HP - The Face of His Enemy - Chapter 2
Title: The Face of His Enemy (Chapter 2 of 6)
Author: mahaliem
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: On the train to Hogwarts, Draco is hit with a curse that results in him reassessing who he is and who his true enemies are.
Disclaimer: JKR owns everything and everyone (except for some minor original characters).
Author's Note: I had written over 33,000 words of this story before Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince was sold. It is therefore AU. Any similarities between this story and JKR's is purely coincidental.
A huge thank you to my amazing and wonderful beta readers jasmasson and lastscorpion. Any remaining errors are mine and mine alone.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
"I want a word with you."
Draco glanced up from his book to see Granger storming towards him. He was at his favorite spot, beneath a beech tree near the lake. Longbottom had abandoned him to move closer to the Forest, busily studying plants and doing other Longbottomish things.
Earlier, he'd been warm and taken his robe off and, as Granger approached, her bushy hair twirling in the breeze, Draco realized that there was no Slytherin crest to give away his true identity. Additionally, he was wearing glasses as the spell he'd been casting on his eyes made his head ache when he read. Hiding the evil smile that threatened to erupt behind mock innocence, he rose to his feet.
"What have you done to Harry?" Hermione was now facing him, hands on her hips. "He practically hides every time you enter a room."
"I hide?" Draco rose to his feet and pushed his glasses up his nose as he'd seen Potter do many times. "What are you talking about, Hermione?"
"Harry?" Hermione cocked her head to the side, examining him for a moment. "I thought you and Ron went to Hogsmeade."
"I decided not to." Draco indicated the book on the ground. "Had too much homework."
A smile broke out on Hermione's face. "You're studying. Good for you, Harry."
Draco couldn't think what Potter would probably say to Hermione's praise. Probably blush, shuffle his feet, and mumble. Since Malfoys never did any of those three things, Draco changed the subject.
"Why did you want to talk to me, Hermione?"
"Truthfully, I thought you were Malfoy. You've been acting strangely around him lately and I was hoping to discover what he'd done."
Hearing Granger's sweet concern Draco got an idea. An absolutely terribly lovely idea.
"Hermione," he said in a shy voice. "What do you think of Malfoy?"
"You mean besides the fact that he's an obnoxious git and we all hate him?"
"Yes," Draco answered, doing his best to conceal his anger.
"And besides the fact that he's spoiled, bigoted, and not very bright?"
"Yes." Draco's hands clenched into fists.
And besides the fact that he's an arsehole who's going to grow up to be a Death Eater like his arsehole father?"
"Yes," Draco hissed, gritting his teeth.
Hermione sighed and thought about it for a moment. "He's okay, I guess. Why do you ask?"
"Before he changed, did you think he was... attractive?"
"What!"
"Well, he does have gorgeous skin, marvelous hair, and there's that wonderful way he strides through the halls."
"Prances," Hermione corrected. "He doesn't walk, he prances about like an idiot. We decided that last year."
"I do not..." Draco took a deep breath, calming himself. "I do not think Malfoy prances. I like the way he walks."
Hermione's brows furrowed. "Harry, you're not saying this because you like Malfoy, are you?"
Draco shook his head, then peered at Hermione through the mess of black fringe that partially covered his eyes.
"Of course not. Don't be silly." He paused until after Hermione finished breathing her sigh of relief before continuing. "Would it be so very awful if I did?"
"Well... um..."
Draco did his best to keep from laughing. Hermione looked completely poleaxed. He could tell that she wanted to be a supportive friend to the git he was impersonating, but, on the other hand, she was fighting the urge to shake some sense into him.
She decided to go for the middle ground by doing neither. "Harry, I know you don't have much experience, but it might be a good idea if you perhaps considered someone else."
"Why?"
"Well, it's just that you're so good and... and innocent. I'm sure you've always wanted to be in love first."
Draco shook his head and pushed the glasses up his nose again. "Changed my mind. Now I just want to shag."
Hermione gasped.
"You know, I might not live long, what with Voldemort and hordes of Death Eaters after me. Best to get what I can while I can."
"Oh." Gathering her wits, Hermione tried a different tack. "But wouldn't you prefer starting off with someone who might be more inclined to be sweet and gentle?"
"Why? I'd rather get right down to it, if you know what I mean."
"But Malfoy's such a slut."
"He's got experience, then. Bet he'll make it good."
At Hermione's expression of distaste, Draco knew that she wasn't going to let it go. What he had to do was make himself the lesser of two evils.
"I admit, it's not whom I really wanted. I'd much prefer..." Draco let his voice trail off.
