Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷

From Argentina, ‘94, living in México since 2k10. Accountant, Gamer, Christian. StarCraft Lore Archivist. Ravenclaw. INTP and Fiscal Conservative.

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

[Ron Weasley first sight of them, Harry Potter x Dracaena Malfoy (#Malfoid)] [2.5K words]
[AO3 still down! It won't stop me.]

It was a cold November afternoon and the corridor that Ron Weasley was walking through was empty of other students, only he and Hermione were anywhere near the library at the weekend. Hermione had dragged him to finish an essay that Professor Umbridge had assigned, insisting on doing their best to not attract attention by getting poor marks, and, to her credit, she did most of the work herself.
The red-haired boy shook his head trying to clear the haze that was his mind. As they turned a corner, he spotted Harry Potter farther down the corridor. Then he noticed the girl standing opposite him, someone he recognized instantly: long platinum-blonde hair and steel grey eyes fixed in concentration
Malfoy, he thought the name like a curse with a frown growing on his face.
Harry had his back turned to his friends, his shoulder leaning against the wall right next to a window, the grey daylight fell across them both both and Ron could see that they were standing pretty close, close enough that she was evidently doing something with Harry’s uniform. Dracaena’s fingers were still on his collar, Harry looking down at her with an expression Ron couldn’t quite see as they approached.
Ron walked faster than Hermione; if Malfoy was messing with him he would certainly hex her face. Malfoy noticed him approaching, her eyes moved past Harry’s shoulder and settled on Ron, who noticed the corner of her mouth lifted into a small, unpleasant smirk. She didn’t step away from Harry. Instead she made a deliberate little show of patting the tie on his chest she had just straightened, smoothing it down as though she were satisfied with her work. She kept her eyes on Ron while doing so, making him know that she knew he was watching.
“Good afternoon, Weasley.” Dracaena Malfoy said, tilting her head just slightly, her hair shifting to one side perfectly straight and smooth. “Granger.” She added, giving her the briefest glance.
“Malfoy.” Answered the Gryffindor girl, who had made no attempt to hide her disgust for the Slytherin.
The Malfoy heiress had delivered the greeting with the same air of superiority that she had always used. Harry turned and his eyes widened slightly when he saw them. He seemed to want to take a step back from Dracaena, but found himself cornered against the wall he had been leaning against, meanwhile she wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest nor did she seem particularly concerned about being caught with Potter. If anything, she looked delighted that they had arrived at the right moment.
Ron felt a wave of anger. A love potion? Imperius curse? Had Harry simply gone mad? For one very brief, very stupid second, he considered taking the last few steps and punch her straight in the face. He could practically feel the satisfaction that would bring, and how her smug expression would disappear. He stopped himself from starting a fight, but that didn’t quite make the anger disappear.
“Hey, hi… What are you doing here?” The haste in Harry’s voice made Hermione raise an eyebrow.
“Walking.” Ron said, staring at Malfoy. “Usually what people do in corridors.”
“We just finished with Umbridge’s essay.” Hermione corrected. “You?”
“Right, yes. Obviously.” Harry glanced at Dracaena then back at them. His face slightly red. “We were just… she was… my tie was a bit…”
“His tie was crooked.” Dracaena added, turning to Harry again, looking perfectly content to let him struggle. “Honestly, Potter, I don’t know how you allow yourself to leave your dormitory looking like this.”
“I can fix my own tie.”
“Apparently not, Harry. Unless you are doing it on purpose just to embarrass me when you need to look presentable.”
Ron wanted to believe he had heard wrong, but Dracaena’s sideways glance as she said Harry’s name told him she was watching for his reaction. Ron and Dracaena’s eyes met and he could see how she was enjoying every second of his discomfort. She had not spoken to Harry like that ever in front of him. Was she the one cursed? Ron wondered. There was still the familiar condescension. She was correcting him with an ease, and he was responding with embarrassment, but there was no hostility. But still…
“Did you just..?” Ron began.
Ron blinked again, Harry didn’t seem to notice anything unusual.
“Did I just what?” Dracaena asked, her expression turning bland.
“You called him…”
“Harry?”
Ron stared at her. He heard her say it perfectly clearly, but Malfoy being the one saying Harry’s name without the usual sneering emphasis of “Potter” was so bizarre that he couldn’t quite make the words come out.
