Golden Thread Of Trust

Golden Thread Of Trust

Chapter 4: Moment Of My Life

The change in Draco was almost imperceptible, but Harry thought that he seemed a little more relaxed and perhaps a little bit more open than before when they sat in the library that evening, doing their homework. It was actually quite pleasant to do homework with Draco, compared to doing it alone, or with Ron and Hermione. Draco always seemed to know all kinds of interesting and funny things about the subjects they were studying. They had been sitting there, talking, for hours, much to Madam Pinch’s chagrin, when Ron and Hermione entered, holding hands.
"Hi Harry. Hi Malfoy," said Hermione, taking in the situation with one glance. "What are you doing?"
"Defence Against the Dark Arts homework," Harry answered.
"Really?" said Ron. "He’s throwing Unforgivables at you, and you’re trying to deflect them?"
"Ron, cut it out!" said Harry firmly. He had noticed that Draco had flinched when Ron mentioned the Unforgivable curses.
"I just can’t understand why you’re sitting at the same table as that slimy, cowardly..."
"Ron! If you can’t keep your big mouth shut, then leave! We’ll talk to each other later."
"Fine," Ron countered, and left.
Hermione looked as if she wanted to say something, looking back and forth between Harry and Ron. Then she followed Ron with an apologetic glance at Harry.
"You didn’t have to do that," said Draco quietly.
"Yes, I did. Ron has a brain, he just doesn't use it sometimes."
Draco smiled. He had a lot of questions, but the most important was: why?

Harry was late the next morning to Double Potions because he had needed to look for his homework. When he entered the classroom everyone was already paired up with someone else, except Malfoy, everyone’s last choice. But Harry just smiled at Draco and sat down next to him.
"Morning, Draco."
"Hi, Harry. You’re lucky. Snape is also late."
Harry noticed that Ron demonstratively turned his back to them and refused to look at Draco.
"Did you speak to Weasley yesterday?"
"Um... yes, but he’s being pig-headed. He can’t see why I would want more friends than just him and Hermione. Can you imagine that they didn’t even noticed that I was gone yesterday? Some friends they are."
"Well, they seem a bit preoccupied with each other."
"Hmph. To put it mildly."
Draco found that he actually enjoyed having this little nonsensical conversation with Harry. That little spark of hope that he had felt the day they apologised to each other had grown now. Maybe it was worth waiting just to see what this developed into. Harry seemed to take this friendship business very seriously...
Draco smiled.
Harry smiled back.
Professor Snape entered the classroom, and he didn’t smile. Scowling, he instructed them to start brewing their Veritaserum. Draco hoped anxiously that they didn’t have to test it at the end of the lesson. He’d just started to enjoy Harry’s and his tentative friendship, and he didn’t want to think about what would happen if he started to reveal his secrets. For example, what his father made him do when he was trained to become a Death Eater, before he took a stand. Or what actually caused the unfortunate demise of Pansy Parkinson. Or the way Harry made him feel when he smiled at him... Too many secrets.
The potion was very complicated, and Harry and Draco had to concentrate very hard to get everything right. Professor Snape stalked the classroom, sending sneering comments in various students’ directions. He bent over Harry and Draco’s cauldron.
"Excellent teamwork, gentlemen," he commented in his velvet voice. "I’m surprised." But something in Snape’s voice told Draco that he wasn't, really. He wondered if Snape knew more than he pretended. Fortunately, they didn’t have to drink the potion, and Draco felt very relieved.
"Hey, Draco, would you like to practice some Quidditch with me tonight?"
"Sure," Draco answered before he realised that it might have been a bad idea.
Quidditch... The primary field of their rivalry.

After dinner they met outside the changing rooms, Harry in his scarlet Gryffindor Quidditch robes, and Draco in nondescript black. Draco saw Harry’s questioning look.
"These are my robes I use when I practice at home," he explained.
Harry wondered why he didn’t use his Slytherin robes; he was a Slytherin after all.
"I’m out of practice," Draco confessed. "I’m afraid I will be no match for you."
"It’s all right," said Harry. "Normally I practice with the team, but I thought it would be better training with a little competition. And it’s much more fun."
Draco grinned evilly at him.
"What are we waiting for?"
Harry opened the wooden crate and released the Golden Snitch. It hovered in the air between them for a moment before it disappeared somewhere above the Quidditch field. The boys mounted their brooms, shot off into the air and started looking for the Snitch. The game that followed was intense. Draco might have been out of practice, but he was an excellent flyer and he had achieved great skill in the five years that he was the Slytherin seeker.

