"Draco?"
Draco stared, finally registering the expression on Harry's face. There was a hint of fear there and it speared him to realize he was the cause. He was on his knees in front of Harry, gently taking his tightly clenched hands between his own. He rubbed at them until they relaxed. "I'm sorry, Harry."
"No!" Harry blurted out. He flushed and hurried to continue; "No. I mean... I'm sorry. None of this woulda happened if—" He blinked when a long, pale, still-slightly-clawed finger pressed against his lips, cutting off any further words of apology. Draco looked... embarrassed?
Draco shook his head, his anger already gone. Now he just felt... chagrined. "Harry," he said softly, lifting the hand held in his and kissing along Harry's knuckles. "I don't care about that. I'm not pleased to see that rubbish on the front page, but I was concerned you would be upset." While it wasn't something he believed in his younger years, he now knew how much Harry hated being in the paper. It didn't help that most of the previous articles printed about the wizard weren't very flattering.
Or entirely true.
A huge picture on the front page, first thing in the morning, had to've been an upsetting shock for his wizard. He could only imagine how upset Harry would've been to have Teddy's picture splashed across The Daily Prophet—even if the child was barely seen. Harry was fiercely protective of the little boy (and he starting to feel the same way).
"Well... Yeah. I am," Harry said, frowning a little. "They had no right to spy on us and say such things about you, Draco."
Draco felt the urge to preen and couldn't help crooning softly as his fingers gently flexed. He couldn't help it; his mate reacting like that just did that to him. Harry shouldn't be thinking about him in all this, but he was. Harry was probably always going to surprise him... The very idea pleased him immensely.
"I'm fine. I can easily foff this off as another of Skeeter's wild stories. I've already alerted my solicitor and I wouldn't be surprised if a retraction was in a special evening edition. As if people would honestly believe I was part Veela," he scoffed, rolling his eyes and grinning at a staring Harry.
He wasn't sure why Harry thought anyone would believe that rubbish; he himself knew how prone to lies and gossip The Daily Prophet was. Most people did, even if they still read the dratted thing. The fact it wasn't lies and gossip this time didn't matter; they'd set a precedent for such rubbish and it would be easy to convince everyone else it was more of the same. He honestly wasn't worried; he'd just been enraged to see Harry being focused on again.
"There's a source, Draco," Harry said quietly, squeezing Draco's hands so the blonde wouldn't jump up and demand revenge. He blinked, feeling a little dazed and stupid when Draco merely smiled, even if it was mostly teeth. He cocked his head a little, honestly confused. He really didn't see how this could all be laughed off... Or smiled about. This was serious. Wasn't it?
"Sources can be fabricated, love," Draco said. "Especially when listed as 'confidential'."
Harry eyed Draco warily. "What if people do believe it? It's not that farfetched, after all," he added, giving Draco a pointed look. Most people knew little about Veela, which the blonde knew very well. The idea that Draco was a Veela really wasn't so hard to believe; especially if you only knew about Veela being pale and gorgeous. And that summed up what the majority of the wizarding world knew about Veela—if they knew anything at all.
"You've managed to keep this secret until I came along," he said sadly, looking away.
He felt miserable about that part. Harry sighed and went willingly enough when Draco's fingers pinched his chin gently and his face was turned back towards the Veela. He was a little confused to notice Draco was looking a cross between amused and smug. It was... confusing.
"Then people know Malfoys are even more powerful," Draco said blithely, waving his free hand dismissively. He knew there was a small possibility there could be some gossip about the not-so-pure-blood in his family tree (after all, gossip ran rampant in pure-blooded circles—worse than a Muggle hair salon), but no one would dare say anything to his face. Or to Harry. Of course, if there was to be any 'impurity' in one's genes, Veela would be the most preferred (and sought after).
And since it was already out that he'd found his Mate, according to the article, he knew he wouldn't be getting crude offers and marriage proposals from those that might believe the whole Veela nonsense.
Well, he might, since people were quite rude and presumptuous. But they'd be Incendio'd without a second thought. He was perversely curious to wonder what Harry's reaction would be to such letters... He didn't mind admitting to himself that he'd almost like to see his mate in a jealous rage. Harry would probably be breath-taking brimming with righteous indignation. The only times he's seen it in the past, he was too young (and stupidly biased) to enjoy the sight. He came back to the present to see Harry giving him an uncertain look.
