lomonaaeren

“Come with me.”

Harry hesitated, but he knew that he might have a bigger problem in Slytherin House if he started refusing to come with purebloods for no reason. Greengrass had snapped the order quickly and was walking briskly away. Draco was nowhere in sight, so Harry didn’t have anyone to glance at to tell him it was all right or that he shouldn’t do it.

And, well…

He’d enjoyed talking with Greengrass at dinner and lunch in the last few days. She had interesting stories about pureblood people at parties, the kind of things that Harry was never sure if he was supposed to laugh at.

He swallowed and walked after her.

Greengrass led him outside of the common room, which made Harry tense up and grip his wand. But they walked steadily through a few corridors he hadn’t been down before, and no one jumped out at them. Harry still kept his hand near his wand holster, though, as Greengrass turned abruptly around to face him.

“What is it?” Harry asked softly, studying her and waiting for her to stay something.

“I wanted to know what you’ve named your snake.”

Harry blinked. “That’s it? You could have just asked me in the middle of the common room.”

“But you’ve dodged the question every time I did.” Greengrass leaned a little forwards, her eyes gleaming. They were a bright blue, and Harry thought they were sharper than Draco’s. Probably not sharper than Zabini’s, though. “I want to know what you named her, and why it’s such a big deal to you to hide the name.”

Harry concealed a wince. He’d have to do better at that in the future. Hiding his emotions and the things that mattered to him was second nature, but he couldn’t do it if he was so obvious that someone who was almost a stranger noticed.

“Why do you want to know so badly?” he asked, to buy time.

“Because you want to hide it.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is for me.”

Harry took a deep breath, and then another. It felt like he was about to betray a huge secret, even though he knew it was just a name. And if Greengrass made fun of him for it, so what? She wasn’t a close friend or someone he had to live with during the summer.

You don’t have any close friends.

Well, that wasn’t true. His eyes locked on Greengrass, his heart thrumming with curiosity to see what she would do, Harry stretched out his arm. “Hedwig,” he called.

She arrived at once. She was never far from him, although Harry only saw her at mealtimes, when the owls arrived, unless he called for her. She curled around his arm and flicked her tongue out at Greengrass. Then she turned and leaned her long neck against the side of Harry’s neck.

Harry couldn’t help smiling when he petted her. Yeah, ordinary snakes probably didn’t want to be petted, but Hedwig was a magical snake. And she was his friend, and she would stay with him even if Greengrass laughed at him. Hedwig didn’t care about Greengrass.

“Why didn’t you want to tell me her name?”

Harry blinked and glanced at Greengrass, who was watching Hedwig’s every movement. “Because you’ll make fun of it.”

“Why would I? Hedwig was the name of several famous witches.”

“And naming a snake after a witch isn’t…” Harry trailed off as he if thought the notion was stupid, overwhelmed by the force of his relief. Greengrass wasn’t thinking of the real reason that Harry had given Hedwig her name.

She must not know about the little footnote in the History of Magic book that said Hedwig was the patron saint of orphans.

“Naming a snake after a witch is fine,” Greengrass said firmly, her eyes locked on Hedwig. “Anyone who would make fun of you for that is just stupid.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Greengrass glanced at him again, and her eyes looked kinder this time. “Did someone say something that made you think they’d find the name stupid?”

Harry shook his head, staring fixedly at Hedwig. Greengrass was fine to think he was a coward if she wanted to. “No. I just—I picked up the attitude from some of the people in Slytherin. That anything a half-blood does is automatically wrong. Automatically stupid,” he added, when Greengrass shook her head as if she didn’t know what he meant.

“That’s not true.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“You’re really meek and timid. That’s not at all the way I thought you’d be.”

It’s not the way I was with the Dursleys. But Harry had known that living with the Dursleys was terrible, and he hadn’t really taken their threats to throw him out on the streets or drive him to an orphanage seriously. If they were going to do it, they would have done it when he was a lot smaller.

The Malfoys were different. They could send him back to the Dursleys with a word. Harry knew he had to pretend and hide what he thought of them, and make sure never to show Draco up, even when he wanted to.

And they had magic. Who knew what they could do to him?

“I’m not a Gryffindor,” Harry muttered, when he became aware that Greengrass was still waiting for an answer.

“Oh, no. Never that.”

Her voice was so quick that Harry lifted his eyes to her face before he thought about it. There was a smile lurking there to meet him, and she winked and reached out to take his hand before he could even think about pulling back.

“You’re one of the few honest people in Slytherin,” Greengrass said softly. “And I thought—I left honesty behind at home, with my little sister and my parents. They’d never lie to me. I need someone else who’d never lie to me. Can you do that?”

Harry stared at her, and felt something tremble deep inside him. He’d thought—

That no one would ever be honest with him, not really.