As he'd hoped, Hermione leaned closer, intrigued. "Who, Harry?"
Once again, Malfoy looked at Hermione from under his fringe as she waited for his answer. "I'd prefer..." he watched as she held her breath in anticipation before he blurted out the rest. "You. You and Ron to be exact."
Hermione reeled backwards so fast that Draco thought she'd fall on her arse, but she somehow managed to keep her balance. He stepped forward, closing the distance.
"It'd be perfect. You, me, and Ron."
Her eyes were wide and she began to glance frantically around for an escape.
"We do everything together. We could do this, too. Also, I'd find out once and for all if I prefer birds or blokes." He advanced even closer.
Hermione held out a hand to ward him off. "Harry! Stop! I-I think you might have been right about Malfoy, after all."
Draco hid a smile. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. Yes, definitely."
"If you're not, you, me, and Ron could-"
"I'm sure!" Hermione shouted. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "I really think you should concentrate on Malfoy."
As she left, Draco let out a laugh. Potter wouldn't know what hit him.
* * *
"I need to go to the library and Longbottom is otherwise engaged," Draco announced to the trio as they worked on their homework, books and scrolls scattered about them. "Seeing how Dumbledore made you my keepers, you need to go with me."
He watched as Hermione, Ron, and Harry glanced at one another.
"Can't you put it off?" Ron asked, a scowl playing over his face.
"Some of us, Weasley, actually care about our grades."
"Fine." Harry sighed and rose to his feet. He was in the middle of packing up his satchel when Ron stood to do the same. Hermione, however, had a different idea.
"Harry should go with Draco alone," she said, stopping Ron in his tracks and causing Harry to stare at her. She shrugged as she replied. "It's silly for all three of us to leave off our own work, when one of us will do. Ron needs to concentrate on his own studies, and he needs me to help him."
"But..." Harry shot a quick peek at Draco, then looked at Hermione beseechingly. "You want me to go alone? With him?"
"Oh come now, Harry. It's the library, not the Forbidden Forest."
Potter turned to stare at him and Draco did his best to appear completely innocent and non-threatening which, unfortunately, only served to make Potter narrow his eyes in suspicion.
Giving up the effort, he sneered, "What's the matter? Scared I'm going to waylay you in some dark corner?" He let his gaze drift over Harry. "Or are you scared I won't?"
Swinging his satchel over his shoulder, Harry pushed past the blond. "You touch me, Malfoy and I'll make you beg for mercy."
"Promises, promises," Draco said airily.
* * *
They'd managed to make it most of the way to the library in peace and had turned a turn when Harry stilled for a second, then yanked Draco back behind the wall.
Before Draco could get a word out in protest, he found himself pressed against the wall with Harry's hand over his mouth.
This might have been fairly pleasant, but stupid Potter couldn't do anything right. He wasn't trying to cop a feel. There was no licking or biting. He wasn't taking advantage of the situation at all. Instead of rubbing against one another, Potter was too busy craning his neck to see around the corner.
He wondered how Gryffindors ever managed to make little baby Gryffindors.
After approximately ten seconds, the hand was removed from his mouth.
"Really, Potter. I must say that your waylaying technique needs work."
"Shut up," Harry hissed and began to step forward, moving extremely quietly.
Draco watched him, tilting his head as he did so in curiosity. "Whatever are you doing?
Harry spun to face him. "I said to shut up. If you can't keep your mouth closed, then stay the heck away from me."
"Well, since you asked so nicely..."
The look Harry threw at him would've made even his crazy Great-Aunt Black proud. Of course, he mused, Great-Aunt Black had been proud of the strangest things - such as that snuffbox that had bitten his finger when he was four. Lifting his hand, Draco bent over it to see if he still had the scar. When he raised his head again, there was no sign of Harry.
He hurried around the corridor, and at the next intersection of hallways, spied Harry down the one on the right. Opening his mouth to complain, he closed it again when another dirty look was shot his way.
They hadn't gone much further when Draco realised that all the stealth was because they were following someone. He tried peering ahead in an attempt to figure out who it was, but Potter grabbed him and forced him back. Within ten minutes, however, it became obvious where the mysterious person was heading - the Owlery, at the top of the West Tower.
As Harry began to climb what must have been the hundredth flight of stairs, Draco blocked his way.
"What?" Harry asked, confused.
"We're on the last landing. There's no reason to go any further. Nothing but the Owlery up there."
"He might be meeting someone," Harry whispered.
