Chapter Text
When the door to McGonagall's office opened, the first thing Draco saw was the symbol around Xenophilius Lovegood's neck: a triangle with a circle inside, and a line through that circle.
And then the man cried out "Luna!" and ran past Draco. He took hold of his daughter from where Ron and Potter were supporting her, seizing her in his arms. For a second, Draco expected a woman following with the same fervent relief, but then he remembered Riddle, saying Luna would talk to him about watching her mother die.
Draco stood there awkwardly beside Ron and Potter, covered in mud and slime and blood and ink, and perhaps a phoenix feather or two from when Fawkes had flown the four of them out of the pipe. He watched Luna and her father, wondering vaguely if the others would get suspicious if he didn't hug his 'uncle', and then he followed Potter's gaze to see Dumbledore had returned to Hogwarts. McGonagall was beside him, looking shaken by the sight of her returning students.
Xenophilius let Luna go, lowering her into a chair beside McGonagall, before turning tremblingly to the three bloodied boys. "Thank you. Thank you for saving my daughter. She's all I have left in this world."
"Oh, Father, calm down, please don't cry," Luna said softly, and reached out and tugged sweetly on her father's hand.
Xenophilius was not crying, but looked close. "How? How did you get her back?"
"I think we'd all like to know that," said McGonagall weakly.
Potter hesitated for a moment, then walked over to the desk and laid down the Sorting Hat, the ruby-encrusted sword, and what remained of Riddle's diary. And then all Draco had to do was take a seat beside Ron and pleasantly drift off, letting Potter tell everything. His ears only perked up when they got to the part about Aragog in the Forest, but when there was no mention of the Imperius curse, he settled back dozily in his chair.
"Very well," McGonagall prompted, "So you found out where the entrance was- breaking a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add- but how on earth did you all get out of there alive, Potter?"
Potter went on until the point where he could not go any longer without implicating Luna. Draco wondered why Potter was looking at him of all people, until he remembered he had claimed he was her cousin. Well, they hadn't expelled Ginny Weasley...
"What interests me most," said Dumbledore gently, "Is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Luna, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania."
"Enchant her?" Xenophilius asked fearfully, pulling Luna against his side. Tears had begun to spill silently down Luna's face, like she finally understood what she had done. "What has happened to my daughter?"
"It was this diary," said Potter quickly, picking it up and showing it to Dumbledore. "Riddle wrote it when he was a fifth-year."
Dumbledore took the diary from Harry and peered keenly down his long, crooked nose at its burnt soggy pages, then looked slowly over at Draco. "Fascinating. I had believed this destroyed."
"Apparently," a voice came dully from above, "I was mistaken."
"Severus!" Draco cried out, and flung himself over and hugged Severus for the second time in his life. He felt he deserved it after his relative bravery, and if Severus didn't appreciate being covered in Basilisk blood just this once, well, could he really keep calling himself a Slytherin?
"Draco," Severus said, pushing him back to stare in dismay. "I came as soon as I heard." His gaze traveled to stare balefully at Potter. "I see Mr. Potter has once again been getting you into dangerous situations." But his venom was short-lived, except towards himself, once he looked back at the diary. "A Basilisk, I have heard. I was as mistaken then as when I believed that thing destroyed. Is it truly now?"
"It is," Draco said eagerly, and hurried to tell Severus the story Riddle had told them.
"It regenerated somewhere else," Severus said, and shook his head. "This is my carelessness. I am entirely at fault. Headmaster, if you wish for me to tender my resignation..."
"Don't you dare," said Draco, and made to draw his wand.
"Or rather," Xenophilius interrupted, "My daughter must learn not to trust mysterious magical objects. I had thought I had educated her better than that." He stroked at Luna's matted wheat-silk hair and kissed her head. "I apologize on her behalf, Professor."
"I'm sorry," Luna said.
Severus picked up the diary and read the first page around the hole. "T.M. Riddle."
"Brilliant," Dumbledore said softly. "Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen. Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school... travelled far and wide... sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here."
Luna and her father both looked fascinated. "So that's Tom?" Luna asked, wiping at her eyes. "He was rather a strange boy. I'm sorry, Father, but I fell in love with him." She smiled up at her father, and then reached out and took Draco's hand. "I'm just lucky my cousin saved me."