The Dursleys had lied about magic. Mr. Malfoy always held back and lied, and Mrs. Malfoy might be doing the same thing (Harry honestly wasn’t sure). Draco told the truth, but only as he understood it, which made it a lie didn’t know about, but a lie all the same.

Maybe Professor Snape was telling the truth. But Harry always had the sense of things concealed there, too. Not about the way that the man was teaching him to use a quill or anything like that. But other secrets, ones that Professor Snape had about the Malfoys and how he felt about them.

“I’d like that,” he whispered. “If you can be honest for me.”

Greengrass smiled at him. “The first thing I’m going to do is call you Harry. And you can call me Daphne.”

Something burst like a firework in the center of Harry’s chest as Daphne let go of his hand and walked back towards the common room, chattering about her little sister, who was apparently called Astoria. It took him so long to recognize it that he was seated on a couch across from Daphne before he did.

Happiness. He was happy.

*

Draco peered at his reflection in the mirror. He looked pale, but not too pale. Not the kind of pale that Mother would say was sickly.

He glanced towards the drawer in the desk beside his bed at the thought of his mother. Her letter was sealed away where no one could see it, along with the letter that he’d got from Bernice Greengrass.

Draco shook his head. He’d start acting differently, thinking differently, but he still didn’t want anyone else to see the letters and think they could blackmail him. Or trace his changed behavior to that.

“Malfoy.”

Draco looked over his shoulder. It was Nott, the only one left in the bedroom now. Harry had left unusually early, although maybe part of that was wanting to catch up with Zabini, who was always the first one out.

“Nott.”

The other boy came up and walked beside Draco. Draco concealed a little annoyance. Nott was taller than him, and cleverer, and stronger at some of the basic spells they used. Draco hated walking beside him, where anyone could glance back and forth between them and compare them and find him wanting.

But then he thought of what he knew that Nott didn’t, and loosened his shoulders. Nott thought that Harry’s Parseltongue had to be a trick because he supposedly wasn’t descended from Slytherin. Nott didn’t know about how complex magical strength and inheritance was.

“Are you really friends with him?”

It took Draco a long moment to realize that he and Nott had left the bedroom and were descending the staircase to the common room. And longer to realize that Nott had paused to stare across the room at Harry, who was sitting on a couch beside Daphne Greengrass, for some reason.

Why’s he there?

“No,” Draco said, when he really heard Nott’s question. “He’s my brother. You’re not really friends with your brother, are you? You’re siblings.”

Nott paused for a long second. Then he said, “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had either.”

His voice was cold and cutting, and for a moment, Draco flinched. But then he said, “Then I’m sorry for you,” and walked away towards Harry. He could almost feel Nott gaping at his back.

Good. I hope someone’s watching.

“Good morning, Harry,” Draco said, stopping beside the couch. Harry looked up at him. Greengrass kept admiring Harry’s winged snake, which was curled up on the leather between them. “Do you want to go to breakfast?”

“Sure. Are you ready, Daphne?”

“Of course. I’m hungry.”

Draco blinked as Greengrass stood up and ambled beside Harry to the door, talking like they were the best of friends. Granted, it was about Harry’s snake, but still. He’d had no idea they did anything other than sit beside each other at meals.

“Harry,” Draco said, panting a little as he caught up with them.

Harry turned and gave him a smile that was a little remote. “Yes?”

“I—I didn’t know you were friends with Greengrass.”

“We decided that we were.”

Harry’s chin was tilted a little up, and his eyes were bright. Draco stared at him, then back at Greengrass. Had he waited too long? Did Harry not want to be Draco’s brother, or even his friend, because he thought Draco thought half-bloods were weak?

“I don’t believe that anymore,” Draco blurted out.

“You don’t need to believe that Daphne and I are friends,” Harry said, taking a step towards him. Greengrass stood behind him, twirling a curl of hair around her finger, her eyes resting on Draco more than Harry. “You just need to accept it. And she’s the first one to ask about my snake’s name, too.”

“What’s her name?”

“I don’t know if you deserve to know.”

“I didn’t—I mean, I wasn’t saying that I believed you and Greengrass weren’t friends.” Draco felt his face turn pink as Harry stared at him. This wasn’t at all the way he had planned for things to go. “I was saying that I didn’t—I didn’t believe what my father was saying over the summer. About half-bloods being inferior.”

“But you told me that often enough.”

“I got a few letters. And I read a few books.” Draco figured he could get away with that lie, since Bernice’s research was a summary of a lot of books. “I—magic doesn’t follow bloodlines as strictly as I always thought it did. I know that yours doesn’t.”

“Because of my Parseltongue.”

“Yes.” Draco suddenly saw Nott out of the corner of his eye, leaning against the wall with his arms folded and his stare direct and cool. Draco flushed harder, but he wasn’t going to let Nott, who might still be a blood purist without the benefit of Bernice’s knowledge, drive him away from Harry. “And I know that you’re not inferior to me. And I’m sorry. Because I said that.”

