𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐎

Part 2

Part Two

Hermione greets him at her flat with more enthusiasm than even when he'd first arrived back from Toronto. Harry guesses that she's glad to have him finally off of her couch.

"So how was it? Did you get assigned to Bugs? How was Ginny? Did you see Draco? Does this mean you'll come out with us?"

He doesn't bother answering any of these questions with anything more than a shrug and a short trip to her fridge. "Indian or Chinese tonight? I'm starved."

"Oh Harry, please, I'm trying to have a conversation with you!"

Harry inspects a brownish banana and casts around in his mind for a forgotten freshening charm. When he comes up with what could either be a liquefier or a freshener, he decides to take his chances with the bruised fruit and peels it by hand.

"It was fine. Yes. Ginny was great. I saw him. Probably not."

Letting out a low growl of annoyance, Hermione points her wand at the banana and turns it to yellow-brown sludge in his hand. He yelps and waves his sticky fist at her indignantly. She just scowls at him. "Ungrateful brat!"

"You've been reading the Prophet again, haven't you?"

"Harry!"

"I don't know why you're so anxious for me to go out with you guys," Harry whines reasonably, washing his hands off in the kitchen sink. "I mean, I haven't got anything against Slytherins anymore, I don't see why I have to proveit by being friends with them. Ron's doing enough cozying up for the both of us—"

"A-ha!" Hermione cries triumphantly, pointing at him. He turns wide eyes on her, half expecting her to dash off to the library. "I knew you had a problem with the impending Weasley-Parkinson union. It's about time you admitted it."

"What? No! I was talking about how they all work with him at the Ministry, honestly, Hermione. Stop finding double meanings in the things I say, I think you've been spending too much time with Slytherins lately."

"You're impossible."

"Says Draco Malfoy's new best friend."

They call a stalemate in the kitchen, retreating back to their own corners of the flat and only interacting with Crookshanks for the rest of the evening. Harry knows she means well, she always does, but she's also incredibly pushy. He's just not ready for all this inter-House bonding bullshit. He thinks he'd done pretty okay his second night back, at the dinner with Pansy and Ron. He'd managed to go a whole night without blurting out, "So remember that time you tried to sell me out to Voldemort? Yeah, fun times."

Of course, thinking that way about Pansy Parkinson just makes him a giant hypocrite for the entire 18 month interval he'd spent coupling with Malfoy, but whoever said dislike had to be rational?

It's just that the last time he tried this inter-House bonding bullshit, well, it had involved much less bonding and much more fucking. It had made him a giant hypocrite for 18 months. And while he's pretty sure he can stand a few nights out with Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Greg Goyle without jumping their bones, he's not entirely sure the same can be said for Malfoy.

Both unfortunately and fortunately for him, he doesn't get any chance to test out this theory, because the next few days at the hospital are as Malfoy-free as the first had been. Harry's hormones throw a tantrum; Harry's rational mind breathes a huge sigh of relief.

He rotates between archives duty, which he loathes, and helping out in the children's ward, also known as the Dilys Derwent Ward. Sometimes Ginny just shoves Wizarding picture books at him and throws him into the ward, too busy to instruct him, leaving him to figure out which kids are meant to be read to. He makes quick friends with children who have Pepper-Up steam coming out of their ears or look slightly green in the face, who are all equally enchanted by his awkward fumbling and total unfamiliarity with the books.