Malfoy does not look particularly happy to be lingering near Myrtle's bathroom, but at least he has the excuse of the library being nearby if anyone happens to walk by and start asking questions. It would be the easiest thing in the world for Malfoy to claim he was simply heading in that direction, so Harry isn't sure why he looks so nervous right now.
"Took you long enough, Potter!" he hisses under his breath as soon as Harry turns down the hallway, eyes narrowing in blatant irritation.
"Did you want an audience?" Harry asks with a quirked brow and a shrug of his shoulders. "As it is, Cedric is the only reason I was able to slip Hermione. Now come on, let's get moving before anyone sees us." They could always start throwing hexes at each other to cover this all up if anyone stumbles across them, but Harry would really rather not do that. He doesn't need to be stuck dealing with detentions on top of everything else.
Malfoy balks and freezes in place when Harry walks straight into the girls' bathroom. He rolls his eyes and mutters, "No one ever uses this thing, Malfoy. Myrtle floods it all the time. Now come on, the entrance is this way."
Harry takes several quick steps toward the serpentine faucet adorning one of the sinks, and a satisfied smirk curls his lips as he hisses, "Open." The passageway opens, and this time, Harry hums in contemplation as he stares at the filthy slide into the chamber. He isn't entirely sure that this will work, but he doesn't feel like listening to Malfoy whine about getting his robes dirty the entire time that they do this. It's worth a try, if nothing else. His eyes remain firmly on that snake-shaped faucet as he hisses, "Stairs."
He is pleasantly surprised when the slick stone obliges his request and morphs into a staircase before their very eyes. Harry wishes he had thought of this during his second year, but then again, considering the fact that Lockheart tried to Obliviate him and Ron, maybe it's for the best that he didn't. It would've been a bit too easy for the professor to shove them down the stairs and claim they'd been killed by the basilisk.
"Well?" he asks Malfoy with a quirked eyebrow when he notices that he still hasn't budged an inch. "Come on, then. This is something that even I don't want to try explaining." Malfoy startles slightly before following right behind him in walking through the secret entrance, and Harry ensures that it closes behind them with a hissed, "Close." Malfoy lights the tip of his wand without saying a word, illuminating the darkness that surrounds them both, and Harry leads the way, trying and failing not to be impressed by the casual display of nonverbal magic. He's definitely going to ask Fleur to help him learn how to do that. It might help with his abysmal control, too. "Any luck finding what we'll need to become Animagi?"
"Don't underestimate me, Potter," Malfoy scoffs with a roll of his eyes. "I've already ordered it. We'll have everything we need by dinner tomorrow, including most of the ingredients for later in the process."
Harry dips his head in a nod, and he chooses to ignore just how smug Malfoy sounds about that. "Good."
Malfoy hesitates to say anything else after that, but after several long moments of awkward silence, he whispers, "... Are you sure we're going the right way? This... isn't exactly what I imagined."
"Hence the name Chamber of Secrets," Harry snickers under his breath as they pass by a massive clump of shed skin. He can just barely see Malfoy's eyes widening in shock and horror out of the corner of his eye. "Doesn't do anyone much good if it's noticeable. Trust me, we're heading the right way. It's kind of hard to forget." Once they reach the collapsed section, Harry just sighs and murmurs, "Reparo." They have to wait for the stones to rearrange themselves, but it doesn't seem like the ceiling will threaten to collapse on them again. He still waits for a few minutes before continuing on. Just in case.
"... Do I even want to know what happened?"
"Probably not!" he answers cheerfully. "But you're about to find out anyway." Harry doubts that there's much left of the basilisk beyond bones at this point, but her shape and size leave very little question about what she is. Or was, he supposes.
The look Malfoy levels him with is one of thinly veiled disbelief. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a bit mad, Potter?"
Harry can't quite help barking out a laugh at that. "More than once! I wonder what that makes you for choosing to follow me down here anyway."
Malfoy's expression immediately sours. "Too curious for my own good, apparently."
Harry snickers under his breath as they venture deeper into the bowels of Hogwarts, venturing through the twisting halls until they emerge in the Chamber of Secrets. "Huh. I didn't expect that."
Black scales and wicked fangs with a pool of blood puddled beneath them, a body that's easily sixty-five, maybe even seventy, feet long, and dead, glossy eyes that can no longer petrify anyone stare back at him. The basilisk looks exactly the same as she did the day he left her behind. He supposes that there must be preservation charms of some sort over the chamber itself that preserved the corpse too. There's no way that the basilisk wouldn't have decayed by now, otherwise.