Harry swore under his breath. They had caught sight of the Snitch a couple of times, but in their struggle to keep the other from getting it they lost it again. It was getting dark, and soon it would be downright impossible to see the tiny Snitch. Harry saw a flash of gold in the corner of his eye and spun around on his Firebolt, but Draco had seen it first. At lightning speed he went after it, and so did Harry. Harry was closing in on Draco, and suddenly he saw a small change in the flying pattern of the ball that meant it was going to change direction. Unfortunately, Draco had seen it too, and anticipated its move slightly before Harry. The Snitch dove and Draco followed, diving with breakneck speed, the ground approaching dangerously fast. At the last moment he caught the tiny ball and steered upwards, a little too late, because the tail of his broom hit the ground. The jerking movement caused him to lose his balance, and he fell off the broom with the Golden Snitch still clutched tightly in his hand.
"Are you all right?" Harry asked the dazed Slytherin.
"Of course," Draco said, snapping out of his confused state. "I caught it! I beat Harry Potter to the Snitch! Ha-hah!"
"You don’t have to get all worked up over it," Harry grumbled.
"What! This is the moment of my life! You wouldn’t deny me that, would you? I beat Harry Potter to the Snitch!"

Harry followed the overjoyed Slytherin back to the castle, and the badly needed showers, rolling his eyes at the more exaggerated outbursts. He couldn’t help smiling at his new friend, he had never seen him look so happy. On second thought, he had never seen him look happy until now. He was like a ray of light. A silver moonbeam...
They met up with Ron and Hermione in the Entrance Hall, but Draco left for the dungeons immediately.
"Bye, Harry!" he called. "See you!"
Harry smiled.
"Harry," said Hermione, "why is Malfoy... bouncing?"
Harry began to laugh. Well, Draco was actually sort of... bouncing. ’Strange person.’
"He’s happy because he beat me to the Snitch."
"Really? How could he do that?"
"Luck... and perhaps just a bit skill," Harry confessed.
"Oh."
"But I won’t let him do that again," Harry stated with a smile.
’Even though I like to see him happy... Hey! Where did that come from?’

The next morning at breakfast, Harry watched as Draco entered the Great Hall, with a small smile still on his face. He sat down at the Slytherin table, but no one as much as looked at him.
"Things look a bit too peaceful over at the Slytherin table, don’t you think?" Harry commented to his friends.
"Hmm, yes, now that you mention it," said Ron with twinkling eyes. "What do you have in mind?"
"Make them regret that they kicked Draco out of the house team."
"They did that?" Hermione asked. "How stupid!"
"Yes, I know," said Harry with a mischievous grin and strolled over to the Slytherin table.
"Wait a minute," said Seamus. "Since when did Harry start to call him Draco?"

"Hi there, Malfoy!" Harry said loudly, and patted his shoulder. "I never congratulated you yesterday."
Draco seemed to understand what Harry was up to, because he grinned and answered:
"It’s all right, Potter. You looked a bit... beaten."
Harry sighed dramatically. All the Slytherins pretended they were not listening intently to every word they said.
"Well, I must admit I’m impressed. No one’s beaten me to the Snitch since Cedric Diggory."
"That doesn’t count," Draco offered generously, "the Dementors won that game, not Diggory."
"All right. No one’s ever beaten me to the Snitch, except you of course."
Blaise Zabini started to cough violently. Another Slytherin patted his back.
"Your replacement on the team must be really talented," Harry guessed.
"Certainly."
"Well, Zabini, I’ll be on my guard when we play the Slytherins, then," Harry told the scowling captain of the Slytherin team.

Draco met Harry and the others outside the Great Hall when they left.
"Did you see the look on their faces? That was brilliant!"
"I know," Harry grinned. "That’s what friends are for."
"Zabini’s going to be trouble, though," said Draco, frowning.
"Yeah, he’s the new leader of Gryffindor’s Tormentors," said Ron.
The other Gryffindors started to air their opinions of the dark Slytherin, but Harry dragged Draco aside.
"Do you think he will trouble you?"
"I don’t know. I mean, I wasn’t a Death Eater, but I’m still the best Dark Wizard of the lot, and they know it. They’re scared."
"Dumbledore won’t let you use the Dark Arts," said Harry disapprovingly.
"Well, I think I can defend myself if it comes to physical fighting as well," said Draco and shrugged.
"How does it feel to use the Dark Arts?" Harry asked quietly.
Draco eyed him.
"You can do terrible things with Dark magic. But the magic in itself, it’s just magic. Some of it makes you feel very powerful. Some of it is extremely painful." He shuddered. "It can easily corrupt you. But it’s the intent that makes it evil."
"I see, I think," said Harry.
"Do you have a problem with that? That I was trained in the Dark Arts? Because I didn’t like it, if that helps."
"No, I don’t have a problem with that. If you had all that, and turned away from it, I think that shows a lot more about you than if you never had been trained in the Dark Arts."
"Never thought about it that way."
"I did."
"Well, thanks. It means a lot to me."
As he headed alone towards the dungeons, Draco swore under his breath. What was it with Harry, that he always got under his skin? Where was his usual self-control? If this was going where he thought it was going he had some thinking to do tonight.