Malfoy rolled her eyes at him, before watching him with a final bored look.
“Yes, yes. That’s his name. Very observant, Weasley.”
She dismissed him as though he had made a tediously obvious observation. Ron’s mouth opened, but nothing useful emerged. Harry looked as if he wanted to say something, though Ron wasn’t clear if he intended to explain whatever this was or stop her from saying his name.
“What’s going on, mate?” Ron finally managed.
“Nothing,” Harry said immediately.
“Nothing?” Ron repeated.
“I straightened his tie,” Dracaena interrupted. “I would think that was rather obvious.”
“I can see that!”
“Then I fail to understand the difficulty. Although, now that I think about it, you were never particularly bright to begin with.” She said coldly, fixing on him an equally icy stare.
“Malfoy.” Harry gave her a warning look, as if expecting that would stop her. To Ron’s surprise, an amused smile appeared on her face at that moment.
Finally she turned her attention back to Ron, her chin rising higher, her back straightening.
“If you excuse us, we have somewhere to be.”
“We?” Ron asked.
“Potter and I.”
“Where?”
“Lunch.”
Ron looked at Harry. “You're having lunch with Malfoy?”
“Not just with me,” Dracaena said, sounding faintly insulted by the implication that she had arranged a private meal with him. “I've invited a few seventh-years to join us. I thought it might be useful for him to hear about the sort of summer jobs available to seventh-years considering a career in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; the examinations, selection process and the actual work involved.”
Ron frowned. He had expected an explanation involving some elaborate joke, a dare or perhaps a new way for Malfoy to humiliate Harry. Instead, she was talking about Ministry summer jobs. The invitation itself was strange enough, but the idea that Harry had accepted it without telling him was considerably stranger.
“Why would you invite him to that?”
Dracaena narrowed her eyes and stared at him in a way that made him feel as he had asked a question of almost impressive stupidity.
“Do I really need to repeat myself?”
Ron felt his face grow hot. “Well, no, but…”
“Ron,” Harry interrupted. There was a little strain in his voice now, and when Ron looked at him he saw a small tinge of hurt in his green eyes. “You know I want to become an Auror.”
“Of course I knew that, mate.” The words had come out a little too quick. Harry’s hurt expression had landed harder on Ron. He knew that. Of course he knew that. Harry had talked about becoming an Auror before, had spoken about it with a seriousness that made it clear it was one of the few futures he could imagine for himself. “I didn’t mean…”
“Weasley, if you understand perhaps you shouldn’t keep him here all afternoon, we have to go.” Dracaena pushed past his attempt of an excuse.
“You two, we’ll talk later. I’ll explain it better, alright?”
Harry’s gaze remained on Ron for a moment before turning to Hermione. She responded with a small nod and a shrug. Ron wanted to say he did understand, that he hadn’t forgotten about his best mate’s plans. That Harry wasn’t foolish for wanting to learn about the Ministry. He wanted to ask why Malfoy was the one arranging it, and what exactly she expected in return, but he couldn't find a way to ask either question without making the whole conversation worse.
“Come on. There’s no more time to waste.”
Dracaena simply started to walk past the pair, expecting that he would follow, and Harry did. He quickly fell into step beside her. Whatever conversation that they had just resumed was too quiet for Ron to hear. Harry turned to Malfoy to his side as she asked him something, then he shook his head. Just before they disappeared behind a corner, Ron noticed a small but sincere smile on his friend’s face.
Ron stood where he was, and Hermione was the first to speak.
“Well,” she said carefully, “that was unexpected.”
Ron slowly managed to pull his eyes back from the sight of the Gryffindor and Slytherin walking side by side. There was a lot that bothered him about the situation, about her and about Harry’s reaction to her. And about himself.
Ron noticed Hermione’s gaze on him from the corner of his eye, as he was still trying to make sense of everything; of the tie, the name, and the infuriating ease with which Harry had followed her. Then another thought finally pushed its way through the confusion. He smacked his forehead with his palm with a loud smack.
“Wait. Hang on.” The revelation came accompanied with a share of frustration. “My ad works at the Ministry.”
“Yes?”
“My dad works at the Ministry!���
“Ronald, you already said that.”
He gestured vaguely in the direction Harry had gone, as though it would make his words clearer for her. “Why didn't Harry ask him? He could've talked to Dad about all that Auror stuff. Dad knows people there, doesn't he? He's in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. That’s still under the Department of Magical Law Enforcement!”