Harry was still eyeing Draco warily. "Really?" he murmured, tone tinged with disbelief. "Your mother won't have problems with this getting out?"
"She might," Draco admitted. His mother had always been fiercely protective of him. The woman lied right to Voldemort's face for him, for Merlin's sake. But he also knew she'd defer to his judgment about this if he asked her to. Not only was the the Malfoy heir, he had proven to having a better head on his shoulders these days. "I'll let her know it's fine and that'll be that." He could appreciate Harry's continued skepticism (he had gotten to know his mother well, after all) but he hoped Harry would trust him. "And that's all unlikely to be an issue, because people won't believe this to be anything but utter shit."
Harry reluctantly nodded. "Alright, if you say so." He looked at Hermione and sighed softly. He couldn't not tell Draco what he knew, even if Hermione was shaking her head subtly, her eyes slowly widening as she cottoned on to his thoughts. "I know who the source is, though."
"Really?" Draco said slowly, eyes narrowing. He had been convinced that 'source' wasn't anything but fabrication. How would Harry know anything about it? Few people knew the truth and even fewer would actually offer such information to a publication (or, so he thought). He took in Harry's averted gaze and the strange silence behind him and Hermione's presence was becoming less of a mystery now...
"Yeah. It... It was Ron."
Draco huffed out a breath, feeling truly shocked. He almost thought Harry was having him on, until he saw the look on his wizard's face. Not to mention it wasn't exactly something to joke about, not with the way they'd been getting on (or not getting on, more accurately) as of late.
He turned his head to look at Hermione. Thankfully, she didn't look afraid, but the look of guilt on her face was intolerable. He honestly didn't blame her, either. Short of a compulsion charm or an Imperio, no one could control their spouse's behavior. "I don't blame you, Hermione," he said, inclining his head when she relaxed and eased into the chair next to Harry. He patted her hand and was pleased to see it relax. He didn't want to see her stressed; it wasn't good for the baby.
"I am rather surprised he would do such a thing," Draco said thoughtfully, a slight frown on his face.
He wanted to tear into something but he kept his anger at bay, locked under a cool expression of indifference. He couldn't believe Ronald Weasley would do such a thing to his best friend. The selfish wanker had to've known how this would affect Harry. But they were mature adults now and he was determined to sort this out. Properly; if at all possible.
"Right," Draco said, getting to his feet. He gave Hermione a small smile, "Kindly owl your husband and invite him for tea."
Hermione's eyes went wide again and she looked to Harry. He looked just as confused. She looked back at Draco, her eyes slightly narrowed. "Why?" She didn't think Ronald would come, willingly, to speak with Harry (and Draco); especially not now that he'd done such a thing. He'd been avoiding visiting Harry since Draco visits had gotten so frequent. She knew the chances of him coming now were somewhere between 'fuck' and 'all'.
"I wish to speak with him," Draco said gravely.
Harry and Hermione looked at each other then back at Draco. The blonde didn't look upset, per se, but he didn't look happy, either.
"Why?" Hermione asked again, unable to sort out the reasons on her own.
Well, she had some ideas of course but she didn't want to blurt them out and offend Draco. A few hours ago, she would have said the whole lot of them were past petty school-yard actions, and she highly doubted Draco was interested in thumping her husband one, but she was feeling decidedly frazzled right now. Even if she was still upset with her husband, she didn't fancy setting him up to be cornered by a pissed off Veela. Even without the slight against Harry, she knew Draco could be vicious when defending those he cared about.
"Because," Draco said, giving Hermione a patient look, "This has gone on long enough, no?"
Harry could guess, but he asked it anyway; "What has?"
"This... discord," Draco said with a short huff, waving a hand around with quick, agitated jerky movements. "It's starting to test my patience and I refuse for this to continue any longer." He gently took Harry's hand, smoothing his clenched fingers out and gently rubbing his thumb into Harry's palm. "You miss him," he said softly. As much as he'd love to continue having nothing to do with the Weasel, he knew it would make Harry unhappy if things continued as they were.
He really didn't know if anything could be done, but he intended to find out.