"And they'll have to come back this way, " Draco stated. Turning, he saw a door and pushed it open. The room was where supplies for the owls were stored. Wrinkling his nose at the smell, he motioned Harry to follow him inside. "We might as well wait in here so we don't get caught."
Giving one last look at the staircase ahead, Harry reluctantly entered the room after Draco and shut the door.
"What if they sneak by?"
"And your plan is to just rush in there? So Gryffindors aren’t actually brave, they’re just stupid."
"And Slytherins are nothing but lousy cowards. I remember first year during detention. We were in the Forbidden Forest and you ran away."
"I still maintain that was the wisest course of action."
"Cowards," Harry repeated again, not quite under his breath.
"Well?" Draco asked after a moment, leaning against a wall and folding his arms.
Harry ignored him.
Draco let out a huff of breath. "Explain who that is and why we're following him." When Harry still didn't answer, he straightened from the wall and added, "Or I could just go upstairs and ask the gentleman in question."
"No! Don't." When Draco relaxed again, Harry ran a hand over his face before answering. "It's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, okay?"
"Knotlace? What do you have against him? Thought he was an Auror before coming to Hogwarts. You know, on the side of good and all that rot."
"I've just learned to be a bit... wary of people who take the DADA position, that's all. They tend to have it out for me."
Letting out a noise of disbelief, Draco shook his head. "Right. Because everyone's life revolves around the great Harry Potter."
"I'm serious." Harry's voice became a bit more strained. "Quirrell had Voldemort stuck in his head. Lockhart tried to obliviate me."
"What about Lupin? Thought you and he had a special relationship." There was a bin near where Draco was standing. As he spoke, he opened it to find sacks of dried insects. Owl food.
"We did. We do. But you know how he's a werewolf? I was almost wolf chow."
"Oh." Draco picked up a dried grasshopper and flicked it at Potter, smiling when it hit him in the chest. Mentally, he scored himself a point.
"Then we come to the fake Moody."
"Wait a minute," Draco protested. " There's no way that wanker did more to you than to me. He turned me into a ferret and bounced me up and down the bloody wall."
Harry glared at him. "He arranged for me to portkey to a graveyard where I was tied to a tombstone, bled so that Voldemort could rise, and almost died."
Draco stubbornly glared back. "I was a rodent. Vermin."
"Voldemort tried to kill me," Harry snapped.
"Yes, but that happened to you. I was the one turned into a ferret, so it was much more traumatic." Another grasshopper was flicked and hit Potter on the forehead. That was worth two points, Draco decided.
Defiantly, Harry turned away from him. Draco thought he could hear him muttering "Must not kill." The next grasshopper hit Potter on the arse.
"Stop that."
A second grasshopper thudded against Harry's backside.
Then a third.
Harry exploded in rage. With a roar, he spun around and shoved Draco against the wall. "Stop that," he snarled.
"But it's such a tempting," Draco drawled the last word, then licked his lips, "target."
Harry sucked in a breath. "You can stop that, too."
"Stop what?" He licked his lips again and then shimmied his hips against Potter.
"And," Harry's eyelids fluttered down, "don't do that either."
Draco leaned his head forward and let his mouth ghost over Harry's ear.
"You think I should stand here then and take it? Take it from you?"
This time when Harry spoke, it came out as almost a groan. "What does a person have to do to Shut You Up?"
Letting his lips slide along Harry's jaw, Draco murmured, "All you have to do is ask."
Harry pulled back and his gaze wandered over Draco in fascination.
"Is that really how I look?" he asked, his voice shaky. "Do I really look like I want it so badly, I'll die if nothing happens? Hot and wanton and needy?"
"I doubt it." Draco reached out and jerked Harry back against him. "I just do you better than you do you."
A small snort of laughter escaped Harry before he could contain it. "Yeah. Right."
Determined to get the seduction back on track, Draco thrust his hips forward. When Harry gasped, he smiled in satisfaction.
"Let me show you what else I do better than you," he whispered.
His mouth was mere fractions of an inch away from Potter's when a noise came clattering from the stairwell.
"Knotlace," Harry said, breaking free and heading for the door.
That was the exact moment that Draco decided he really didn't care for the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at all.
* * *
"I don't understand," Harry muttered as they looked around the Owlery. Although they'd waited for more than ten minutes after Knotlace had passed by their hiding place, no one had followed him down. After a bit of arguing, some insults, and a death threat or two, they'd finally agreed to climb the stairs only to find the place empty. "What do you suppose he was doing up here?"
"It's an Owlery. He was probably sending a letter, you moron."