“I imagine he does,” Hermione replied, letting Ron get to his point as the realization slowly settled over him.
“He could've asked! Dad would have helped him. He'd be thrilled, actually.” Ron paused, then frowned. “And Harry knows that.”
Hermione studied him for a moment. Her expression remained soft as she decided how to better explain what she thought, putting together the pieces Ron was only beginning to notice.
“You really think Harry was the one who asked her?”
Ron looked at her.
“What?”
“Do you think Harry went to Malfoy and asked her to arrange a meeting with seventh-years about Ministry summer jobs?” Hermione's eyebrows rose. “Can you imagine Harry planning that far ahead for his future?”
“Well, no, I didn't think so,” Ron admitted. “I mean, I didn't know he was so focused on that sort of thing. Not like that.”
“He isn’t,” Hermione said. “Not in that way, but she offered it to him. That much is obvious.”
Ron frowned. He didn't like how easily she had reached that conclusion and how well it fit. Malfoy had been the one setting the pace in the exchange just now, the one explaining where they were going and why. Harry had looked as though he were trying to catch up with the conversation.
“All right, sure, but why didn't he ask me to talk to Dad?” Ron asked. “I mean, after she came to him with the idea, why didn’t he brush her off and come to us?”
Hermione gave him a look that was almost sympathetic, which Ron found rather worse than if she had simply called him an idiot.
“Harry wouldn’t have asked your father to use his connections like that, Ron. He wouldn't want to put him in an awkward position, or make it seem as though he expected your family to do something for him. It should have been something you or your father offered.”
Ron opened his mouth, but Hermione cut him off.
“Your father would probably have been delighted to help. Harry knows that, but it doesn't mean he'd feel comfortable asking. Especially when it concerns something as important as his future. He'd probably worry that he was taking advantage of your family.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Ron exclaimed, but he did get fidgety as he thought about it a little more. Hermione paused and let him work it out.
Ron looked down at the floor. He could imagine it very easily: one of the many times Harry had come to the Burrow, his dad enthusiastically offering to ask around at the Ministry. It was so obvious that Ron wondered why the thought had never occurred to him. They had known Harry wanted to become an Auror for a while now. They had talked about that sort of thing a few times, about what it might be like after Hogwarts. Yet Ron had never thought to suggest that his dad could help him find out more.
“And she did,” he said quietly.
Hermione nodded. “Yes, she did.”
He could still see Malfoy's smug expression in his mind. It was difficult to separate that infuriating little performance from the fact that she had apparently noticed an opportunity to help Harry and acted on it. He didn't know why she had done it, or if there was some Malfoy reason behind it.
“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered, turning to her again. “Now I feel double bad about it.”
Hermione's expression softened. “You can still talk to Harry about it later. You don't have to make it a big deal. Just tell him your father would be happy to help if he wants to know more.”
“Yeah, you are right.” Ron rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose I could.”
“And perhaps you could try not to look as though you're about to murder Malfoy the next time you see them together?”
Ron chuckled, and gave her an incredulous look. “Did you see her? She was doing it on purpose!”
“I expect she was.” Hermione smiled, though her expression showed a bit of the same conflicted emotion that Ron displayed more openly.
“She looked straight at me while she fixed his tie. Obviously she wanted a fight.”
“Didn't we go through this whole thing last year when he danced with her?”
“She is just like her dad. She must be plotting something.” He said, narrowing his eyes for a moment.
“Just trust Harry, he gave her the benefit of the doubt. He says that she didn't know anything about her father and I have no reason to doubt his judgement.”
Ron stared at her, frustrated by how calmly she was accepting every part of it. But she quickly corrected herself.
“Don’t get me wrong! I don’t think she is being altruistic or something like that, but this was a good thing she did for Harry. And… it doesn’t mean you can’t help too.”
She punched him lightly on the shoulder, though it barely moved him. Ron smiled at her with clear gratitude.
“You wanted to punch her too, didn’t you?”
“Perhaps a little bit.”