Harry nodded, even though it hadn't exactly been a question. He should probably be used to Ron having a strop and cutting himself off from their friendship by now, but he still missed his best mate... er, friend. Even when he was being a bloody wanker. "Yeah. Why do you care?" he asked, grimacing when he realized how it came out. "Bugger, I didn't mean it like that, Draco," he started and was cut off by Draco chuckling and rubbing his palm again.
"I know what you meant, love. And I care because it upsets you," Draco said, trying not to blush or feel like a complete sap for saying such a thing. Out loud, at any rate. He smiled, pleased with himself when Harry gave him a look that filled his body with warmth and made him want to let his wings out. "I'd rather not spend the rest of our days avoiding the git or you moping about missing him."
Harry huffed, trying to be annoyed, but it was hard when Draco was being so sweet. He wondered what it took for Draco to say such a thing, especially considering him and Ron had never gotten along. He scooted forward in his chair and brought Draco in for a hug, barely having to tug on the blonde's hand to have him moving in close with his arms already lifting in anticipation of what he'd wanted. He tucked his face in Draco's neck and sighed softly.
"I don't know how well it'll work," he finally said, muttering it against Draco's skin. He felt a light shudder work through the Veela's body and he pulled back a little. Now was not the time (or place) to suddenly get distracted by trying to get Draco to shiver again. Or make that noise in the back of his throat that made Harry want to do... things with his hands (and mouth).
"I can only try, Harry," Draco murmured, rubbing his palms over Harry's back. He leaned back, reluctantly, and eyed Hermione thoughtfully. "Will he come if you send for him?"
Hermione considered the answer. Ronald might rush right over if he thought she was ready to forgive him... "Probably. I was in a right state when I left, so it's likely he'll come here without thinking if I ask him to. What are you thinking?" she asked, intrigued despite herself. A thoughtful Draco wasn't always a good thing... Especially if the Veela felt her husband's actions threatened Harry in any way. She was still ticked off at him, but she really didn't fancy the idea of allowing an enraged Veela, thoughts of protecting their mate driving their actions, access to her hapless spouse.
"That we need to have a long over-due conversation," Draco said somberly.
Hermione nodded, sighing softly, and just took the paper and pen that Harry held out to her. She hadn't heard him Accio them (or leave the room to get them). She bent over the paper, writing furiously for a few moments. She handed it to Draco, silently seeking his opinion on the missive. It was hard keeping her temper from the words, but she thought she'd managed the right line between possibly-forgiving and chastising. It wasn't like Ronald wasn't used to that sort of thing...
She didn't know what to think when Draco didn't even glance at the words she'd written, merely sealed the letter with a nod of thanks.
"Excellent," Draco murmured, standing and walking from the room. He'd send it and hoped Weasley had the appropriate response in a timely manner.
Harry glanced at Hermione but she was pointedly staring into her tea. He sighed and contented himself with just waiting for Draco to come back since Hermione wasn't in the mood to share her thoughts with him. He turned when he heard shuffling footsteps, that definitely weren't Draco's, approach the kitchen.
"Harry-daddy?" Teddy asked through a yawn, rubbing at his eyes. He blinked owlishly up at Harry-daddy and then looked around, noticing Aunt Hermione. "Aunt 'Mione?" He didn't know why Aunt Hermione was there so early, but he didn't really care. It was always nice to see her. He crawled up into Harry-daddy's lap, snuggling into his chest.
"Did we wake you, Teddy?" Teddy yawned again and shook his head, his honey-brown bed-head tickling Harry's chin. "It's awfully early," he said, rubbing along Teddy's back. Teddy was normally an early riser, but he looked half-asleep still and ready to drift back off any moment.
Teddy shrugged. "I wasn' sleepy anymore," he mumbled. His tummy made a gurlgy noise and he perked up a little when he thought of something. "Can we have waffles?"
"Sure," Harry acquiesced with very little persuasion. Well, so much for any thoughts of getting Teddy back to sleep now that his stomach was awake. And craving waffles, apparently. He looked up when Draco strolled back into the kitchen and smiled when the blonde's gaze went to Teddy and softened with affection. It didn't take long for Teddy to notice Draco's presence and he was suddenly left with an empty lap.
"Mister Draco!" Teddy was already scrambling off Harry-daddy's lap and attaching himself to Draco's legs. He giggled when his hair was ruffled and he looked up, "Are you here for waffles?"
