Harry Potter - foresight reawakened - ch6: Potter's apology
HP - foresight reawakened - (6) Potter’s apology
*
Draco threw his wrist-guards into his locker with a violence matched only by the Unforgiveable curse Potter’d thrown at him, the start of this whole mess. He’d caught three wrong snitches, barely dodged two bludgers that were real but that he’d thought weren’t, and been grounded by one captain Jarvis Ripley for erratic flying once he started dodging everything in the air, including the not-Ravenclaw team practicing for what sounded like the championship.
Which means he somehow missed the snitch when Slytherin played Ravenclaw in two weeks. Things just kept getting better. Draco cast his quidditch robes on the bench and headed for the showers, not bothering to bring a towel with him. He’d walk back naked-he had nothing to be ashamed of, and fuck it but when he checked his locker the towel was gone. Flint probably took it-he’d been known to do that when he was captain, why should now be any different? Draco just hoped he’d left it somewhere instead of taking it back to Australia with him.
The shower was refreshingly cool when Draco stepped in. When he got goosebumps he turned it warmer, letting the heat wash over him. He tried to let the water rinse away the anger and frustration of the day, the strange and frightening urge to cry. Instead, rage simmered just under his skin. Draco punched the wall. Again. Again.
Bugger, that hurt. He shook his wrist out, glad the skin hadn’t broken, and let the throbbing ache in his knuckles push out the rest of his frustration.
Granger was going to tell him what his curse was today, and Potty was going to apologize. Draco wouldn’t accept, of course, but Granger didn’t have to know that. Suddenly Draco’s ill feeling lifted: he couldn’t wait to see the look on Potter’s face when he said, “No.”
*
Draco’s hand had been spelled fixed with his rudimentary healing knowledge by the time he got to the hallway of the Room of Requirement. He remembered well the triumphant capture in this hallway of the DA. It was one of his most treasured Hogwarts memories…though he had felt a bit guilty when Professor Umbridge got back to the castle. He still wanted to know what Granger had done, but then sometimes pulling information from that witch was like forcing respect from a Hippogriff: impossible.
Draco was walking the hallway thinking hard of a meeting place with Granger, as he’d been told to do by the note sent him during supper, when suddenly a door opened in the wall and Potter stepped out. Draco looked down at the sheet of paper. He wasn’t anywhere near the door, yet there it was. Perhaps the need to walk was negated by Potter’s exiting the room and leaving the door ajar, as he had.
“Waiting for me, Potter?” Draco called out, approaching with deceptive carelessness. “How sweet of you.”
Potter glanced back at the doorway and stepped out a bit further. “Er…well, sort of. I mean, yes. I just wanted to….”
Draco stopped beside Potter and waited. He wasn’t offering any help. This was Potter’s punishment for casting that curse in the first place.
“I wanted to ap-apologize.” Potter looked down at his shoes. “So, uh, do you accept?”
Draco smirked. “What are you apologizing for, exactly? For humiliating me for five years running? For winning the house cup for Gryffindor last year…and the year before…and the year before that? Are you apologizing for your appalling hair and the lack of taste in your couture? Or is it-”
“Don’t be smart, Malfoy. You know very well what I’m apologizing for.”
“Your hair, then. Yes, it is rather messy. I could fix it for you, but it’ll cost you.”
“You couldn’t tame my hair if you tried, Malfoy.”
Draco’s face stretched into a full grin. “I bet I could.”
“You couldn’t.”
“I could.”
“Not even you,” Potter said.
“What do you mean, “not even me?” I’ve been challenged! Turn around, I’ll prove it to you right now-get out a Galleon, because that’s how much you’ll owe me when I’m through.” Draco withdrew his wand and pointed it at Potter’s head.
Potter backed up a few paces and pointed his wand at Draco. “I came to apologize, not…not tame my hair.” He looked like he was about to laugh, and Draco supposed it was rather ridiculous. He put his wand away and rolled his eyes. Potter did likewise. They stood facing each other, matching smirks on their faces. “I really am sorry. For Crucio, that is. And what it’s…you know.”
“Not yet I don’t. Granger hasn’t told me a thing yet.”
“Oh. Oh, right.” Potter nodded.
The two stood awkwardly. “Do you accept?” Potter asked hesitantly.
“No.”
Potter raised his eyebrows. “No?” He took a step closer. “But-”
“What are you going to do, tell Granger on me? Is she your mum now?”
Potter glared at Draco. It looked like he was grinding his teeth. “No,” he said shortly.
“Well then-”
“But she’ll know if you don’t accept.”
“I simply don’t want to lie to you, Potter. I don’t accept your apology, and I won’t as long as I keep seeing these…things…” Draco thought of his future self kissing Potter and shivered. “Nasty, terrible things…”
Potter stepped closer. “What is it like?”
Draco glared at him. “Horrifying. I could kill you for what you did.”
“You threw the exact same curse at me, Malfoy-you just missed! And how was I to know?”