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

@kelly4freedom @WhiteHouse I hope one or these days you understand that the executive is powerless without Congress...

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

@rickyspanish777 @WhiteHouse The only thing that's left unreleased is the name of victims and their CSAM archive.
Why do you want to see CSAM so badly???

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

@kamikazeeai_art *camera pans to Narcissa being warmed up by 8 grandchildren all sleeping around her.*

"We are still missing a few, but these will do for now..." -Narcissa

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

@edu_andy24 Aha! And that's exactly why they work as a secret~
They are in opposite sides of the school factions, Lucius has academic expectations of her, but she has her own heart as well.
Reaaally slow burn. Precisely why it feels good when the war ends and they can be open to each other.

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

@ASithLawd okay, but seriously a kissing booth with the Boy-Who-Lived, that's genius, I'm betting there would be quite a large queue in the school for that~

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

@IzziPurr you mean the noise? that's not copy pasting, brother~

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

@TypicallyTM Absolutely diabolical, I hadn't considered how broken Drill is on teamfights before that one~

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

@EthosHeretica @MadMax_Series @GuardTm Daphne is a blonde, so that can't be her~

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

@oleoys OH MY GOD! MY HEART!
ROWLING, PLEASE!

[Leoy/Lanh (Commissions OPEN) @oleoys]

Warm Winter pt.3 #Malfoid

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

@OtroJuanMas399 @clarincom Peor, saben perfectamente, lo que pasa es que son unos cagones.

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

@Sector__f @clarincom COBARDE! Nos metieron dos bombas, y todavía decís que hay tratarlos con guantecitos de seda, la puta que te parió.
Te ponés en cuatro para los terroristas esos, en vez de ponerte del lado del país y decir que no tenés miedo.

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

@Earclacks Staff's superior intellect predicting Rapier's trajectory.
Simple geometry, really.

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

It's *a* way.

My own way was didn't need angst either, rather, it was a very well calculated move by Dracaena to gather prestige, show off to the school and Harry, and invite him to a summer dance during the break in a way he would hardly be able to say no.

Obviously such a plan is thrown out by Voldemort's return by the end of the year, but it shows the intention that she had with him.

This is the relevant part, the story in full is a love triangle so you can ignore the rest, which can be resumed to she asked before, but Harry already had asked Parvati and didn't take Malfoy seriously, and Dracaena saw how absolutely pathetic he was an used it as ammunition to make him accept a dance:
https://t.co/op3xloqjyg

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

["Crossroads" (part 3 of 4), "Just a Piece"
Dracaena Malfoy, Harry Potter, Ronnie Weasley]

Malfoy turned around and started to walk with supreme grace, the thought of stay standing exactly where he was passed through Harry’s mind but he decided against it immediately. He stared at the back of Dracaena’s head determined to not give her the satisfaction of turning back and seeing him looking anywhere else. She had such a presence in the floor that people instinctively moved to give her room, almost afraid that touching the lady would be taken as an offense.
When she finally looked at Harry again, she had a poised expression, all aspects of her typical sneer or arrogance gone for the moment, the fair skin and steel-grey eyes of hers demanded admiration he could not stop himself from giving her. Even he had to admit how incredibly beautiful she could be when she wasn’t acting like a spoiled brat or a bully. Harry blinked, waking up from the illusion.

A new piece was starting when he took a final step that brought him close to her at the proper distance. Her confident stance was absolute and he made an unconscious attempt to match it. She took half a step towards him and he searched her hands with his, without looking away from his eyes, she grabbed his wrist and forced his hand on her waist. As if her waist was electrified, Harry was paralyzed, Harry forced himself to remember McGonagall instructions from the past weeks; he looked down at his feet for not even a fraction of a second.

“Don’t look down, Potter. And don’t think, just follow my lead.” Dracaena ordered in a whisper, her lips had barely moved as she said so. She didn’t wait for confirmation and just started the first steps. Harry felt himself move half a second too late and hurried to match her movement. Whatever she had meant with not thinking was lost to him. Malfoy had already started to make him dance into the simple steps that McGonagall had taught them. He tried to count under his breath, hoping that he could somehow keep track of the rhythm and not embarrass himself once again in front of the entire school and Dracaena.

“Don’t count out loud.”

Harry’s eyes focused on her again and closed his mouth. She had never stopped looking directly at him, without missing a time or step. She may be shorter than him now, but she still had that air of regal dignity that made people raise their chins to speak to her.
There was no smirk on her face, no laugh, or even the hint that she intended to tell everyone the embarrassment of counting steps out loud. She simply noticed and corrected him. Immediately, she moved his hand on her waist just slightly higher, and forced him to adjust his stance with a small movement of her own.
Harry knew his steps were awful and could feel himself hesitating before every movement. But Malfoy seemed to know exactly what mistake he was going to make before he would make it, when he turned too far, she shifted with him into a longer hop. When he spin too late she forced the movement on him like was a simple doll. When he nearly put the next step through her, she changed directions so smoothly that it looked like an intentional spin. He glanced around, expecting to see someone laughing, but the other students were looking at them with surprise, and not just because the biggest school rivals of the generation were dancing together, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students were among them, but because they were apparently putting on a decent performance.

