Chapter Text
“Something strange is going on.”
Harry stares at the empty seat across the hall.
Sure, the usual occupant skips meals sometimes and looks particularly terrible even when he does show up, but there’s a weird sort of vibe at the Slytherin table. They keep glancing over at the empty spot with concern, and even at the other end of the table, they’re not joking around as loudly as they usually do. No one is holding court today.
“Not this again.” Hermione sighs. “Harry, I’m sure he’s not up to something this morning. Probably just slept in.”
But Harry already has the Marauder’s Map out under the edge of the table, and he stares at the dot labelled ‘Draco Malfoy’ in the hospital wing, not moving.
“Why’s he in the hospital?”
Ron and Hermione exchange a look, then Ron clears his throat, clearly about to start some sort of intervention.
“No, shut up, absolutely not.” Harry interrupts. “I’m gonna go figure out what’s going on.”
He leaves a flustered Ron and disapproving Hermione to rush through the corridors into the hospital wing, throwing his cloak over his head just before entering.
There’s one bed with the curtains closed around it, and Harry goes straight to that one.
He can hear healing spells murmured by Madam Pomfrey, but it’s otherwise silent behind the curtains.
He startles when she steps out a moment later, and Harry manages to peek inside before the curtains fall closed again. And Merlin, Malfoy certainly does look awful. Harry would've assumed he was a corpse if Pomfrey hadn’t been healing him a moment ago, or if he hadn’t seen the slight rise and fall of Malfoy’s chest.
Even though nothing else happens for quite some time, Harry sticks around hoping Malfoy might wake up and talk to Pomfrey about whatever he’s here for and why.
But eventually, Harry walks out quietly on the heels of another student who had come to visit her brother in another bed.
“Harry, please don’t tell me you’ve been in the hospital wing this whole time.” Ron sighs as Harry enters their dorm room.
“Something’s happened to Malfoy. He’s been unconscious all day and his bed’s got curtains up.” Harry says, ignoring the question.
“And I’m sure we’ll find out what happened soon enough. Maybe someone he was tormenting last year caught up to him and gave him a taste of his own medicine.” Ron shrugs.
Harry’s not sure Malfoy deserved whatever had made him look dead. It makes Harry uneasy, seeing his rival like that.
A few days later, they do find out what had happened.
Hermione, Ron and Harry were sitting together in an alcove waiting for their next class when a couple Slytherins pass by, talking in hissed whispers.
“-found him just… bleeding. Passed out, he thought he might’ve been dead.”
“He tried to off himself?”
“I don’t think so, he was trying to get rid of the Dark Mark on his arm. Nott said he was drunk, too, probably didn’t really think about what he was doing.”
“His blood’s still on the carpet, the elves have been trying to get it out all day.”
Harry’s eyes met Hermione’s, then Ron’s.
“You don’t know they were talking about Malfoy.” Hermione says sharply as soon as they're out of earshot.
“Yeah, I’m sure there’s someone else who has a Mark and nearly bled out very recently.” Harry says. Hermione huffs.
“Why do you think he did it? He was bragging so much about getting it in the first place.” Ron says with a frown. Harry shrugs. It’s time for some discreet investigation.
After classes are done for the day, Harry returns to the hospital wing under the cloak, but Malfoy’s bed is empty.
Harry finds his dot on the map, finding him in the library with a band of his cronies. They’re still there when Harry arrives.
“-you'd died, Draco!” Pansy Parkinson screeches softly.
“But I didn’t.” Malfoy mutters. “Sod off, I’ve loads of things to catch up on and you’re talking in circles.”
“Mate, we’re just worried.” Theodore Nott says from Malfoy’s other side. “Don’t try something like that again, alright? You know you can talk to us.”
Malfoy grunts something under his breath that Harry can’t hear, but his friends back off. Though present, Crabbe and Goyle haven’t said anything.
Harry is about to leave when Malfoy glances up in his direction, and Harry quickly checks to make sure all his appendages are covered and invisible.
“What’s the matter?” Nott asks, gaze following Malfoy’s. Malfoy shakes his head.
“Nothing. Thought I saw something.”
“Oh poor Draco, are you still getting those hallucinations from the potions?” Pansy asks, petting Draco’s shoulder.
“ No, Pans, they wore off hours ago.” Malfoy sighs, leaning his head on his right palm and using his elbow to nudge his book closer.
Before he leaves, Harry notes that Malfoy’s left arm is still below the table and hasn’t moved the whole time.
Harry doesn’t see much of Malfoy for quite some time - nearly a week.
Time is repeating itself with Harry staring perplexed across the Great Hall at the Slytherin table.
“ Harry.” Ron hisses from across the table. He and Hermione are side by side, backs to the room, and therefore haven’t spotted the very strange thing that has happened.
“It’s- It’s Malfoy.” Harry stammers.
“What is it this time?” Hermione huffs, twisting around. “Oh my.”
That’s an understatement.
Malfoy, for who else would be sitting in that seat, is nearly unrecognisable.
He’s looking a tad better than he had, less grey around the edges, and he’s actually eating now - a real meal and not just a few bites of the sweetest thing available.
But the biggest change is his hair.
Harry’s known Malfoy as many things. A git, definitely. Bully, snitch, coward. But behind all those things, he’s always been one thing. A very distinctive, extremely light blond.
Harry's staring, he doesn't know what else to do. He's not sure how to feel about Malfoy suddenly having the same colour hair as his own, and he's not sure if it's weird to think that the colour suits him.
“He’s got black hair!” Ron exclaims.
“Why on earth has he dyed his hair?” Hermione wonders aloud.