Xenophilius Lovegood stared at him for a long moment. "I had never heard of ties of blood between our families."
What the hell. If Father could fabricate a relation between them and Salazar Slytherin, Draco could make one up that was actually worthwhile. "It's not like my family has ever really wanted to acknowledge it."
"Because you think you're a better sort than us, you mean."
"I don't think I'm better than anyone," Draco said, and then turned to Luna. "Luna, don't worry, it's not your fault..."
"Miss Lovegood should go up to the hospital wing straight away," Dumbledore announced. "This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort." Draco could attest to that.
Dumbledore strode over to the door and opened it. "Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up," he added, twinkling kindly down at her. "You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She's just giving out Mandrake juice- I dare say the Basilisk's victims will be waking up any moment."
"So Hermione's okay!" said Ron brightly, and Draco let his head fall and eyes shut in the deepest relief he had ever known, even greater than when Voldemort had fallen.
"There has been no lasting harm done," said Dumbledore. At that, Xenophilius led his daughter out. Draco thought to call out and ask him about the symbol around his neck, but he forgot once Dumbledore turned to McGonagall and said, "You know, Minerva, I think all this merits a good feast. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?"
"Right," said McGonagall crisply, also moving to the door. "I'll leave you to deal with Potter and Weasley, shall I?"
"Certainly," said Dumbledore, and Draco smiled at the smirk that put on Severus's face.
She left, and Potter and Ron gazed uncertainly at Dumbledore. "I seem to remember telling you both that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules," said Dumbledore. Ron opened his mouth in horror. "Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words," Dumbledore went on, smiling. "You will both receive Special Awards for Services to the School and- let me see- yes, I think 200 points apiece for Gryffindor."
"What?" Severus barked, and whirled on Dumbledore.
There was the House Cup lost, then.
"And Mr. Malfoy, naturally, will also receive a Special Awards for Services to the School, and 200 points for Slytherin."
There was the House Cup still lost.
"This is outrageous!" Severus growled, turning to snarl at Potter in turn. "This foolish, arrogant boy drags my godson into needless peril yet again, violating every school rule, and in the process, Slytherin is the one punished-"
"Severus," Draco interrupted, grabbing at his sleeve. "Severus, he saved my life."
Severus stared down at Draco, then stalked out of the office without a word.
"Don't worry, Draco," Dumbledore said, and patted him on the shoulder. "I do believe that is Severus's way of saying how happy he is to see you return safely. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy, I will require a word alone with Mr. Potter before he may go."
"Thank you, Professor," said Ron, and led Draco out of the office. He laughed when Draco sat right on the floor, facing the door. "Are we waiting for Harry?"
"No," Draco said snottily, "Potter can do as he likes, I've thanked him more than enough already. My legs just need more of a rest before moving."
Ron let out a shuddering laugh, then let his head fall back against the wall. "Bloody hell, Draco, all the time in there, I kept thinking, what would have happened if you hadn't taken that diary away? Would that have been Ginny down there in the Chamber of Secrets?"
"There's no knowing," Draco lied. "It's not like I managed to-"
"Thank you is what I'm trying to say, you git," said Ron, and shoved him in the side, and then they both started to laugh.
"Thank you, Ron," Draco muttered. They both smelled like hell, and he didn't even care. He was just so, so relieved. "Thank you for keeping me calm while Potter fought the Basilisk."
"You kept me calm," Ron laughed, and a squeaky voice above them declared,
"Draco Malfoy is doing many great things!"
Ron jerked back, eyes wide like he'd never seen a house elf before- or at least, one talking to Draco, that was for sure. "Dobby!" Draco said excitedly. "Dobby, did McGonagall come to the kitchens and tell you?"
"Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter saved the school, she said! Dobby was so happy!"
"Hey, I was there too," Ron said with a grin. "You gonna introduce me or what?"
"Dobby, this is Ron Weasley, a friend of mine, and of Harry Potter," Draco said with an easy grin. Ron's gaze went to Draco, shocked at the use of the word friend, only to turn twice as shocked when Draco added, "Ron, this is Dobby, another friend of mine. He works in the Hogwarts kitchens. He used to work at Malfoy Manor before my father freed him."