Malfoy seized his distraction, and instead of turning it into an opportunity to embarrassment she changed the tempo, moving a step away from her with a majestic spin only to return to his side. The floor was forced to open up for them, and the couples dancing around them give them room, as if they were the main display.
Harry felt how Dracaena moved again and Harry followed, he began to understand that she was doing something far more complicated than simply knowing how to dance. There was no pause in her movement when he hesitated, no exaggerated correction that would make it obvious to everyone that she was carrying him through the routine. She incorporated his mistakes into her own, giving him another opportunity to get the next one right. Despite the unsettling sensation that it was Malfoy doing this, someone that for the last four years would have seized every small weakness and announce it.
As he became aware of more people watching, he noticed that he wasn’t nervous. There was something quite different to the notice people took of him for simply being Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and being noticed for dancing, dancing with Dracaena Malfoy of all people, and looking good while doing it. He looked back at her; her silver eyes seldom had stopped watching his expressions, he couldn’t suppress a smile, timid, almost nonexistent, almost. He was enjoying himself. Her eyes that were glaring at him, softened somewhat.

He realized, to his own surprise, that he was no longer waiting for the dance to end. The thought was so absurd that he almost laughed. Four years of arguments, insults, bitter competitions and constant irritation had taught him to expect almost anything from her. Yet here he was, moving with her as the music flowed around them, aware that people were still watching and, for once, he didn’t feel particularly bothered by it. There was something satisfying about the way the room seemed to have changed around them. Now, he found himself wishing the ten minute piece would last a few moments longer.
Malfoy seemed to notice a change in the music. Her movement became smaller and more deliberate as the distance between them closed. Harry followed them almost automatically now. Her hand moved from his shoulder to his neck, her expression was unusually difficult to read. There was now some of the familiar confidence that he knew from before as her lips curved just barely up.

“On Summer vacations, come with me.”

Harry rushed the next step, while Dracaena compensated without issue. He stared at her, he frowned expecting a punchline, but she continued with complete calm, her whispers were just enough that only he could listen, and her lips moved so softly that no one could read them.

“My family organizes a ball at the manor, and I believe you will find many interesting people there, Potter. Inventors, Quidditch players…” She paused for a second, as she studied his face. “Aurors.” They locked eyes as she tilted her head just barely; her exposed neck became just a bit more revealed as her hair fell to the opposite side.

“The ball is private and there won’t be any press. You don’t have to tell your friends.”

He understood then how well Dracaena knew him. The offer was more than tempting, meet and talk with specifically the people he wanted to learn more about or perhaps even leave a door open for his future.

What’s more she didn’t tell him to keep it a secret; she simply left the decision in his hands, could he really keep it to himself? He considered how much of his life always occurred with Ronnie and Hermione present, but he felt guilty from considering otherwise, to keep just a bit for himself. He could imagine both of them would have serious questions about the invitation, the ball or Lucius’ hand in it. Looking back at Malfoy, she had perfectly serene expression; she wouldn’t let him study her feelings on the matter at all. He had plenty of questions, but he didn’t know how to formulate them in a way that she couldn’t hid lies in half truths. It took a few more seconds for the obvious answer to “why?” to arrive in his head. Just having Harry Potter was the point. She had said it herself, in a way. He was Harry Potter, and now even Champion of Hogwarts. The other invited would likely want to meet him as well.
The piece reached its conclusion around them, and he noticed he had stopped consciously dancing for a while now; he simply had let her take control as the waltz reached its conclusion. Malfoy slowly parted from him as the last note ended, her fingertips just barely touching across the side of his neck as they retreat. Her composure remained serene as though nothing unusual had happened at all. Her silver eyes remained firmly on his for another moment before she dipped into a graceful curtsy.

He had no answer to give her, yet she gave Harry no time to react before she straightened and turned her back to him, leaving him to his thoughts and his decision entirely to himself.
-----
Dracaena did not look back, she resisted the temptation. She was certain he was watching her.
She kept walking, maintaining the same measured posture until the dance floor was behind her and the crowd had hidden her out of his sight. Only then did she allow herself a single thought that she would have never otherwise permitted herself. She didn’t know if he would accept, but that didn’t stop her. For just a moment, she imagined the ballroom at Malfoy Manor.

The polished floor, the chandeliers, the music echoing beneath the high ceiling. His hand would be extended toward her this time.

She allowed herself the smallest of smiles. Perhaps it would not be so bad.

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

@MInvader39110 It's missing the part where she confessed she did it herself and apologizing while crying, and he says he'll eat it all and he is happy that she made it, while taking a piece that's too ridiculously big for him to properly chew.