Draco just nodded. He was not a fan of waffles but Teddy didn't need to know that. Teddy leaned away from his legs and made a gesture with his hands. He found himself bending over and picking the child up, setting him comfortably on his hip, before he even realized he meant to do it. Teddy looked pleased with himself and Draco couldn't help smiling back at him. "Are you going to help make them?"
"Yeah!" Teddy cried, suddenly very glad Mr. Draco was there. He loved helping make waffles, even if Harry-daddy didn't let him use the Muggle waffle iron. He bounced in Mr. Draco's arms, more than pleased to be awake now. He patted Mr. Draco's chest, "You gotta help, too. Harry-daddy will prob'ly let you use the waffle iron," he added, leaning in and speaking so only Mr. Draco could hear him.
Draco nodded, keeping his face the picture of seriousness. He had no experience with Muggle appliances and it was quite likely he'd hurt himself on the item more than Teddy would.
"How about we go to Ginny's, Teddy?" Hermione asked, finally looking up and getting to her feet. Teddy adored going to Ginny's, a cute little Muggle style diner than Ginny ran with her fiancé, Colin Creevey. She couldn't remember the last time they'd stopped by and figured her sister-in-law would love seeing Teddy again. Even if it most likely would end up with Teddy stuffed full of fried dough of some variety and unhealthy amounts of sugar.
And she really didn't want to be here when Ronald came, if she could avoid it.
Teddy's eyes—a bright, happy blue at the moment—widened as he turned to Hermione with a big smile as he nodded enthusiastically. "Can't go in our pyjamas," she added, nodding at the adorable koala onsie the little boy was wearing. She grinned when he whooped happily and was set on the floor before having to ask Draco to let him go. She watched him run out of the kitchen and cocked her head, waiting for the footsteps to go up the stairs before turning back to Harry and Draco.
"Well, now there's no messy kitchen to deal with," she said to Harry and left the kitchen with a wave of her fingers and a smile.
Harry just smiled, pleased to be offered a respite from scraping dried and caked on waffle batter off the counters and the waffle maker. A few minutes later, he heard the front door close and he was still smiling. But it wasn't until he heard the floo chime did he realize Hermione had willingly abandoned him. And took Teddy, too.
Oh, the sneaky witch.
He never considered that she'd want to give this a miss... He was so used to Hermione being the go-between—the referee as it were—between him and Ron, he wasn't sure what would happen now. Even if they were adults and supposedly past such things like immature, jealous snits and ignoring each other. Would they immediately start rowing? Would they stand there, unable (or unwilling) to speak for Merlin alone knew how long?
Harry looked up when Draco's hand settled on his shoulder and squeezed. He couldn't quite tell what Draco was thinking... besides barely concealed amusement. Of course, Draco had figured out Hermione's abandonment the moment the witch mentioned going to Ginny's to Teddy. He almost wished he'd been paying closer attention; he would've followed. He could be enjoying Colin's amazing coffee and a croissant or something instead of doomed to a chat with Ron. And Draco.
"This is probably going be be horrible," he said, looking up at Draco and trying not to whine. Or sound completely resigned to, and surprisingly indifferent to, the fact this was going to go pear-shaped the moment Ron stepped out of the floo. He didn't think his friend had managed to squash his urge to fly off the handle... Draco being here was just going to make things a thousand times worse, most likely. He managed to suppress the urge to groan and cover his face with his hands, but only just.
Draco scoffed softly and slid his hand up Harry's shoulder until he was cupping his neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I assure you, I'm going to remain reasonable."
"I wasn't worried about you," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes a little. As if he hadn't seen how cool and collected Draco could remain in the face of anyone's wrath. With the only exception being Narcissa Malfoy (and it tickled him to realize Draco was still a bit of a mummy's boy), Draco maintained a cool exterior in any tense situation.
No, he was worried about Ron being his usual self and making the situation worse. He didn't think he'd be able to handle Ron's harsh words about Draco any longer. His throat and chest felt constricted at the very real possibility of being forced to choose. If it came down to that, he already knew what that choice would be...
Harry forced himself to breath out and stood, doing so carefully so he didn't dislodge the comforting hand still on his neck. He was brought into a close embrace the moment he was standing and willingly surrendered to it, his arms wrapping about Draco's waist. He didn't quite get how Draco thought he couldn't do affection and comfort, easily, but he didn't mention it at the moment and just soaked up the warm comfort.
