Let Me Be Your Voice

Part 9

When he opened his eyes the next morning, he felt more relaxed and well-rested than he had in ages. He’d stowed the Snitch safely away in the mokeskin pouch he wore round his neck and he stretched luxuriously beneath his sheets, his stomach rumbling.

He sat up and pulled his T-shirt and trousers on, before opening his curtains at last, thankful it was the weekend.

The sun shone through the large window opposite his bed. Malfoy was curled up in the window seat, his right hand held out before him as he stared at the ring on his finger. The sun lit his hair, making him look as if he were wearing a halo.

Harry hesitated before climbing out of bed, but Malfoy seemed to sense he was being watched and turned to face Harry, an eyebrow raised.

Harry’s feet found the floor and he stood up. “How are you this morning?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as inept and awkward as he felt.

Malfoy answered with a shrug.

Harry was relieved to see that Malfoy didn’t appear to be angry to be spoken to this morning.

Malfoy turned to face Harry full on, his legs dangling from the window seat, feet a couple of inches from the floor. He pointed to his bed.

Harry turned to look. The bed was piled with scrolls and books, looking as though they were organised by subject.

He turned back to Malfoy. “So, you want me to help, then?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, sighing, but answered with a nod. His lips were firmly pressed together as if he was deliberately trying not to speak, but only just managing it.

Harry looked again at the huge task before him, his head hurting at the prospect of how long it would take him to translate them all, but he reminded himself that he’d given his word.

The rest of their dorm mates were probably having breakfast in the Great Hall.

“You hungry?” Harry asked, feeling his stomach growl angrily.

Malfoy shrugged again.

“Dipsy?” Harry called, hoping that his request for breakfast wouldn’t be too much trouble.

The small elf popped into being with a loud crack, making Malfoy nearly fall out of the window.

“Harry Potter, sir,” Dipsy said, bowing low. “What can Dipsy be doing for you?”

Harry was aware Malfoy was watching his interactions with curiosity.

“Can you bring us something for breakfast? Not a lot, just some muffins would be fine.”

The small elf bobbed his head happily. “Dipsy is glad to be of service to Harry Potter and his friends.” He disappeared with another loud crack. Moments later, Harry saw that a tray laden with muffins and a flagon of pumpkin juice and cups had appeared perched on the top of his trunk.

He grabbed a couple of muffins, poured himself some juice, and took it back to his bed.

“Have some,” he said to Malfoy. “Then I think we should take all this work to the library. I doubt anybody will distract us there.”

Malfoy jumped down from the window, still in his pyjamas, and took a muffin from the tray. He glanced at Harry with a look Harry took to mean: I’m trying to figure you out. Why are you helping me? What do you expect in return?

Harry swallowed the bite in his mouth. “I’m helping you because it’s the right thing to do,” he said simply.

Malfoy frowned, as if he still didn’t quite believe Harry, and returned to the window to eat.