lomonaaeren

“Why are you spending time with Bones and Abbott?”

“Am I not supposed to be?”

Draco sighed and lowered his voice. This was partially on him for bringing up the topic with Harry in the middle of the common room, where they were waiting for the prefects to escort them to breakfast. A second-year Slytherin had got hexed the other day, and right now, everyone was being a little paranoid about the firsties. “I mean, why are you spending time with Hufflepuffs?”

“Am I not supposed to be?”

“It’s not—” Draco paused and shook his head. “I mean, they’re Hufflepuffs. And I don’t know anything about Abbott’s family, except that she’s a half-blood. At least Bones has an aunt who’s high up in the Ministry.”

“Oh.”

“You didn’t even think about that, did you?”

“I didn’t know it.” Harry stared at his hands, which he was twisting in front of him. “But I think it would be pretty rich of me to object to spending time with Abbott, when I’m a half-blood, too.”

“Well, yes,” Draco had to say, unwillingly. He forgot all the time that Harry was a half-blood. Maybe it was the way people treated him. “But I need to approve the people you spend time with, all right? We just need to make sure that they don’t embarrass the family.”

“All right, Draco.”

“And you can’t, either,” Draco added sharply, sharply enough that Harry’s chin jerked up. “There. That’s better. Look people in the eye and speak confidently. Or don’t speak if they’re not worth your time.”

“But how can I tell that?”

“Listen to me, and go along with what I say. I won’t steer you wrong.”

Harry looked as if he wanted to say something else, but the prefects called for their attention then, and Draco turned around and walked to the front of the common room. Harry sighed and trailed after him.

“It’s actually pathetic how you follow Malfoy around like he has you on a leash. When are you going to stop doing that?”

Draco glared over his shoulder at Zabini. He hadn’t thought for sure that the other boy would attend Hogwarts; there were all sorts of schools in Italy he could have gone to, even if they were smaller and less prestigious than Hogwarts. Or he might have attended Durmstrang. “Shut up, Zabini.”

“I was talking to Potter, not you, Malfoy.”

“Harry’s my father’s ward. Any words you address to him, you can address to me.”

“No, I can’t. Because I know exactly why you want him on a leash. It’s to keep from looking pathetic yourself and pretend that you’re better than Potter is just because of your blood. But I want to know why he puts up with it.”

“Stop it.”

Harry’s voice broke strongly through the growing argument, more strongly than Draco would have thought Harry could manage. He turned around and glared. Harry swallowed, but glared back at both of them.

“It’s stupid and pathetic to fight over me,” Harry said. “Both of you ought to know the answer to your question already, Zabini.”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do,” Harry said, in a voice so icy and polished that Draco wanted to cheer. That was the kind of polish Harry should have as a Malfoy ward. As Draco’s brother. “Think about it, and I’m sure it’ll come to you.”

Draco grinned into Zabini’s surprised face, and then followed Harry. He caught Theodore Nott’s eye on the wall, but even Nott’s judgment couldn’t trouble him right now. Nott was quieter and more stuck-up than Zabini. If they could win over the Black Widow’s son, they could win over Nott.

Nott gazed at Draco, steady and unimpressed.

Draco gazed right back the same way, and then hurried after the prefects as Farley let out an impatient sound. He could hear Harry’s footsteps following closely at his shoulder.

The way it should be.

*

“Please stay after class, Mr. Potter.”

This wasn’t like the conversation that he’d had with Professor Snape, Harry was pretty certain. Draco was giving Harry a narrow-eyed look as he packed up his Transfiguration notes, silently warning him not to get in trouble. Harry nodded and turned back to face Professor McGonagall, keeping his face as calm as he could.

Maybe because she was the Gryffindor Head of House, she would just tell him straight out what she wanted? That would be nice.

Sometimes Harry thought the Hat was wrong about him belonging in Slytherin, because he had to second-guess what everyone said and he didn’t know things everyone else took for granted.

“How are you settling into Hogwarts, Mr. Potter?”

Harry jumped a little. He hadn’t realized that Professor McGonagall had already shut the door after the last of the other students and was now turning to him. He ducked his head. “Fairly well, I think,” he whispered. “It’s just hard when I grew up with Muggles and I don’t know so many of the things the other kids do.”

“Has anybody made fun of you for that?” McGonagall demanded. She looked like she was about to swell up like some of the toads Harry had seen in the Dursleys’ garden.

Harry glanced at her and shook his head. “No, professor. I’m just always afraid that I’ll do or say something stupid.”

“Slytherin seems like the worst House for you in that regard.”

Harry just ducked his head and didn’t answer. Because he agreed, but he didn’t want to say he agreed, when it would mean that Mr. Malfoy and Draco would get upset about it. And maybe Mrs. Malfoy, although Harry was less sure about her.

