Title: Fool

Author name: Triola

Category: Drabble

Summary: Sometimes, people are fools. And sometimes, Harry feels the need to point this out.

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author notes: I don't post very often, because I don't write very often. This is barely anything at all, but it's what I have. Just something I couldn't get out of my head. It could probably have been part of a longer story, but I didn't feel like writing a longer story around it, so you'll just have to imagine it for yourself. Short drabble is short, but at least it's something, yeah?

Warning: Mentions of slash

Harry closed his eyes briefly to stave off the impending headache before opening them to look at the woman in front of him. She was elderly, a good fifty years his senior, with curls so grey they bordered on purple and a pair of brown horn-rimmed glasses that reminded him uncomfortably of his second grade English teacher. He did not know her personally, but he knew her by type. She was one of the many inhabitants of wizarding England who with relentless zeal had endeavoured to become his moral conscience, judging him unable to perform the task himself.

"Yes?" Harry said, choosing to acknowledge the lady only because she was blocking his path and trying to evade her would cause more trouble than it was worth.

"It's an abomination!" The woman exclaimed and Harry sighed, nodding along as she went into a tirade she had more than likely practiced in front of the mirror hoping for just this opportunity to tell him a piece of her mind. He had gotten very good at ignoring people like her in the last couple of weeks, letting them say their piece before nodding pleasantly and wandering off. It always left them a bit baffled, but happy that he had at the very least stayed to hear them out, and certain that they would reach through to him in time.

"... a marked Death Eater!" Harry tuned in just in time for the main crescendo, and let the volume of her disapproval wash over him like a symphony.

"Yes, that is right," Harry nodded pleasantly. "My boyfriend does indeed have the Dark Mark. Well observed."

The woman narrowed her eyes. "You don't even try to deny it! The Malfoy brat should have been sent to Azkaban together with his parents! It's a disgrace! Murderers and rapists running around in the street, corrupting our children! Corrupting you!"

"Draco hasn't been corrupting me, Madam, but thank you for your concern." Harry gave her polite nod and made a move to walk around her, but she intercepted him and put herself in his way again. Feeling annoyed, Harry glared at her, silently daring her to continue.

"He's controlling you somehow, I know it, the real Harry Potter would never look twice on the likes of him, nevertheless date him! He's scum, filth, not worthy to walk among regular people!"

"Enough," Harry said sharply, feeling his calm evaporating with every word out of her mouth. "That's my boyfriend you're talking about, and I won't stand here and listen to you badmouthing him."

The woman reached out to touch him, and Harry jerked away, giving her a withering glare. "He's got you fooled, I can see that, but please listen to me," she looked at him imploringly. "I know him, I know his kind, they're bad news. He is only using you for his own malicious purposes, and you would do best to stay far away from Malfoy and the likes of him."

Harry gritted his teeth and took a deep breath before looking the woman straight in the eye. "How long have you known Draco?"

He was satisfied to see her blink confusedly. "What?"

"How long have you known Draco?" Harry repeated the question as pleasantly as he could, biting back the sarcastic comments that were threatening to spill through his mouth.

"Well, I don't know him personally, but I know his kind. Dark wizards, Death Eaters. Horrible people." The woman spat on the ground, her face contorting in anger.

"Do you know how long I have known Draco?" Harry continued, and he could see that his questions perplexed her.

"You've been dating for six months, according to the The Daily Prophet."

"Yes, that is true, but how long have I known him?"

The woman blinked, and Harry could see that it pained her to admit that, "I don't know."

"Since we were eleven," Harry said quietly, looking at her. "That is twenty years I have known him. Twenty years of knowing him personally, to yours 'knowing his kind'. Do you really think it is likely that you know him better than me?"

The woman spluttered and turned an unattractive puce colour.

"I have seen Draco Malfoy at his worst," Harry continued, interrupting her when she tried to speak. "I know what he's done, what he's capable of. Nothing you can tell me will surprise me. Do you really think I would not know my own lover? Know who he's been, who he is? Tell me, do you really believe he could fool me, after twenty years of knowing him?"

Harry looked the lady up and down as she struggled to control her shock and anger.

"Then you're the fool," he said simply and walked away.