[Brigitte Gabriel @ACTBrigitte]

They bombed my home when I was 10, buried me under the rubble screaming “Allahu Akbar,” put me in the hospital for months, then forced my family into an 8x10 bomb shelter for seven years

No power, no water, eating grass while snipers hunted us for the crime of being Christian.

That’s one. Want the rest of the list?

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

@OGdukeneurosurg "Must be indian..."
huh... no, actually surprised..

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

@ShakaAnCap Todo iba bien hasta que vi que usa al negro como Snape

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

Cheers for me for being able to integrate Ron's perspective, and deepening what was otherwise a loyal but surface-level friendship into an exercise of self-reflection about what it means to be best friends with someone.
Oh, while not diminshing either Ron or Hermione's personalities, of course, and mantaining the hostility between them and Malfoy. Seems it wasn't that difficult actually.
This, of course, is a single *miniscule* scene, but it should be a glimpse of how it can evolve in the future. And it doesn't involve removing the scenes with Cho at all, in fact. You can have Harry being confused, jealous, unsure, flawed and irritating teenager too.

https://t.co/NSjTn4uqpA

[Pablo Matías Valdés 🇦🇷 @CombatMagic94]

[Ron Weasley first sight of them, Harry Potter x Dracaena Malfoy (#Malfoid)] [2.5K words]
[AO3 still down! It won't stop me.]

