A/N: Hello folks! I love being able to update on a week day! School's been pretty hectic for me recently but writing is very calming so why not continue my fic? Anyway, someone asked a question like 'why couldn't they just check Harry's wand to see if he hexed Draco?'
I just thought I'd explain: Well, first of all, that spell shows either the last spell performed or the last couple, and as it had been a day or two since the incident, Harry would have performed many spells since the alleged hexing (mind you he does go to a wizarding school and probably performs a couple dozen spells a day). Even if it were possible to pinpoint the time of the alleged hexing and check for any spells performed in that time period, why on earth would Umbridge vouch for a fair trial on Harry's part?
Anyway, I hope you're all having a jolly time and enjoying my fic! Read on, friends.
Harry was rather disgusted with himself at this point. Not only had he let Draco get to him, but he had let him penetrate his deepest emotions in a way that no one else could. Harry was strong. He didn't like to display his emotions. He liked to internalize pain, in the way he did when he tried to retain Umbridge's punishments, or how he'd pretended to hate Ron when they were fighting. Something had happened with Draco that Harry detested. Draco had broken him; gotten past the walls he never knew he had. Draco had taken him and reduced him to a pitty-wallowing idiot.
This would carry on no more.
Harry had woken up with this mindset the day after Snape had sat him next to Draco in class. It was laughable how he had attempted to upset Harry, and for a moment he had. When Harry saw Draco's nerves, something new had risen in him. It was like a snake rearing its ugly head at its prey. It was neither the noble Harry nor the pathetic Harry. It was something new; something very… Slytherin.
He felt this to the point where he couldn't bear to think about the way he'd acted – skipping class, sleeping all day, not eating – like a heartbroken girl with some emotional complex, without cringing internally. It was the same feeling one would get while falling asleep when a memory of something they said completely stupidly the day before unkindly interrupted their drowsy stupor.
"Potter!" He heard Professor McGonnigal snap.
He jerked his head up, looking frantically around the room until he'd found the woman. Apparently, they'd stopped taking notes and the entire class was staring at him, for the Professor had asked him a question, and upon his lack of an answer, had repeated said question not once – but twice.
He fixed his glasses, which were hanging annoyingly askew, "Yes, Professor? I'm sorry."
Her pursed lips loosened a bit as she gave him a look of understanding, for she knew that he was both in the middle of the Draco Trauma and also banned from Quidditch. "I said, Potter, could you tell me what Bartholomew Galdrickson's three Laws of Minor Transfiguration are?"
Harry could feel himself going pink, and he snapped his mouth shut as he realized it was hanging open with confusion. "I'm – I'm sorry – I don't know them."
She was smiling a bit now, "Well, if you would care to listen, they are in your book. Page three-hundred and eighty-two, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."
"Of – Of course not!" He sputtered, feeling his entire body heat up with severe embarrassment. He fumbled around in his back and retrieved the necessary book. He looked to Hermione, who was both pointing to the required passage and hiding her fit of giggles behind her robe sleeve.
Harry cleared his throat and read the three laws aloud, not registering what he was reading to the slightest. "Thank you, Mr. Potter." Professor McGonnigal said and turned from him, content with his comical humiliation. "Now, as Mr. Potter so kindly stated, the three Laws of Minor Transfiguration – the first of which being –"
"Harry," Hermione whispered, a blush of pink still in her cheeks from laughing, "are you alright?"
Harry nodded, "I'm fine, Hermione. I was just thinking –"
"About Draco," She finished.
"Yeah," Harry said with a sheepish smile, "About Draco. But – but it's not what you think," He added once he saw the concerned expression on her face. "I'm done with all that emotional nonsense. I'm… rethinking things."
Hermione automatically brightened, "Good! Oh, Harry, you've been acting so strange lately. I don't think you've ever missed classes like that before!"
"I know," He said, his stomach lurching as he thought of the embarrassing spectacle he'd put on, "That was stupid. I honestly have no idea what got into me."
"Well," she said, patting his hand quickly, "I'm glad to have the old you again," and turned her attention back to the class.
