Reappraisals

Chapter One

The noise level in the Great Hall was, as always, rumbling and loud. Filled with the sounds of students and teachers eating breakfast - this morning, the usual of bacon and eggs with various side dishes - with the accompanying clink of knives and forks on plates, and the students talking loudly to each other. At the Gryffindor table sat Neville - who had, in recent months, finally gotten over his fear of a majority of the teachers and was now viewed as one of the smartest students in their year - Dean, Seamus and Ron, all immersed in a heated discussion on Quidditch.

"But, Seamus, the Australian team have no chance at the World Cup this year!" Ron protested.

"How would you know?" Seamus replied in his thick Irish accent. "You've never even seen them play! Just because they're a new team, you automatically write them off! I think they have quite a good chance of at least making the quarter finals."

"Are you going to put your money where your mouth is, Seamus?" Ron shot back.

"I'm quite willing to. Five Galleons says that Australia make it to the quarter finals of the World Cup," Seamus retorted.

"Done," Ron said immediately. He stuck out his hand and the other boy shook it.

"Honestly, you two," Dean said, "You're both hopeless. The only team that stands a chance of winning the World Cup this year is France."

"Oh, I don't think so," Neville said. "They'll probably make it to the final, but I think that Ireland are going to flatten them."

"That's the way, Neville!" Seamus beamed. "Of course they will!"

"Provided they even make it to the finals," Harry said, cutting in unexpectedly.

"What, who do you think are going to be the final two, wonder boy?" asked Seamus, looking decidedly annoyed that anyone would dare to denounce his home country.

"I'm betting on an England-Australia final," Harry replied. "Have you seen Ireland's new Seeker? Ever since Aidan Lynch retired, they've been looking high and low for someone who will even begin to fill his shoes. The new fellow they've gotten isn't anywhere near as good as what Lynch was."

"He went a bit funny after the Ireland-Bulgaria final, where he ran into the ground twice. Remember, because of Krum's Wronski Feint?"

All of the boys collectively winced.

"That would have to hurt. I mean, on a Firebolt, going that fast..."

"Will you five shut up?!" Hermione cried finally in exasperation. The boys all stared at her.

"What's wrong, Mione?" Ron ventured tentatively to her.

"Must be that time of month," Seamus muttered to Dean. Both of the boys broke out into laughter. Hermione either didn't hear the exchange or chose to ignore it.

"Nothing's wrong, Ron," she replied, her face softening at the genuine look of concern on her boyfriend's face. "It just gets a bit annoying, sometimes, you lot constantly going on about Quidditch all the time," she explained. "Plus, it's Monday - Potions first, remember?"

All of the seventh year Gryffindors groaned.

"That is evil," Neville moaned. "They honestly expect us to face that slimy git first thing on Monday morning? It's just cruel."

"And I'll make it even worse," said a silky voice from behind them. "Five points from Gryffindor for showing disrespect to a teacher, Longbottom."

Snape swept off, his black cloak and robes billowing out behind him as he left the Great Hall.

Everyone laughed.

"Ah well, what's five points? Hermione'll just earn it back for us in one of the other subjects," Harry said affectionately, patting his best friend's arm.

"You know, you're lucky I bother to answer questions and do my homework, Harry," Hermione said, attempting to sound severe and failing. "Otherwise, Gryffindor would never have half the points we do!"

"How right you are, Hermione," commented an amused voice from behind her. Hermione turned, not looking surprised at all at the appearance of Draco Malfoy behind her.

"Hey, Draco," she said warmly. "How are you?

"Fine thanks, and yourself?" Draco replied.

"Pretty good, thanks," Hermione said back, smiling at him.

"Draco," Seamus piped up. "Are Australia going to make it to the quarter finals, do you think?"

"Are you mad?" Draco asked, looking at Seamus dumbfounded. "They're going to win the Cup, easily!"

"Hello, Draco," Dean said, echoed by various members of the Gryffindor sixth and seventh years.

"Dean, Ginny, Lavender, Parvati, Neville, Seamus," Draco returned, nodding and smiling at them each in turn. "Ron, Harry," he also said, much to the amazement of both boys. "And how are you all this fine lovely morning?"

There were general mumblings amongst them all.

"Do you want to sit with us?" inquired Hermione, moving over a bit to make a space.

"As much as I'd like to, I'm afraid I can't. I have to get to Potions," Draco explained.

"What, not already?!" Neville asked.

"Don't worry, Neville," Draco laughed. "I have to get there early to talk to Professor Snape about the apprenticeship he offered me."

"Are you going to take it?" questioned Dean, looking up at the slim-built boy, who shook his head.

"I don't think so. As much as I enjoy Potions, and as much as I love Severus -" at this, most of the people within hearing distance shuddered slightly, and Draco grinned " - I just don't want to make it my life's work."

"That's understandable," Hermione nodded.

