The Rivalry

The story of what happened in Defense spread quickly, even by Hogwarts standards. Reactions were mixed. Some were pleased Granger was shown up, while others were concerned. There was a lot of a talk about possible implications of Potter and Granger's debate. Draco thought the only reasonable implications to take from it were that Potter wasn't as dumb as he acted sometimes and that he was up to date on his wizarding culture. Fitting, considering he was the last Potter and it would fall to him to take over his family's responsibilities when he came of age. The rest of the student population, as often happened, disagreed with his assessment. They thought Potter was 'dark'. If they had bothered to listen to Potter's speech instead of picking random bits of it out they'd realize even if he was that didn't mean he was evil or about to go out and crucio some muggles for sport. The purebloods knew this of course, and as such stayed out of the discussion entirely. It was the halfbloods and mudbloods making a commotion about it, and Draco would be more than satisfied if someone silenced the lot of them. They worried, loudly, that the golden boy's words were signs of his wavering allegiance, that he was trying to recruit students to the Dark or that he was purposely trying to embarrass Granger.

Granger herself fell into the last category. The frizzy brunette was an absolute child when it came to academic competition. She hated being bested by anyone, as if her constant binging of reading materials justified her self proclaimed label as the cleverest student in their year. While she was good at remembering the information she had read and then vomiting it back up as requested in an obnoxious effort to showcase her mind, that had very little to do with intelligence. In Draco's opinion. In his house Theo was the resident know-it-all and he'd yet to be ostracized for it because the soft spoken boy did not go out of his way to embarrass his classmates. He didn't hog the Professors' attention for the sole purpose of stroking his ego nor did he automatically assume he knew everything there was to know about a subject just because he'd read a lot of books on it. Knowledge from books and knowledge from experience were different and he accepted, with enviable grace, the few corrections that came his way. If Granger wasn't so stuck on her own mental superiority she might have recognized the difference in reception by their classmates and attempted to emulate Theo's more pleasing attitude of the humble bookworm.

It certainly would have cultivated her some popularity for her talents rather than the limited amount she benefited from being one of the only people allowed near Potter.

However, that wasn't a battle to be won in the space between Defense and lunch. Instead the green-eyed Gryffindor walked the halls with his attention straight ahead ignoring the accusing looks, sitting in Charms alone with no visible anxiety and walking to the great hall alone. The whispered rumbles of rumours whirling around him as he passed seemed to flow right over him. Seemed to. They didn't, each and everyone stuck inside that too sensitive head polluting the boy with self doubt and pain. It was there in his eyes.

Draco saw things no one else did.

A very, very small part of him felt a smidgen of regret. It was his dare that put Potter in this position. Then again, if the little golden boy walked around being himself instead of pretending to be somebody else he wouldn't have an issue. Say what you would about Slytherin's but their masks weren't false faces. They were shields. You wouldn't see one of them acting like a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw just because it would make them more popular or because it was more acceptable. Ambitious yes, fake no.

And that was what really bothered him the most.

Potter was being forced to be someone he wasn't and his so called friends and supporters were fake. They liked him when he was what they needed him to be but if he dared, no pun intended, to be himself, to do something or say something that was real...then the whole damn parade stumbled and crashed. And it was because of this that he'd been surprised Potter had not immediately agreed to choosing Amortentia as their project potion. Potter knew better than anyone, except perhaps Uncle Severus, what is was like to be forced to play a part, to smile and nod and be something that you weren't.

Instead the small git chose Veritaserum. In Draco's world the truth was only a problem if you'd done something you shouldn't have and didn't want to be caught. That wasn't the case with Potter, he always did exactly the right thing according to the masses to please them.

He tilted his head and pondered it. Was this what Potter meant when he said the truth was dangerous? The boy hadn't done anything wrong, not really. He hadn't hexed someone or stolen something or tripped a Hufflepuff. The boy had given his honest opinion when asked for it. Wasn't honesty a big deal to Gryffindors? But it wasn't the right truth. Potter didn't get to say things like that, because Potter didn't get to be his own person. He was an idol, a political figure, the symbol for Light triumphing over the supposed evil of Darkness. He didn't get to be a real person because the world didn't want a real person.

Draco looked across the table to the raven haired boy, sitting alone in the middle of the Gryffindor table. Granger had tried to sit beside him of course and Potter in turn pretended she didn't exist. Her tantrum in the hall outside of Defense after class ended probably had something to do with it. Now the boy sat, alone, head down, playing with the food on his plate. His face, when he glanced up now and then, was blank. His eyes were not. Bitter. Hurt. Draco saw emotions playing through them as clear as blood in a glass of water. The Gryffindor's eyes had the same look in their second year during the Heir of Slytherin business.

The only thing missing was uncertainty. That had been a prevalent emotion then.

Draco pushed his salad aside. He didn't know why the look in Potter's eyes was irritating him so much. Pale hands and long finger slipped into his pocket and brought out a stack of parchment, Draco place it on the table and tapped it with his wand to enlarge it.

H

Stop looking at your goblet like you want to drown yourself in it. You're traumatizing the first year Hufflepuffs.

I think one just burst into tears.

-D

He folded it, slid the silver and gold snitch open, set it carefully inside and looked up.

"Oi! Darth Potter!"

Emerald eyes snapped to his face, startled amusement flickering over the once blank face. Potter's tan hand reached out and caught it when Draco threw it at him. Another moment and the snitch flew back his direction. He caught it and flipped it open, pausing only to cast a stinging hex in Theo's direction when the over-curious wizard tried to sneak a peek at the note.