I'm glad to have the old you again. The words rang in Harry's mind, startling him.
He really was that bad. He had really changed in the last few days so much. Because of what? A boy and a sport. Harry shook his head, lifting his quill and trying to alert his own mind to what Professor McGonnigal was saying.
"… So, keeping Galdrickson's second law in mind, would it be right to assume that any minor transfiguration requires an unnatural consumption of the shape's original form?"
Several people raised their hands, Hermione being second, which was unusual. A sandy-haired girl was called, and she answered, "Actually, you could assume that minor transfigurations require only a magical reflection of the shape's original form."
Hermione stiffened in her seat, offended that someone both raised their hand before she and answered the question correctly, despite its tricky difficulty, and hissed at Harry, "What an awful voice she has!"
Harry laughed, "You're just mad you couldn't answer."
"Shut up," Hermione said with a smile and an eye roll.
Throughout the entire lesson, Ron had remained quiet, concentrated on the papers in front of him, much unlike him. Harry picked up his quill and threw it playfully at him. As it bounced off of his slouched neck, he sat up with a start, letting out a loud yelp.
He had been sleeping.
"Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonnigal breathed, wavering between outrage and surprise.
"I'm – I'm – I – " Ron sputtered, his ears and cheeks growing red. He turned to shoot Harry a scathing look as Harry watched in utter surprise.
'I'm sorry!' Harry mouthed, feeling dreadful.
McGonnigal was still looking at them, "Now, from Harry, I understand slight misbehaviors, but you have no excuse, Mr. Weasley. You are lucky I am in a rather good mood today, or else I would have bestowed you with a detention! Now please, pay attention! All three of you!"
Though Ron was still red in the face, he, Harry, and Hermione turned to each other giggling once the professor had turned her back to the more serious side of the room.
Within minutes, the class was over, and the three filed out into the hallway amongst the crowd of other Gryffindors.
"I can't believe you fell asleep, Weasley!" A boy laughed, shaking his head, "Hi, Hermione," He added, giving Harry only an awkward and unsure smile and leaving quickly.
Hermione scoffed and propped her hands up onto her hips, "I wish people would stop treating you that way, Harry!"
"So do I," Said Harry, but then he shrugged. "What can you expect when you're a gay lunatic who has mental breakdowns and visions about dark wizards who are supposed to be dead?"
"Shut it, mate," Ron said, "Just because you're a little different doesn't mean people can treat you like moldy pudding. Plus, You-Know-Who isn't dead and you're the most fantastic gay guy ever."
Harry smiled with affection, "Yeah, but they don't know that."
"Well then they should invest their time and effort into a bit of education," Ron said.
Hermione gave a yelp of laughter, "You? Ronald Weasley? Telling people to invest time and effort into education?"
"Just because I'm trying to encourage my friend doesn't mean I'm suddenly some overly scholarly idiot with no life," Ron argued.
"I do not have 'no life,' Ron. I have a perfectly extravagant life and I don't –"
Harry put his hands up, "Please, shut up. I feel like a God damn wrestling mediator."
"A what?" Ron asked.
Hermione dropped her shoulders, "Oh be quiet, Ron."
"And what if I will, hmm?" He threatened.
Hermione laughed lifelessly, "Then I will be eternally grateful, believe me."
"Jesus," Harry interrupted, "You two constantly sound like an old married couple."
Hermione raised a finger as Ron began to angrily oppose such a suggestion, "Except," she said, "If you ever see me wearing his engagement ring, you have a perfect right to slap me across the face."
"I'm looking forward to it," Harry said jokingly.
They had one more class before lunch, and it was Potions. Harry had no idea whether his seating arrangement with Draco was permanent or if it was just for the previous lesson, but he hoped the outcome was the latter. At this point they had reached the entrance to the dungeons, and made their way to Snape's room joking about Ron developing fatherly habits such as smoking a pipe in his slippers and complaining about his male pattern baldness, and Hermione criticizing him, telling him to get up and do something as he groaned and complained.
Harry, all the much too aware of his movements, made his way to his usual table with his friends. Just as he thought he would get away with sitting where he wanted, he heard Snape's voice.
