Common Ground

Common Ground: a December Tale

There are days when I am sick of being Harry Potter and on such days I like long walks, usually alone if I can shake off my best mates. This morning was like that; I turned down Ron's offer to practice some new Quidditch moves on the pitch and later on in the morning I actually ducked behind the sofa in the commons to avoid Hermione seeing me in my cloak, hat and scarf. Hermione is a dear but she is also a nag and particularly since it is a Saturday I was not in the mood for a lecture on why I should be better off studying for my N.E.W.T.s than roaming the hills alone with my thoughts. So in the end I was able to strike off out of the castle "unbothered" by caring friends. It is lovely having mates to take for granted. I know that now.

It was nearly time to head back to the castle for lunch when it began to snow again. The air was crisp and I felt immensely better for it. I was taking a shortcut that passes through a copse of trees by the edge of the Forbidden Forest when I saw something moving opposite me, across a clearing. There was no reason to fear anything I reckon, but out of habit I crouched at the base of a moss covered large tree. I waited for what I was sure would be one of Hagrid's Thestrals, a deer or a unicorn to walk out from the shaking shrubbery but the movement was no animal. Not an animal of the hooved sort anyway.

I felt my heart skip a beat and even though I was alone I felt embarrassed. Out from the trees stepped a student. He cut across the clearing headed right for my hiding place. I was about to desert my hiding place but the cloaked figure stopped and threw back his hood.

It was Draco Malfoy.

He was quite alone he carried some sort of a bundle, which looked like the sort of package he usually receives mornings in the Great Hall; parcels from his mother. Malfoy always makes a great show of opening his bundles; the show-off. His mother sends him all sorts of expensive treats. Malfoy doesn't eat the stuff, he only uses it to buy off and bribe his fellow Slytherin. It's funny really - Malfoy is so smooth how he parcels out his goodies I think the people he buys off are hardly aware why they feel beholding to him. This year you hardly ever see Malfoy without a half dozen of Slytherin following him about, hanging on his every word, taking the odd treat like hell hounds waiting for table scraps. I bet, like hounds, if Malfoy were to run out of treats his "faithful" follows would desert him. That is what I think anyway.

I watch Malfoy a lot now I think on it. Of course I do not really like the git, but he is - interesting - to watch. When I see him in the Great Hall I always frown. A couple of weeks ago I was caught off guard smiling at Malfoy and Ron hounded me half of forever.

'Harry, you thought of something to do to Malfoy, to make that bastard pay, eh? Well good for you Harry! Can I help?'

Yeah, I thought of something to do to Malfoy all right, but not anything I would want Ron to hear about.

It is my guilty pleasure I just find him, Malfoy, nice to look at. He is quite pale but he is wiry too and his face is like that of an angel's, neither male nor female. And you if you didn't know the prat's proper age you would some days think he was sixteen years old - which I think is his true age, like me, but on other days the git seems older than the hills around Hogwarts, his eyes look that knowing. You can't predict how Malfoy will look on any given day any more than you can predict which wall Peeves is going to fly through next. Not that I think of Malfoy that much. I mean, really, who would?

Oh, and he swaggers so. Last night at dinner in the Great Hall I sat so I faced the Slytherin table. Malfoy caught me looking at him and he raised an eyebrow. I can tell you I left the hall straight away. My face went all red and I didn't want anyone to see me. Could the git guess what effect he had on me? I mean, I was awake all night. What the fuck did that flicked eyebrow mean: 'drop dead Potter' or 'drop your trousers Potter'? Thinking on that again makes me come over all sort of queer like. I don't mean like a Poofter sort of queer; or perhaps I do mean that.

Back to this morning, as I said, Malfoy was crossing the clearing and I was about to duck away when he stopped walking and dropped to his knees. Must have been 30 feet from where I hid. He hugged the bundle to his chest and put it on the ground on his far side blocking my view. "Why would Malfoy take his goodies for a walk in the Forest?" is what I wondered. That Malfoy is scared witless of the forest; that much I know for sure. So I reckoned perhaps the package held some dark magic he was going to perform?

I noticed then, Malfoy's face was sad really, like he'd lost his best mate. He was kneeling and he took up stones and sticks from the ground with a bare hand and then tossed them aside; did that for a couple of minutes. Then Malfoy took up a large stick that lay behind him, and that large stick seemed to suit him. He pointed the stick onto the ground and shoved his weight against it, made a start at a hole in the cold ground.

I watched him dumbfounded. I mean, why hadn't he brought his wand to dig a hole? No Slytherin in his right mind would wander into the dark forest without his wand at the ready. And didn't the git know enough to wear gloves on a snowy day? But what did I care, right? I admit it was nice being able to watch him, no one around to scrutinize me or my motives. I could gawk to my heart's content. Not that Malfoy did anything but dig, dig, dig in the cold ground. His hands grew so red with cold that it made my own gloved hands ache.

