The trio seems to have something to say about you and Draco's newfound friendship, especially Harry.

THIRD YEAR

As your time in Hogwarts began to increase, so did the time you spent with Draco Malfoy. You found yourself unconsciously enjoying his company more than the others, and he seemed to feel the same as the two of you often ate lunch and dinner together, choosing to take your conversations in the dark hallways at night, both of you clad in your winter robes, your white scarf still around your neck and his Slytherin one loosely hanging off the collar of his neck.

It was no mystery when one of you was missing that they were with the other. In only a few weeks, the rest of Hogwarts seemed to grow accustomed to the sudden change done with the Prince of Slytherin and the Girl from America.

But during your time in Hogwarts, the news of Sirius Black escaping from Azkaban spread like a wildfire in California—so stricter curfews were put in place and notice was sent back home in America, and you were given a response quickly requesting you returned home before the month was over. You had expected to at least spend another month before being sent home, but a dangerous convict escaping prison was probably the only reason to be sent home before your expected time.

It was nighttime when you finally sat down, working on your DADA homework that Professor Lupin had assigned, associated with research about certain potions that you had personally believed should be labeled under Dark Arts. There were several options out there in the world, and there were several that harmed and weren't considered dangerous.

It wasn't uncommon for you to be in the Gryffindor common rooms or dorms during your stay at Hogwarts. You had your little room in the castle, but you were often found roaming the halls and common rooms, particularly Hufflepuff's, considering they were the most welcoming. But this evening, you were situated in the Gryffindor Common Room, sitting on one of the lush armchairs beside the warm hearth, your quill flicking up and down with every stroke of your writing.

Harry and Ron were sat on the couch, their papers practically discarded as they preferred to speak to one another about rumors and quidditch while Hermione sat at the foot of the couch, diligently working on her paper, most likely ensuring her likely success of achieving full credit on her assignment. She wasn't the "brightest witch of her age" for no reason.

As the night went on, your work seemed to slowly become forgotten, the fire the right amount of enchanting and listening to the trio recall the events of the day. But all became a bit grim as Harry brought up Sirius Black, and the mood between the four of you seemed to darken as they theorized why the murderer had broken out of the most secure prison in the Wizarding World.

But much like trying to evade the night, they could talk it to death and nothing would change and nothing could be discovered from it as Hermione gradually shifted the topic away from Sirius Black and onto you and how you would be returning to America extra early this year, despite the promise of your terms of coming to Hogwarts for longer periods.

"My parents are worried about Sirius Black, and all," you muttered, leaning your head onto your hand as you closed your eyes. "I doubt he would come here and all, but my parents are just paranoid–it's already hard enough I'm going across the globe to go to school."

"But it still is a good reason," Ron voiced, his head resting on his hand that was propped up on his knee, the evident drowsiness of the day slowly taking effect on him as his eyelids drooped a little. "I mean, my parents are worried too–bloody hell, my mum wants me to come home for a while."

There was an understanding for parental concern hanging in the air–that was until you looked to Harry. You knew his life outside of Hogwarts wasn't practical or optimal, but the distant look in his eyes seemed to tell you that he was far, far away, somewhere where he wasn't hearing what the rest of you were talking about.

"Harry-"

"Why've you been hanging around Malfoy more?"

The question was out of the blue, sudden, and somehow unsurprising. You had figured that one of them would ask about it soon–perhaps you hadn't expected it to be tonight.

"We're friends."

"Friends?" Hermione echoed, the wildly haired brunette seemed to finally put her work down, spinning her head to look at you from her perch on the ground with the boys, eyeing you curiously. "With Draco Malfoy?"

You blinked. Then you looked to Ron who looked equally, if not more baffled than Hermione. "Malfoy? Why would you want to be friends with that arsehole?"

"Ron," you said.

"He's right, Y/N," Harry said, his round glasses almost creating a glare from the fireplace, a glint that hid his eyes away from you as he seemed to stand his ground on the matter. "Malfoy's not a good person–he's not-"

"Why do you say who and who I can't be friends with?" You inquired, looking to the boy who lived pointedly, your brow raised and your muscles tensing.

"I'm not saying that," Harry argued, looking rather flustered and frustrated. "He's just not someone you want to be around, Y/N. Malfoy's.." He trailed off, pursing his lips together and shaking his head as he exhaled heavily through his nose, looking past you.

"Draco's not like that," you replied, bringing your legs up onto the chair with you as if stating that you were comfortable with this conversation. You didn't plan on running away to your dorm. "He's nice and funny, and sweet-"

"That's everything Malfoy isn't," Harry interrupted, his eyebrows drawn together with the utmost concentration and focus as if he was intent on continuing with the conversation as well. "Malfoy is just–just messing with you. Frolicking around likes he's some nice guy that will change his ways to be friends with you and all."

"You hardly know him at all Harry," you countered, drawing back instinctively as if you were the one he had said such cruel things about.

Draco was your friend, and a friend of yours didn't deserve to be treated poorly when they had no means of defending themselves. Perhaps it was because you knew Draco personally that these heated discussions of Draco's choices and apparent reputation he had seemed to bother you more and more.

You had noticed it at the Great Hall. The more and more you heard little First Years mentioning how big, bad, and scary Draco Malfoy was, and how you scoffed at the idea of it. But the more you watched the way other students watched Draco and you with those uneasy curious glances, you all but slowly began to understand the reputation that Draco and his family name carried.

You had confronted him about it, asking if he had any intention of continuing the behavior he had done in the first and second years. Draco seemed reluctant to even admit it to you, and it took a long time before he agreed with you, despite voicing his concerns his father would catch word of him acting soft.

Lucius Malfoy was a mystery to you. You'd never met the man, and Draco spoke of him in high praise, as if he wanted to be exactly like him. But there was always that underlying look in his eyes when he stopped talking about him as if that was what Draco didn't want to be.

But the coldness in Harry's eyes as he continued to list reasons for you to not associate with Draco reminded you of something, a look Draco often had when you ended up leaving to go with other friends, or even worse, the trio.

"Why're you jealous?" You said it before you could think of what you said.

A chill seemed to fall over the room, Harry's face turning red as Ron's mouth fell open and Hermione's jaw clenched firmly.

"I'm not!"

"It feels like you are," you replied, a familiar heat underneath your skin, simmering. It felt like your skin was prickling. "Why is he so important to get so riled up over? Why are you so irritated?"

"Because," Harry's frustration was palpable, and his humiliation was evident in the flush that covered his face. He fumbled for something to say, moving his lips but no words came out. His eyes finally met yours again, and perhaps it was his anger or your disdain of this matter that pushed him over the edge and he rose from his seat. "Whatever,"

Harry grabbed his bag and robe that he had discarded onto the arm of the couch and gathered them into his arms. He was beginning to leave when he seemed to finally have something to say as he looked back to you, his brows pulled together with a crease in the middle of them. "When he hurts, and I mean it, don't think I'll feel sorry for you."

With that, Harry left and ascended to the boy's dorm. There was an uneasy silence that fell over you and your friends in the common room, the fireplace crackling being the only thing breaking the silence of the night.

It wasn't long before you stirred into motion yourself, carefully putting your parchment and ink and quill into your bag and grabbing your robes and scarf, throwing them over your shoulder as you began to make your way to the exit.

"Y/N," Hermione's voice carried through the silence. "Where are you going?"

"I just don't want to be here right now," you replied, albeit a bit hastily and sharp in your remark.

You left the Gryffindor common room without a second thought.