The kitchen door opened and Ron stared at the sight before him. He was stunned, quite honestly. Of all the things he'd been expecting when he got Hermione's owl, it wasn't a cozy scene between Harry and Malfoy in Harry's sunny little kitchen. The reason he'd had to come through the floo without an answer or someone to greet him was obvious now and his irritation about that deflated a bit. A niggle of doubt squirmed through him and he cautiously stepped into the room, easing the door closed so it wouldn't bang.
He could see his wife wasn't anywhere around, but he couldn't help himself from asking "Herm?" anyway. The reaction was immediate (and he, reluctantly, felt a little bad for being the one to interrupt the peaceful little scene); Harry and Malfoy leaned apart enough to see a bit of daylight between their bodies and he was suddenly the sole focus of two intense gazes.
Harry was the first to find his voice. Or maybe Draco just waited for him to speak first, because he'd barely finished saying "Ron" when Draco's hand tightened on his hip and he greeted the red-headed wizard in a civil manner.
"Weasley," Draco said, cool and polite. He wasn't sure what to make of the Weasel's puzzled expression but it was probably a good start there wasn't yelling. Or that he hadn't been hexed off of Harry the moment the Weasel saw them. He didn't check with a Tempus how long they all stood there, staring at each other, but it felt awkwardly long.
He softly cleared his throat. "Tea?"
Harry looked at Draco. The blonde was the picture of politeness but he felt a bit off, nonetheless. Probably because he should be the one offering tea (or maybe a firewhiskey, even if it was barely past 9 in the morning). He slowly pulled away from the blonde, not really wanting to but knowing it had to be done if he was meant to be talking to a still quiet and wide-eyed Ron. And being a proper host. "I'll get it."
"No, sit," Draco said, leading Harry two steps to the left towards a chair and pressing down on Harry's shoulder. He appreciated the attempt but he could manage tea. He looked to Weasley, "You as well," he said, inclining his head towards the table.
He stood taller and nodded once when Weasley immediately complied, sitting across from Harry with a mildly confused look on his face. He didn't linger; he decided to give the two wizards a moment of semi-privacy and went about making tea. He'd watched Harry do it enough times, he felt rather confident he could do it without having to wave his wand about.
The extra time appeared to be needed since Harry was simply staring at Weasley, looking uncomfortable and rarely looking up from his clasped hands that were resting on the table. Weasley wasn't faring much better...
Draco idly wondered if Ron was the only Weasley Harry was at odds with—well, except for Hermione. Not that he usually counted the witch as a Weasley because he still considered her 'Granger', regardless of her married name. A mention of going to Ginny's earlier hadn't seemed to bother Harry past a sudden urge for Muggle baked goods once he'd sorted out that he'd be left with the Weasel on his own.
"How's the family?" Draco asked Weasley as he set the tea down on the middle of the table. He sat next to Harry, keeping his expression one of polite interest, and poured. He was starting to feel a little out of his element at the continued silence. It just wasn't normal; people usually attempted polite small talk by now. And he'd take stilted small talk about the sodding weather at this point if it meant the heavy silence would ease even a fraction.
He glanced at Harry and saw him looking completely stunned. "What?"
Harry shook his head a little and accepted the mug from Draco with a small smile. "I think we're just both surprised you asked after the Weasleys."
"Oh. That," Draco hummed and leaned back in his chair. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but he enjoyed the informal setting. He felt Harry relax as he casually brushed a hand through his own hair and let his elbow rest on the back of Harry's chair. Oh, his mother would be horrified at his blatant lack of decorum but it put Harry at ease so it was worth it. "I was under the impression you still associated with them?" he asked, looking at Harry.
Harry nodded, his eyes darting to Ron for only a moment. "Yeah. 'Course."
He suddenly realized Draco hadn't known that before now. He hadn't made any conscious choice to keep Draco and the Weasleys apart (or from even mentioning them to the Veela). He'd just been... distracted. He suddenly worried Draco wouldn't be too pleased at having to deal with the rest of the Weasleys... especially if Ron was being such a prat. He really didn't want to discuss this in front of Ron, but now that it was brought up he really wanted to know what Draco thought.
Apparently, his thoughts were clear enough for Draco to interpret without him having to say anything because he got a small smile from the blonde and a gentle brush of fingers along his shoulder.