The floor was disgusting, Draco thought. It was covered with various feathers, straw, and droppings. Potter, showing a casual disregard for the state of his shoes, wandered over to where his white owl nestled and began stroking her.
"He was here an awfully long time just to send a letter." The owl was now rubbing against the hand that stroked her.
"Perhaps he has a hidden fetish for birds, like a certain someone else I could name." Draco looked pointedly at Potter and his owl.
Instead of acting insulted, Harry only smiled. "You're just jealous because Hedwig likes me, while your owl barely acknowledges your presence."
"Nonsense." Hands in his pockets, he cautiously stepped to where his eagle owl roosted, trying to avoid the more obvious piles of refuse. "We just don't believe in blatant fondling."
"Yeah. Right."
"Very well," Draco sniffed. "If it's proof you want..." He removed a hand from a pocket and lifted it to his owl's face, leaving it there for a few seconds before running his hand over the soft feathers of the head.
"I guess I was mistaken," Harry said slowly, his gaze assessing Draco in an effort to reconcile this new information with his previous knowledge.
"It simply shows how little you truly know me."
As Harry headed back down the stairs, Draco pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped his hands on it. He'd planned on launching those last two grasshoppers that he'd stowed away at Harry when he least expected it. Feeding them to his owl to prove Potter wrong, however, had been intensely satisfying.
Walking to the exit, he once again picked his way among the debris on the floor. As he neared the door, his eyes happened upon an enormous brown feather lying among the straw. Quickly he scanned the room, then exhaled in relief. He had no desire to meet whatever monster owl had lost that particular feather.
* * *
A few days later, Draco strode towards the pitch, broom in hand, with Neville hurrying to keep up next to him.
"I love Quidditch," he announced. "The sea of colours, the roar of the crowd, the feel of the wind in your hair, the scent of blood."
"The scent of blood?" Neville repeated, looking a little scared.
"Nothing for you to worry about. I think." Malfoy glanced at him. "You won't tell the Gryffindor team any strategies you see here today, will you Longbottom?"
Neville acted affronted.
"Of course not. I'm your loyal minion." He gave Draco a sheepish smile. "Also, I know next to nothing about Quidditch."
"Oh." Draco thought about that for a moment. "So... you wouldn't be able to tell me whether Weasley is planning on focusing his beaters on protecting his Chasers, have them actively harass my Chasers, or split them between the two then?"
"I did hear Ron say that-" Neville stopped and folded his arms across his chest. "Wait a minute. You're not trying to get Gryffindor secrets out of me, are you?"
"Absolutely not!" Draco protested. "How could you even think that I would stoop to such sneakiness?"
"Seven years of experience?" Neville suggested.
Draco let out a laugh. "Fine. You got me. But I was actually testing out how loyal you are, and you passed with flying colours. Besides, I'm already well aware that Weasley's going to have his beaters cover different areas of the pitch."
Neville relaxed. "Okay, but don't do that again. I don't want anyone to think I'm passing information to Slytherins."
As they continued on, Draco forced himself not to rub his hands in glee. Longbottom hadn't denied Draco's guess for Weasley's beater strategy. Now all he had to do was alter his team's plans to reflect that knowledge.
His mind was awhirl with different Quidditch strategies to employ when he realised that Crabbe and Goyle were blocking his way.
"Where do you think you're going, Potter?" Goyle growled.
"Probably wants to spy on us," Crabbe added.
"It's me, you idiots," Draco sighed.
His two Slytherin minions thought for a minute. Then they thought for another minute. "Prove it," Crabbe finally muttered.
"If the two of you don't get out of my way, I will hex you so that your genitals become daisies. Then I'll invite some first-years to play 'he loves me, he loves me not'."
Goyle looked at Crabbe. "That's Draco, all right."
Crabbe nodded his agreement.
At the pitch, Malfoy signaled for everyone to gather around.
"Gentlemen," he said, then added hastily, "and Ladies," when he spied a shape that might possibly be female. After taking years to establish that Blaise Zabini was male, Draco was no longer quite as confident on his ability to determine sex from appearances.
"Our purpose here today is to determine who will be on the Slytherin Quidditch team and enjoy all the glory and honour that entails, including first crack at any stolen test papers and a much higher likelihood of getting shagged at any point in time. We will also discover who will be on the reserve team, to bask in our reflected glory while quietly plotting accidents to incapacitate a starting player. Lastly, we will learn who will be sent away, dejected and humiliated, to continue their pitiful, miserable existences until the shame of failure leads them to remove themselves from this earth."
There were a few murmurs and a shuffling of feet, but Draco was pleased to note that everyone still seemed intent on trying out for the team.
