Relax Upon Your Rules, Part 1
In which Harry feels very hard done by...
"He's staring again, Harry." Ron all but wailed his unhappiness at Harry. "I swear if he keeps this up I am so going to deck him."
Harry looked in the direction of Ron's fierce glare. Oh yeah, he was staring alright. Harry struggled to suppress the giggle of hysteria that was bubbling to the surface.
"Just ignore him, Ron."
He tried to sound bored, hoping Ron would take the hint and drop the subject, while secretly hoping that he wouldn't. It probably made him a very bad friend but Harry was actually getting a real kick out of his new role as a voyeur. After all, when you thought about it, well, it was fucking hilarious. And well, whatever gods exist forgive him, but Harry couldn't wait for what he had come to think of as The Reveal. He suddenly snorted with laughter. Merlin help them, there was going to be exploding heads everywhere.
"Would you care to share the joke with all of us, Mr Potter?"
That soon sobered Harry. Snape. Greasy git. For one mad moment Harry thought that yes, perhaps he would share the joke with him. It would serve the bloody smug bastard right if his brain ended up splattered all over the walls. Luckily, Harry's self-preservation gene kicked in just in time, and kindly sat on his evil side until it lost consciousness.
"Sorry, sir," Harry mumbled into his chest, head bowed in mock humility.
That seemed to satisfy the big-nosed bastard. Or perhaps it was the disturbingly purple hue of Neville's potion that garnered his attention at this point; either way the git soon lost interest and hurried in Neville's direction.
Once Snape was at a safe distance, Ron nudged him and asked, "So what was so funny, Harry?"
To his friend's evident surprise Harry sniggered again, then replied, "Trust me Ron, you do not want to know."
Scowling at this response, Ron continued to add ingredients to their bubbling potion. But he looked far from happy.
~~~
Two days later Harry was waiting in the hallway. He'd decided that it was time for an intervention. And boy was he going to enjoy it. Grinning, he stepped out in front of his quarry.
"We need to talk, Malfoy."
The blond Slytherin stopped and looked up in surprise. Then, seeing who it was that had dared to impede his progress, he smirked, exchanging a quick glance with Crabbe and Goyle.
"I don't think so, Potter." He spat the name out like it tasted unpleasant in his mouth.
"Yes, we do." Harry rocked back on his heels and smiled smugly, he was finding this highly entertaining.
Malfoy swaggered towards him, stopping within arm's length, arrogance exuding from every pore.
"Oh, and what could Scarhead possibly have to discuss with me?" Malfoy smirked in Harry's face.
Harry looked up, as if he was thinking, then leant forward to whisper conspiratorially, "Ron."
He knew he'd scored a direct hit as soon as he saw Malfoy flinch and back away. His recovery was good though, Harry had to give him that.
"The Weasel?" He sneered. "Let me guess, you're organising a collection to buy him some decent clothes." He cocked his head back towards his cronies and right on cue they sniggered. "Put me down for a galleon - two, if you can persuade him to tone down that awful hair too."
"Oh, I think you like Ron's hair just the way it is." It was Harry's turn to smirk. In fact, he had to bite the inside of his mouth to stop from outright giggling. Hysteria truly was a terrible thing.
Malfoy, skin wearing an uncharacteristic flush, scowled then and turned to face his friends. "Potter's obviously having one of his infamous fits," he said sneeringly. "This could take some time." He nodded in the direction of the Great Hall. "You two go on to dinner without me."
With one last grunt in Harry's direction, the two Neanderthals in question lumbered off, dragging their knuckles behind them. As soon as they were out of earshot Malfoy turned back to face Harry with a glare.
"What's this all about, Potter?" Malfoy's mouth was curled in contempt but Harry wasn't fooled. His eyes told a different story. There was real fear there, a vulnerability that Harry had never seen before.
Harry decided to get to the point, not out of any consideration for the poor deranged Slytherin in front of him; vulnerable or not he was still Draco Malfoy. No, Harry's eagerness came purely from his desire to get to the good part, the one where the evil bastard had a complete melt down right in front of him.
"I told you, it's about Ron," he said smiling. "Or, more precisely, about how you feel about Ron."
Malfoy snorted. "Well, that's not exactly a secret. Everyone knows how I feel about that Muggle-loving, ginger prick."
Clearly, Malfoy wasn't giving to give up easily.
"Funny," Harry responded with a shrug of his shoulders. "I would have thought that just about everyone, Ron especially, would have a pink fit if they really knew how you felt about that Muggle-loving, ginger prick."
There was a definite blush this time and Harry felt a surge of satisfaction. Damn he was good at this.
"I haven't got time for this drivel," Malfoy spluttered and started to walk away.
"Fine." Harry smirked at his retreating back. "I just thought I'd give you the opportunity to explain yourself, you know, before I shared my insights with Ron. But if you're too busy_" He turned to go up the stairs.
"Wait!"
Harry grinned, he'd only moved up one step. God, payback was sweet. He turned back slowly.