"No, no, Potter. You will be sitting with Mr. Malfoy until I am sure that you and your friends will stop causing disruptions." Draco stood up in protest, but before he could speak Snape said, "Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Now sit down."
Harry sighed, although he wasn't as upset as he had been since he'd been feeling more normal lately. Putting on his most confident look, he sauntered over to Draco's table, and threw he backpack down. Malfoy's goon wasn't in class today for whatever reason – probably skipping to go mug the house elves of their entire food storage – so to his dismay he would be alone with Draco at the table which now seemed like a desolate island. He plopped himself down in his chair, sinking down as to look relaxed and apathetic. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking bored and unphased.
Snape began their lesson – something about mood altering potions, but Harry wasn't listening. He was concentrating on every body movement, making himself look calm and uncaring, showing Draco that he really didn't give a damn about anything that had happened.
"Potter," he heard Draco whisper cautiously.
He turned his head lazily, making sure to tap his pen irritably and stare right into Draco's eyes, "What do you want, Malfoy? Can't you see I'm trying to learn because unlike you, I don't have a death eater family that probably threatens teachers into passing my useless arse."
"Fine. Nevermind," Draco said. "Fine."
Harry turned back, grinning to himself. A part of him was quite shocked; it was as if he and Draco has switched places. Harry was playing the part of manipulative Slytherin and Draco was the emotionally driven Gryffindor. Interesting.
Snape, being his sadistic self, assigned a partnered project. They were to open their text books and chose a potion from a list of mood-altering brews to concoct for a test grade. So this was the pre-Christmas quiz the Ravenclaws were talking about!
Sighing loudly, Harry opened his book to the required page. "Could you be any louder, Potter?" Draco hissed.
"Yeah, I can," Harry replied venomously as he made sure to turn the pages so that every motion ripped a sharp papery noise through the cavernous room.
"You're a prat," Draco said.
"At least I'll have hair at the age of thirty-five," Harry said, commenting on Draco's thinning hair insecurity.
"At least I can see without two inches of glass in front of my eyes."
"At least I tan."
"At least my hair looks proper instead of like an elephant's pubic hair."
"At least I have friends."
"At least I have a girlfriend."
"In case you haven't noticed, I don't want or need a girlfriend. Next, Malfoy," Harry said.
"Yeah, I know. I haven't forgotten being nearly molested by your disgusting drunken face you bloody poof."
Harry lunged forward, grabbing the collar of Draco's shirt, pulling him threateningly close in anger, forgetting they were still in class.
He began to snarl at the boy, "You may be low, but I never thought –"
"Gentlemen, as you well know, our high inquisitor has banned public displays of affection, so please separate."
"Affection!" Draco shouted.
"I would never!" Harry yelled in unison with the other boy.
Snape's lip curled, "Oh I know you most certainly would ever, Mr. Potter, don't think any of us have forgotten last year."
Harry sat back in his chair, mortified as several Slytherins and even a handful of Gryffindors that had gone along with the Hate Harry Potter! Campaign laughed at him.
Outraged and horribly embarrassed, Harry remained quiet for the rest of the period, occasionally shooting Draco and Snape horrid looks. He was more than relieved when the class was over, as he had abandoned his cool charade and stormed angrily from the class, accompanied by Ron and Hermione.
"That was awful!" Hermione said.
Ron groaned, "It really was. The nerve of that greasy old monkey, I swear. God, you were obviously just yelling at him – I just – God."
"Believe me, I understand," Said Harry glumly.
Hermione sighed, "Well, at least we have our last D.A. meeting before the Hollidays tonight to look forward to! I think it's great for you to have a group of people who support you."
"Whatever," Harry said. "I hope I get hit with a rogue stunning spell so I can spend the next few days in the hospital under a sleeping potion."
"Oh Harry, don't be ridiculous." Hermione said.
Ron jogged in front of them, walking backwards and talking to them at the same time, "What I think Harry needs right now is a bit of food and a lot of Malfoy-centric jokes."
Harry laughed, agreeing wholeheartedly, and the trio walked to lunch.