It was a cold November afternoon and the corridor that Ron Weasley was walking through was empty of other students, only he and Hermione were anywhere near the library at the weekend. Hermione had dragged him to finish an essay that Professor Umbridge had assigned, insisting on doing their best to not attract attention by getting poor marks, and, to her credit, she did most of the work herself.
The red-haired boy shook his head trying to clear the haze that was his mind. As they turned a corner, he spotted Harry Potter farther down the corridor. Then he noticed the girl standing opposite him, someone he recognized instantly: long platinum-blonde hair and steel grey eyes fixed in concentration
Malfoy, he thought the name like a curse with a frown growing on his face.
Harry had his back turned to his friends, his shoulder leaning against the wall right next to a window, the grey daylight fell across them both both and Ron could see that they were standing pretty close, close enough that she was evidently doing something with Harry’s uniform. Dracaena’s fingers were still on his collar, Harry looking down at her with an expression Ron couldn’t quite see as they approached.
Ron walked faster than Hermione; if Malfoy was messing with him he would certainly hex her face. Malfoy noticed him approaching, her eyes moved past Harry’s shoulder and settled on Ron, who noticed the corner of her mouth lifted into a small, unpleasant smirk. She didn’t step away from Harry. Instead she made a deliberate little show of patting the tie on his chest she had just straightened, smoothing it down as though she were satisfied with her work. She kept her eyes on Ron while doing so, making him know that she knew he was watching.
“Good afternoon, Weasley.” Dracaena Malfoy said, tilting her head just slightly, her hair shifting to one side perfectly straight and smooth. “Granger.” She added, giving her the briefest glance.
“Malfoy.” Answered the Gryffindor girl, who had made no attempt to hide her disgust for the Slytherin.
The Malfoy heiress had delivered the greeting with the same air of superiority that she had always used. Harry turned and his eyes widened slightly when he saw them. He seemed to want to take a step back from Dracaena, but found himself cornered against the wall he had been leaning against, meanwhile she wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest nor did she seem particularly concerned about being caught with Potter. If anything, she looked delighted that they had arrived at the right moment.
Ron felt a wave of anger. A love potion? Imperius curse? Had Harry simply gone mad? For one very brief, very stupid second, he considered taking the last few steps and punch her straight in the face. He could practically feel the satisfaction that would bring, and how her smug expression would disappear. He stopped himself from starting a fight, but that didn’t quite make the anger disappear.
“Hey, hi… What are you doing here?” The haste in Harry’s voice made Hermione raise an eyebrow.
“Walking.” Ron said, staring at Malfoy. “Usually what people do in corridors.”
“We just finished with Umbridge’s essay.” Hermione corrected. “You?”
“Right, yes. Obviously.” Harry glanced at Dracaena then back at them. His face slightly red. “We were just… she was… my tie was a bit…”
“His tie was crooked.” Dracaena added, turning to Harry again, looking perfectly content to let him struggle. “Honestly, Potter, I don’t know how you allow yourself to leave your dormitory looking like this.”
“I can fix my own tie.”
“Apparently not, Harry. Unless you are doing it on purpose just to embarrass me when you need to look presentable.”
Ron wanted to believe he had heard wrong, but Dracaena’s sideways glance as she said Harry’s name told him she was watching for his reaction. Ron and Dracaena’s eyes met and he could see how she was enjoying every second of his discomfort. She had not spoken to Harry like that ever in front of him. Was she the one cursed? Ron wondered. There was still the familiar condescension. She was correcting him with an ease, and he was responding with embarrassment, but there was no hostility. But still…
“Did you just..?” Ron began.
Ron blinked again, Harry didn’t seem to notice anything unusual.
“Did I just what?” Dracaena asked, her expression turning bland.
“You called him…”
“Harry?”
Ron stared at her. He heard her say it perfectly clearly, but Malfoy being the one saying Harry’s name without the usual sneering emphasis of “Potter” was so bizarre that he couldn’t quite make the words come out.
Malfoy rolled her eyes at him, before watching him with a final bored look.
“Yes, yes. That’s his name. Very observant, Weasley.”
She dismissed him as though he had made a tediously obvious observation. Ron’s mouth opened, but nothing useful emerged. Harry looked as if he wanted to say something, though Ron wasn’t clear if he intended to explain whatever this was or stop her from saying his name.
“What’s going on, mate?” Ron finally managed.
“Nothing,” Harry said immediately.
“Nothing?” Ron repeated.
“I straightened his tie,” Dracaena interrupted. “I would think that was rather obvious.”
“I can see that!”
“Then I fail to understand the difficulty. Although, now that I think about it, you were never particularly bright to begin with.” She said coldly, fixing on him an equally icy stare.
“Malfoy.” Harry gave her a warning look, as if expecting that would stop her. To Ron’s surprise, an amused smile appeared on her face at that moment.
Finally she turned her attention back to Ron, her chin rising higher, her back straightening.
“If you excuse us, we have somewhere to be.”
“We?” Ron asked.
“Potter and I.”
“Where?”
“Lunch.��
Ron looked at Harry. “You're having lunch with Malfoy?”
“Not just with me,” Dracaena said, sounding faintly insulted by the implication that she had arranged a private meal with him. “I've invited a few seventh-years to join us. I thought it might be useful for him to hear about the sort of summer jobs available to seventh-years considering a career in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; the examinations, selection process and the actual work involved.”
Ron frowned. He had expected an explanation involving some elaborate joke, a dare or perhaps a new way for Malfoy to humiliate Harry. Instead, she was talking about Ministry summer jobs. The invitation itself was strange enough, but the idea that Harry had accepted it without telling him was considerably stranger.
“Why would you invite him to that?”
Dracaena narrowed her eyes and stared at him in a way that made him feel as he had asked a question of almost impressive stupidity.
“Do I really need to repeat myself?”
Ron felt his face grow hot. “Well, no, but…”
“Ron,” Harry interrupted. There was a little strain in his voice now, and when Ron looked at him he saw a small tinge of hurt in his green eyes. “You know I want to become an Auror.”
“Of course I knew that, mate.” The words had come out a little too quick. Harry’s hurt expression had landed harder on Ron. He knew that. Of course he knew that. Harry had talked about becoming an Auror before, had spoken about it with a seriousness that made it clear it was one of the few futures he could imagine for himself. “I didn’t mean…”