"I'm aware of how other teams run their tryouts, testing how well a player performs a standard set of skills. But we Slytherins pride ourselves on making sure that only the very best are allowed to join, so listen carefully to the rules. First of all, no position is guaranteed, no matter how long you've held it. Everyone tries out, every year. Now - how many of you wish to play Keeper?"
Three hands were raised.
"Ah, new victims," Draco said.
The three students glanced at each other nervously.
"Each one of you will choose a hoop. You must stay within fifteen feet of that hoop at all times. A Keeper must be able to move quickly and be aware of where everything is. The beaters will help us test whether or not you have those skills. They'll be aiming bludgers at you. Every time they hit you, they score a point. Every time you dodge, you earn a point."
The aspirants for the Keeper position blanched.
"Chasers?" Draco said and a group looked at one another and moved forward. "You will attempt to catch the bludgers after they have passed the Keepers."
A small murmur ran through the crowd.
"Yes, I'm well aware that might sting a trifle, but for each catch you make you earn a point. After catching the bludger, you will throw it in an attempt to hit a beater with it. If you do so, you will earn another point. However if the beater hits the bludger without being hit himself, the point will be his."
He stopped and surveyed the group. "Any questions?"
"You actually have people who survive this?" Neville ventured.
Draco laughed and rolled his eyes.
"Gryffindors," he said disparagingly.
The other students also laughed, then mounted their brooms to begin.
"Insane, that's what this is," Neville muttered. "And what do you Seekers do? Toss knives at each other?"
"Of course not. We haven't done that in years."
Draco pointed his wand at the side of the pitch that was currently not in use and three times spoke a spell that Neville had never heard of before.
A growing rumble began and tufts of grass and dirt began to rise into the air, spinning and dipping as three miniature tornado spouts appeared.
"You chase Snitches in that?"
"Not Snitches." Putting his wand away, Draco drew a flower out of his pocket. He motioned for the three challengers for the Seeker position to move forward.
"There are exactly twenty-one petals on this flower. The one who collects the most petals becomes Seeker." With those words, he flung the flower into the maelstrom where it was quickly torn apart.
"Suicide." Neville's tone was hushed and filled with horror.
"Fun," Draco corrected. "Now if you will be so kind as to give us the signal to start?"
He and the other three students mounted their brooms.
"Three... two... one... Go!" Neville shouted.
Draco soared into the air. While the others plunged straight into the mass of coiling air, he swung to the side and slowly merged into it. His hand reached down low and snatched at a petal.
One.
Faster and faster he flew through the air, diving and rising as necessary. In practically no time at all he had gathered six petals. Never before had he found them so quickly. Instead of forcing his broom to obey his commands, it was a natural extension of himself. Each small shift of his body resulted in a change of direction. Not only was he flying better and faster than ever before, the petals seemed to come to him, as if 'accioed' to his hand.
When he had collected eleven, he realised he had obtained the majority. Although part of him wanted to remain on his broom and continue experiencing the wonderful feeling of being part of the air and sky, he forced himself to head for the ground.
As he landed, Neville ran up to him.
"That was incredible! I mean, I always knew you were good, but... but that was bloody well amazing."
Draco simply nodded, still a bit awed by the experience himself.
"I mean it," Neville continued. "If I hadn't known it was you, from the way you flew I would've thought it was Harry up there."
Draco's feeling of exuberance deflated.
"You're comparing me to Potter?"
"He flies the same way. Like the sky is where he belongs, instead of on the ground like the rest of us." He glanced at Draco's messy hair, green eyes, and glasses. "You don't suppose..." he started slowly.
Tossing his broom on the ground, Draco stalked off. He didn't want to hear the rest of Neville's sentence.
* * *
"Dauntmoor!"
.
A short, thin man hurried to stand at the front of the room. Two Dementors that had followed him inside clung to the shadows near the entrance. Flickering firelight served to highlight the gleam of nervous sweat that stained the man's features. His dark, beady eyes darted over to Pettigrew in the corner for a moment, then swiveled back to face the Dark Lord.
"Yes, Master?"
"Report. Is the device completed?"
"Yes, my lord." Dauntmoor reached into his pocket and pulled out a square box approximately six inches high. Opening it, he carefully retrieved a leather pouch. When he reached into it, something inside the bag began thrashing, as if attempting to race away from the invading hand.
After a moment, Dauntmoor let out a cry of triumph. When he withdrew his hand from the pouch, he was clutching what appeared to be a colourless, multi-faceted crystal tightly in his fist.
