“Knight to e-five,” Harry murmured, his eyes focused on the chessboard. He felt the bed shift slightly as Draco suppressed a laugh. Harry raised his eyes to him, but remained seated as he was; cross-legged with his chin propped up on his hand. “What?”

Draco smirked. “Might as well give up, Potter. Chess is not your game.”

Harry huffed. “Practise makes perfect, didn’t you know?”

“Have it your way, then,” Draco said as he moved his queen to the same spot.

Harry grumbled as his knight got smashed. “Merlin’s pants.”

It took Draco only a couple of moves before Harry was forced to yield. Harry settled back on his arms, stretching his legs out to get the circulation going as he watched Draco banish the chessboard to the desk. Harry’s eyes fell on the other boy’s left forearm, causing him to frown. Tapping Draco’s thigh with his foot, he asked quietly, “Will they be able to remove it?” Continue reading

Three days had passed since the night he spoke to the Headmaster about Draco, and Harry grew more and more frustrated. Draco had somehow managed to get to every class with only seconds to spare each time, and been among the very first to leave, giving Harry no chance whatsoever to pull the boy aside to talk. Mealtimes were no better, either. Every time Harry made to go to Draco, the other boy would send him such a fierce glare that it felt as if Harry had been slapped across the face from the force of it, and when he’d recovered enough to make another attempt, Draco was always long gone.

It was utterly infuriating. How was Harry supposed to explain his actions to Draco if the boy would not stand to be anywhere near him? Not to mention relay the plan he and Dumbledore had come up with in order to help him? Harry had even tried sending him a note, asking him to meet, but all that had accomplished was Draco shooting him a triumphant look as he cast Incendio on the unread parchment while Harry watched from the Gryffindor table. His message had come through loud and clear to Harry: leave me alone! Harry would never admit it to anyone, but the outright rejection hurt. Continue reading

Harry didn’t think it was a good idea to chase Draco, given the state of things. The other boy would likely as not attack him if he tried, and that would definitely not help the situation. So he decided to give Draco some time to come to terms with the day’s events before attempting to confront him in hopes of explaining himself.

Draco, however, never showed for lunch or dinner, and Harry was left to fret about the state of things. He’d tried looking for the boy on the Marauder’s map, but it was of no help. Draco was either in the Slytherin common room, or the Room of Requirement, and neither place was somewhere Harry could go to set things right. Harry tried to get his mind off of the whole mess by playing wizard’s chess with Ron, but he lost several games in a row before finally calling it quits.

Draco didn’t show his face on Sunday either, leaving Harry with the feeble hope of pulling the other boy aside before or after class on Monday. Harry spent the day sulking, huddled in his favorite chair by the fire and surrounded by his friends. Ginny sat against the side of his chair as there were no available seats close to the fire. She and Hermione shared a concerned look that Harry caught but ignored. He didn’t doubt one or the other of them would start asking questions, but he had no answers to give them. Continue reading

For days, Harry had wracked his brain trying to come up with a way to help Draco. As much as he wanted to offer his support, especially with how poorly the boy seemed to be doing these days, Harry knew he couldn’t come forward. After all, Draco had confessed to Liber, not Harry, and he was certain Draco wouldn’t thank him should he find out they were one and the same. If there was one thing Harry had learned about the other boy, it was that he’d been taught to never show weakness, and never allow anyone to have any sort of hold over him. It certainly explained a lot of Draco’s behavior these past few years, Harry thought.

Try as he might, though, Harry couldn’t figure a way out. He knew that Narcissa Malfoy was born a Black. He wondered whether there might be a way for the House of Black – of which he was now the head after Sirius had named him heir – to step in and perhaps offer refuge. Grimmauld Place was unplottable, after all, but it was also under the Fidelius charm and Harry was not its secret keeper. Which meant he would have to talk to Dumbledore. Not that he was strictly opposed to the idea, he trusted the man, but telling him would mean coming clean about his illicit animagus form, and that held him back. For now, at least. Continue reading

The entire journey on the train back to Hogwarts, Harry had been on the look-out for Malfoy. He hadn’t seen so much as a glimpse of him, though, which worried him. Ron and he shared a compartment, but all Ron wanted to talk about was Lavender, so Harry tuned him out, letting his thoughts wander. It wasn’t until they’d arrived at Hogsmeade station that Harry spotted the familiar head of platinum blond hair. His heart raced as he stood tiptoe, craning his neck to get a better look. What he saw did nothing to assuage the heavy feeling in his gut. Draco looked as tense and miserable as he had before the holidays, if not more so.

“C’mon, mate,” Ron said, nudging Harry’s arm. “Not still on about that whole Death Eater thing, are you?” he asked as he got into the last carriage.

“No,” Harry said automatically, knowing that to say otherwise meant another lecture. He ignored the tiny voice that tried to point out it was also true. “No, not on about that, Ron.” Continue reading

Harry kept an even closer eye on Draco after that first afternoon, still convinced he was up to something, but also because of a nagging feeling that had started to gnaw at him for reasons Harry couldn’t name. The other boy still disappeared off the map regularly, and the closer to the Christmas holidays they came, the more drawn Draco seemed to become. This was very unlike him, Harry decided, as in years past Draco had always bragged about the upcoming holidays and what he expected to get at any given year.

Not so this time, however. Draco drew in on himself more and more, becoming increasingly sullen, silent, and twitchy. The other Slytherins appeared as puzzled as Harry, but they shrugged it off after being rebuffed by the boy. Well, all except Pansy Parkinson, that was. She kept badgering Draco, fussing over how he was looking, the fact that he was eating less and surely sleeping poorly, if the bags under his eyes were any indication. Continue reading