The people in the corridor held their breath.
No one knew what Draco intended to do to Harry—
Mock him?
Provoke him?
Humiliate him?
What no one expected was—
Draco reached out a hand. His fingers were long, his knuckles distinct, his nails neatly trimmed. That hand paused in midair, as if confirming something, then lightly and slowly settled on the collar of Harry's school robes.
Ron's pupils contracted sharply. "What are you doing?!" His body reacted faster than his mind. He lunged forward and reached out to shove Draco in the shoulder.
Draco did not dodge. He did not even look up at Ron. The hand straightening Harry's collar paused slightly, then continued—pulling out the collar that had been wrinkled beneath the strap of his bag, setting the crooked school badge straight, and smoothing the folds in the fabric with his fingertips. He moved neither quickly nor slowly, like a gardener pruning an expensive bonsai.
Crabbe and Goyle stepped forward at the same time behind Draco. The step was not heavy, but when two bodies weighing over two hundred pounds moved together, the floor trembled faintly. Ron's hand froze in midair, less than a fist's length from Draco's shoulder. His fingers were spread, his knuckles white, like a hunting dog chained in place and straining desperately to pounce.
"Weasley." Draco finally spoke, his gaze still resting on Harry's collar. The curve at the corner of his mouth had not vanished since before he began straightening it. "Protecting your master?" He pronounced the word "master" so softly it was like smoke that could be blown away with a breath, yet that very lightness was a sharper humiliation than any emphasis could have been. "After all these years, you still haven't learned. Potter gets bullied by his own housemates, and you're