Unmasked

The Truth About Lucius

After Harry woke the next morning, Draco insisted he go for the day—he'd be fine. After protest, Harry finally agreed. He returned to Gryffindor tower, showered, changed his clothes, and took a walk with Ron and Hermione. They spent most of that day together, the three of them, wandering, talking, and eventually, Hermione dragged them to the library to do copious amounts of homework. By the time Harry returned to the hospital wing that evening, Draco had been released. Madam Pomfrey had given him pain potions and mostly healed his ribs. Harry sighed, knowing that Draco probably wouldn't come out of his dorm all weekend.

Harry was right in his assumption. No one saw Draco until he showed up to potions class on Monday morning, sitting wordlessly at the table with his group-mates. He kept his head down, concealment doing a poor job of stopping the circulation of his story—from what Lucius had done to him. His eyes were puffy, and Harry noticed as Draco laid his hands on the table, that he'd been biting his nails. They were down past the tips of his fingers, jagged, the raw flesh the only proof they were ever there at all.

Stormy grey eyes remained focused on the potion as Seamus handed him the ingredients he'd been chopping. Harry and Ron exchanged looks as Ron passed him the next ingredient, and they both then looked at Draco with concern. The silence was too loud.

"What colour is your potion, Draco? I think ours is the wrong colour," said Harry.

Draco didn't look up as he spoke, just kept stirring. "Purple."

"How many times do we stir it counterclockwise?"

"Twice." His voice was steady but soft.

"Can you take a look at ours?"

Draco rose slightly from his chair, peeked over the side of the cauldron, then sat back down. "It's fine."

Harry huffed to himself. Ron poked him in the arm and Harry leaned closer to him. He whispered, "Don't push it, mate. He'll talk to you when he's ready."

"You're bad at whispering, Ron," said Draco. Seamus snorted at that, almost slicing his thumb with his knife. Draco glanced sideways at him, making sure he didn't cut his thumb off, then returned to the task at hand.

Harry, who was also chuckling, smirked at Ron with a shrug of his shoulders. Ron made a face, then swatted Harry's arm with his textbook. "Hermione's rubbing off on you," Harry remarked.

"She is not!"

"Whatever you say."

As Ron was about to smack him with the book again, Draco nearly jumped out of his skin. Blaise had come up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, mate," he said lowly. "I'm real sorry about what happened. I shouldn't have left ya in the Three Broomsticks. But I'm uh... here for you if you need me." With that, he removed his hand and carried on to his desk.

The other boys watched as Draco nodded stiffly, his hands gripping the desk. Harry, Ron, and Seamus exchanged looks as Draco stared holes into the wood beneath his hands. After a few seconds he reopened his eyes, took a deep breath, and refocused on the potion. They decided to carry on as if nothing had happened.

Harry glanced behind him over his shoulder to where Hermione sat, laughing with the girls at her table as her and Pansy worked on their potion. It seemed as if they were around halfway done, as purple sparks were jumping up from inside it. He smiled at the pair, glad that they had become good friends so quickly. It was odd, at first, but then again, so was his friendship with Draco. Friendship? Was that even the right word anymore?

Harry gazed around lazily while he waited for Ron to finish weighing and chopping their boomslang skin. Neville and Blaise were chatting across the table from each other a few yards away. Crabbe and Goyle were looming over a cauldron that was bubbling with a lumpy, green substance. Harry cringed, wondering for the thousandth time how they even got into that class. Seamus was at the same stage as Ron. Draco's deft fingers spun a quill over a piece of parchment, enchanted doodles sprawling over the page. His white-blond hair falling into his eyes made Harry flinch, a movement that made him wonder if he was about to reach out and push it away from the other boy's eyes.