Malfoy no longer looked flushed, in fact, he looked even paler than usual (a feat Harry would have hitherto thought impossible).
"Look Potter, I - I don't know what you think you know but whatever it is you're wrong."
A stutter. Draco Malfoy was actually stuttering. Harry's life could not get any better at this point. Or could it?
"If you don't know what it is I know, then how can you know it's not true?" Harry waggled his eyebrows for affect.
This was brilliant. Utterly brilliant. The poor bastard looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights.
Smiling with false sweetness, Harry looked at his watch. "In approximately two minutes," he said. "Ron is going to come running down these stairs to meet me for dinner."
The other boy blanched and swallowed.
"So," Harry went on. "Unless you want him included in the rest of this conversation I suggest we conclude it as swiftly as possible."
"Okay, Potter," Malfoy snarled. "What do you want?"
"I told you," Harry grinned. "I want to know what your intentions are towards my best friend."
Malfoy glared, reddening in the process.
"But," Harry continued before he could answer. "We haven't got time for that now. So, I want you to meet me in McGonagall's classroom tonight at 8pm."
"Fuck off, Potter_"
Before Malfoy could say anything more, the sound of hurried footsteps stopped him, and a moment later, Ron came running down the stairs two at a time. Unfortunately, Ron was so engrossed in looking at his feet, that he didn't notice Harry until he had collided into him on the bottom step and sent him sprawling.
"Geeze, sorry mate," Ron said. "I didn't see you there."
"No shit, Ron." Harry grinned as his friend helped him up.
"What are you doing out here anyway? I thought we were going to meet inside?" Ron asked smiling. Then, noticing Malfoy for the first time, the smile faded and he turned towards the Slytherin frowning. "What's he doing here?"
"Oh I'm sorry, Weasel," Malfoy sneered. "I wasn't aware I needed your permission to wander the halls."
"Yeah well," Ron muttered, as he turned back to Harry. "If I had my way you'd have to ask my permission to breathe - not that I'd give it."
Harry couldn't fail to notice the look of hurt that passed swiftly across Malfoy's face at Ron's harsh words. It wasn't so hard to read Malfoy once you knew what to look for. Of course, the Slytherin was quick to school his features back into their usual scowl by the time Ron had turned to face him again.
"Yes, well," he said with a curl of his lip. "It's a good job then, that you are of so little consequence that your permission will never be required for anything. Later Potter."
And with one last contemptuous look at Ron, he turned and swept into the Great Hall.
To his surprise, Harry found himself actually battling the urge to admire the arrogant bastard. He wasn't sure he could have carried that off half as convincingly as the other boy.
Ron scowled after Malfoy, and then looked at Harry with narrowed eyes. "What did that prat want?" he asked.
"Oh, you know, just the usual insults." Harry replied, trying to sound nonchalant. Then, deciding a quick change of subject was needed, he started talking about Quidditch, a subject guaranteed to take Ron's mind off most things.
~~~
At 7.50pm that evening Harry told Ron that he was going to the library to work on his Potions homework. He could tell that the other boy was sceptical. After all, when had Harry ever used the words "work", "Potions" and "homework" in the same sentence? Ron knew only too well that scribbling it desperately the morning it was due was much more Harry's style. But it was the best excuse Harry could come up with and he figured Ron wouldn't be particularly interested anyway.
When he reached McGonagall's classroom Harry wasn't surprised to find it empty. He always knew it was a long shot that Malfoy would turn up. He was such an arrogant little prick that he probably assumed he could weasel his way out of anything. Harry burst out laughing at that thought. Weasel his way out - oh yeah, he was sure Draco wouldn't object to a little weaseling.
"Laughing to yourself Potty? Not a good sign even in a nutter like you."
The bastard, it seemed, had turned up after all.
"Nice to see you too, Malfoy." Harry smiled pleasantly.
Malfoy merely sneered in response and walked to a seat at the front of the classroom. Sitting down, he spread his legs out before him, ankles crossed, one arm slung lazily over the back of the chair. Then planting a superior smirk on his face he looked over at the other boy.
"So, Potter, tell me what delusions has your poor excuse for a brain thought up this week?"
Ah, so that was how he was going to play it. Harry leant back against McGonagall's desk. Crossing his arms over his chest he smiled at the blond boy.
"Delusions Malfoy? Not me," he said, shaking his head. "I think that would be you and your delusion that Ron would ever feel the same way about you."
Malfoy blushed and sat up straight. "Listen Potter, you'd better stop this Weasley nonsense or you're going to regret it."
"Oh, what are you going to do? Set some of daddy's friends on me?"
"I don't need anyone's help in dealing with you. I'd take great pleasure in doing it myself," Malfoy snarled.
Harry laughed, "Ooh, I'm shaking in my shoes, Ferret."
"Don't - don't call me that!" The other boy's voice faltered.
"Oh, that's right," Harry smirked, eyes glinting maliciously. "That's Ron's pet name for you, isn't it? I suppose you don't want to tarnish it by association with me, do you?"