Ron squinted up at Dobby. "A friend of Draco's? That's the first time he's ever even called me friend."
"Draco Malfoy likes to pretend he does not care," Dobby said sagely, "But Draco Malfoy is always caring very much more than he wants to. Draco Malfoy was very lonely when Harry Potter and his friends thought he was the Heir of Slytherin-"
"Dobby!" Draco hissed furiously. "Have you showed up to congratulate or embarrass me?" He held up a hand and Dobby stared at it. "Slap it. Give me a high five. What? It's a Muggle thing. Hermione's family taught it to me. It seems appropriate."
Dobby looked worried he would have to shove his head in the oven for it a couple times, but eventually, he leaned down and slapped Draco's palm. Ron followed suit, and then surprised Dobby by gently slapping his palm too.
"Are you why Hermione was checking out all those books on house elves at the start of the year?" Ron asked Dobby. "She thinks you all should be free, you know," and Draco leaned back against the wall, letting the two of them sink into a bizarrely natural discussion, until a familiar tap made his blood go cold.
"Draco Lucius Malfoy, what is the meaning of this?"
The others fell silent, Dobby instantly at the sound of that walking stick. Draco looked up to see Father looking down on the three of them, and then saw the scene through Father's eyes: his only son and heir covered in dried blood and filth, beside a boy similarly dirtied, but not enough to hide he was a Weasley. The one family Draco had promised to stay away from in their deal. Then there was Dobby, the house elf Father had freed for helping Draco defy his will. Hanging out there with Draco on a corridor floor, chatting.
"Father," Draco nodded. He put a hand on Ron's arm, to keep him from leaping up screaming obscenities over Father targeting his sister. "Come to congratulate me?"
"What?" Father breathed, and Draco smiled up brightly.
"I've received an award," Draco told him serenely, "For Special Services to the School."
Father stared at him for a moment of deranged bafflement, then seemed to decide Draco was beyond help. "What is this piece of vermin doing here?" It would have been hard to tell if he meant Ron or Dobby, had his gaze not turned towards the latter.
"Dobby," Draco said, "Is employed at Hogwarts."
"Employed," Father echoed, lip curling. "I knew this place was going to the dogs, but this is beyond the pale. No wonder Dumbledore was allowed to sneak back in unchecked after he had been removed. That will not stand for long." His gaze swept over them contemptuously. "Yes, we are due for more than a few changes around here." He looked towards the door, as if ready to stomp in, then looked twice at Draco and started. "What is that all over you? Is that blood?"
"Doesn't miss a trick, your father," Ron said quietly in Draco's ear. Draco bit his lip to keep from grinning. Since seeing Potter pull the sword from the Basilisk's mouth, he had been riding a high like he was untouchable, Malfoy Invincible, like catching the Snitch a hundred times in a row. Even Father's rage was unreal in comparison to Potter's victory.
"Is that your blood?" Father asked, momentum of fury faltering.
Draco shrugged elegantly. "Why do you think I'm on the ground?"
"Do something, creature!" Father hissed furiously, and was dragging Draco down the hall, around the corner from the others, in search of wounds, before Draco could tell him he was joking. "Where? Where are you hurt?"
"It was a joke, Father, I'm fine, none of it's my blood," Draco said shakily, and Father stared in his eyes long enough to wrench at Draco's heart, with that face he had used to venerate more than anything-
"We can change that," Father said coldly, and raised his walking stick. Draco ducked and drew his wand. They stared at each other for a long moment. Then Father stalked back around the corner.
"Draco, what did your father want?" Ron exclaimed. "Are you alright?"
Draco winced. "Come on, Dobby, I think you're going to want to see this."
He led Ron and Dobby in, where Father seemed to be raging at Dumbledore over his return.
"Well, you see, Lucius," said Dumbledore, smiling serenely, "The other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They'd heard that Xenophilius Lovegood's daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all. Very strange tales they told me, too. Several of them seemed to think that you had threatened to curse their families if they didn’t agree to suspend me in the first place."
Draco stood by what he had told Riddle, about finding Dumbledore more intimidating. He had never seen Father that cowed by anyone other than Voldemort.