Draco shrugged. “You should have thought of that before you cast an Unforgiveable.”
“Oh, did you?”
Draco grinned. “No, but it wouldn’t have stopped me.”
Potter turned toward the door and put his hand on the handle. “You’re impossible,” he said, flinging it open and nearly hitting someone hiding on the other side.
“Watch it!” cried a feminine voice.
“Hermione, he’s impossible. I can’t apologize to him.”
“You already did. I just didn’t accept.”
Granger frowned at him. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her bushy hair was more frazzled than usual. She looked rather like a poodle, Draco thought, especially with that constipated expression on her face. “You have to accept his apology before I tell you a word.”
“You would have me lie? Granger, you wound my honor.”
“You don’t have honor,” Potter said with a disgusted look. He ran an angry hand through his still-messy hair and started pacing. “I should never have said anything.”
“Oh, no, I thought it was entertaining. Bravo.” Draco applauded haughtily.
“Hermione!” Potter pointed at Draco.
“Draco Malfoy, you either act civil or you wonder what’s wrong with you until you’re lucky enough to stumble across it yourself. I’ll tell you now, it’s not in anything you’ll find in Hogwarts, so you’ll be stuck at least until summer.” She put her hands on her hips. “So, what have you decided?”
Draco glared at them both. Finally he crossed to Potter and held out his hand. “I accept your apology.”
Potter stared at the hand suspiciously, but took it and shook. “Thank you,” he said.
Draco leaned close to Potter’s ear, so close his breath moved Potter’s curly black locks when he spoke. “I don’t, really,” Draco whispered.
“I know,” Potter whispered back. His breath rippled down Draco’s spine. They withdrew their hands and Potter left.
Granger had an odd smile on her face when Draco turned around.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She sat in one of the plush red armchairs scattered about the room. Its walls were covered by large bookshelves, each row full to bursting with books and bookends in the shapes of the griffins, snakes, badgers, eagles. There were throw rugs on the floors, some neutral colored couches scattered among the armchairs, and a cozy fire crackling away under the mantle of one wall. Granger motioned to the couch beside her armchair. Both faced the lone coffee table standing before the fire. Some copied sheets of parchment-no, it looked muggle, and was whiter than parchment-and a thick, heavy book without the mark of Hogwarts library on its spine sat upon the table. There was also a letter-parchment-on the table, with the messy signature of Viktor Krum along the bottom.
Draco smirked. Still had a thing for Granger, that much was obvious. “So, what can you tell me about my…affliction?” Draco asked.
*
Draco threw his wrist-guards into his locker with a violence matched only by the Unforgiveable curse Potter’d thrown at him, the start of this whole mess. He’d caught three wrong snitches, barely dodged two bludgers that were real but that he’d thought weren’t, and been grounded by one captain Jarvis Ripley for erratic flying once he started dodging everything in the air, including the not-Ravenclaw team practicing for what sounded like the championship.
Which means he somehow missed the snitch when Slytherin played Ravenclaw in two weeks. Things just kept getting better. Draco cast his quidditch robes on the bench and headed for the showers, not bothering to bring a towel with him. He’d walk back naked-he had nothing to be ashamed of, and fuck it but when he checked his locker the towel was gone. Flint probably took it-he’d been known to do that when he was captain, why should now be any different? Draco just hoped he’d left it somewhere instead of taking it back to Australia with him.
The shower was refreshingly cool when Draco stepped in. When he got goosebumps he turned it warmer, letting the heat wash over him. He tried to let the water rinse away the anger and frustration of the day, the strange and frightening urge to cry. Instead, rage simmered just under his skin. Draco punched the wall. Again. Again.
Bugger, that hurt. He shook his wrist out, glad the skin hadn’t broken, and let the throbbing ache in his knuckles push out the rest of his frustration.
Granger was going to tell him what his curse was today, and Potty was going to apologize. Draco wouldn’t accept, of course, but Granger didn’t have to know that. Suddenly Draco’s ill feeling lifted: he couldn’t wait to see the look on Potter’s face when he said, “No.”
*
Draco’s hand had been spelled fixed with his rudimentary healing knowledge by the time he got to the hallway of the Room of Requirement. He remembered well the triumphant capture in this hallway of the DA. It was one of his most treasured Hogwarts memories…though he had felt a bit guilty when Professor Umbridge got back to the castle. He still wanted to know what Granger had done, but then sometimes pulling information from that witch was like forcing respect from a Hippogriff: impossible.
Draco was walking the hallway thinking hard of a meeting place with Granger, as he’d been told to do by the note sent him during supper, when suddenly a door opened in the wall and Potter stepped out. Draco looked down at the sheet of paper. He wasn’t anywhere near the door, yet there it was. Perhaps the need to walk was negated by Potter’s exiting the room and leaving the door ajar, as he had.
“Waiting for me, Potter?” Draco called out, approaching with deceptive carelessness. “How sweet of you.”