"Merlin and Morganna…!" Malfoy takes a shaky step forward, looking almost as frightened as he had up on top the Astronomy Tower. "How–" A strained cough interrupts the question as Malfoy turns to him with shock written all over his face. His typical, conceited mask is nowhere to be seen. "How did you survive this thing?! Never mind killingit!"
"Dumb luck, mostly," he admits with a wry chuckle. "Fawkes. Gryffindor's sword. I would've died anyway if Fawkes hadn't cried on me." He idly taps the faded scar on his forearm that will never completely go away. "The only way I could kill her was by stabbing the sword through the roof of her mouth, so... A fang got me. It was not pleasant. Zero out of ten, would not recommend."
"You're mad. Absolutely, barking mad," Malfoy mutters under his breath with eyes as wide as saucers.
"She didn't exactly give me much of a choice," Harry deadpans with a tired sigh. "I even tried to do the responsible thing and brought a professor along, but Lockheart just tried to Obliviate us and leave us to die. Luckily, Ron's wand backfired on him."
Malfoy scrunches his nose at that. "Why would you bring Lockheart, of all people?"
"We tried to get McGonagall involved the year before that, but she dismissed us out of hand. Also we were kind of on a time crunch, and he was closest."
"... Fair enough, I suppose." Malfoy pauses, getting a closer look at the fallen serpent before saying, "You do realize that there are literally tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of galleons' worth of potions ingredients just lying around in this chamber, don't you? Basilisks are extremely rare."
Harry chuckles sheepishly as he shakes his head. "... I had no idea. That makes sense, though. But I wouldn't even know where to start with breaking this thing down, and who would we sell it to, anyway?"
"The goblins, obviously." Malfoy scoffs as he rolls his eyes, mask slowly slotting back into place as they fell into their usual routine of sniping at each other. "They'll sell it for even more than they pay you, but it'll prevent you from flooding the market all at once."
"Us," he corrects idly. "Because I still have no idea where to even start with it, and I would've left it to rot if you hadn't said anything. We can split it. You get half in exchange for helping and teaching me how to break it down?"
"I'll make a proper Slytherin out of you yet, Potter. Though… Next time don't be so quick to admit that you don't know what you're doing." Malfoy dips his head in agreement as a smirk tugs at his lips. "I'll bring my silver harvesting knives next time. Though, really, we might be better off using a sword for something so large… No, that would risk compromising the quality. Best not." Malfoy clears his throat, finally looking away from the basilisk as he says, "So, the Patronus Charm?"
"Right!" Harry dips his head in a sharp nod, putting any thoughts of breaking down the basilisk aside and focusing on the task at hand. "The Patronus Charm is a really complicated spell that seems far easier than it is, so don't get discouraged if it takes you a while to get it. It took me ages to manage even an incorporeal Patronus." Harry loops his wand in a single clockwise circle, focusing on the memory of all the champions and Dobby promising to fight by his side. "Expecto Patronum!" Prongs bursts forth from the tip of his wand, cantering around the chamber in search of any danger before coming to stand by Harry's side with a slight tilt of his head. Harry idly brushes his hand against him as he explains, "To summon a Patronus, you have to focus on a single, happy memory. A time when you felt true joy. Don't mistake simple contentment for an emotion strong enough to power this spell. Things like flying, a good score on a test, a birthday… they're all too simple. I've, uh, found that personally, my happiest memories are blended with a bit of pain or sorrow, something more bittersweet. It makes the happiness felt despite that seem more real. But I imagine it works differently depending on the person."
Harry shrugs, chuckling as he says, "While you have to focus on one memory while casting the spell, I've also found that it helps to think of several different, happy memories that build into the one you want to focus on. Especially if you're already in a bad mood or afraid. It settles your magic and emotions enough to make casting it much easier once you're ready. I had to do that after the first task."
"Huh… Good to know," Malfoy murmurs with a contemplative hum. "Any other advice for me, or am I good to try casting? It's just the one wand movement, correct?"
"Yeah, just a clockwise circle," he confirms with a nod. "Though you want to cast just as you finish the loop. And the only other suggestion I can really give you is to remember that it's a lot easier to cast a Patronus when there isn't something like a Dementor around. It's a lot harder to focus on the positive emotions needed for the spell if there's something actively making you miserable, you know?"
A troubled look flits across Malfoy's face, and for a moment, it seems like he's not going to say whatever is on his mind. If only he could be so lucky. "Hm. So you're feeling better then?"