He started at the notion, and then shook his head a little. No, he had to be careful. Mrs. Malfoy might act nice to him, but she would always care about Draco and Mr. Malfoy more than Harry himself. He had to remember that.

“Mr. Potter?”

Right, and Professor McGonagall was still waiting for a response. “I’m all right, professor. It’s intimidating, but I’ll work on it, and I think I’ll be doing all right by the end of the year. I’ll spend a lot of time in the library.”

Professor McGonagall studied him with keen eyes. Then she said, “I was wondering if you might spend more time with Miss Granger.”

“Who—oh, Hermione Granger? The one who always has her hand raised?”

The professor gave a small snort. “Yes, indeed. While I know that your Housemates might disapprove of your studying with a Gryffindor, you’ll both be learning about your new world together. And truthfully…I think Miss Granger could use a friend.”

Harry thought about it. On the one hand, he could use someone who knew a lot to help him study. Draco did know a lot, but he also thought studying regularly was boring. And sometimes he didn’t know, and he would just pretend that he did, Harry had noticed. Because he didn’t want to admit to being wrong.

On the other hand, Granger was a Muggleborn, and he knew how Draco felt about that. He thought Draco didn’t comment about Harry’s own mum being Muggleborn more often because it would be impolite, and then Mrs. Malfoy would probably come around and frown disappointedly at Draco.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

“Do that. And it wouldn’t hurt to work on making your writing with a quill neater.”

Harry gave her a watery smile, and then stepped out and into the corridor. Draco was waiting for him, of course, especially since they had lunch next and wouldn’t be late to a class. He started walking the moment he saw Harry. Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and hurried after him.

“What did she want you for?”

“She wanted to talk about my settling into the magical world. And writing more neatly with a quill, and keeping up my study habits.”

Instinctively, Harry had decided not to say anything to Draco about Granger. Maybe he would study with the girl and maybe he wouldn’t, but it would take time to be sure what the Malfoys’ stance on Muggleborns was.

Or, well, Harry knew what their stance was. He just didn’t know what Draco would do when confronted with a Muggleborn who wasn’t dead or a half-blood who wasn’t dependent on the family’s good graces.

“Well, Merlin knows you need practice with a quill. Anyone would think that Mother didn’t give you a month of instruction before you came to Hogwarts.”

And you’ve been writing with a quill for years and bloody years, and you’re getting upset at me about only doing it for a month?

But that was the kind of thing Harry knew he would get in trouble for bringing up, not least because they were in public. Some people still stared at Harry as they passed him, even if most of the gaping had stopped. He ducked his head and murmured, “Yes, Draco.”

“Good. Just as long as you remember that I only have your best interests in mind, Harry.”

Harry hid a sigh. It was hard to hold things against Draco when he acted earnest like this. But it never lasted for long enough that Harry could depend on it. “Okay.”

“Good. By the way, don’t sit near Blaise at the lunch table. I haven’t forgiven him for what he said today. And left me have some space. I want to discuss something with Pansy.”

Harry thought that was a silly spat, but he nodded and sat down a few seats away from Draco when they reached the Slytherin table, with Nott next to him. Harry had no trouble concentrating on the food as he pulled a plate of sandwiches towards him. The Hogwarts food was more delicious and filling than the kind cooked by the Malfoy house-elves, who all seemed to prefer fancy French stuff that sat oddly in Harry’s stomach.

“Potter.”

Harry glanced over. “Yes, Nott?”

“Will you tell me what you do besides speak Parseltongue?”

Harry blinked. “As a magical talent, you mean? That’s the only one I’m aware of having that’s very rare.” He restricted the temptation to start talking about how he owed the Malfoys everything. As Zabini had told him, it didn’t sound sincere.

Even though I am sincere, and of course I’m grateful to the Malfoys…

But that was too confusing to think about for right now, so Harry put it aside. Especially since Nott was leaning forwards with an intent look on his face.

“I meant that you can’t possibly be speaking Parseltongue.” Nott’s voice was light, and he had a smile on his face that went nowhere near his eyes. “I’ve read all the histories of the Slytherin family, and I know who their descendants are. There’s no way that you’re connected to them, or that you inherited the talent.”

“I’m speaking it.”

“But you can’t be. That’s all I meant. So would you tell me what you’re really doing instead? A powerful and impressive glamour charm, to make your words sound like hissing to other people?”

Harry trusted himself enough to roll his eyes. “If I was doing that, Nott, why would the snake listen to me?”

“Maybe it isn’t. Maybe since it was a tuned familiar, it’s just obeying the instructions you give it because it’s what a magical construct would do.”

