"I still want some people to call me Harry," Harry said, because he didn't understand the first part of Draco's complaint at all. He hadn't shown off! He'd just dodged a lot, and he and Ted had practiced those spells constantly anyway. "Ron and Hermione do it, and you don't get all upset at them."
"They're going to have to change that if they want to stay your friends."
"What? No, they don't. I want—"
"You were showing off," Draco snapped. "I know that you weren't really intimidated by those spells. You talk about it like it's hard for you, but it's not!"
"I'm only not afraid of those spells because Ted and I practice them a lot—"
"Why is it so easy for you? Why are you so good in Defense all the time? Why are you so good at flying? I know you weren't on a broom before you came to Hogwarts because of the Muggles! So where did you get it?"
Harry blinked at him for a long moment. Then he said, "Draco, are you jealous?"
Draco stiffened as though someone had hit him with a Petrificus Totalus. "I am not," he hissed. "You take that back."
"I mean, it's okay if you are," Harry said, even though he was thinking of Dudley and how horrible it was to have a family member—or someone you thought was a family member—chase you around and beat you up. "I understand, it has to be hard to be an only child with a brother you thought was gone forever and suddenly he comes back—"
"I am not jealous! Why would I be jealous of you growing up with filth in the Muggle world and wearing clothes for years that made you look worse than Weasley?"
"Oi!" Ron said, coming back around the corner. "Harry, what's going on?"
"Henry!" Draco yelled, apparently losing his temper and his sanity at the same time. "His name is Henry! Why can't you get it right, Weasel?"
"That's enough!" Harry yelled back, appalled. He still thought this was about Draco being jealous that he was good in Defense, although he'd never known that Draco wanted to be good in Defense. "I told Ron I wanted to be called Harry, so he's just doing what I want! And don't call him names!" If Draco called Hermione a Mudblood next, then Harry was going to draw his wand and curse him, and he didn't care how angry their parents got about it or what notices he might get about underage magic.
"Your name is Henry!" Draco whirled around to face him again. "You should want them to say it! Or do you just wish that you were back with your kidnappers again and everyone called you Harry and thought you were a Potter?"
Harry stared at him. "No," he said, his voice softer than he meant it to be, because of the throbbing pain in his chest. It would have hurt less if Draco had hit him. "Of course not."
"Then tell everyone to call you Henry."
"No!"
"You're pathetic," Draco sneered at him. "A pureblood who clings to something kidnappers and traitors and Muggles call him." He turned and stormed away up the corridor.
Harry took a step after him, and then stopped. He was no longer even certain why Draco was so angry, whether he was jealous or really hated that people called Harry by his old (real) name, or whether it was something else. But he knew he wouldn't do any good by going and asking his brother right now.
"Mate? Are you okay?"
Harry took a deep breath and turned back to Ron. "I am. Come on, let's go and have tea."
He was glad that it was Ron here and not Hermione, because Ron just nodded and walked along with him, looking a little stunned himself, and not trying to make Harry "talk" about it or anything.
Harry's head was buzzing, and he barely remembered the conversation that happened between him and Ron and Hermione. He mostly listened to Hermione chatter on about Ted and what a brilliant teacher he was, again. Neither he nor Ron, by silent agreement, mentioned the argument that had happened with Draco. Hermione would turn herself inside out to make it "right," and she couldn't, not really.
But the ache remained in Harry's chest. Yeah, Draco had been angry. But Draco was the kind of person who got more honest, not less, when he was angry, and maybe this was his way of saying what he really meant.
What he really thought.
And the fear was there, sneaking through Harry's mind like an enemy he couldn't cast curses to combat.
Do Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy think that, too?
....
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