"I'm not about to go throw myself off the Astronomy Tower, if that's what you're asking." Harry rolls his eyes as he heaves out a sigh. "I'm sorry you had to see that. In my defense, I had just found out that I was about to face a dragon." Malfoy looks pointedly at the dead basilisk that's not even ten feet away from them. "That's different. I had help then, and I still barely survived. Plus, it wasn't in front of a crowd either."
"Aww, do you get stage fright, Potter?"
He nearly snaps back at Malfoy before realizing that his voice sounds more playful than outright antagonizing. It's still a near thing. "Oh, bugger off, Malfoy. I hate dealing with crowds. And the press." Though that's a more recent discovery, admittedly. It's not like Harry was used to people wanting anything to do with him at all until he got to Hogwarts. "This tournament is practically my worst nightmare. Now are we going to keep gossiping, or do you want to actually try doing the spell?"
Malfoy chuckles quietly before he takes a deep breath, idly twirling his wand as he tries to think of a memory. "I think I have something," he murmurs after several long moments of silence. "Expecto Patronum!" Despite Harry's warning, Malfoy still looks pretty displeased when nothing happens.
Harry understands that feeling all too well. Not even producing mist... It was utterly mortifying before he figured out how to do so. "Your wand movements were fine, so it's just the memory. Keep trying different ones. Seriously, it took me forever to figure out what worked for me. This isn't even a spell that shows up on our NEWTs."
"Right. Right…" Malfoy mutters as he narrows his eyes in thought, shoulders relaxing as the tension slowly melts out of them. He paces back and forth as he mulls things over, trying and failing to cast the spell several more times before he gives up and asks, "What memory do you use, Potter?"
"Um… It varies. Usually something that involves my friends, though." Prongs has long since disappeared, first fading into mist and then into nothing at all, as Harry watches Malfoy agonize over this spell. It's odd to see him struggling with anything, honestly. Malfoy has always been like Hermione in the sense that learning new spells never really seems to give him any trouble at all.
Harry bets that Malfoy would have a fit if he knew he was making that comparison. Maybe he should tell him. It might distract him from how frustrated he is with the spell, if nothing else.
"Hm. Maybe if I…" Malfoy's face hardens in determination, nose wrinkling slightly as he shouts, "Expecto Patronum!" This time, there is something. It's only a flash of silver mist that disappears within seconds, but it's still something. Harry's jaw might as well be on the floor. "You saw that, right, Potter?! You saw that!"
"Yeah, that's… Bloody hell, maybe you'll pick this up faster than I thought," he murmurs, eyes wide with shock. "There are adult wizards who can't manage an incorporeal Patronus at all. And you figured it out in a few hours. I feel like I should be very cross right now." He isn't, though. He's more impressed than anything else.
"As much as I hate to admit it, I feel like it says more about your teaching than my skill that I managed that so quickly." Indeed, it looks like is physically pains Malfoy to say the words aloud, and he doesn't even stop there. "I wasn't exactly getting anywhere on my own."
"Now who's admitting that they have no idea what they're doing?" Harry teases with a smug grin.
"Oh, sod off, Potter."
Malfoy makes a few more attempts at the spell before they decide to call it a night. His mist shield doesn't get much larger, and it's more of a thin veil than a true shield, but it does seem a bit brighter the last time that he casts it. "Just keep thinking of different memories," Harry encourages with an oddly genuine smile. "You'll find what kind works best for you eventually. You're definitely on the right track or you wouldn't be producing mist at all."
"I gathered that, Potter." Malfoy scoffs before muttering, "I'll think it over. We can't risk doing this too often, my housemates are nosier than yours, and you do still need to prepare for the second task… We'll meet up twice a week? How does Thursday sound?"
"Yeah, sounds good." It'll give them enough time for Malfoy's order to arrive, and they'll still have a couple of days left before the full moon to get everything in order. "Now be quiet," he whispers as they step out into Myrtle's bathroom, quickly ducking underneath the Invisibility Cloak together. "This thing doesn't muffle sound."
It's a bit awkward to move underneath the cloak with Malfoy. He's not nearly as used to matching Harry's steps as Ron and Hermione were, but by the time they make it down to the Dungeons, he seems to be adjusting to it.
"... Thanks, Potter," Malfoy murmurs as he steps out beneath the cloak. He disappears into the Slytherin common room immediately afterward, and Harry is pleased as can be, barely stifling the urge to hum under his breath as he walks back up to Gryffindor Tower.
