You’re A Slytherin, Harry.
“I guess Professor McGonagall likes me now,” Harry starts to taunt Draco who is apparently upset by the small victory Harry had in Transfiguration class earlier. Draco knows (or he likes to believe so) that the limelight was his if he hadn’t given Harry the opportunity to show off first. And by now, he knows not to allow anyone else get the credits first before him, especially Potter – the first harsh lesson he must learn on their first day of classes.
He despises Harry for that.
Draco grumpily elbows Harry to the side as they descend down the staircase to the Slytherin homeroom together. “Oi! That’s dangerous, ya git!” Harry exclaims after he managed to stabilize himself on the stone step, then continues to walk nonchalantly besides Draco with a bright smile, much to Draco’s annoyance.
“What’s the matter, mate?” Harry asks while resting his arm across Draco’s shoulders. Draco instinctively dodges Harry’s arm and furiously climbs down the staircase without waiting on Harry; Harry watches him from behind with a smile.
Unbeknownst to Draco, although Harry has been acting aloof around him since the Transfiguration class ended, Harry knew his friend is having a terrible day after what has happened in Professor McGonagall’s class. After spending quite some time with him, Harry learns that as a Malfoy, Draco is burdened with his father’s high expectations of glorifying their family name, which are considerably too high for an eleven-year-old boy to achieve in such a short period. And because of that, Harry realizes how Draco must have felt when he didn’t come out as the genius in the class but his friend did. Hence, Harry doesn’t take it to heart with Draco’s horrible temper. At the very least, he allows Draco to consider him as a punching bag for the day in order to blow out some steam.
Harry knows his friend deserves a time-out. And that is the reason why Harry decided not to spend his precious free time with Ms Weasley (which he is looking forward to with anticipation) but to accompany his skinny, pale friend instead in Slytherin common room.
Draco is already slumped into the leather sofa when Harry entered the dingy dungeon. He swiftly takes the empty seat next to Draco, beaming warmly at the upset Malfoy. Draco, on the other hand, tries his best to ignore the vexing Potter by taking up Daily Prophet, the sole British wizarding newspaper to read.
“Mate,” says Harry. No replies coming from Draco.
“Draco.”
Draco refuses to respond.
“Malfoy boy!”
“WHAT?” Draco barks in Harry’s face, finally gave in to the pressure.
Harry grins sheepishly. “Let’s head to the Black Lake. I’m dying out of boredom here,” he says.
“Just bloody die, then.” Draco flips a page of the newspaper, distracting himself from Harry’s eager look.
“Come on now. It’s warm outside, and you wanna spend your free time by literally locking yourself up in a dungeon?”
“If you wanted to go out that badly, then go by all means. Don’t need to wait for me,” says Draco monotonously - and Harry takes that as a personal challenge. He forcefully grips Draco’s wrist and begins dragging the poor fellow out of the common room, up the stone staircase (“Let me go, ya twat!” Draco curses while trying to hold onto the slippery stonewall), across the bustling corridors (“Wait till my father hears what the Potter junior did to his son!” he threatens), and finally out in the sun. By the time they both reached the Great Lake, Draco is looking extremely dishevelled: his sleek pale blond hair is pointing in every direction, his school robe is hanging off one shoulder, and his face puts on a soulless expression.
Harry steps onto a big stepping rock by the shore and takes a very deep breath. He exhales loudly with a satisfied look on his face.
“See? It’s nice to be out today,” he says as he basks in the warmth of the cloudy sunny sky. Draco lugs his two feet to take a seat on the same stepping rock, and he sighs heavily.
“Why are you doing all these, Potter?” Draco quietly asks. His eyes are blankly staring at the horizon.
Harry stares at his friend without a word and sees how small his friend has become once he dropped his heavy shoulders, letting loose his body altogether. Harry sits down next to Draco, staring at the same horizon before sighing softly.
“I thought you needed it,” he answers.
Draco stays silence.
“I’m sorry if I stole your glory in McGonagall’s class. I thought you didn’t mind seeing you were watching me the entire time,” Harry continues.
Both of the boys calmly stare at the still Great Lake. Then, Draco timidly says, “… I don’t think my father would like to hear a Potter beats his son in class.”
Harry softly nods, a sign of understanding. “Of course …” He continues watching a flock of birds soaring above the lake. “But, ya know -” he says, “- perhaps you wouldn’t feel so bad if you were actually happy for me.” Harry turns to glance at Draco and smiles encouragingly.
Draco silently look at Harry, then he chuckles a little while shaking his head. “I don’t think my father would love to hear that.”
Harry joins in the laughter, places his arm on Draco’s shoulders, and grins. “Thought so.”











