I OPEN AT THE CLOSE.

▲ Ind., highly-selective ▲ Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore *from the Harry Potter book saga ▲ written by Saturn ▲ sideblog to saturninebravery and hallowedlived ▲ artwork by Quaedam ▲ est. Jun’15

Slytherin: compliments

@hallowedlived  Continued from here: X

“Nev ...” he began with a shaky sigh, carefully clutching the freshly scarred hand to cover the evidence of his latest detention; I must not tell lies was still etched red into his skin in his fine handwriting. “ ... You believe me, right?” about Voldemort, of course. But with all the garbage the Daily Prophet was publishing on a daily basis, besmirching the Headmaster's reputation as well as his own, it’s not like he could have meant much else. He hoped she would understand, and not only because she was a friend; sadly, when it came to Voldemort, Nev and Harry had a lot in common.

“Uh... right.” Harry rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, a nervous habit he had when he was at a loss for words (which happened all too often). What Blaise Zabini said next made him wonder if he was hearing voices again, but it was more likely that the haughty Slytherin was playing some sort of prank on him. There was no way one of Malfoy’s own entourage would openly call him a git in front of his biggest rival, right? Not to mention be gratuitously complimentary of him, any part of him. Especially since Zabini was as stylish and well-groomed as Harry was messy and dowdy. He was sick of hearing himself mutter awkward thanks, but at the time his brain wasn’t really helping him out with anything more eloquent. “er, thanks...” again. “Surprised I didn't make it to your hate list. I'm happy with indifference, though.” he knew he probably shouldn’t have encouraged further conversation, but his endlessly thirsty curiosity always got the better of him.

A soft sigh echoed, his shoulders slouched visibly. Defeated. “I tried to be nice to you but…” he thought back to when he had first seen Harry. Back when they were kids. When Draco’s mind was calm and not burdened with the weight of a Dark Mark plastered on his life. “…doesn’t matter. Just leave.” his voice cracked, rusted as if he’d not used it in days.  

And suddenly, Draco seemed to deflate. Level with him, even. Harry stopped in his tracks, almost forgot to breathe as a puzzled frown crawled across his scarred forehead. He really wasn’t very good at hiding his emotional responses, but he didn’t care if Draco saw that, and it didn’t look like the blond cared much to hide his current state of mind either. There was no way he was going to leave now, not after witnessing a crack in the Slytherin rival’s glassy veneer, which further stoked his burning curiosity.  “I don’t pity you.” he replied in a half-hearted mumble, wondering why he felt like he was lying to himself. His fingers automatically clenched into fists as he did when he was slightly nervous.  “And if you’re referring to that disaster of an introduction in the first year, that wasn’t being nice. You were actually being a prick to Ron, and you’ve been a shit to me ever since. You always hit first.” he sighed, knowing that it was unfair to blame a kid for his parents’ misconceptions in his upbringing; “Even I knew back then that it’s not okay to treat people like dirt for no reason.” he had been a kid himself, of course. He had not known anything about a support system, or how parents can negatively influence people. He had none himself, and yet he turned out okay. He’d already found a friend and didn’t particularly want to be around another classist bully, flanked by two Dudley look-a-likes of all things. So naturally he had turned down his request for friendship, thinking it was just some spoilt brat trying to take advantage of his newfound fame. “Why are you still angry at me for it? Was I the first person who didn’t give you what you wanted, or something?”