Despite himself, Harry was a little impressed by Nott’s theory. It seemed like he’d thought it out. But Harry shook his head now. “That’s not the truth. The familiar was an owl at first, and then it turned into a snake.”

“What’s her name?” Blaise interjected casually, from where he’d sat down beside Harry without Harry even noticing him.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Harry said, because he didn’t want to reveal the name he’d picked out. He could deal with being thought indecisive and weak easier than he could being thought stupid.

Draco would probably say that I have the wrong priorities.

But they were his priorities, so Harry just shrugged when Nott gave him a disgusted look and went back to eating lunch.

“Nott looked like he wanted to curse you,” Blaise said later, when they were walking out of the Great Hall on the way to class. “Do you know why?”

“Not really.” Harry adjusted his grip on his bag. The bag the Malfoys had got him was very nice, made of dragonhide, but it also wanted to slip off his shoulder all the time. He probably didn’t wear his robes the right way. Draco was always saying that. “He seemed to have a theory that I don’t really have Parseltongue because he’s studied family history.”

“He’s wrong.”

Harry darted a quick look at Blaise. “What do you mean?”

“Just that family history, and things like that, aren’t always in play when it comes to inheriting magic. I’ve read about magic showing up in a family after multiple generations, and talents attaching themselves to someone they thought was worthy of them.”

“Huh. So magic makes decisions?”

Blaise lifted a hand and let it tilt back and forth. “Sort of? It’s not the same way that you and I do. It’s more like a book deciding to fall to the floor. Magic obeys rules that we don’t understand as well.”

Harry nodded, and glanced over his shoulder. Draco wasn’t there. Come to think of it, Harry had seen an owl winging down out of the corner of his eye when they were at lunch. Maybe Draco had a letter that he needed to deal with.

“You don’t have to hang on his sleeve.”

“Literally, no.” Harry gave a faint smile to Blaise that dried up when Blaise kept staring at him. “But his family is looking to get their worth out of the money they spent on me. The money for the tuned familiar was just the most expensive present.”

“What else did they buy for you?”

“Fancy quills. Lots and lots of food. This bag.” Harry plucked at it. “A new set of dress robes. My trunk. Other things I could have bought for myself, but they wouldn’t have been as nice.”

“And what would happen if you did try to pay for it yourself?”

“They wouldn’t like it.”

“That’s wrong.”

Harry shrugged, his eyes going forwards. He was remembering now that Draco had told him not to sit next to Blaise at lunch, although he didn’t think it was his fault if Blaise had come up to sit next to him. “I’m used to it.”

“Because of your Muggle family?”

Harry winced. Blaise held up his hands. “I’m not trying to catch you out. I just don’t know the reason.”

“There are various reasons,” Harry said, stiffly, wishing he’d never started this conversation. He continued staring straight ahead as he walked down the Charms corridor. Blaise had to catch him by his arm and steer him towards the right door.

Harry nodded with equal stiffness once he caught his balance again. “Thank you.”

“You won’t tell me.”

“There are various reasons,” Harry repeated, vague and grand. Draco said that sounding that way was a last resort, but it was how Harry felt right now. “And being in the magical world right now depends on staying with the Malfoys. Thank you for your concern, but there’s nothing I can do to return it.”

Blaise studied him with glinting eyes. Harry braced himself against some cryptic comment that would make fun of him or a question that would sound like Nott’s at lunch, disbelieving that he had the magic he did.

“Sometimes it isn’t about games or politics or money,” Blaise said. “Sometimes, someone just wants to make a friend.”

Harry forgot himself and gaped at Blaise. “Even though I’m a half-blood?”

“I like to watch what people do, rather than listen to what they say,” Blaise said. “And I know that you’re unhappy bowing to the Malfoys and you would rather strike out on your own. I can help you do that.”

“Because you want to make a friend?”

“One could say that.”

Harry sighed. He really wasn’t up to these games. He kind of wished the Hat had put him in Hufflepuff—except, of course, the Malfoys would have been extremely angry about that.

Someday I want to be free of them.

“Okay,” he said. “When you want to speak plainly, let me know.”

“Harry.”

Harry paused and looked over his shoulder again at the tone in Blaise’s voice. Blaise tilted his head.

“You aren’t the only one who might be watched,” he murmured. “Meet me in the common room tonight, at eleven.”

And he swept past Harry into the Charms classroom and went to sit by himself, at the corner table where he usually sat.

Harry took his usual seat, too, and sat there with thoughts and plans and worries running through his head. He ignored the way that Nott was looking at him, a tight expression worse than a glare. He ignored the way that Draco was almost late for the class, tumbling in breathless and pale-faced.

He had things to think about, too.