693Chapter 6: The Rememberall
"Okay, so what's the matter?"
Turning away from the window looking out over the lake, Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry. Honestly, he was surprised that he and Ron had managed to even think of anything else beside the Gringotts break in. Since their trip to Hagrid's it was all they talked about. Who could have done it, what did Hagrid remove from the vault, etc., etc. until Draco had wanted to scream.
When Draco didn't respond, Ron joined in, "Yeah mate, you've been awfully quiet since Potions. Snape didn't give you detention, but something is bothering you."
"I…" brow furrowed, he wasn't certain how to answer the question. In his time, he wouldn't have had to explain beyond the fight in the corridor and they would have understood. This time, he hadn't even told them about the four on one duel out of fear they'd think he was making up stories. Even if he had told them, he wasn't sure two eleven year olds could understand how difficult it was for Draco to not completely unleash and destroy his enemies, even when those enemies were eleven year old children. He had left them in relatively good condition considering he knew they would be coming back for more until they were the ones walking away from the fight. His Harry would have understood how hard it was for Draco to do anything but what his training and instincts demanded. This wasn't his Harry any more.
"I got in a fight with some Slytherins leaving Potions," he finally said, unable to come up with another reason.
"What?! Why didn't you tell us?" Ron demanded, sitting forward eagerly. "Did you wallop them? Bet your dad taught you some right good hexes, being a dark wizard and all." Draco rocked backwards, but Ron didn't even notice the effect his words had on his friend. "Yeah, you did, didn't you? You don't look like anything's even wrong! Come on, tell us what happened."
"Ron, leave it," Harry said softly and Draco turned to see green eyes focused steadily on him.
"But-"
"Leave it," the boy repeated. "If he wants to tell us about it, he will."
"Yeah, I guess…Well, do you think it could have been an artifact?"
As Weasely ran off with the Gringotts break in again, Draco smiled gratefully at Harry who nodded and turned away. Tuning the conversation out again, he looked out over the lake and wondered why he'd ever thought that this Harry would be so much different from his Harry.
The next week was far less eventful than the first. The fight with the Slytherins didn't come up again, though Draco noticed Harry and Ron sticking close to him wherever he went. Apparently the two had taken it upon themselves to be his guardians and Draco knew better than to try to talk them out of it. Hermione, at least, thought him more than capable of taking care of himself and said as much to the other two boys. They, of course, ignored her.
The week was also a wake up call to how much he had simply forgotten after nine years. For instance, how much Ron and Harry disliked Hermione was completely unexpected. They were constantly making fun of her, though she was oblivious to their animosity. He had thought they were always friends, but the first weeks were proving that to be patently untrue. Was this his fault? Had he created some schism between the three? He had to fix this.
Figuring out a way to get the Golden Trio back together was complicated, surprisingly, by Hermione's lack of knowledge of quidditch or enthusiasm in the upcoming flying classes. Along with Longbottom, she was actually nervous and refused to participate in any conversation involving flying. It left Draco pinning his hopes on her enjoying her first lesson enough to conquer the ridiculous fear she had. Maybe then he could get them all on the same page.
The morning of their flying lesson, every plan he had come up with was blown completely out of the water when Neville received a package from his Grandmother. The boy was excitedly showing off the little glass ball when the memories of what should have happened that day came flooding back to him. It came back to him in a rush, the broken arm, the dropped Rememberall, stealing the thing, throwing it at the castle, taunting Potter into trying to catch it, and the entire incident ending with Harry on the Gryffindor quidditch team. Who the hell was going to bully Potter into becoming Seeker now?
Immediately, Draco's stress levels skyrocketed and his stomach plummeted into his shoes. Apparently he went so pale so suddenly, that Harry and Hermione both asked at the same time, "You alright, Draco?"
Watching the red smoke swirl through the Rememberall, Draco was definitely not alright. "I have a bad feeling," he muttered, unable to come up with another excuse with his thoughts whirling so quickly. Would he really have to do this? Saying he didn't want Harry to hate him again was like saying Voldemort was just a little unpleasant. Before he could make up his mind to torment Longbottom or not, the Rememberall was snatched from the boy's hand. In a second, Harry and Ron were on their feet, facing off against Vincent Crabbe.
Draco was too stunned to even move. Just like when he had taken the little glass ball from Neville, Professor McGonagall arrived in seconds. "What's going on?"
"Crabbe's got my Rememberall, Professor."
Scowling, Crabbe dropped the Rememberall back onto the table. "Just looking," he said and stalked off with Pansy, Goyle and Zabini following. Draco was dizzy with deja vu.
"Malfoy, go see Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary," Professor McGonagall commanded, "You look like you're about to be sick."
"Yes, Professor," Draco muttered and got to his feet. Hope surged in his chest and he glanced at Harry before leaving the Great Hall. Maybe everything would go exactly as it was supposed to without him. Then again...maybe not.
At three thirty, Draco's stomach hadn't settled at all even though Madam Pomfrey had forced several potions down his throat. Convincing her he was well enough to go down to the flying lesson was incredibly difficult. He had honestly been on the verge of using the Imperious curse to get down there when she gave in. To keep from being late, he'd had to run all the way to the grounds, arriving red and out of breath.
"Feeling better?" Harry asked as soon as he arrived. Mutely, Draco shook his head and the scarred boy frowned. "Still have a bad feeling?"
This time Draco nodded, but any other conversation was cut off as Madam Hooch blew her whistle and began their first lesson. It started out nearly exactly the same. Hooch taught them the basics and Neville immediately broke his wrist. As she took the boy to the infirmary, Draco's heart started to race. Now was the moment of truth. Maybe he could just talk Harry into playing a game of catch? He could conjure a ball without any problems, but would it work?
"Did you see his face, the great lump?" Draco jerked at the sound of his words, from Crabbe's lips followed by a roar laughter from the Slytherins.
It made Draco's knees weak with relief and he snapped, "Shut up, Crabbe."
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy taunted and he realized he had taken Parvati's line. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry-babies, Malfoy."
"Look!" said Crabbe and Malfoy watched as the entire scene played out, just like it had before. Harry was beautiful on a broom, all grace and natural speed. When McGonagall came storming out of the castle, he had to struggle not to smirk. Thanks to Vincent Crabbe, Harry Potter became the youngest House player in a century.