"That is it? Give it to me. Now."
Still holding it tightly, Dauntmoor stepped forward. "Careful, Master. It constantly seeks to escape."
A bone-white hand reached out and clasped the crystal. "Bah. This will not do. It is altogether too fragile."
"My apologies, but the device has been created to be impervious to all charms, hexes, and spells. Although it is susceptible to brute force, it will still be difficult to destroy for it was designed to avoid all touch. Release it and it will dart off, flying away at an astonishing speed and evading all attempts to capture it. It can neither be located nor retrieved with spells. It is, therefore, much tougher than it appears; practically invulnerable ."
The device was turned over in the claw-like grasp before at last being held out for Dauntmoor to take. Soon it was safely tucked away in its pouch and returned to the box.
"We will soon discover if your creation does all that you promise," the cold voice hissed. "Continue with your report. Has our servant acquired any new information?"
"He... he says that things are going slowly. There have been complications. Harry Potter is rarely alone."
The man cringed as he reported news that would not be well received.
"You would do well to remind our friend that obstacles are meant to be overcome. I did not strive over the last two years to discover the full prophecy, only to be denied the true meaning."
The cold voice rose in volume. "Let this serve as a lesson to all that I am not to be disappointed." A wand was pointed at a now trembling Dauntmoor.
"Crucio."
Draco woke, Dauntmoor's screams still echoing in his ears. As he pulled back the covers of his bed he realised that his heart was pounding and the scar on his forehead was throbbing in pain. Also, to his disgust, he found that he was covered with a light sheen of sweat.
Grabbing his wand from underneath his pillow and putting on his glasses, he marched across the room to where Harry was tossing and turning while murmuring protests in his sleep. Roughly, he shook him until green eyes blinked open and peered blindly at him. Pointing his wand, Draco muttered the spell he used on his own eyes to correct his vision.
If anything, Harry seemed even more confused. "What's wrong? What do you want?"
"I want some answers," Draco demanded, his voice rising in anger. "And the first things I want to know is what the bloody hell is going on with this stupid scar and what the hell did I just see?"
* * *
Draco couldn't believe his bad luck. It wasn't enough that he looked like Potter. It wasn't even enough that he flew like him now.
No, now he had to have the same awful nightmares as that loathsome prat, too.
After Potter had awakened, it had taken the idiot several minutes to figure out what had happened. Instead of explaining what was going on, he'd grabbed a couple of robes out of his trunk, flung one at Draco, and insisted that he dress. Draco had started to protest that he'd much rather wear his own robes which were so very much better, when Harry's eyes had narrowed and he'd acquired a look so downright dangerous, that Draco had quickly donned the robe in his hands.
The next thing he knew, he was at the entrance to the Headmaster's office, having been dragged there by Potter. Dumbledore arrived, wearing nightclothes of red, purple, and orange in a pattern that would haunt Draco for years.
They were shown into the office, and he made himself comfortable while Potter spouted excitedly about Voldemort, Dementors, and Unforgivables. He helped himself to a handful of lemon drops as Dumbledore nodded solemnly at several points during the recitation.
At last, Dumbledore turned to Draco. "You must understand, Mister Malfoy, that Harry's scar is a connection to Voldemort; more so than even the dark mark on the arms of his followers. It allows Harry to see what Voldemort is seeing."
"He can also send visions. False ones," Harry mumbled.
"The spell on you, the one which transformed you to appear to all as Harry, must have resulted in your sharing the same connection."
Draco swallowed the remainder of the lemon drops in his mouth, almost choking in the process.
"What? Are you telling me all that really happened?"
"Well... " Harry began.
"Most likely it did," Dumbledore interrupted. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that you are currently connected to Voldemort."
The man didn't look sorry at all, Draco decided. In fact, he'd say that the barmy old coot looked secretly pleased. If it had been anyone else other than one of the most powerful wizards living, Draco would've given into the temptation to see how sorry the man was after Draco doused that damned twinkle in the eye by poking it hard with a quill. In fact, he nearly did it anyway, despite Dumbledore's power.
Swallowing hard, Draco nodded his understanding and silently vowed revenge on everyone who was currently making his life a living hell.
At this point, the list was extremely long.
* * *
"Draco," Harry asked quietly as they began to make their way up the stairs to the Gryffindor rooms. "Is everything all right?"
"Everything’s peachy," Draco said sarcastically. "I just found out that, thanks to you and your friends, I'm now mentally connected to a Dark Wizard. Tell me, Potter, do you see him all the time? Do you know when he sleeps, eats, takes a... "
A thought struck Draco and he found that he couldn't hide his horror.
