

No. Not anymore.

My disappointment must have been poking through the seems of my face, because Draco's expression turned apologetic.

"Sorry, I'm tired," he said.

"You go to bed then. Don't stay up reading all night."

He shut his book and made a move to get up off his bed. He wasn't still wearing his Slytherin robes, like I still had on my Gryffindor ones. He was wearing a black turtleneck and black trousers. His hair flopped carelessly as he moved around.

"I wasn't going to," he said, picking up his wand, "I was just waiting to see if you would come up or not."

"Why would you do that?" I asked.

He picked up his candle and slid the candelabra onto his pointer finger, book in hand.

"Doesn't matter."

And with that, Draco left the dorm room, the candlelight reflecting off his porcelain skin.