Oh, Harry was really enjoying this. The smarmy bastard actually looked like he wanted to cry. Harry would have to remember to thank Ron later. He walked over to stand in front of the distressed Slytherin. "Don't threaten me again, Malfoy," he said. "I might not continue to be so reasonable."
Malfoy jumped to his feet at that. "Reasonable, Potter!" he spat out. "You call it reasonable to drag me here on the pretence of knowing something about me and the Weasel_"
"Oh, there's no you and the Weasel," Harry cut in abruptly. "Much as you'd like there to be, Malfoy."
"Fuck off, you deformed prick!" Malfoy shouted. "I think you've confused me with yourself. After all, the way you and that ginger prat prance around after each other it's bloody obvious."
Harry grinned sadistically. "Jealous Malfoy?" he taunted. "Fancy a bit of prancing with Ron yourself?"
"You - you - mutant!" The other boy's face was distorted with rage now. "You don't know what you're talking about and I don't know why I even came here. I'm leaving." And he made to walk from behind the desk.
That's when Harry knew he had him. Stepping up close, voice quiet and calm, Harry looked him straight in the eye. "Sit down, Malfoy," he said. "You're not going anywhere. We both know if it wasn't true you wouldn't be here."
For a moment, Malfoy looked like he was thinking about hitting Harry, then all the fight seemed to leave him. Bowing his head, he sat down slowly.
Harry smiled cruelly. "That's right." he said. "Sit down like a good boy and shut the fuck up, before I decide that it would be oh so much more entertaining to just share this with my fellow students, starting with Ron."
~~~
Contrary to popular belief, Draco could recognise when he'd been outmanoeuvred. He may have been a pompous little shit, but years of living with Lucius had taught him to know when he was beaten. Another lesson he had quickly and painfully learned, was to always face such defeat with the same haughty pride as one would a victory. But not this time.
It wasn't the humiliation or ridicule from those around him that Draco feared. He had no delusions about the probable reaction of his peers; he could almost hear the laughter and sneers already. And the Slytherins would be the worst. Seen as betrayer there would be scorn and contempt, probably violence. But all that Draco could withstand.
No, there was only one thing he feared; one thing Draco would not survive. His sneers and laughter, his scorn and contempt. Weasley's was the only reaction that mattered. And Draco feared it above all else. It was stupid he knew; after all, the Weasel felt all of those things for him now and certainly never tried to hide them. But somehow if Weasley found out about this, it would be too much. Draco didn't care that he would be seen as weak; didn't care that Weasley would have him at an advantage. No, it just didn't matter. Not if Draco lost...hope.
He sat with his head in his hands now, all pride leeched out of him and voice barely a whisper. "Okay, Potter, what do you want?"
~~~
Harry's grin faded and his shoulders slumped. Ah, shit. This wasn't supposed to happen. He looked down at Malfoy's bowed head and suddenly felt like the biggest shit ever. Damn stupid Gryffindor compassion, spoiled all his fun.
~~~
Two hours later, Harry walked into the common room with a dazed look on his face. Ron narrowed his eyes and scowled suspiciously at him. "Harry, you look like you've been hit by a bludger. Exactly what were you working on in the library?"
Harry could practically hear the apostrophes around "working". And why was Ron glaring at him? "What's wrong with you?" he asked irritably. Harry'd had a very trying evening and frankly could do without the attitude.
Ron turned away moodily. "Nothing's wrong with me," he spat back. "I just think it's a bit off that you feel the need to sneak off to do Merlin knows what, and then lie to your best friend about it."
"What makes you think I lied to you? I told you, I went to the library to_"
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Ron interrupted. "To work on your Potions homework. Well you were clearly inspired, because you'd finished it and left by the time I turned up twenty minutes later."
"Oh, is that all." Harry tried to sound dismissive, while desperately trying to come up with a good explanation. He didn't understand why Ron was suddenly so interested in where he'd been, or why he sounded so suspicious.
"I didn't go straight there, you prat," Harry said quickly. "So I probably arrived after you'd been and gone. I was ambushed by a moving staircase and ended up getting lost. Hey, at least I didn't run into any three-headed dogs this time." He grinned lamely.
But Ron just continued to stare challengingly at him, his disbelief written clear across his face. "Fine," Ron finally snapped. "I'm going to bed, avoiding moving staircases, so I'll be exactly where I say I am, when I say I am and with who I say I am."
This last part was practically screamed in Harry's face. He stepped back, a little afraid, then watched in shock as the redhead stomped angrily up the stairs and into their dorm, slamming the door behind him.
Well, what the fuck was wrong with him?
Harry felt very hard done by. Here he was spending the better part of his evening looking out for Ron's interests, and look at the thanks he got.
Harry studiously ignored the little voice at the back of his head that was patiently trying to point out that actually he'd spent the better part of the evening mostly looking out for his own enjoyment. It was very difficult to wallow in self-righteous indignation when your bastard conscience was jumping up and down, determined to make the point that you had in fact been acting like a total git.
Bloody stupid Gryffindor conscience. It'd be the death of him.
Part 2