"You all right, mate?"
Harry nodded to Ron, and tried to ignore the feeling that he should be looking over at Draco on the Slytherin side of the room. He wasn't sure what would be worse at the moment, to see Draco looking back or to see him turned the other direction. "Fine. Professor Dumbledore wanted to talk to me about some things that have changed now that I'm a Malfoy."
"Oh, yeah." Ron sighed and drooped his shoulders for a second. Then he shook his head and went back to crushing dandelion roots with the side of the knife. Harry had showed him how to do that after some lessons he'd had himself from Mrs. Malfoy during the holiday, and it seemed to work better. "I know you're fine. It's just that—"
"Silence, Mr. Weasley."
Ron being Ron, he just waited until Professor Snape walked past, with yet another funny look in Harry's direction, and then went back to talking, more softly than before. "Halfway thought me and Fred and George were going to have to come get you out of prison with another flying car. But I suppose in Hogwarts there wouldn't be bars on the windows."
Harry grinned and started to answer, but Draco said loudly, "What?"
"Mr. Malfoy?" Professor Snape asked in surprise, looking over his shoulder.
Draco had slammed his knife down in the middle of the table and was staring directly at Ron. "What did you say?"
"I said that we would have had to get Harry out of prison the way we did over the summer—oomph!"
Harry had stomped on Ron's foot at the same time as Hermione had done it on the other side, but it was too late. Draco had gone paler than Harry knew was possible given the color of their skin, and was shaking his head a little, as if trying to bring something into focus that he could barely see.
"This is quite enough of an interruption to our Potions class," said Professor Snape, his voice tight and low. "Weasley, five points from Gryffindor for your outburst. The rest of you, return to your potions."
For a long moment, it seemed Draco was having a real struggle about whether he should, but in the end he picked up his knife and returned to cutting. Harry sighed in relief. With all luck, the comment would blow over, and he could tell Draco—when Draco had calmed down a little—that Ron was exaggerating.
"You should tell someone, you know," Hermione muttered from the other side of Ron.
Harry only nodded, and said nothing. Maybe he should, but he was going to choose when to do it, not have it happen because of a stray comment Ron had blurted out.
"Sorry, mate."
Harry shrugged with one shoulder at Ron. "It's fine. Not your fault."
Ron seemed happy enough with that, and went back to helping Harry make their potion. And if Harry was getting two concerned, narrow-eyed glances, one from the Gryffindor side and one from the Slytherin side, it wasn't like he had to turn and look at them.
...
Harry looked up sharply the next morning at breakfast. Draco was walking into the Great Hall and straight towards the Gryffindor table. That would have been all right, if a little weird, except Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were behind him.
"Oh, shit," Harry said under his breath.
"Harry, language!" Then Hermione looked in the direction he had, and blinked. "They—don't look like they're here to bring a book you lost."
"They'd send an owl to do that," Harry said, and then became aware that he sounded inane. He had been too happy with the fact that Draco hadn't confronted him at the end of Potions yesterday. He should have realized something was a little off about that. He cleared his throat and stood up. "If you'll excuse me?"
The Malfoys were close enough to hear him make the excuse. Harry thought that maybe Mrs. Malfoy would smile because he'd been polite, but she only gave him a strained look and said, "Henry, please, we need to talk."
Harry grimaced and followed her and Mr. Malfoy towards the stairs that he knew would lead to the hospital wing. Draco fell into place behind him, and Harry shuddered once and then refused to look back at him. It was like being guarded and escorted along, the way the Aurors had brought Sirius Black into the Ministry.
He did not want to talk about this, but if he had to, he could at least be reasonable about it, and then everyone else would be reasonable about it, too.
Hopefully.