"And that, love, is why I asked," Draco murmured. He wanted to grin when Harry merely blinked at him, obviously taken by surprise.
Yes, he understood why Harry would be surprised but it didn't change the fact that he knew it was only a matter of time before he'd be socializing with Weasleys. He was starting to wonder why it hadn't come up as of yet and he found himself hoping it wasn't something Harry had been doing deliberately. It probably shouldn't bother him (on the contrary; it should probably thrill him), but it did and he made a mental note to ask later. He was not going to be the one to get between Harry and the Weasleys, not since he was aware of how important and cared for the family of red-heads were by his wizard.
Draco gave his attention back to the present Weasley. "So. Care to explain yourself?"
"Er," Ron sputtered, floundering for a moment, taken by surprise to suddenly be included in the conversation.
He had expected to see his wife. He had expected to be yelled at—maybe even hexed a little. (That expectation had briefly doubled when he realized Hermione wasn't about and it was only Malfoy here, with Harry.)
He had not expected to see Harry and Malfoy sharing an intimate moment. He had not expected to be greeted cordially and offered tea. And he certainly did not expect that the only person that would say more than two words to him would be Malfoy.
Draco waited, sipping his tea, while Weasley gathered his thoughts. After a solid minute of silence, he carefully put his tea down and folded his hands in front of himself on the table. It was mostly to keep from grabbing his wand (or rub his face in frustration), but it helped quell the urge to slap Weasley around as well.
"Let's start at the beginning, shall we?" Draco started. Weasley just stared and made a soft grunting sound. Draco was taking that as a 'yes'. "What motivated you to share such information?"
Ron swallowed thickly. OK, so he didn't fully believe the whole Malfoy-is-a-Veela-and-Harry-Potter-is-his-mate thing, but The Daily Prophet ate it up like Harry inhales treacle tart. He briefly considered playing dumb, but it was clear what Malfoy was referring to...
"Uh..." He rubbed at his forehead, suddenly feeling like a complete prat. The money, while helpful, hadn't been that big a motivator. At the time it had seemed like a grand idea; Malfoy would be embarrassed and hide. Or he'd be enraged and leave Harry. He hadn't expected this reaction at all...
"Were you hoping this would, somehow, motivate me to leave Harry?" Draco asked, an eyebrow raised. Or possibly the alternative; Harry leaving him. Which, he had to admit, did concern him for the briefest of moments when he first saw the article. Rational thought was quick to return and he should have remembered Harry wouldn't do something like that. He was just too damn noble, really.
And, he remembered feeling warm (and a little smug), Harry loved him.
"Yeah," Ron admitted, shrugging a little. "I mean, c'mon— You? A Veela? What happened to being pure-blooded and all that rubbish?"
Draco's hands tightened but he managed to keep from doing anything else. He was quite sure even if he did explain, it wouldn't sink into Weasley's thick skull until he was ready to accept it. And he clearly wasn't—if he ever would be. He just didn't understand how Weasley could so consistently fail at being a faithful friend. Or how harry could still be emotionally affected by it. He knew it was a callous thought, but he honestly thought Harry would be used to it by now.
If only because he couldn't stand to see the pain and stress it caused his mate. That alone, in his opinion, was enough reason to dislike Weasley even if they hadn't had any past history.
"As if you'd believe me anyway?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Weasley looked a little uncomfortable and he tried not to revel in it. Served the bastard right for being such a blabbermouth. Harry looked interested in what the red-headed was going to say but he mostly just wanted to string the wizard up by his bits for being such an arsehole.
Not that he would. But it was so tempting... He had to console himself with just the mental images.
"Well, er... probably not," Ron admitted, fiddling with the handle on his mug.
He looked to Harry and saw his friend's attention was on Malfoy—Harry was blushing a little and he had this weird little smile on his face. Ron's eyebrows drew together in confusion as he tried to remember ever seeing such a look on Harry's face before. He couldn't... and he was starting to see how Hermione could justify not caring about the veracity of Malfoy's still-as-of-yet-questionable Veela heritage (which she insisted was indeed true) because she must've seen Harry make that dopey, gooey face before.
Ron reluctantly returned his attention to Malfoy, unsurprised to find him staring back at him with a cool expression on his pointy face. The grey eyes were surprisingly animated for all the blankness of Malfoy's face. Even if he couldn't sort out what such a look meant...
