Permanent Scars

Chapter fifteen

Harry had been coming to Draco's room for two weeks now.

Even after Draco decided to forgive Harry, the atmosphere was still very tense. He hadn't said anything, but his body language made it clear that Harry was less than welcome.

As the days went by, however, he started getting used to having Harry there. Draco still didn't speak to him, but the feeling of anger in the air had dissipated.

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Draco opened the door for Harry, almost glad to see him; it was boring spending so much time in his room alone. He knew that he could have hung out with Pansy, or even some of the Ravenclaws, but most of the time he just didn't feel like it. He preferred to be alone. He didn't like the thought of people staring at his scars.

They sat at the table, eating their meal silently. After the dishes disappeared, Harry walked to the couch and grabbed his book bag. He brought the bag over to the table, and started working on his homework. He had a five page essay for Snape that was due the next day, and he hadn't even started it yet.

While Harry was struggling with Potions, Draco was sprawled out on the couch. He ignored Harry for as long as he could; then, feeling bored, he walked over to the table to see what Harry was working on.

Seeing that Harry was hard at work on his Potions essay, he snatched it away from him and began to read.

Draco remarked, "This is bloody awful, even for you, Potter. Don't you ever pay attention in class?"

Harry scowled darkly and tried to grab his essay back, but Draco held the essay high above his head, taunting Harry with it. Harry jumped and managed to grab the essay out of Draco's hands. Then, he said crossly, "Not everyone can be Snape's little pet."

Draco glared at Harry and retorted, "Every grade I've gotten from Snape, I've EARNED. You should try paying attention in class, it works wonders."

Draco walked angrily back to the couch and threw himself down on it.

Harry instantly regretted getting into a row with Draco. He was supposed to be here to cheer Draco up and keep him company, not fight with him.

By way of apology, Harry said, "I just can't work my head around Potions, no matter how hard I try. The worst part about being bad at Potions is that when we take O.W.L.s I have to receive an Exceeds Expectations, or Snape won't allow me in his Advanced Potions class. I have to get into that class, or I won't be able to become an Auror. Becoming an Auror is the only thing I'm keen to do once I leave Hogwarts. I'm sorry if I was cross. It's: just, this is really hard for me."

Draco gave Harry an appraising look and then said, with an evil smile, "I could help you, if you want. It might be fun to have the great Harry Potter indebted to me."

Harry said, "Me, indebted to you? But, I saved your life."

Draco retorted, "But, I didn't want it saved, so you weren't really doing me a favour. You do need my help though, so you'd be the indebted one."

Harry thought about Draco's offer. He looked over at him, trying to gauge just what was going on. Did he really want to help? Or was he trying to sabotage him?

After weighing the pros and cons, Harry made up his mind and said, "I really could use some help; Potions is by far my worst class."

Draco looked over from the couch, then gestured to the scars on his face and said, "That, Potter is not a newsflash to me."

Harry frowned, but Draco didn't seem to be saying it in a malicious way.

Draco came back over to where Harry was sitting, leaning over him to look at the paper.

Harry could feel the heat of Malfoy's chest pressing against his back. He could smell the scent of his cologne, some expensive brand that Harry couldn't name. He didn't mind Malfoy leaning against him nearly as much as he thought he would.

"Look here, Potter," Draco said briskly, "Sneezewort doesn't go into a Shrinking Potion, Shrivelfig skin does."

Harry crossed out Sneezewort on his parchment and wrote Shrivelfig, as Draco sat down across the table from him.

Draco was now lecturing him about the curative power of horned slugs, but Harry wasn't really listening. He was thinking about all those years they had fought together, never getting past the cliché of Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. They had never even had a civil conversation. Draco wasn't really that bad a guy, though to be truthful, he had changed a lot in the past few months.

Now, Draco was expounding on all the uses of dragon saliva. He was waving his hands around descriptively, really warming up to the topic.

As Harry looked at Draco, he didn't see the scars; he didn't see the Malfoy he used know. He looked into Draco's dark, grey eyes, and he saw Draco, just Draco.