I Beg Your Pardon, Potter?

Chapter 7

"We're going to have to have a fight in front of your friends," Draco said as he re-entered their room.

"What? Why?" Harry had now finished chopping the mushrooms and was measuring them out.

"Because I can't do words. My language skills are woefully inadequate and have failed me."

"What did you say?"

"Erm, it was something along the lines of 'don't think my desire for good grades equates to a desire for Potter'. No, that's not quite right." In reality, the words were burned into Draco's mind and made his insides squirm in embarrassment every time he thought about them. Frowning, he looked over at Harry. The brunet looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"What?" Draco snapped.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly. "Just the thought of you being inarticulate is amusing." Draco sighed heavily and set to work butchering the polar bear liver.

"So what should our fight be about?" Harry asked a few minutes later.

"Oh you know, something mundane like it usually is. I don't know. Tease me because my father is in Azkaban or something."

"That seems harsh."

"Well that's the point, you idiot. Plus it's true." The fact that this would actually upset Draco was an added bonus in his mind. He could get genuinely upset with Harry if Harry said something about his father.

"But I wouldn't normally say something like that. I'm not that mean."

"Oh really? I seem to recall you insulting my mother's face in fourth year." Harry frowned. He did not remember this and he felt a pang of compunction in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed hard.

"Well," he said slowly. "I'm sure you deserved it at the time." And then he felt bad for attempting to deflect the blame.

"Yeah, well, then I got turned into a ferret for trying to attack you, so it was a pretty bad day in my books."Harry snorted with laughter at the memory but wisely turned it into a cough. Malfoy glared at him all the same, which Harry reasoned was fair. No wonder he hadn't remembered it. The image of a white, squealing ferret flailing around the entrance hall had stayed in his memory, but the altercation before had not.

They were silent for a few minutes as both of them contemplated fourth year and tried to concentrate on potion preparation. Then Harry spoke.

"I'm sorry," he said. Draco looked up in surprise.

"For what?" he asked. "You haven't done anything." He narrowed his eyes and stared a Harry for a second. "Have you?"

"No," Harry assured him quickly. "But I'm sorry for insulting your mother. No wonder you were angry enough to attack me."

"Potter, that was years ago. I'm over it." Harry wasn't sure he was over the ferret part of that day, but he didn't want to press it. "Are you done with those mushrooms? It's about time to add the next ingredients." Harry nodded and carried the two sets of mushrooms over to Draco.

"All set," he said. "Time to hold hands and think happy thoughts?"

"Yes," Draco said, peeling off his gloves. They carried the four bowls of ingredients over to their cauldron and then grasped hands. Harry decided that he liked holding Draco's hand. The Beatles had a point. Holding hands was nice.

...

"Zabini, have you noticed anything strange about Draco recently?" Hermione asked as she walked back into the potion room she shared with Blaise.