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Chapter 12 - Finding Common Ground

"Harry."

Harry gave Ron a tense smile. They hadn't got along as well as before, not since Harry had found out he was a Malfoy. "Hi, Ron."

Ron stared at him for a second, then looked at the floor between his feet. They were on the Hogwarts Express, the train shaking a little as it rushed north. Harry had insisted on sitting in a compartment by himself, although he'd only managed that after like sixty warnings from Draco about what he should do if someone bothered him and a promise to come back in a little while.

Ron moved a toe back and forth. Then he gave a great sigh and came in and sat down on the seat across from Harry.

Harry let his smile widen hopefully. Ron peered at him out of the corner of his eye, then looked away again.

"You look like him when you smile," he whispered. "But not the rest of the time."

"I'm sorry, Ron. I'm trying. But I'm still me. Still Harry."

"But Malfoy."

"Yeah." Harry leaned forwards a little. "Look, can we try to play chess or something? Maybe that'll help us remember what it's like to be friends."

Ron went back to fiddling with the cuffs of his jumper. Scabbers snoozed in his lap. "Your dad attacked my dad in the bookshop a few months ago," he muttered. "How am I supposed to forget that?"

Harry discovered a sudden edge of irritation that he hadn't known was there. He sat back and scowled at Ron, who blinked at him in surprise. "What the hell am I supposed to do?" Harry snapped, partially happy when he remembered how Mr. Malfoy would frown at him if he swore like that. "I can't get out of their custody, and I can't go back to just being Harry Potter. My godfather kidnapped me, Ron! My parents weren't my parents! Don't you think I'm upset about this, too? But I can't change things. And I think I have more right to be upset about that than you do about a fight in a bookshop."

Ron was blinking rapidly at him. Harry leaned forwards. "If you don't want to be my friend, don't be my friend," he said, and he knew he sounded tired. "I'll—go sit with Hermione and the twins or something." He started to stand up.

"Wait, Harry." Ron reached his hand out, and Harry paused. He wanted to be friends with Ron so badly. He just couldn't stand to hear all the "evil" things his parents had done before he even knew they were his parents. It wasn't like Harry had been lying on purpose about who he was.

"I look at you and I see Draco," Ron whispered. "I see the man who tried to get my father sacked. I see all the people I've been taught to hate. How can I just get over that overnight?"

"I don't expect you to," Harry said, turning around and frowning at him. "But it's been more than two months now, Ron, and if you're just going to mutter about me being evil or something, what friendship do we have? I don't have to put up with someone who glares at me and is waiting for me to turn out not to be a real Gryffindor or something."

He'd actually had a nightmare about that a week ago, where he told Mr. Malfoy that the Sorting Hat had wanted him in Slytherin and Mr. Malfoy made it happen. Harry was sick at the very thought. He wanted to go back to the Gryffindor common room. He wanted to listen to Hermione rant about some obscure point that she'd discovered in the index of Hogwarts, a History.

He wanted Ron back.

Ron took a deep breath and looked at him. "I want you to be my friend, too."

"The way I am, or the way you wish I was?"

Ron flinched a little, but his eyes were earnest. "The way you are. The friend who laughed and played Exploding Snap with me in September, and went up against a giant chess set with me last year. I want—I know that I can't be friends with you unless I accept all of you, and if that means accepting you as a Malfoy, I'll do it."

Harry smiled at him, so happy that it felt as if he was choking on sunshine. "That's great, Ron. I want to be there with you, too." He came back into the compartment and sat down. "And we should play some chess, I think. Commemorate the game last year, huh?"

Ron chuckled and got out his chess set. Then he trounced Harry, the way he always did. Harry grinned at him, and Ron started lecturing him on all the ways that he could win "if you just paid attention, you can do it, Harry, I know you can."