Potter glanced back at the doorway and stepped out a bit further. “Er…well, sort of. I mean, yes. I just wanted to….”
Draco stopped beside Potter and waited. He wasn’t offering any help. This was Potter’s punishment for casting that curse in the first place.
“I wanted to ap-apologize.” Potter looked down at his shoes. “So, uh, do you accept?”
Draco smirked. “What are you apologizing for, exactly? For humiliating me for five years running? For winning the house cup for Gryffindor last year…and the year before…and the year before that? Are you apologizing for your appalling hair and the lack of taste in your couture? Or is it-”
“Don’t be smart, Malfoy. You know very well what I’m apologizing for.”
“Your hair, then. Yes, it is rather messy. I could fix it for you, but it’ll cost you.”
“You couldn’t tame my hair if you tried, Malfoy.”
Draco’s face stretched into a full grin. “I bet I could.”
“You couldn’t.”
“I could.”
“Not even you,” Potter said.
“What do you mean, “not even me?” I’ve been challenged! Turn around, I’ll prove it to you right now-get out a Galleon, because that’s how much you’ll owe me when I’m through.” Draco withdrew his wand and pointed it at Potter’s head.
Potter backed up a few paces and pointed his wand at Draco. “I came to apologize, not…not tame my hair.” He looked like he was about to laugh, and Draco supposed it was rather ridiculous. He put his wand away and rolled his eyes. Potter did likewise. They stood facing each other, matching smirks on their faces. “I really am sorry. For Crucio, that is. And what it’s…you know.”
“Not yet I don’t. Granger hasn’t told me a thing yet.”
“Oh. Oh, right.” Potter nodded.
The two stood awkwardly. “Do you accept?” Potter asked hesitantly.
“No.”
Potter raised his eyebrows. “No?” He took a step closer. “But-”
“What are you going to do, tell Granger on me? Is she your mum now?”
Potter glared at Draco. It looked like he was grinding his teeth. “No,” he said shortly.
“Well then-”
“But she’ll know if you don’t accept.”
“I simply don’t want to lie to you, Potter. I don’t accept your apology, and I won’t as long as I keep seeing these…things…” Draco thought of his future self kissing Potter and shivered. “Nasty, terrible things…”
Potter stepped closer. “What is it like?”
Draco glared at him. “Horrifying. I could kill you for what you did.”
“You threw the exact same curse at me, Malfoy-you just missed! And how was I to know?”
Draco shrugged. “You should have thought of that before you cast an Unforgiveable.”
“Oh, did you?”
Draco grinned. “No, but it wouldn’t have stopped me.”
Potter turned toward the door and put his hand on the handle. “You’re impossible,” he said, flinging it open and nearly hitting someone hiding on the other side.
“Watch it!” cried a feminine voice.
“Hermione, he’s impossible. I can’t apologize to him.”
“You already did. I just didn’t accept.”
Granger frowned at him. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her bushy hair was more frazzled than usual. She looked rather like a poodle, Draco thought, especially with that constipated expression on her face. “You have to accept his apology before I tell you a word.”
“You would have me lie? Granger, you wound my honor.”
“You don’t have honor,” Potter said with a disgusted look. He ran an angry hand through his still-messy hair and started pacing. “I should never have said anything.”
“Oh, no, I thought it was entertaining. Bravo.” Draco applauded haughtily.
“Hermione!” Potter pointed at Draco.
“Draco Malfoy, you either act civil or you wonder what’s wrong with you until you’re lucky enough to stumble across it yourself. I’ll tell you now, it’s not in anything you’ll find in Hogwarts, so you’ll be stuck at least until summer.” She put her hands on her hips. “So, what have you decided?”
Draco glared at them both. Finally he crossed to Potter and held out his hand. “I accept your apology.”
Potter stared at the hand suspiciously, but took it and shook. “Thank you,” he said.
Draco leaned close to Potter’s ear, so close his breath moved Potter’s curly black locks when he spoke. “I don’t, really,” Draco whispered.
“I know,” Potter whispered back. His breath rippled down Draco’s spine. They withdrew their hands and Potter left.
Granger had an odd smile on her face when Draco turned around.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She sat in one of the plush red armchairs scattered about the room. Its walls were covered by large bookshelves, each row full to bursting with books and bookends in the shapes of the griffins, snakes, badgers, eagles. There were throw rugs on the floors, some neutral colored couches scattered among the armchairs, and a cozy fire crackling away under the mantle of one wall. Granger motioned to the couch beside her armchair. Both faced the lone coffee table standing before the fire. Some copied sheets of parchment-no, it looked muggle, and was whiter than parchment-and a thick, heavy book without the mark of Hogwarts library on its spine sat upon the table. There was also a letter-parchment-on the table, with the messy signature of Viktor Krum along the bottom.
Draco smirked. Still had a thing for Granger, that much was obvious. “So, what can you tell me about my…affliction?” Draco asked.