“Malfoy!” Harry shouts across the room before he can stop himself. He fights back a cringe.
“What do you want, Potty?” Malfoy sneers, flicking some of that unfamiliar black hair out of his eyes.
“What’s with the hair?” Harry asks.
“Why, you like it?” Malfoy says haughtily.
“You’ve copied mine, I see.” Harry shoots back. Malfoy rolls his eyes.
By now, most of the Hall has started paying attention to the conversation, heads going back and forth between them like spectators of a tennis match.
“I’d never copy something so disastrously distasteful. I chose the opposite of how my hair was before.”
Harry grabs a muffin and lobs it across the room, but Malfoy snatches it out of the air. He holds it up in a cheers gesture, then takes a bite.
Harry turns back to his friends.
“That was the most pleasant you two have ever been.” Hermione says in surprise.
“Maybe the hair was making him a git.” Ron says.
Without the trademark silvery-blond hair, Malfoy is more difficult to spot in crowds. He’s not tall enough for Harry to see his head over everyone else’s, and there are plenty of extremely pale, black haired people at Hogwarts.
So for once, Harry just… leaves it.
He doesn’t share many classes with the prat this term, so Harry doesn’t see him much outside of mealtimes. Things are… Well, calm. As calm as things can be with a war brewing. Malfoy seems to maybe not be up to anything suspicious. He's spending his nights in his dormitory for once. It’s off-putting, not being suspicious of Malfoy, but it’s rapidly becoming a bit more familiar.
Besides that, Harry is distracted by the arrest reports flying around, and by the Half-Blood Prince and his textbook.
And then Hermione’s pushing him and Ron to revise for their exams, and Malfoy is mostly forgotten.
But Malfoy starts something else new, besides the hair, and it’s too strange to not be commented on.
Malfoy’s wearing makeup.
Harry frowns across the classroom, looking at the smudged black around Malfoy’s eyes. The eyeliner almost blends into the dark shadows beneath his eyes, and the silver of his eyes stands out more than it had against his white skin.
It also makes him look extremely cross and moody all the time, and Harry wonders if that’s a side effect or a feature. Probably a feature.
“Harry, I swear, if you're being judgemental about a boy wearing eyeliner-” Hermione starts, but Harry waves her off.
“It’s just... it’s strange, right? Not because he’s a he, because he’s Malfoy. It's just- It's strange, I never thought he would start putting on makeup. It doesn't fit with all the Pureblood bullshit. He almost looks… untidy? I've never seen him like this.”
Hermione and Ron don’t respond right away, and Harry looks at them.
“What?”
“You’re concerned about Malfoy looking untidy.” Ron repeats blandly.
Harry huffs.
“Sod off.”
“I need your key.”
Harry startles, turning in his chair to look up into the strange-familiar smoky eyes of his rival.
“Excuse you?”
“Your key." Malfoy repeats. "The one for the Black vault. I know you’ve inherited it from my cousin.”
“Why the hell would I give you my key to my inherited vault?”
“It's my vault too. My mother is a Black. I’m not able to reach my mum without my father present, so she can’t get her key to me. Don’t worry, I’m not going to touch your share.”
Harry shakes his head.
“I’m not following.”
Malfoy lifts his eyes to the ceiling like he’s biting back a thousand retorts. He probably is, and Harry's beginning to enjoy having Malfoy be polite because Harry has something he needs.
“I’ve gotten myself a flat for the summer." He says, then pauses. "I know you heard about my little trip to the hospital a few months ago."
"Sure." Harry says, because everyone has.
"I’m no longer welcome at the Manor." Malfoy says, raising his eyebrows significantly. "But in order to keep a flat, you have to pay, see? And I’ve only so much gold on hand, but the Black vaults have plenty for me to use without my father - or any other parties - knowing of it.”
Harry looks at Malfoy thoughtfully for a moment.
“Fine.” He finally says. Malfoy opens his mouth, but Harry holds up a hand. “Two conditions.”
Malfoy squints, but gestures for Harry to go on. Harry very much enjoys Malfoy having to be polite.
“I go with you to Gringotts, my key doesn’t leave my possession. I’m not letting you take out money for nefarious reasons.”
“It’s for the flat, Merlin.” Malfoy mutters. “And if you’re questioning my loyalties, look no further.”
He pushes up his jumper sleeve and unbuttons the shirt cuff to reveal his left forearm.
Harry instinctively recoils, then leans in closer for a better look.
The skin is puckered and shiny, a huge scar. There’s no trace of any Mark.
“Did you-” Harry starts, but Malfoy cuts him off.
“As you can see, my circumstances have changed. What’s the other condition?”
Harry watches as Malfoy covers his arm back up again, deft fingers fastening the cuff buttons. Malfoy clicks his fingers in front of Harry’s eyes, which snaps him back to the present.
“Uh- right, the other condition.” Harry pauses.
This could go extremely poorly.
“I want in.” He finally says, scowling defiantly up at Malfoy. Malfoy stares back, waiting for Harry to say something else.
“You… what?”
“I want in." Harry repeats. "The flat, I want to live there too. For the summer anyway.”
Malfoy stares at him.
“You… want to live with me. For the summer. The whole summer? With me?"
“No, I want to live in a flat for the summer. I don’t feel like going back to my relatives.”
Malfoy stares at Harry for another long moment.
“Pay half the rent and it’s a deal.”
“Done.”
Malfoy holds out his hand to make it official, and Harry has the strangest feeling of deja vu. He shakes the offered hand.
“This does not make us friends.” Malfoy says, like he’s remembering the same thing.
“Definitely not. When are we going to Gringotts?”