"Dear God, that creature doesn't have a sex life, does he? Because if I have to see him naked and... and... grunting, I'll die. I'll lose the will to live and shrivel up and die."
"Relax," Harry said. He began patting Draco’s back in attempt at comfort. "As far as I know, Voldemort is celibate. I haven't seen anything like that. Ever. It's usually him and his followers." He paused for a moment. "Voldemort has a really big snake too."
"Ugh! Yuck!" Draco said, completely disgusted. "That's definitely more information about the Dark Lord than I ever wanted to know."
Harry looked at him for a moment in confusion before letting out a laugh and shaking his head. "Not like that, you prat. I mean that he has a real snake, one that slithers on the ground, and hisses, and stuff."
"Oh."
They walked a bit further in silence. "So - you're okay?" Harry finally ventured, sounding a bit worried.
Draco opened his mouth to tell Potter exactly what he could do with his concern, when it struck him that he now had a unique opportunity. Harry wanted to comfort him. To make him feel better. Who was he to deny the Hero of the Wizarding World?
He stopped walking and leaned against the wall.
"It was awful," he said quietly to Harry, who was watching him and looking sympathetic. "It was a nightmare that I couldn't wake up from."
Harry leaned closer to him and Draco wondered if tears would be overplaying the part. Deciding that they were, he settled for making his lower lip tremble a bit.
When he was embraced, his face pressed into the crook of Harry's neck, he realised that his ploy had worked better than he'd anticipated.
"I'm sorry that happened to you," Harry murmured.
"I'm sorry, too," Draco answered busy contemplating the smooth skin in front of him. No, it was much too soon to start licking, he decided. Instead, Draco let his hands creep around Potter's waist and pull their bodies closer.
Harry's hands had begun to rub his back soothingly and Draco wished that they'd move a bit lower.
"If you want, we can go see Snape. Get some Dreamless Sleep potion."
A wave of panic washed over Draco. That was not a good idea at all. There was no way he could fool Snape into thinking that one vision of Voldemort had turned him into a weakling.
"No," Draco said, speaking the words against Harry's skin and sneaking in a slight taste at the same time. "I don't want Snape to know. I don't want anyone to know. But maybe..." He paused then shook his head. "No, it's too much to ask."
Harry pulled back a little, then tilted up Draco's chin with one hand.
"What's too much to ask?"
"I-I don't want to be left alone."
"You won't be. I'll be right across the room. You can wake me up any time."
"I suppose that'll have to do." Draco made his voice sound shaky. "I was just hoping that you could perhaps..."
"What, Draco?"
He raised his eyes to meet Harry's. "Stay with me. Just for the rest of tonight."
The git was actually considering it. Draco wanted to crow with victory, but turned and pretended to be dejected instead. He'd broken free of Harry's embrace and had only taken two steps away when he felt a hand on his arm.
"I'll do it," Harry said solemnly.
Later, as Harry climbed into his bed with him, Draco smiled. Although Potter tried to stay as far from him as it was possible in such a narrow bed, lying stiffly on his side, back to Draco, his efforts were ignored. He soon had Draco snuggled up against him.
After several minutes of concerted cuddling, he heard Potter sigh and relax. Morning would arrive soon, he thought. And perhaps, with the new day, there might be new opportunities - such as morning sex.
* * *
A horrendous sound woke Draco from a most delicious dream. The noise was followed by the immediate loss of his warm, cozy sleeping arrangement.
He yawned and resigned himself to another morning without sex.
Although not nearly an adequate substitute, Weasley's screams of horror at finding Draco and Harry in bed together were still intensely satisfying.
Back to Chapter 1
Chapter 3
Author: mahaliem
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: On the train to Hogwarts, Draco is hit with a curse that results in him reassessing who he is and who his true enemies are.
Disclaimer: JKR owns everything and everyone (except for some minor original characters).
Author's Note: I had written over 33,000 words of this story before Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince was sold. It is therefore AU. Any similarities between this story and JKR's is purely coincidental.
A huge thank you to my amazing and wonderful beta readers jasmasson and lastscorpion. Any remaining errors are mine and mine alone.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
"I want a word with you."
Draco glanced up from his book to see Granger storming towards him. He was at his favorite spot, beneath a beech tree near the lake. Longbottom had abandoned him to move closer to the Forest, busily studying plants and doing other Longbottomish things.