I saw a flash of white overhead at the treetops and something that looked like a snow flurry dropped down, landed on Malfoy's bare head. It was my Hedwig! Malfoy squealed like a girl and I had to hold my hands over my mouth so I shouldn't laugh out loud. I was impressed with Malfoy's patience as he untangled Hedwig's sharp talons from his hair. He soon had her settled on his shoulder.

'You're his owl,' Malfoy said out loud, sounding startled. 'Here? You came to pay your last respects?'

That was when it finally came to me. That was when I understood what I was seeing.

Malfoy was gentle with Hedwig. He stroked her neck feathers and she made her funny little chortling noises she usually saves for me! Malfoy sounded sad. He said, 'You fancied my Titus, did you girl?'

I couldn't believe I was watching Malfoy 'making nice' to my owl!

'How did you know this is the time and place?' Draco asked, not me of course, but Hedwig. 'I ought not be surprised. I demanded Titus stay clear of the likes of you - Gryffindor owl - but Titus paid me no mind. What have you to say for yourself she-owl? I ought to ring your fluffy neck.'

I panicked. I stood quietly but quickly, pulled my wand. I shook from head to toe, ready to cast a charm on Malfoy if he dared to harm Hedwig, but he only spoke to her again. And his voice cracked and he talked to her.

'You two always sat side by side in the owlry, like a pair of naughty students telling secrets in the back of the library. You preened each other's feathers. You pair were shameless; quite the couple weren't you?'

I was gob smacked; was Malfoy weeping? I leaned forward so as not to miss a word.

'You damned fucking owls,' said Malfoy. 'Oh, maybe that is something else you two were on about, hum? Pity - father says Eagle Owls can only produce chicks with other Eagle Owls which you are not one of.'

Hedwig, suddenly rather a coquette, started nibbling on Malfoy's ear. I assumed Malfoy knew his owls, and appreciated he was being given a 'love bite'. Lucky Hedwig. I felt something like jealously but I still can't say who it was I envied, Hedwig or Malfoy. Anyway, next thing I was climbing out from behind the shrubbery; my wand was out but pointed downwards.

'What are you doing with my owl?' I shouted at Malfoy.

'Potter?' Malfoy scrambled to his feet and his face turned into a grimace faster than Hedwig could have pounced on a mouse. He stood foursquare facing me and spat out, 'Your owl? How do I know this is your owl?' Hedwig balanced on his shoulder and did not seem at all surprised to see me.

'You know damned well she is my owl,' I told Malfoy. 'There are no other owls like her at Hogwarts. What are you doing with her?' My wand hand was positively itching for use.

'Nothing,' he said. 'I was minding my own business and she came to me. Perhaps she fancies a better master. Perhaps I will keep her.'

I lost my temper. 'As if,' I told Malfoy, not one of my more clever retorts. 'Hedwig is mine.'

'Right,' said Malfoy. 'Then take your "Hedgepig" and leave.' He shook his arm gently and Hedwig jumped, flew onto my fist. I was annoyed and turned to leave but I was still burning with curiosity. I turned back to face Malfoy and spoke.

'That there,' I pointed to the package which was half in and half out of the hole where it had fallen. 'Is that...? Did your...?'

Malfoy nodded, his eyes were glistening. 'Not that it is any of your business Potter but yes, my owl Titus died during the night. He older than us by far, nearly two and twenty years.'

'That is very old for a post owl is it not? I'm sorry for the bird,' I said. 'When I fetch Hedwig in the Owlry to send a post, she is... was, nearly always sitting with your Titus... I never knew the bird's name but I knew he was your owl. Those two really fancied each other. Used to make me laugh. I mean, considering who their owners are.'

'You thought that funny?' said Malfoy, his eyes never leaving mine. 'Titus had his tastes when it came to his "bit of fluff".'

Then Malfoy and I were suddenly both stifled sniggers as poor Hedwig chittered indignantly as though we were insulting her.

'Your bird,' said Malfoy, gesturing to Hedwig, now on my shoulder, 'she is proud, handsome.'

'Pretty,' I corrected Malfoy. 'Your Titus, he was handsome.'

Just then Hedwig gave my ear a painful nip and I winced. I was embarrassed with Malfoy standing there watching and I asked him, 'Malfoy... did your Titus bite? I never had an owl before Hedwig. I am not altogether sure if all owls behave the way she does.'

Malfoy gave me a look. I wasn't sure if he was going to laugh at me.

'Yes they may bite,' Malfoy said, and he looked at both myself and Hedwig thoughtfully. 'A serious fault if they do. Only poorly trained owls bite. A nibble is acceptable, shows their affection, but a bite is not acceptable.'

The git sounded so authoritative and he held his chin up so aristocratically.

'I know all about Post Owls. My father taught me,' now Malfoy was drawling, sounding like his usual self. 'We have loads of them at home. I had my pick of owls to bring to school with me but Titus was always my favourite. He was older your or me. My father gave him to me when I started at Hogwarts.'

Just then Hedwig, nibbling at my neck, took the odd nip at my ear. I cringed.

'Here!' Malfoy looked shocked, like I had farted in front of his mother or something. 'Don't let her do that! Haven't you bothered to train her? I bet at that Muggle home you live at during holidays, you let your pet dogs jump all over you and shite on the furniture.'