"So- have you stopped the attacks yet?" he sneered. "Have you caught the culprit?"
"We have," said Dumbledore, with a smile.
"Well?" Father said sharply. "Who is it?"
"The same person as last time, Lucius," said Dumbledore. "But you may be better served by asking that question of your son."
"My son," Father said violently, "Is not the Heir of Slytherin, whatever you prejudiced vermin have spread about him over the school, making his life hell! Why is my son covered in blood?"
It would have been a neat spin of events if it hadn't been so transparent. Potter caught sight of the three of them inching in the door and blinked at the uncommon sight of a house elf, while Dobby waved merrily at his beloved Harry Potter.
"What is he doing here?" He stared up at Father fiercely, and then climbed to his feet, stalking forward like an avenging angel.
"Mr. Potter," Father said frostily, "We meet again." His gaze traveled down, only to freeze at the sight of the sword hanging bloody from Potter's hand.
"The Sword of Gryffindor," Potter said sharply, and half-tossed the sword, loosening and tensing his grip again before it dropped. "Ever heard of it? Not as flashy as Slytherin's Basilisk. But it did the job."
"Lucius," Dumbledore said, "I am curious. Where did you happen to first meet Mr. Potter?"
"Borgin & Burkes," Potter said with a grim smile, and with the hand not holding a blood-stained sword, held up the diary before Father's face, showing him the hole seared into it. Then he held it out to Father, and Draco held his breath. "You can have your diary back if you like, Mr. Malfoy. It's of no use anymore."
Father looked much like he had in Azkaban in that moment, glancing between all of the objects in that office hostile to him, Dumbledore and Potter and a Weasley and a discarded house elf and a sword and ruined diary, and perhaps his own son too.
As Father's eyes came to rest on Draco, that was the question.
"Lucius," Dumbledore said calmly, "If you will not be wanting the diary back, I believe you have no further business at Hogwarts. A pleasure seeing you as always."
Father's eyes fastened not on Draco but Dobby. "You should know, Headmaster," Father said coolly, "That you are harboring unlawful elements in your midst. This... creature," he said, shuddering as if merely referencing Dobby's existence sullied his lips, "Was dismissed from my family's service. For endangering my son with dark magic, exposing him to a dangerous wand whose possession has warped my son's magic, and it seems his mind. With him present here, you risk every one of your students to the same fate that nearly befell the Lovegood girl. But then what should I expect, from a man who has delighted from the beginning of his tenure in bringing disgrace to the name of Hogwarts?"
Ron drew himself up tall, and Draco could hear his father in his voice as he said, cool as ice, "Oh, I think we all have a different idea of what disgraces the name of Hogwarts, Mr. Malfoy."
Father looked down at Dobby and said softly, clearly meaning every word, "I should have not have freed you. I should have put an end to you then and buried you in an unmarked grave."
And Dobby drew himself up and shouted, "Lucius Malfoy is no good at punishments!"
It was fortunate for Father's sake that he left Hogwarts as quickly as he did, as he would hardly have approved of the feast that Dobby left after to help rustle up. Most everyone was in their pajamas, and after cleaning himself up, Draco didn't bother dressing all the way back up. He just slid on his cashmere slippers and his Slytherin-green silk pajamas, with the cashmere sweater Mother had given him on top. Father would have disowned him on the spot at the sight.
He was gratified he had not dressed up, though, when he saw Potter and Ron were coming into the Great Hall from the other end in their bright red pajamas and dressing gowns. He stopped at the threshold of the Entrance Hall, staring at that one slight red-clad form of Potter in the distance disappearing into a knot of congratulations, and then he heard a voice tentatively calling his name. "Draco? Oh, Draco, are you alright?"
Pansy was staring out in his direction from the Slytherin table, surprisingly pretty with her mussed hair and jade-green ribbons in her frilled nightgown. From the smile she gave him, it seemed the prospect of his impending death had made her forgive him at last.
"Hello, fellow Slytherins," Draco said loftily. He strode up with his best swagger to the table, electing between bragging about his award or the 200 points he'd won for Slytherin. But a glance at the House Cups out of the corner of his eye, with Gryffindor's now-towering lead, told him it was best not to bring points up at all.