D

Merlin forbid I deprive you of your favorite form of writing desk.

-H

His lips twitched upward. Draco snapped his fingers and held out his hand. Some lower year gave him a quill. He would never get tired of that.

Draco looked up from the note when he felt Theo stand. Lunch was over. He shrunk the rest of the parchment and put it in his pocket, stood and made his way to the doors. Potter was there just slipping through. With a smirk he raised his voice. "Think fast Potter!" The smaller boy turned and just managed to catch the snitch before it was about to slam into his face. The Gryffindor shot him an annoyed glare. Draco mimed opening it.

H

I am pleased to see you understand the gravity of the situation.

Having to chase down second years, who have learned to hide, would be an unnecessary expenditure of calories.

-D

Post Script: Your penmanship offends. Who taught you to use a quill?

Potter's face twitched, a reluctant smile drawing across it. He gave Draco a dramatic eye roll, put the snitch in his pocket and continued out the doors. Spiked brown hair came into his line of vision.

Draco turned to see Theo standing beside him giving him a shrewed look. "What are you doing Drake?"

He thought up and examined different answers to that question. With a slight upward pull of his lips, that was certainly a sneer and not a small smile, he decided on the truth.

"...Throwing things at Potter."

Draco walked out and into the hall, ending that line of conversation, Theo following along. He had a study period next, maybe he should check out a book on Magickal Alignments and Forms of Magick for Granger. A head of him on the stairs Potter tripped spectacularly, the frantic flailing windmill of his arms in a fruitless effort to maintain his balance coaxed involuntary laughter from even the stoic Blaise. The tall, dark Italian stood to Draco's left, a hand over his mouth, eyes politely averted, trying to hide his mirth. Honestly, how anyone could really believe Potter was an evil mastermind was beyond him.

A ginger blur pushed passed him, knocking Draco into Blaise and Theo into a Ravenclaw. The four of them glared at his back.

"Harry."

Potter stiffened. "Ron." He greeted, his voice dripping with a lack of enthusiasm.

The freckled idiot, unaware of his walk toward danger, stomped up the stairs.

"Just because you're upset with me doesn't mean you get to take it out on Hermione. She was only trying to help the other day. Making her look stupid in front of everyone because your sensitive spirit is offended isn't very Gryffindor. She grew up with muggles, you know she doesn't understand this alignment stuff, it was...vindictive...to do that."

"Big words."

Weasley shuffled his weight on his feet aggressively. "See? That. What the hell is that? Why are you acting like a stuck up pureblood?"

Potter didn't seem interested in talking to the Weasel. He turned and resumed his progress up the stairs. Weasley latched onto his shoulders and spun the smaller boy around.

"Quit walking away from me! Quit ignoring me I'm sick of your attitude."

Potter smiled. Fantastic.

The shorter Gryffindor tilted his head slowly, face pleasantly innocent.

"For someone who doesn't want to be treated like a dog you're certainly whining like a kicked puppy."

Weasley reeled back as if Potter had hit him. "You don't get to talk to me like that!"

Potter took a step forward. "Like what?"

"Like you're bloody Malfoy!"

"Do you want to know why you always lose those little insult battles you get into with Draco?" Potter smiled. Again.

His eyes flickered over to where Draco was standing.

"It's because everything he says is true. He talks about your financial status and social status and quotes things other people have said about you and your family. He doesn't make anything up just to piss you off, like you do to him, he just says the truth. He doesn't care enough about you to sit around making up witty insults for the next time he sees you."

Everyone in the hall was quiet, watching. No one made a move to separate them or stop Potter. They just watched, the way you see a horrible accident about to happen in potions and can't help but watch it play out.

"You're poor and low class and you've got an insane amount of siblings. That partnered with your father's low paying job makes it hard for your family to get by. All true. It isn't really anything to be ashamed of, but it's true. The things you say about him are not, and that is why it rolls off of his back. If you didn't hate yourself and your life as much as you do these things wouldn't bother you as much as they do, but you can't stand your life and you're unhappy with yourself. You're petty, you're jealous, you're insecure and you're even, at times, callous."

The red head let out a small growl. "If you think so little of me maybe we shouldn't be friends."

"We aren't." Said Potter, in a soft unhappy voice.

"...What?"

"We aren't friends. I can't call you a friend when you aren't acting like one. I don't have to be the soundboard for your problems or the punching bag for your emotions or the doormat for your ego. That's not my job. And you don't get to make a joke of my emotions or my problems. Maybe you can't understand them, you know? You certainly can't relate. I understand that. But my fears and my insecurities and shadows and my skeletons are worthy. You don't get to make light of them or belittle them or gloss them over just because you're more interested in your own or because you're feeling especially hateful of yourself that day and need an outlet to make you feel better about yourself. Friends don't do that. I don't deserve it and I'm not going to tolerate it." He licked his lips and took a step backward. "You don't get to use me. You don't get to demand my forgiveness. I'm angry with you, I'm allowed to be angry with you and all I want is to have some time away from you. Additionally, just so everyone understands," he raised his voice, "the incident in Defense had nothing to do with you your majesty."

Snickers.

"I was asked a question and I answered it. Hermione didn't have to challenge it. She did and I answered again. The issue I have with her is unrelated to the issue I have with you, so stay the hell out of it." With a twirl of his robes Potter stepped around Weasley and left.

That night when Potter approached their table in the library Draco gave him a round of applause.

"Veritaserum it is."