He had fun tonight. Maybe Malfoy isn't quite as bad as he thought…
Thursday arrives before he knows it. Fleur's been helping him practice a few nonverbal spells, and he has every intention of showing Malfoy that he can also cast Lumos without an incantation tonight. Is it petty of him to intentionally show off like that? Probably. But it doesn't seem like Malfoy even meant to show off, and that bothers him, just a little. It's kind of embarrassing.
Harry is drawn out of his internal musing by McGonagall clearing her throat, calling the class's attention back to her now that each of their guinea pigs, previously guinea fowls, are sitting in individual cages on her desk. "I have an announcement for you all." The entire class straightens up at the tone in her voice, eager to see where this is going. "The Yule Ball is approaching, a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will only be open to fourth years and above, though you may invite a younger student as your partner if you wish."
A shrill giggle slips out of Lavender's lips. Parvati nudges her hard in the ribs, despite barely stifling her own laughter. McGonagall continues as if they didn't make any noise at all, though Harry does notice a faint twitch of her eyebrow. "Dress robes will be worn, and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then…" McGonagall deliberately gives a hard stare to the entire class. "The Yule Ball is, of course, a chance for us all to, er, let our hair down," she says, sounding thoroughly disapproving of the idea.
Lavender laughs outright at that, and it isn't hard to understand why. McGonagall, with her hair done up in a tight bun and a severe expression almost always on her face, looks like she's never relaxed or 'let her hair down' a day in her life.
"But that does not mean that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor embarrasses the school in any way." The bell rings as if to punctuate her final words, and Harry wonders if she timed it like that on purpose. It wouldn't surprise him. There's a flurry of rustling as everyone packs their bags and slings them over their shoulders, slipping out of the classroom as quickly as possible. Harry is right there with them, but once again, he could never be that lucky. "Mr. Potter, a word, if you please?"
His shoulders slump as he walks over to McGonagall's desk. He doesn't even know what he did this time, honest. He's been pretty well-behaved, all things considered. She waits until the class has finished filing out of the classroom before saying, "Mr. Potter, the champions and their partners–"
"What partners?" Harry asks with furrowed eyebrows. McGonagall studies him suspiciously, as if she thinks he's trying to be funny, but his expression doesn't change in the slightest. He honestly has no clue what she's talking about.
"Your partners for the Yule Ball, Mr. Potter," McGonagall continues, sounding very unamused. "Your dance partners."
Oh hell no. "I don't dance."
"Oh yes, you do," McGonagall snaps with a narrow-eyed glare. "That's what I'm telling you. Traditionally, the champions and their partners open the ball."
Why the hell would he care about tradition? When has Harry ever cared about tradition? He's not even supposed to be part of this tournament! This isn't one of the tasks. He's not going to lose his magic for having no part in it. "I'm not dancing."
"It is traditional," McGonagall repeats firmly, and she must not know Harry very well at all if she thinks that means a damn thing to him. "You are a Hogwarts champion, and you will do what is expected of you as a representative of the school. So make sure you get yourself a partner for the dance, Mr. Potter."
Well, now he's not going at all. "But... I don't–"
"You heard me, Mr. Potter," McGonagall says with a tone of absolute finality. He is going to get so many detentions when he doesn't show up. It'll be worth it, though.
Harry is sick and tired of these people demanding so much from him. It's not like he entered this tournament willingly, and McGonagall knows that. Like hell is he bending to their every whim; doing the interview was bad enough. He'll compete in the tasks, as he's required, and not a single thing more from here on out.
Harry is still fuming by the time he meets up with Malfoy that night. Considering the way that Malfoy quirks his eyebrow the second he catches sight of him, it must be written all over his face. "Who hexed you this morning?"
"McGonagall…!" he snarls under his breath before levelling a glare at the sink and hissing, "Open!!" Malfoy follows after him with an air of quiet contemplation, not even flinching when Harry sharply hisses for the entrance to close behind him. The stone screeches as it slams shut.
"And what, exactly, did Professor McGonagall do to piss you off?"
"Order me to find a date for the Yule Ball. She said that it's traditional for the champions to open it."
Malfoy's eyebrow lifts even higher. "It is."
"I don't dance," he repeats emphatically. "I wouldn't even know where to start. And even if I did, I'm not going. It's bad enough that they roped me into that stupid interview. I'm not a real champion. I'm not even supposed to be in this tournament! I will do the tasks so I can keep my magic and not a damn thing more!"