"Well, best be going. See you all soon," he said, touching a hand lightly to Hermione's shoulder and playfully ruffling Ginny's hair.

"Don't!" she squawked, patting down her copper curls carefully. Draco just grinned and left, exiting much the same way as Professor Snape, but without the billowing-robes-intimidation affect that he had long abandoned.

"I don't understand how you people can just be so nice to him!" Ron said, letting out a hiss of breath.

"Oh, come off it, Ron," Dean said. "He's changed, a lot."

"No he hasn't!" Ron cried. "He's still exactly the same as what he used to be!"

"Then why is he being nice to us?" Ginny interjected.

"It's a plan of You-Know-Who's!" he replied.

They all sighed.

"How many times do we have to tell you, Ron?" Neville said patiently. "Draco is not a Death Eater."

"Do you have proof he isn't?" asked Ron belligerently.

"Do you have proof he is?" Hermione responded, her arms crossed across her chest.

This seemed to shut the redheaded Weasley boy up.

"Exactly," she said grimly. "Can I have a word with you outside?"

Ron nodded numbly and stood up to follow her out of the Great Hall. Once the doors had shut behind them.

"Ron, please. Can you at least attempt to be civil to Draco? You'll see he's changed, a lot. Surely you've noticed that the other Slytherins have stopped talking to him?"

Ron's face remained hard.

"Please, Ron, do this. If not for his sake, for mine. Do it for me, Ron?" Hermione pleaded.

He again let out a slow breath.

"Fine, Hermione," he replied. "For you."

"Thank you, Ron," Hermione said, her face breaking out into a smile as she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

~*~

"Divide into partners and begin your solutions," Snape said, fifteen minutes later in Potions. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

The Gryffindor and Slytherin seventh years stood up and began pairing off.

"Harry, partner?" Hermione asked brightly.

"Uh, sure," Harry replied, sending an apologetic look at Ron.

Hermione caught his eye and subtly tilted her head towards Draco.

Oh, no, Hermione, Ron's eyes said. Please, don't make me do that!

It won't be that bad! Hermione's eyes said in response. Just go and ask him, you'll be fine.

Sighing heavily, Ron stood and walked over to Draco.

"Partner, Mal-Draco?" he asked.

A look of surprise flitted across Draco's face, before being replaced by a smile.

"Sure, Ron," the blonde boy replied, picking up his ingredients and moving them over to Ron's desk. He looked up at Hermione, who tipped him a wink. Draco shook his head, still smiling, as he and Ron began to cut up their ingredients.

By the end of the lesson, Ron had loosened up considerably towards his former archenemy. The resolving topic was, of course, Quidditch.

"Oh, yes, the Bulgarian team has definitely been hyped up recently," Draco was saying. "They're no where near as good as what they were a few years ago."

"I know," Ron said, nodding his head vigorously. "Who d'you think will win the Cup?"

"Well," Draco answered thoughtfully. "I reckon Australia's in with a fair chance, as I said earlier."

"You really think so?" Ron asked incredulously. "Why does everyone think they're so good?"

"Well, if they're anything like what they are in Rugby Union," Dean called across the room, interrupting. "They're sure to be fantastic!"

"Only problem is, Dean," Draco smirked, "last I checked, England have the Rugby World Cup!"

"What on earth is Rugby?" Ron asked, confused.

"It's a Muggle sport," Draco explained. "Quite interesting, really. But the Rugby World Cup last year was held in Australia, and the final was between England and the Wallabies - they're the Australian Rugby Union team. Anyway, England won in extra time from a kick by Johnny Wilkinson."

"How much do you know about Muggle sports?" queried Ron, amazed.

"Not much," Draco confessed. "I only like two - Union and soccer."

Ron just shook his head and turned back to their cauldron.

"I have an Australian pen pal who is fanatic about Rugby, Draco," Dean said. "Before the final, he was going on like anything about how his team were going to kick England's arses. I didn't hear from him for three weeks after the game!"

Draco laughed. "Typical," he agreed.

"As much as I hate to interrupt your conversation, boys," Professor Snape cut in smoothly, "it's time for you to hand in your potions. Please bottle and stopper them and bring them up to the front.

"Oh, and Mr. Thomas?" he added, stopping at his desk. "England won't be as lucky at the next World Cup. Five points from Gryffindor."

~*~

"See!" Hermione cried triumphantly a week and a half later. "I told you he's lovely!"

"I wouldn't go that far, Hermione," Ron said. "I only said that he wasn't as much of a prat as what he used to be!"

"Oh, honestly, Ron," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "You just can't accept that you were wrong about him!"

"Hey, where's Harry?" Ron asked, trying to change the subject.

"I'm not sure, he said he had some homework he had to catch up on," Hermione replied. "I know I am right, because you just changed the subject!"

