"Oh, that one," Draco merely muttered.
Interesting, that the boy didn't take up for his father as he usually would, or rail against Harry for having freed the elf. Interesting, yes, but probably just one more angle to his game. "Anyway," Harry continued with forced cheer, "Hermione spends loads and loads of time with the house-elves. Part of her cause. You remember SPEW, don't you? The Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare? Well, I was as shocked as you when she started popping in and out of rooms just like they do, but then she told me they'd taught her the trick."
When Draco gave a snort, and stepped closer, Harry had to force himself not to visibly tense. Inside though, he was coiled, ready, almost shaking with suppressed violence. He could feel a low hum of power vibrating deep inside him, somewhere near his core, and darkly wondered if he could unleash it just onto Draco. Probably not, though. He'd likely blow the windows out again.
"You're a really good liar for a Gryffindor," Draco was saying, apparently oblivious to Harry's unease. "You had me going for a moment, there." A scraping noise ensued as Draco helped himself to a seat.
"Oh please, be my guest," Harry said, waving a sarcastic hand. His urge to lash out had decreased when Draco had sat down, though, so the windows were probably safe. "Anyway, what makes you think I was lying? Hermione's quite talented, you know. Even heard her called the cleverest witch of her age, by a couple of people who ought to know."
"Oh, you're a liar all right," Draco drawled, sounding like he was fussing with his robes, or maybe his tie; hard to tell. "The house-elves hate that freedom crap she tries to shove down their throats. They're not her mates. Besides, there's no way in hell Granger would Disapparate if it meant leaving you to my tender mercies."
Tender mercies. A wave of gooseflesh swept Harry from head to toe, all his previous unease returning with a vengeance. Oh God, what was Malfoy doing in here? He's up to nothing, Snape had said, but Harry couldn't really believe that. The Potions Master just didn't know the whole history, did he? Didn't know, for example, that Harry and his friends had hexed Malfoy into something resembling a giant slug, last spring on the way home from Hogwarts. They'd piled him onto a luggage rack and left him to ooze, and Malfoy hadn't had a chance to get even.
Or, he hadn't had a chance yet.
When Harry felt a hand brush against his blanket-covered calf, he kicked out at it. Hard.
"Shite! Ow!" Draco yelped, leaping back. "What in hell's your problem?"
"Get your stinking hands off me!" Harry yelled back, even louder.
Madame Pomfrey was there almost at once. "What's this then? Mr. Malfoy?"
"Potter here kicked me! Damned near broke my wrist!"
"Yeah, well keep your stinking hands off, like I said!"
"I wasn't going to hurt you, idiot! I was just reaching for the Charms text, thought I'd read you the lessons you actually missed!"
"You were going to read out loud to me," Harry echoed, scoffing. "Sure you were. Listen, Malfoy, I don't want you lurking around, I don't want you watching me while I sleep, and I sure as hell don't want you making any more potions for me, got it? Now, get out!"
Dead silence greeted his pronouncement. Harry didn't hear so much as a cloak rustle.
"Madame Pomfrey," Harry tried, "make him leave."
The normally strident Medi-witch seemed oddly reluctant to eject Draco. She hemmed and hawed about Harry needing company, ignoring his strongly worded objections, finally ending the argument by announcing, "I'll be in my office, Mr. Potter. I'll certainly hear you if you need anything." Turning, she said to Draco, "Mr. Malfoy. Keep your distance or I wager you'll have more than a bruise to contend with." With that, she was walking away.
"Fuck," Harry swore. "What's going on around here?"
Apparently taking the Medi-Witch's advice, Draco slid his chair back another foot, away from Harry. "Oh, she heard Dumbledore telling me to catch you awake sometime, that's all."
Harry sneered, knowing he was slandering Pomfrey, but after putting up with days of her smothering crap, he didn't care. "Are you sure you didn't just bribe her with a load of your family's Galleons?"
Draco went strangely silent, and then said, "They didn't tell you."
"Tell me?"
"About my family."
"I don't want to know," Harry snapped. "Unless you have something nice to say, like Gee, Potter, my father's just been thrown back into Azkaban, and this time he's not crawling out or Gosh, Potter, my father was just smashed flat as a pancake by a fleet of falling lorries, or--"
"Golly, Potter," Draco drawled, "my father's just disowned me and put out a warrant for my death."
Harry snapped his mouth shut, but his shock only lasted for an instant. "Oh, please! What are you up to, with a story like that? What's the plan, you get in good with Dumbledore so that you can double-cross him and he can be the next person dear old Dad attacks with needles?"
"It may come as a shock to you to hear this, Potter, but I'm not exactly brimming with ecstasy over what my father did to you!"
"Oh, I'm sure you wept rivers of tears," Harry sneered. "Hogwarts washed into the lake. Last I heard, the giant squid had gobbled up the castle."
"Well, you wouldn't know what it's like, would you?" Draco sneered right back. "You, with your perfect father everybody always fawns over. James Potter. Pureblooded and rich, just like mine. But yours was a paragon, noble and brave, even gave his life for a worthy cause. Bet he never did a thing anyone could fault!"
Harry stiffened, then grabbed the edge of his blanket and folded it down, just to give his hands something to do. "My father's not the issue," he spat back. "And you're not going to convince me you're broken with grief over how yours turned out, not when you've been playing Junior Death Eater around here for years and years!"
"Think what you want," Draco quietly replied, sounding all at once... subdued, actually.
"I will, thanks." Harry waited a moment, and when no reply was forthcoming, prompted, "So, is that it then? You just popped 'round to entertain me with a bit of fiction? Or is this another case of you wanting to be seen sitting with me?"
"No. Although that's good."
"Good?"
"Yeah, good," Draco said in a scowling tone. His voice was closer when next he spoke, so Harry figured he had leaned forward. "Listen, it's not like I expect you to believe me. I sure as shite wouldn't, if I were in your place. But I have to tell you, even if you think it's a pack of lies."
"This would be the pack of lies you have to tell me as a condition Dumbledore and Snape put you under? Condition for what?"
"Staying at Hogwarts, you dolt!" Draco erupted. "My parents were my legal guardians, you know. My father summoned me back home, but I knew he'd kill me if I went, so I went to Severus instead for help--"
"Severus!" Harry exclaimed, shocked.
"Yeah, well maybe it never dawned on you," Draco mocked, "but there's this little matter that he's my Head of House? You know, those adults who're supposed to help you when your life's been fucked to Chelsea and back?"
"Don't be stupid, I know what a Head of House is for!" Then again, Harry had to recognize that Snape's approach to his students was very different from McGonagall's. When he'd gone to her for help, like first year when he'd known the Sorcerer's Stone was in danger, she'd told him he didn't know what he was talking about. It had been up to him to help himself. "You call him Severus?"