"I regret to inform you all that despite popular rumor, I was not the Heir of Slytherin, and in fact was integral to the accomplishment of the real Heir's demise. You may all finish out the school year and the years ahead, comfortable in the knowledge that one of your own has protected you from the terrible threat that imperiled you all-"
"We're purebloods, Draco, none of us were in danger," Blaise interrupted, and Draco serenely ignored him.
"I will be accepting all of your apologies for persisting in the belief that I was behind the heinous attacks on our school. I can understand the confusion, given my exceptionally high level of magical prowess, but rest assured that were I to assert myself with dark magic within the halls of Hogwarts, I would do so with narrower focus, to my benefit. Have I made myself clear, children?"
"Oh, do shut up," said Blaise, and hauled him into a hug between him and Theo, with the others reaching over and clasping Draco on the shoulders. "We're slightly gratified you're not dead, you great blowhard. Now shut your mouth and have some pie."
Draco thought he may never have been happier, before he cut into a piece of his own miniature meat pie, his favorite minced flavor with mint like back at the Manor, and saw written on a small enchanted piece of paper:
Draco Malfoy must eat well and finish this whole pie!
-A friend in the kitchens
Draco smiled down at the paper and pocketed it, only to hear a small uproar coming from the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, as from the marble stairs descended two slight, long-haired figures, one taller and sleeker, and one with a bushy brown halo of hair-
"HERMIONE!" Draco screamed, and practically shoved Longbottom into Parvati Patil's lap in his mad dash to rush over to her.
She was just as hysterically loud and happy in his ear as she squealed, "You solved it! You solved it!" She shrieked the same to Ron and Potter as they came up, embracing them in turn, and when Draco saw the turquoise charm bracelet on her wrist, the sight of the H charm gave him a brief flash of disquiet, but in the end, Draco wasn't infallible. Anyone could mess up a tracking charm.
"I'm sorry," Draco tried to tell her, and she frowned and shoved him in the chest.
"The only apology I want to hear," she told him excitedly, "Is from Ron and Harry, for thinking you were the Heir all along! I mean, honestly! Will you admit I was right now, boys?"
Ron looked vaguely queasy, and mumbled something that could have been generously mistaken for an apology to Hermione, but Potter just looked alarmed. "Wait. This doesn't mean I have to wear a Slytherin uniform again, do I?"
"Oh, don't worry, Potter, there wasn't any formal bet," Draco drawled, pathetically eager to have Potter's gaze turn to him even now. "Even though you did look fetching as a Slytherin."
"Nothing has changed, has it," Hermione said to Ron contentedly, and threw an arm around Draco and Ron's shoulders. "Come on, boys. I'm hungry."
Draco winced. "I should go back to my own table. No one wants me at Gryffindor-"
"That's not true," she said fiercely. "You saved the school, Draco-"
"I mean, honestly, my major contribution was just keeping Ron from getting himself killed by staring moonily at the Basilisk," Draco shrugged, enjoying the elbow he got in return, only to start when he felt a hand brush his, just for a moment.
"You were so brave," Potter said admiringly. Draco meant to say a smart comeback, but just ended up staring at Potter until Ron pulled him away.
Draco snagged Hermione's arm for a final word. "I should sit with the Slytherins," he told her, "But I want us to visit each other again this summer, and I honestly couldn't give a knut what my father thinks of that."
"Oh, Draco," she said, and hugged him again, sniffling into his shoulder. "We'll all go see Arsenal at Highbury."
Draco didn't think he could get any happier, even after he finished Dobby's whole pie, and even after McGonagall announced exams had been cancelled as a school treat. Except then around half past three Hagrid came striding in, looking none the worse for wear, with a rather bedraggled but still recognizably spiky stuffed dragon under his arm. And Dumbledore announced that Lockhart had left a note that he had been suddenly called away on urgent business in Zanzibar, and needed to resign his position immediately. Read, Draco supposed, that he had fled the country posthaste, rather than be unmasked as a fraud in the wake of abandoning Hogwarts in its hour of need.
It had Draco reflecting on the blue loop. He remembered Lockhart losing his memory and ending up permanently in St. Mungo's last time, and now the man was presumably on the run but intact- well, as intact as Lockhart had ever been. Had Draco really saved Gilderoy Lockhart from his fate?