"Hermione, give it a rest, would you?" Ron said tiredly.

Hermione just grinned to herself and wrapped her arms around him.

"If you say, "Yes, Hermione, you were right about Draco, he truly is a very nice person and not at all what I thought, I was wrong" I'll give you a kiss," she said teasingly.

"Hermione, I didn't know you felt that way about me!" Draco said, grinning as he appeared behind Ron.

"How do you always manage to do that?" Hermione asked, her brow creased.

"Do what?" Draco asked innocently.

"Turn up whenever we're talking about you?"

"Ever heard of the term, "Speak of the devil", Hermione?" Draco answered playfully, although somewhat absently. Hermione just rolled her eyes again and smiled at him.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked him.

"Nothing," Draco said. "I was just wondering...what about Harry?"

"What do you mean, what about Harry?" Hermione replied.

"Well, it seems like you've converted all the other Gryffindors who still had their doubts about me," Draco said, sending a friendly wink to Ron, "but he's the only one left."

"I'll get around to him," Hermione assure him. "I left him until last because I though he'd be the hardest. No offence meant."

Draco smiled and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Oi, watch it," Ron growled. "That's my girlfriend you're kissing there!"

"Right, sorry, Ron," Draco said, laughing.

"Oh, bugger off," Ron replied grumpily.

"Will do!" Draco responded cheerfully. "See you two lovebirds later!"

And with that, he was gone.

~*~

Dear Harry,

I know I'm probably not the highest on your list of favourite people - hell, I'd be more like to grace the top of your Most-Hated list.

Regardless, I just wanted to apologise for the way I treated you in the first five years of school together, and a decent part of the sixth. You didn't deserve that treatment; I gave it to you because I followed my father's instructions like a good puppet.

I didn't realise until recently that I was a puppet, and in no way the important player in the Death Eater circle I thought I would be.

You know how I am, and you know that I hate bowing down to anyone, let alone some deluded senile fool like the Dark Lord.

I'll keep this letter short, in the stead of rambling on some more; however, I do think we should talk. If you want to, I'll be at the Quidditch pitch at eleven o'clock tonight.

Draco Malfoy.

Draco reread the letter with some dissatisfaction, but sealed it and tied it to the leg of his eagle owl, Eowyn - named after the legendary wizard-author's character in Lord of the Rings, J.R.R Tolkien. He let her out of the Owlery and told her who to go to. She hooted and nipped at his finger affectionately, before flying off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. Although Draco thought his letter was a bit strange and parts were detached from other parts, he didn't really want to rewrite it. He shrugged, crossed his fingers and left the huge room, walking back down to the Slytherin dungeons.

Up in Gryffindor Tower, Harry scanned the contents of the letter quickly, but not without surprise.

I'll be at the Quidditch pitch at eleven o'clock tonight.

Would he meet Malfoy?

However, I do think we should talk.

"Hermione?" Harry asked from the other side of the common room.

"Mmm?" Hermione answered.

"Come and read this, will you?"

Hermione stood, a slightly perplexed looked on her face, and walked over to Harry.

"What is it?" she asked, taking the proffered piece of parchment and reading it. The corners of her mouth quirked up slightly.

"What are you going to do, then?" Hermione tilted her head at Harry.

"What do you think I should do?" Harry countered.

"Talk to him, of course," she answered immediately. "Take your Cloak, though. Filch has been particularly nasty recently," Hermione added thoughtfully. "I might have to have a talk with him."

"That's right, Hermione," Seamus teased. "Ever the perfect Head Girl, aren't you?"

"Oh, be quiet, Seamus," Hermione sighed.

"Yes, sir!" he replied, saluting.

"I think I will," Harry said quietly, almost to himself. Hermione heard him though, and smiled.

"Never too late to make amends to Inter-House relationships, is it?" she said, ulterior tones in her voice. She had noticed the looks that were passing between the boys occasionally; it quite amused her, actually, and ever since she had realised, she had been doing her best to play matchmaker and get them together.

Harry, however, completely missed her hidden meaning and instead stood, gave her an absent hug and walked upstairs to his dormitory.

He flung himself onto his bed, staring up at the canopy.

Why would Malfoy want to talk to him? Did he really want to apologise? It made sense; after all, he was friendly with everyone else in Gryffindor, for reasons so far unknown. He would have to ask Malfoy that.

He heard a knock on the door.

"Harry?" Hermione said, sticking her head in through the doorway. "It's twenty to eleven, you should get going, if you're going to meet Draco."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry replied, sitting up and grabbing his cloak.

"Don't look so nervous, Harry!" Hermione laughed. "He's not going to bite!"

Too late, Hermione recognised the second meaning of her words and snickered slightly.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked, confused.

"Nothing," Hermione lied. "That just reminded me of a joke Neville told before."

Harry just sent her a weird look before standing and slipping on his cloak, hiding him from view.