“Weasley, if you understand perhaps you shouldn’t keep him here all afternoon, we have to go.” Dracaena pushed past his attempt of an excuse.
“You two, we’ll talk later. I’ll explain it better, alright?”
Harry’s gaze remained on Ron for a moment before turning to Hermione. She responded with a small nod and a shrug. Ron wanted to say he did understand, that he hadn’t forgotten about his best mate’s plans. That Harry wasn’t foolish for wanting to learn about the Ministry. He wanted to ask why Malfoy was the one arranging it, and what exactly she expected in return, but he couldn't find a way to ask either question without making the whole conversation worse.
“Come on. There’s no more time to waste.”
Dracaena simply started to walk past the pair, expecting that he would follow, and Harry did. He quickly fell into step beside her. Whatever conversation that they had just resumed was too quiet for Ron to hear. Harry turned to Malfoy to his side as she asked him something, then he shook his head. Just before they disappeared behind a corner, Ron noticed a small but sincere smile on his friend’s face.
Ron stood where he was, and Hermione was the first to speak.
“Well,” she said carefully, “that was unexpected.”
Ron slowly managed to pull his eyes back from the sight of the Gryffindor and Slytherin walking side by side. There was a lot that bothered him about the situation, about her and about Harry’s reaction to her. And about himself.
Ron noticed Hermione’s gaze on him from the corner of his eye, as he was still trying to make sense of everything; of the tie, the name, and the infuriating ease with which Harry had followed her. Then another thought finally pushed its way through the confusion. He smacked his forehead with his palm with a loud smack.
“Wait. Hang on.” The revelation came accompanied with a share of frustration. “My ad works at the Ministry.”
“Yes?”
“My dad works at the Ministry!”
“Ronald, you already said that.”
He gestured vaguely in the direction Harry had gone, as though it would make his words clearer for her. “Why didn't Harry ask him? He could've talked to Dad about all that Auror stuff. Dad knows people there, doesn't he? He's in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. That’s still under the Department of Magical Law Enforcement!”
“I imagine he does,” Hermione replied, letting Ron get to his point as the realization slowly settled over him.
“He could've asked! Dad would have helped him. He'd be thrilled, actually.” Ron paused, then frowned. “And Harry knows that.”
Hermione studied him for a moment. Her expression remained soft as she decided how to better explain what she thought, putting together the pieces Ron was only beginning to notice.
“You really think Harry was the one who asked her?”
Ron looked at her.
“What?”
“Do you think Harry went to Malfoy and asked her to arrange a meeting with seventh-years about Ministry summer jobs?” Hermione's eyebrows rose. “Can you imagine Harry planning that far ahead for his future?”
“Well, no, I didn't think so,” Ron admitted. “I mean, I didn't know he was so focused on that sort of thing. Not like that.”
“He isn’t,” Hermione said. “Not in that way, but she offered it to him. That much is obvious.”
Ron frowned. He didn't like how easily she had reached that conclusion and how well it fit. Malfoy had been the one setting the pace in the exchange just now, the one explaining where they were going and why. Harry had looked as though he were trying to catch up with the conversation.
“All right, sure, but why didn't he ask me to talk to Dad?” Ron asked. “I mean, after she came to him with the idea, why didn’t he brush her off and come to us?”
Hermione gave him a look that was almost sympathetic, which Ron found rather worse than if she had simply called him an idiot.
“Harry wouldn’t have asked your father to use his connections like that, Ron. He wouldn't want to put him in an awkward position, or make it seem as though he expected your family to do something for him. It should have been something you or your father offered.”
Ron opened his mouth, but Hermione cut him off.
“Your father would probably have been delighted to help. Harry knows that, but it doesn't mean he'd feel comfortable asking. Especially when it concerns something as important as his future. He'd probably worry that he was taking advantage of your family.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Ron exclaimed, but he did get fidgety as he thought about it a little more. Hermione paused and let him work it out.
Ron looked down at the floor. He could imagine it very easily: one of the many times Harry had come to the Burrow, his dad enthusiastically offering to ask around at the Ministry. It was so obvious that Ron wondered why the thought had never occurred to him. They had known Harry wanted to become an Auror for a while now. They had talked about that sort of thing a few times, about what it might be like after Hogwarts. Yet Ron had never thought to suggest that his dad could help him find out more.
“And she did,” he said quietly.
Hermione nodded. “Yes, she did.”
He could still see Malfoy's smug expression in his mind. It was difficult to separate that infuriating little performance from the fact that she had apparently noticed an opportunity to help Harry and acted on it. He didn't know why she had done it, or if there was some Malfoy reason behind it.
“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered, turning to her again. “Now I feel double bad about it.”
Hermione's expression softened. “You can still talk to Harry about it later. You don't have to make it a big deal. Just tell him your father would be happy to help if he wants to know more.”
“Yeah, you are right.” Ron rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose I could.”
“And perhaps you could try not to look as though you're about to murder Malfoy the next time you see them together?”
Ron chuckled, and gave her an incredulous look. “Did you see her? She was doing it on purpose!”
“I expect she was.” Hermione smiled, though her expression showed a bit of the same conflicted emotion that Ron displayed more openly.
“She looked straight at me while she fixed his tie. Obviously she wanted a fight.”
“Didn't we go through this whole thing last year when he danced with her?”
“She is just like her dad. She must be plotting something.” He said, narrowing his eyes for a moment.
“Just trust Harry, he gave her the benefit of the doubt. He says that she didn't know anything about her father and I have no reason to doubt his judgement.”
Ron stared at her, frustrated by how calmly she was accepting every part of it. But she quickly corrected herself.
“Don’t get me wrong! I don’t think she is being altruistic or something like that, but this was a good thing she did for Harry. And… it doesn’t mean you can’t help too.”
She punched him lightly on the shoulder, though it barely moved him. Ron smiled at her with clear gratitude.
“You wanted to punch her too, didn’t you?”
“Perhaps a little bit.”