If he had, he could not begrudge the gilded peacock his escape, knowing that Lockhart and Draco had held something unexpected and very rare in common: a great esteem for Severus Snape. Even if Severus up there at the high table had never had any idea of Lockhart's affection, the man had loved Severus, and Draco had to feel some gratitude to have rescued a mind capable of that.
In any event, Lockhart and his unrequited love had left the building. Much to the joy of Hogwarts. Even Hermione stood up to cheer, though all the way across the Great Hall, Draco could still detect a bit of a sullen pout on her face as she sat back down.
Luna Lovegood did not make an appearance during the feast, which cast the one shadow over it all. But she appeared the next day at the entrance to the Slytherin dungeons, asking a baffled Vince if her cousin was inside.
And the happiest day was yet to come: the day Draco went to Severus's rooms and found the wards let him in, recognizing him as Severus's godson.
Mother sent a letter saying Father had been sacked as school governor. Draco rejoiced in the news along with Dobby and the Gryffindors, agreeing with them that Father could have expected no less when he'd threatened the board's families. He chose to keep his other opinion, that Father would have been better off risking using the Imperius curse, all to himself.
He amused Hermione by complaining about her not receiving a Special Award like the boys had, given the role her research had played in uncovering the mystery. But she seemed philosophical about the whole thing. "Oh, it's a fine thing Ron and Harry got this extra award," she said smugly. "It can console them for how many more OWLs I'm going to get than them."
Draco frowned. "What about me? I got an award, and I'm going to get lots of OWLs too."
Hermione smirked. "Not as many as me. I'm taking all the electives next year."
Draco didn't ride in the train compartment with Potter, Hermione, and their excess of Weasleys, where Filibuster Fireworks and all sorts of nauseating Gryffindor things seemed to be unfolding. He went straight to the back of the train to join Luna Lovegood, who spent the trip beside her new cousin telling him rather fascinating stories, about her brief but unforgettable time with her onetime soulmate, Tom Riddle.
The Gryffindors caught up to Draco as they were exiting the Hogwarts Express, and Draco fell into step with Hermione, to go back through the barrier together. She linked her arm with his and tried to give him a bit of parchment, which he happily took until she told him it was from Potter. "It's for you," she said. "It's a telephone number. He says after you spent a week with me and my parents, you should know how to work a telephone. He wants us all to call him up, because he can't stand just having those awful relatives of his to speak to. Draco, you should consider it-"
Draco detached from Hermione to stalk over to Potter. "Harry Potter," Draco said harshly, while Ron held up his own piece of paper and smirked behind it. "What is this nonsense about expecting me to call you on this Muggle telly-phone? Just because you're the almighty slayer of Basilisks does not mean a Malfoy would lower himself to-"
"It's not like you ever write me any letters," Potter interrupted, practically whining.
Hermione caught Ron's eye over Draco's shoulder. Ron wheeled past them, and he and Hermione went through the barrier together, leaving them behind. Rather than follow, Draco had to face this comically needy version of Potter.
"Potter," Draco said. "What is this I hear? Could it be the savior of the wizarding world begging for my attention?"
Potter's cheeks turned a scarlet color Draco knew he would miss over the months to come. "Don't flatter yourself. It would just do the Muggles I live with some good to see some contact with you over the summer. They're terrified of you."
"As they should be," Draco said, and preened with satisfaction.
Potter was staring at him, even when Draco turned to push their trolleys through the brick. "Potter, we are getting in the way of passerby. Even saving the school can only buy you so much goodwill before the first-year Hufflepuffs begin the stampede."
Potter pulled him aside, face still flushed, and Draco drank in the sight of those green eyes fixed on his one more time. "You will write to me this time, won't you?" Potter pressed. "I'm worried about you with your father. I'm not letting you go until you promise."
"Okay," Draco said, knowing he shouldn't agree, but said it nonetheless. "No need to beg any further, Chosen One, this is getting embarrassing. Now, come on, then. I believe I have some Muggles to terrify for you."
"Can't wait," said Potter, and with a great sprint, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter went through the bricks and left Platform 9 and 3/4 at the same time.