Harry's POV
We were in Headmistress McGonagall's office. Honestly, the room was growing on me now.
Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy were here as well. Malfoy had been quiet this entire time. Mr Malfoy must have chastised him. I could tell from Malfoy's expression that it hadn't been anything nice.
The headmistress arrived, and we all greeted her awkwardly. She greeted us back, placing her glasses on her nose and peering around the room, looking at everyone shrewdly.
"I very well assume you all know why you're here," she started, inclining her head towards the two men. "Unfortunately, Mr Potter and Malfoy have had some... let's say, disagreements during their classes together."
She pursed her lips as we all stayed silent.
"I'm aware that the students during that class had been the ones to initiate the actions, and I am going to address this issue with them as well, but Mr Potter had continued even after the students had stopped, which in turn made Mr Malfoy take his hand in attempting to attack Mr Potter."
I flushed slightly. Now that I thought about it, calling Malfoy a death eater wasn't the best thing to do. But I was angry.
Mr Malfoy cleared his throat, his composure rigid and closed off.
"Yes, Mr Malfoy?" McGonagall raised her brows at him.
"I'm deeply sorry you had to face problems due to Draco. I truly apologise on his behalf and assure you he won't repeat his mistakes again. Nevertheless, I would suggest you separate the boys." His voice is condescending.
"I will agree with Mr Malfoy here," Mr Weasley said. "Separate dorms might help to contain their irresponsible behaviour and not enrage them any further."
McGonagall's expression remained unfazed. "The boys have already put up this request, but unfortunately, no other candidates are willing to change their partners as of now."
Mr Malfoy waved a hand, dismissing the idea. "I was suggesting two separate dorms for the boys." His tone was biting, and the hate I felt towards him seemed to multiply.
"Hogwarts has no free dorms currently," McGonagall replied sharply. "And I think such measures are unnecessary."
McGonagall straightened her spectacles again, this time turning to Mr Weasley. "The sorting hat has chosen them both to be partners. The sorting hat is never wrong when it comes to placing students in houses. I am confident that Mr Malfoy and Mr Potter are a perfect match."
Even the words sounded wrong. How in Merlin's name did the sorting hat come to that conclusion?
"The sorting hat obviously made an error," Mr Malfoy drawled with the lazy composure his son had always used to keep up until right now.
Mr Weasley also spoke, almost like he was snapping out of a reverie, "Minerva, Harry, and Draco are polar opposites. I think the sorting hat has indeed made an error. Never in a million years would Harry be civil with Malfoy. I mean, let's be honest here— we are all familiar with their enmity."
I glanced at Mr Weasley, who, unlike Mr Malfoy, had an open expression on his face which was warm and familiar.
"Mr Weasley, I'm very much aware," McGonagall said, intertwining her fingers. "I reckon they're different. But of the same coin. I am extremely confident that the sorting hat has never made a mistake, and I trust its judgement when I say that ultimately, Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy were chosen as partners for a reason." Malfoy gave me a glance, looking incredulous.
The opposite sides of the same coin... what does that even mean?
Draco's POV
Father had turned on me after the meeting finished. His face, if possible, even looked harsher.
"I hope you realise how deeply you have embarrassed me, Draco," he said, and I nodded. "I don't want to step a foot here again. And it is your duty to not bring shame to your family again. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Father," I muttered.
"I shall leave now." Father stood, straightening his clothes.
I nodded, releasing a slow breath.
"Take care of yourself, Draco." Father patted me on my back. It was such a harsh contrast to the cold expression he had been shooting at me that I faltered in my steps. "And make sure to write often. Your mother worries a lot."
Mother.
I wished she was here.
It was childish, really. But I wanted to curl up on Mother's lap like I used to do when I was a kid.
I was exhausted, like I'd been running a race. It felt as if still dragging on...
And on... and on...
Mother would stroke my hair. She would whisper sweet words and talk about things that I was good at— that I enjoyed talking about. She would tell me that she was proud of me. But after my fourth year, it stopped. The dark lord couldn't be served with such childishness.
But Salazar, if just for one day— one day, where I wouldn't be Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy. When I could go back to my mother and be an eleven-year-old again. She would bake me something— something sweet. It was her own recipe. It was like a cookie. But it was soft and warm, melting on my tongue like some liquid sugar. Despite his efforts, Dobby could never manage to replicate the way Mother made it.
We both would eat out in the courtyard, basking in the warm sun, feeling content as my mother and I discussed school, quidditch, and anything that came to our minds.
The Manor's plants surrounding us would be lush and healthy, our royal peacocks stalking around the garden while we were in our own little world. I would excitedly show her the spells I learnt, using her wand, and she would clap, her eyes gleaming with pride and affection. It was so innocent, just a mother and her son spending some time together.
Father had never been there.
Father had never been in those moments. Never allowed to ruin the small bubble of happiness I had developed. These moments were what kept me together, reminding myself family came first.
I realised I'd gone completely silent, just staring at a wall.
Father was watching me, his expression unreadable.
I cleared my throat, my cheeks growing a bit pink.
"Are you going to escort me, Draco, or shall I just leave now?" Father asked coolly, eyebrows raised.
I nodded, walking him to the carriage. The carriage was already waiting. Before getting on it, Father turned to me and said, "Also, I do not appreciate you hiding about Potter being your partner. I expect you to be honest with everything from now on."