"I see," Draco said smoothly and leaned back in his chair. He had no intention of proving anything to Weasley but it rankled more than he wanted to admit that the idiot didn't believe him—and most likely wouldn't, even with a full explanation. The red-headed pillock was one of the few people to know about his heritage and he didn't believe it? It was a little rude, honestly. "And why is that?"
Ron's lips pursed and he tried to think of a better excuse than 'Because you're a sneaky snake that'll say anything to get what you want'. Or the equally immature 'I just don't like you'. Both were true to an extent but he also knew it wouldn't help any thing (or anyone) to say either aloud. He didn't so much care about offending Malfoy but he had a feeling Harry wouldn't react favorably.
"It just seems unbelievable," he finally said. He felt justified in his disbelief; he did remember how they all were in Hogwarts, after all. Malfoy hardly went a day without strutting around, boasting about his wealth and blood status. It was hard to grasp that things were so different now. Yeah, he knew they weren't 11 anymore, but some things were hard to let go.
"I assure you, it's true," Draco drawled. "Do you honestly think Harry would let himself be fooled in such a way?"
Ron tried not to squirm and he offered Harry an apologetic look. "Kinda, yeah," he admitted. He felt like a great big arse when Harry's face fell, looking like someone kicked his crup. "Harry's always been the type to see the best in people." He grimaced a little, knowing how he sounded, but needing to be honest. Malfoy did ask... "He's still a little... naïve when it comes to that sorta thing."
"Naïve," Draco repeated, trying to convince himself of it. He couldn't; it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. Of all things he could call Harry, naïve wasn't one of them. He couldn't imagine how Harry's best friend (his brain skittered away from using the word 'mate'—even in a platonic way) could say such a thing and mean it.
Did Weasley not know the man sitting across from him at all?
"Honestly? You think Harry is naïve?" he asked, trying not to scowl. Or do anything rash like haul Weasley over the table and slap him around for saying such a thing. Instead, he forcibly relaxed his hands and let one rest on Harry's neck again. He didn't care what Weasley thought, ignoring the red-heads slight grimace and quickly averted gaze; he was in need of the contact. And if he was, Harry definitely would be.
Ron shrugged again. Of course, naïve wasn't quite the right word, but it was close enough... "Kinda. Obviously, he's had some... uh... interesting things happen to him but it hasn't changed the fact that Harry is too nice a bloke." At times, he almost envied that Harry could still see the bright side of things (and people) after all the shit he'd been through.
"Ron," Harry sighed, shaking his head a little. He sort of understood what Ron meant but it really didn't make him feel any better. Ron thought he was some gullible fool? He tried his best not to bristle at the events of his life being called 'interesting things', either. He had the idea that Ron thought be was complimenting him, somehow, but he certainly didn't feel all warm and squishy inside just because Ron said he was 'too nice'.
"That really doesn't explain why you thought going to The Prophet with my personal business was a good idea," he said lowly, glaring across the table.
Ron fought the urge to squirm and tried not to feel affected by the obvious anger from Harry. He hadn't seen that sort of look on his friend's face in years... Probably not ever, actually, since he couldn't remember actually having it aimed at him before (even if he might've actually earned it a time or two). He didn't have a good reason to give; it had been a spur of the moment decision that, at the time, seemed like a good idea. Colin hadn't lost his love of taking pictures and when he'd shown him the short video he'd managed to capture of Harry and Malfoy on his Muggle cellphone, things just clicked. The perfect solution. He hadn't even considered Harry's feelings on being in the paper... He doubted the years made Harry more amenable to it.
Not to mention it was an extremely private matter.
"I didn't exactly think that through," Ron admitted sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. He grimaced, annoyed at his lack of forethought.
Unfortunately, before he could offer any sort of actual apology, which he now knew he owed both wizards, the loud noise of several owls interrupted him.
"Oh. Bugger."
Ron paled a little when he saw the number of owls tapping at the window, sitting on the ledge and any other place they could perch. Some were holding red envelopes and looking decidedly impatient to deliver their missives and get out before the Howlers went off.
Harry sighed, wishing he had thought to put up wards against all owl post and not just anything deemed harmful. He wanted to snort; Howlers, apparently, weren't considered harmful. Just a bloody nuisance. A messy, loud, nuisance.
And there were several.
Double bugger.