"I'll tell you how it goes tomorrow, Mione," his disembodied voice said.

"Ooh, that still feels strange, no matter how much you do it," she shivered. "Have fun, Harry."

With that, Harry walked out of his dorm, into the common room and out into the hallway. Taking out his Marauder's Map, which he habitually carried with him these days, he scanned a quick eye over it. No one was coming along any of the corridors he would take, so he set off at a brisk pace, trotting quickly down the stairs until he was outside the building.

He pulled out the Map again, and saw a little dot labelled 'Draco Malfoy' moving around rapidly at the Quidditch pitch.
Frowning slightly, Harry wondered what Malfoy would be doing. Then he realised - flying, obviously.

He put the Map away inside the cloak and continued down to the pitch. When he finally reached it, he saw Malfoy up in the air, flying with amazing speed and agility. Then, without seeming to realise Harry was there, his face contorted into a look of determination, he stood up on his broom.

Harry was astonished. Draco Malfoy was 50 or 60 feet off the ground, and he was standing on his broom. How far it would be to fall...and how painful, too.

To his relief, Malfoy sat back down and tilted his broom down. As he came to a stop, hopping off his Firebolt, he noticed Harry.

"Oh...hello, Harry," Draco said, flushing. Harry just stared at him, open-mouthed.

"Are you insane?!" he finally managed to articulate after several uncomfortable moments.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, seemingly confused. "Oh...you saw me do that, then?"

"Bit hard to miss," Harry said sarcastically. Draco sighed.

"It was pretty amazing, though," Harry continued. "I'd never have the guts to do something as stupid as that."

Draco smiled at him.

"Um, Harry..." he said hesitantly. "You know why I asked you to meet me here."

Harry nodded wordlessly.

"Well, I really am sorry," Draco said. "For everything I've done to you. I mean, I was less than civil to you, even though you didn't do anything as such to me, apart from refuse my friendship, and the only reason I wanted to get back at you for that was because no one had ever rejected me before, and I thought to myself 'How dare he? I'm Draco Malfoy!'. Obviously, I know. Anyway, now, I've joined the spy ranks with Severus, and I can tell you, old Voldie and the Death Eaters - sounds like a band name, doesn't it? "On drums, we have Rodolphus Lestrange, on guitar, MacNair, our backup vocalists, Bellatrix Lestrange, Narcissa Malfoy and Lucius Malfoy, and on lead vocals, we have the one, the only, Lord Voldemort, merciless killer of Muggles and Mudbloods!" - aren't planning anything at the moment to try and kill you off - "

"Malfoy," Harry interrupted, looking surprised. "You're rambling."

"Oh," Draco said. "Right, sorry."

"Consider yourself forgiven, too. But not until you do one thing," Harry replied. Draco looked slightly crestfallen, but nodded.

"Accept my apology. I was as much a prat to you as what you were to me. So, sorry," Harry said.

"Done," grinned Draco. "There's something else you should know, as well..."

Oh, hell, thought Draco. Shouldn't've said that.

"Oh?" Harry asked, looking inquisitive.

Ah well, get it over and done with.

"Uh...yes. There's this little matter of the fact that I'm unlvwight."

"I beg your pardon?"

Draco took a deep breath.

"I'm in love with you," he mumbled, turning an unbecoming shade of pink.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Harry muttered, but loud enough for Draco to hear. He looked up.

"It doesn't?" he asked, over his initial embarrassment.

"No, not really," Harry replied thoughtfully.

"Why?"

In answer to his question, Harry closed the remaining distance between them and pressed his lips forcefully to Draco's, enclosing them in a hot velvet kiss. Draco stood still for a moment, from shock, but when he felt Harry begin to pull away, he slid his hand along the other boy's neck and pulled him back in, deepening the kiss.

Up in Gryffindor Tower, where they were using Ron's Omnioculars in turn, the seventh years and Ginny clapped and cheered.

"Finally!" Seamus sighed.

In the Headmaster's office, Professor Dumbledore turned away from his window, his eyes twinkling merrily.

"Well, Albus?" Minerva asked, exasperated.

"Did anything happen?" Snape questioned.

"Success," Dumbledore beamed at them both.

I look at the sun rise,

I look at it burn,

I look into your eyes,

I don't know where to turn,

I'm going to drift in to that void,

I'm flying through space,

I'm an asteroid,

I'm something when you're paranoid,

I'm thinking about you,

And nothing else,

Think about you, you think about me,

Think about you, I'm counting the beat,

Thinking about you, you think about me,

Thinking about, just you and me,

La-dah-de-de, there ain't no place I'd rather be,

I'm counting the beat, 2-3-4-5,

I'm feeling the heat, glad to be alive,

I'm counting the beat, 6-7-8-9,

Wishing that you, that you were mine.

~ The Swingers, Counting the Beat.