I nodded and muttered, "Yes, Father."
I watched Father's carriage leaving, dully noting the Thestrals I could now see.
While I was entering the castle, Mr Weasley and Potter were at the entrance, apparently saying their last goodbyes.
"Take care, Harry," I heard Mr Weasley say, squeezing Potter's shoulder. "Just send me an owl if you need anything, alright? Molly wanted to invite you for Christmas, so please come if you can. You know you're always welcome."
Potter returned a contented smile as he nodded. He muttered something that I wasn't able to hear. But something squeezed at my heart. I turned away, tasting something sour in the back of my throat.
I was supposed to attend a class soon, but there was a sick feeling creeping up in my body. I felt like I had been flattened out, exhaustion finally hitting me like a ton of hippogriffs.
I was feeling sleepy last night until I read Mother's letter. After knowing how furious Father was, I could barely sleep for hours straight. Thoughts kept me awake.
I could already feel a headache on its way.
Sleep would definitely be the best for me right now. I decided to return to the dormitory. Thankfully, I quickly found Lovegood in the hallway. She was on her way to class. I told her I wasn't feeling well and couldn't manage to attend today's classes.
Lovegood was the understanding type. She asked me to get rest until I felt better and said she would keep me updated about the Charms class. The fact that she didn't press on the issue was so relieving. I had never felt more grateful to have her as my partner.
The candidates' common room was quieter when I entered. Everyone had gone to attend their respective classes. I carried myself to my dorm. With Potter not in the dorm, I could finally sleep on the bed for a few hours.
I noticed there was something different about the dorm when I walked in. It looked cleaner than usual. There was a smell of perfume in the air— the one that would calm you after a long day. The walls and floor looked neater than usual. The elves must have come in today for their cleaning.
They had basically combed the entire dormitory. I facepalmed when I saw the two blankets neatly folded by the foot of the bed.
Of course. They assumed that Potter and I slept on the same bed.
Now, as I walked closer to the bed, I tried to differentiate between Potter's and mine blanket. The elves had cast a cleaning spell on the blankets, so none of them had Potter's somewhat subtle, cool smell.
Nevertheless, I didn't want to use his blanket. A whole shudder of repulsion ran through me when I thought of sleeping on the same blanket Potter had been sleeping on.
I picked a blanket, even going as far as sniffing it, trying to identify who it belonged to. I started to unfold it and study its texture as if it would help me recognise it. But as soon as I did that, something fluttered down from the blanket. A note.
It was neatly folded, but the creased lines implied it had been crumpled before.
It seemed strangely familiar, and I proceeded to open it.
I recognised my handwriting even when the note wasn't fully opened.
This belongs to me...
It was my note. My letter. One of the many I had written to my mother. I thought I had disposed of all of them. Where did this one come from?
Something like panic seized my chest. I wasn't the one to hide the letter in my blanket.
It had to be Potter.
Harry's POV
Malfoy didn't appear in any potions class. I hadn't seen him anywhere throughout the day. I was a bit worried, frankly.
The last thing I saw of him was his wretched expression as his father spoke to him. That made the fact that he wasn't here even more nerve-wracking.
Though I had thought it would be convenient, it was quite difficult for me to teach alone. I dismissed the potions class early and headed to my dormitory to freshen up.
As I swung the door open, I bumped quite hard into someone.
"Finally decided to grace us with your presence, did you, Potter?" I heard Malfoy spit harshly.
I jumped slightly, taken aback.
"Malfoy?" I uttered, my brows furrowing.
"You really don't quit, do you?" His voice shook from anger, fists clenched as he held up a piece of parchment.
For a moment, I didn't recognise it. Then it hit me.
Malfoy's Letter.
Oh, shit!
My mouth went dry. I was unable to find any words. So, I gaped, hoping to come up with a valid excuse.
Malfoy advanced at me. "What was this doing in your blanket?"
His face looked impossibly pale, contorted with anger.
At that moment, he looked ready to kill.
I blanched. "Well— I—"
"What is it? Can't remain calm unless you meddle in someone's private business? Do you make it your mission to go through everyone's personal life?"
His tone was icy, the letter flapping comically around as he waved his fist in front of my face.
"No— I—" I stuttered.
"It's just like you, isn't it, Potter?" Malfoy let out a humourless laugh, his face impossibly close. "You think you have rights to everybody's life."
His eyes were as cold as steel, the muscles in his jaw flexing.
"Why can't you just keep your nose behind those stupid glasses and—"
"What are you blaming me for? I'm not the one that wrote the letter and just left it lying around." I took a step forward, my defences rising.
"Stop making excuses, Potter!" Malfoy snapped.
"You can't just hold it against me when you're the careless one!" My voice rose with indignance. "You can't tell me you wouldn't have done the same!"
A strangled noise made its way out of Malfoy's mouth, "That's not the bloody point, is it, Potter?"
His composure was slipping. I could see him panicking with every passing second.
"That letter—I didn't even let my mother—NOBODY WAS SUPPOSED TO READ THAT!"voluminous
"And I read it," I murmured. I didn't know why I said that, but I did.
I know more about Malfoy's feelings than even his own mother.
As soon as the words were uttered, Malfoy snapped.
"Do you think you can get away with this? I may be on the edge, Potter, but you will pay for this."
//Soooo, TADAAAA!!
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