'Never had a dog,' I told him, and I couldn't help but smile to think of the Dursleys allowing dog in their perfect little world. 'Hedwig is my first and only pet of any sort.'

'Really?' Malfoy looked positively horrified at my words. 'Only ever had one owl? I feel sorry for you, um, I mean, you ought to have your bird pay heed, do as you tell her to.'

'And what can I do when she bites?' I asked, still rather embarrassed. 'I will not strike her.'

Malfoy nearly exploded!

'Strike her? Strike an animal? Damn me, how thick can you get?' Malfoy, rolled his eyes. 'You can strike people but not animals, you must be mental. Just hold a finger in front of your owl's face to get her attention and say "no"; say "no" like you mean it.'

So I held a finger gingerly up so close to Hedwig's bill that her eyes crossed which made me smile so next I frowned so she would take me seriously. I told her no - quite firmly - she leapt into the air and fluttered over to Malfoy, landing on his shoulder. She glared at me, insulted. At least she stopped biting me.

Malfoy laughed - mind, he laughed but not in his usual mocking manner. He sounded amused but for once, not at my expense. 'Not bad for a first try Potter. You needn't shout so loudly, just a firm 'no' will let the bird know that you, her master, means business. She's more intelligent than any of your friends I'll wager. She'll pick up on your meaning in no time.' He tossed Hedwig back to me. 'Postal owls are intelligent. My Titus, he...' His voice caught and his face froze. I knew he was fighting back emotions and my heart ached for him. My sympathetic look seemed to annoy him. He shouted at me.

'I say, why don't you get lost, go back to your Gryffindor mates and leave me alone. I have - things to tend to... Scarhead.'

From shear habit, I opened my mouth to hurl back an insult, but there was something about the slight quiver in Malfoy's voice. Just this one time "Scarhead" did not sound so very nasty coming from his lips, I was so taken aback I ignored the slight.

'I'm very sorry your Titus snuffed it,' I told him. 'Really, I am. Hedwig is sorry too.' He said nothing and I ventured to ask, 'Malfoy, where is your wand?'

'What? I have my wand,' Malfoy said. He drew his wand and held it out crosswise in a manner that indicated he had no intention of engaging it - against me.

I was not out of questions. 'If you have your wand there, why were you digging the little grave with a stick?'

Malfoy looked at me as I was the most ignorant being he had ever had the misfortune to run across. He explained it all to me, as if I was an idiot, which to come to think on it, considering the topic, I was rather.

'As any pureblood wizard knows Potter, the best dogs, horses, or owls are "creatures of the foot", that is, they are noble animals. For noble creatures you dig their grave in the old manner, by your own hand. You know - to show them your respect. They do not use wands to serve us do they? They do everything with their hands, that is, with their talons, paws, hooves.'

I nodded. It made perfect sense and it sounded like a 'noble' thing to do. We stared at each other for a minute; then again, I turned and walked off again but got maybe ten feet this time. I reckoned Malfoy would think me a colossal prat but there you are. I got back to Malfoy and he gave me a haughty look but by Merlyn, with his pink cheeks and tow hair his haughtiness only made him look like a child lost in the snow. I demanded, 'Does your Slytherin code require that your hands freeze and fall off?'

He shook his head.

It felt queer to do so but I couldn't help myself. I took both of his hands in mine. His hands were so soft and so cold. He made a move to pull his hands from me but then he relented. I held one of his hands at my side, warm, under my arm. His other hand I blew my warm breath on. I rubbed his fingers, palm and wrist until they went more a normal colour. I placed the hand under my arm and worked on his other. He said nothing.

Then, because he was too cold to do so for himself, or so I reasoned, so I took the liberty of taking my gloves off and pulling them onto his hands.

He looked at me, his eyes so pale it was like looking through his head and onto the snowy landscape behind him. I am not saying his head was empty, it was not, but I am saying his eyes were dreamy. He murmured a thank you to me, after which he no longer seemed willing to look me in the eye. My heart was thumping again, me thinking perhaps I had gone too far.

Then, again, my heart thumped. Malfoy took both my hands bare hands in his and gave them a firm squeeze. Feeling the strong pressure of those soft hands, it was, well it was - erotic. Damn myself; I am such a git.

'Thank you,' Malfoy said. His voice sounded uneven and I felt uncomfortable. He abruptly dropped my hands and we stood there feeling - well I don't know about him but I felt giddy. I told him I ought to head back to the castle. 'I suppose you want some privacy,' I said. Malfoy nodded.

So I stuffed my hands - they were cold now - into my inner pockets. I think I got maybe five feet away when I wondered why none of Malfoy's mates had accompanied him. Had he any real mates, or only the slavish hell hounds he had curried favour with? Why did they leave him alone to bury a faithful pet?

I whispered. 'Go on then Hedwig - keep him company.'

I could feel the weight of Hedwig rising off from my shoulder and I don't know - I think I could feel something like lust, or perhaps it was love, rising up in my heart.