Malfoy's eyebrows disappear beneath his hairline. His shoulders start shaking. A quiet snort escapes his lips, and that quickly devolves into genuine, tear-jerking laughter. Harry blinks, caught so off-guard that his anger abandons him for a moment. "Oh, this is going to be a riot...!" Malfoy snickers with a sharp grin. "It's an absolute travesty that you can't dance, and we will be correcting that; you can't avoid political balls forever even if you can get away with avoiding this one as a form of protest, but the looks on their faces when you don't show up…!" Malfoy starts laughing again. "Oh, just the thought of it…!"
No sooner than they enter the chamber, Malfoy shouts, "Expecto Patronum!" The mist is much brighter this time. Larger too. It's beginning to look like a proper shield.
"What memory did you use?" he asks curiously, tilting his head as the shield lingers far longer this time.
"I was imagining the look of appalled horror on Professor McGonagall's face when you never show up," Malfoy answers with another snicker. "I guess imagined scenarios work too. That's good to know… I'll try it a few more times before we start working on breaking down the basilisk. The last thing we need is for you to butcher the thing in your anger." Malfoy waves him off and says, "Go meditate or something. I've got this."
It's a bit infuriating that Malfoy's suggestion actually helps. It's even more so when he realizes that he never even got the chance to show off his recent bit of exploration in nonverbal magic. Harry takes several deep breaths, trying to amuse himself with the thought of the entire school realizing that he hasn't shown up to the ball. McGonagall will probably just think he's running late at first, tapping her foot impatiently and vowing to give him detention for it. Then it gets closer and closer to eight o'clock, and she starts getting worried. She'll want to send other professors out to look for him. Dumbledore will be displeased, but Harry can't bring himself to care about that too much anymore. Snape will have an even fiercer scowl than usual, and if he catches him, he'll give him detention for the rest of the school year. But he won't be able to find him. None of them will be able to find him because he'll be in the Room of Requirement, having specifically asked it to hide him from everyone else. Or maybe he'll allow his friends to stumble across him if they can find the room. He can always have Dobby bring them to the room after the ball is over… Or maybe they leave the ball early because they'd rather spend time with him than dance at some stuffy ball anyway, and then they can all laugh and have fun and be themselves without staring eyes and whispers trailing their every step. That sounds nice.
"Expecto Patronum," he murmurs. Prongs greets him like an old friend, though for just a second, Harry could've sworn that he saw the echo of something else, something with wings, hidden within the mist. He's probably just imagining things. "Hey, Prongs!" The stag huffs silently before laying down next to him, and the sensation of magic gently pressing against his skin is a warm, comforting feeling, like curling up in front of the fireplace during the worst parts of winter. He brushes his hand against a lightly glowing ear, and he can almost imagine the sensation of fur beneath his fingertips before it fades into that pleasant buzzing again.
When he glances up, Malfoy has stopped trying to cast the spell, watching Harry with a strange look in his eyes. "... Do you mind if I…?" He holds up a hand in silent question, and Harry nods.
"Go say hello, Prongs." The stag walks forward, and Malfoy doesn't even get the chance to reach out for him before the Patronus does something neither of them was expecting.
"Hello," Prongs echoes in an eerily perfect replica of Harry's voice. Draco blinks. Harry blinks. They both look at each other and then back at Prongs.
"... Did you know they could do that?"
"No," he admits with a dumbfounded grin. "That's new to me too."
"How strange… The applications alone…!" Malfoy sounds even more excited about learning the Patronus Charm than he was before, and that's saying something. "This could be a completely new discovery, do you understand that, Potter?! I've been reading up on this, and I never saw any mention of a Patronus being used for anything beyond warding off Dark creatures, more specifically Dementors and Lethifolds. They have unique forms! Forms that are utterly unable to be tampered with or hidden unless someone only uses the incorporeal form. This could be a way of private communication that runs no risk of being intercepted or tampered with like owl mail does!"
Harry shuffles his feet as heat tinges his face red. "I didn't even mean to discover it, though..."
"But you did! Half of our greatest discoveries were either by complete accident or by trying to accomplish something else. This is still huge, Potter!" Malfoy is smiling. His eyes are glittering with joy that makes them look like they contain small oceans within them, reflecting the sun's rays as light dances on their surface. He looks genuinely, truly happy. Malfoy seems to have the same realization that Harry does at the same exact moment. "Expecto Patronum!"
It's not a fully Corporeal Patronus, but it's incredibly close to one. Harry can see a flash of cloven feet and curly fur before the blue mist fades back into a shield. "A sheep…?" he murmurs hesitantly.