Harry just kept examining him. He didn’t look upset that a lot of people were staring at them, even though he’d ducked his head from the murmurs about the Boy-Who-Lived in the last few weeks. And then he lifted his chin again.

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove that you’ve really changed your mind. Act friendly and calm around me for the next few weeks. And prove that you don’t despise half-bloods and Muggleborns anymore.”

“I—don’t know how to do that.”

“Stop talking about our magic and how we aren’t worth as much as purebloods. That ought to be easy to do if you really believe that we aren’t magically inferior. As long as you can stop talking about that, and act friendly towards me and not get upset if I have magic you don’t, then you can be my friend, too.”

Draco swallowed, and swallowed again. He’d decided that blood didn’t give someone more magical power, but he hadn’t really sorted through everything he felt about Muggleborns. Half-bloods were easier. At least they had someone in their family who was a pureblood.

But Harry stood here looking at him in challenge, and Draco was the one who had brought it up, anyway. Backing down in front of the entire House would look especially stupid when that was the case.

“Okay,” he whispered.

Harry’s mask slipped. “What?” His face looked like pure astonishment.

Draco smiled in spite of himself. He liked surprising his brother. “I said okay. I won’t say anything about half-bloods and—and Muggleborns being magically inferior. To you or anyone else.”

Harry stared at him cautiously. Draco really hadn’t realized he’d done that much damage. It had just been a few remarks. Had Harry got that upset from a few of them?

But, well, maybe he had. Mother would probably say that Draco had to deal with the reality in front of him, not the one he wished was there. Both with regards to magic and blood, and with regards to how upset Harry was.

“Fine,” Harry said slowly, and then suddenly he grinned. “Then you can come with me and Daphne and Hedwig to breakfast.”

“Hedwig. Why did you choose that name?”

“There’s nothing wrong with naming a snake after a witch, Malfoy.”

“I didn’t say there was, Greengrass...”

Draco fell into step beside Harry and Greengrass, feeling an odd relief. As if he could have taken a different path, one he would have regretted walking.

But of course he couldn’t have. Not if he really wanted to have Harry as a brother.

*

Theo watched Malfoy walk away, and maintained his calm, blank stare. But inwardly, he was reeling. The Malfoys were big enough proponents of blood purity that even his aunt, who would bathe for hours if she were in the same room as a Mudblood, had sometimes made fun of them.

And now Malfoy had just admitted that he was wrong in front of everyone, and willingly committed himself to acting pleasantly towards Mudbloods and half-bloods? Just because he was afraid of Potter, or Potter was faking Parseltongue, or some such nonsense?

Frowning, Theo took a step forwards, and then stopped. Zabini had turned around from a chair that faced the hearth. Theo honestly hadn’t known he was there, or acting as a witness, along with most of everyone else, to Malfoy’s little outburst.

Theo buried his own annoyance and inclined his head. “Would you care to make a wager with me on how long Malfoy will be willing to keep up with this foolishness?”

“No.”

“Really? We might have a number of productive disagreements on the day that he finally has enough—”

“No.” Zabini took a long step forwards and stood looking down at Theo, which was a further annoyance. Zabini was the only one of the first-year boys taller than Theo, but most of the time, he didn’t take care to emphasize it. “If I were going to make a wager, it would be on how long it’ll take you to see that you could easily be left behind if you aren’t careful.”

“What in the world do you mean, Zabini?”

“Crabbe and Goyle are going to follow Draco no matter what. And Draco’s committed himself to following Harry. And I think you must have noticed the way that he and Daphne were talking this morning.”

“So what?”

“So what happens if you’re the only one of the first-year Slytherins who clings to blood purity and turns his back on Harry? Where will you turn for allies?”

“Parkinson will never follow a half-blood. And this is a temporary aberration on Malfoy’s part. He must be seeing some way to use Potter that I’m ignorant of.”

“Just a moment ago, you were calling it foolishness and acting like you thought Draco was sincere.”

Theo locked his jaw, a habit Father had taught him when he might dig himself further into being wrong. Zabini did stand there watching him for a few seconds, but inclined his head with a mocking glint in his eye and turned away after that.

Theo followed him, frowning. He understood Zabini’s warning, of course, had seen how close the other boy was already acting with Potter. He knew that Zabini must believe the other first-years would reorientate themselves to orbit around Potter, or he wouldn’t have said it where uninvolved people could overhear.

But why in the world?

He’s a half-blood. It’s clever to cast a spell that will let him pretend to have Parseltongue, but it’s not enough to hide the truth of his heritage.

Theo became aware that he was walking with his shoulders hunched, and promptly straightened them. He let indifference flow over his face like smoke. That was another trick Father had taught him.

He would watch, and listen, and judge. And he would seek out the books in the library that would confirm what he believed.

Books had never failed him.