"Or something similar, probably," Malfoy agrees. He still hasn't stopped smiling. "It looked a bit small for that though. A lamb, maybe?"
"I feel like I should be pissed that you're figuring this out so quickly," Harry mutters with a roll of his eyes that is far more playful than genuinely frustrated.
"I told you that I'm good at Charms," Malfoy explains with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Besides, I can tell you're not angry." He's about to ask what makes Malfoy so sure of that when he continues, "You're smiling, Potter."
Huh. He hadn't even noticed. Malfoy laughs when he tries and fails to wipe the expression off his face. "Shut up, Malfoy," he grumbles with absolutely no heat in his voice at all.
"I don't think I will. Today is wonderful, an amazing day, and I'm going to bask in it for a while longer before we're elbow deep in basilisk guts."
Malfoy is positively gleeful despite not managing to create anything more powerful than a shield again that night. He maintains that almost disturbingly cheery attitude as he instructs Harry on the best ways to dissect a serpent, and he's almost certain that Malfoy is doing it on purpose when he starts laughing at the faces Harry is making throughout the process.
"Tippy!" A uniformed house elf appears before them, eyes widening in distress when she sees the gore covering them both from head to toe. That is, it appears, the price of carving into something so much larger than them.
"Master Draco! You is being filthy!!" A single snap of her fingers is all it takes for Malfoy to look pristine again, and she gives Harry a look of careful consideration before doing the same for him. "What do Master Draco and his friend be doing?!" she squeaks in shock when she registers the very dead basilisk that's just behind them.
"Harvesting potions ingredients," Malfoy answers very casually, as if this is an everyday occurrence. It's only Tippy's stare of abject horror that tells Harry this isn't something he regularly does. "Could you do us a favor and take these to Gringotts?" Malfoy gestures to a carefully separated pile of fangs, scales, and a giant brain that has a hole in it from where it was pierced with one of the aforementioned fangs. "And tell them to split the profit evenly between the Potter and Malfoy Heir vaults. I'm sure they'll also be happy to hear that there is plenty more where that comes from, and that we'll be interested in commissioning battle robes made of basilisk scales once we've reached maturity. Unfortunately, it'd be a waste of our limited materials if we had them made before we finished growing…"
"We?" Harry asks in a clearly amused tone.
"We," Malfoy confirms with a derisive sniff. "Because I wouldn't be able to get a set at all if you hadn't killed the thing. Favors for favors, Potter. Do try to keep up."
"Right," he agrees with an easy laugh.
"Tippy can be doing that!" the small house elf agrees, even if she does still look vaguely nervous. "Is there anything else Master Draco be needing?"
"... Do keep this a secret from Mother and Father, for now. That's an order. They can't know that…" Malfoy glances in his direction with a nervous look that has guilt squirming in Harry's chest. He's so used to no one caring about what he does that he never really stopped to consider... He wonders how much of the way Malfoy acts in public has to do with maintaining his image as a Slytherin and how much more of it has everything to do with keeping his parents happy.
Tippy nods rapidly. "Yes, Master Draco!" She pops away as quickly as she arrived, the efforts of their labor in hand, and Malfoy huffs out a quiet sigh of relief.
"That was risky, but there was really no other way for us to transport that," he murmurs under his breath. "Imagine trying to send basilisk parts through the mail…!"
"If only Patronuses could deliver things too." Harry snorts at the thought. Malfoy gets a carefully considering look on his face at that, and he shakes his head even as a smile tugs at his lips. "They can't. At least not at the level I can make them. They're not quite solid enough for that."
"Blast. Maybe someday…" Draco hums, and it isn't until they're about to leave for the night that he presses something into the palm of Harry's hand. It's a single, pristine, green leaf. "The mandrake leaf," he explains, though it really isn't necessary. "Don't forget about the full moon, Potter. I've got a few extras just in case we have to do this again, but I'd rather avoid it."
"Me too," Harry agrees with a nod. "We could always give the extras to the other champions if we don't need them… In exchange for a favor, of course," he continues after seeing the unimpressed glare that Malfoy levels him with. "They've been training me for the tournament already. I doubt they'd mind teaching you a few things if you asked."
"Perhaps," Malfoy allows with a reluctant sigh. "Let's get through the transformation ourselves before we start thinking about others, though."
'Ah, Slytherins.'
Funny how that's a thought that sounds decidedly fond instead of annoyed now. Oh, how things have changed…