Earlier, he'd been warm and taken his robe off and, as Granger approached, her bushy hair twirling in the breeze, Draco realized that there was no Slytherin crest to give away his true identity. Additionally, he was wearing glasses as the spell he'd been casting on his eyes made his head ache when he read. Hiding the evil smile that threatened to erupt behind mock innocence, he rose to his feet.
"What have you done to Harry?" Hermione was now facing him, hands on her hips. "He practically hides every time you enter a room."
"I hide?" Draco rose to his feet and pushed his glasses up his nose as he'd seen Potter do many times. "What are you talking about, Hermione?"
"Harry?" Hermione cocked her head to the side, examining him for a moment. "I thought you and Ron went to Hogsmeade."
"I decided not to." Draco indicated the book on the ground. "Had too much homework."
A smile broke out on Hermione's face. "You're studying. Good for you, Harry."
Draco couldn't think what Potter would probably say to Hermione's praise. Probably blush, shuffle his feet, and mumble. Since Malfoys never did any of those three things, Draco changed the subject.
"Why did you want to talk to me, Hermione?"
"Truthfully, I thought you were Malfoy. You've been acting strangely around him lately and I was hoping to discover what he'd done."
Hearing Granger's sweet concern Draco got an idea. An absolutely terribly lovely idea.
"Hermione," he said in a shy voice. "What do you think of Malfoy?"
"You mean besides the fact that he's an obnoxious git and we all hate him?"
"Yes," Draco answered, doing his best to conceal his anger.
"And besides the fact that he's spoiled, bigoted, and not very bright?"
"Yes." Draco's hands clenched into fists.
And besides the fact that he's an arsehole who's going to grow up to be a Death Eater like his arsehole father?"
"Yes," Draco hissed, gritting his teeth.
Hermione sighed and thought about it for a moment. "He's okay, I guess. Why do you ask?"
"Before he changed, did you think he was... attractive?"
"What!"
"Well, he does have gorgeous skin, marvelous hair, and there's that wonderful way he strides through the halls."
"Prances," Hermione corrected. "He doesn't walk, he prances about like an idiot. We decided that last year."
"I do not..." Draco took a deep breath, calming himself. "I do not think Malfoy prances. I like the way he walks."
Hermione's brows furrowed. "Harry, you're not saying this because you like Malfoy, are you?"
Draco shook his head, then peered at Hermione through the mess of black fringe that partially covered his eyes.
"Of course not. Don't be silly." He paused until after Hermione finished breathing her sigh of relief before continuing. "Would it be so very awful if I did?"
"Well... um..."
Draco did his best to keep from laughing. Hermione looked completely poleaxed. He could tell that she wanted to be a supportive friend to the git he was impersonating, but, on the other hand, she was fighting the urge to shake some sense into him.
She decided to go for the middle ground by doing neither. "Harry, I know you don't have much experience, but it might be a good idea if you perhaps considered someone else."
"Why?"
"Well, it's just that you're so good and... and innocent. I'm sure you've always wanted to be in love first."
Draco shook his head and pushed the glasses up his nose again. "Changed my mind. Now I just want to shag."
Hermione gasped.
"You know, I might not live long, what with Voldemort and hordes of Death Eaters after me. Best to get what I can while I can."
"Oh." Gathering her wits, Hermione tried a different tack. "But wouldn't you prefer starting off with someone who might be more inclined to be sweet and gentle?"
"Why? I'd rather get right down to it, if you know what I mean."
"But Malfoy's such a slut."
"He's got experience, then. Bet he'll make it good."
At Hermione's expression of distaste, Draco knew that she wasn't going to let it go. What he had to do was make himself the lesser of two evils.
"I admit, it's not whom I really wanted. I'd much prefer..." Draco let his voice trail off.
As he'd hoped, Hermione leaned closer, intrigued. "Who, Harry?"
Once again, Malfoy looked at Hermione from under his fringe as she waited for his answer. "I'd prefer..." he watched as she held her breath in anticipation before he blurted out the rest. "You. You and Ron to be exact."
Hermione reeled backwards so fast that Draco thought she'd fall on her arse, but she somehow managed to keep her balance. He stepped forward, closing the distance.
"It'd be perfect. You, me, and Ron."
Her eyes were wide and she began to glance frantically around for an escape.
"We do everything together. We could do this, too. Also, I'd find out once and for all if I prefer birds or blokes." He advanced even closer.
Hermione held out a hand to ward him off. "Harry! Stop! I-I think you might have been right about Malfoy, after all."
Draco hid a smile. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. Yes, definitely."
"If you're not, you, me, and Ron could-"
"I'm sure!" Hermione shouted. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "I really think you should concentrate on Malfoy."
As she left, Draco let out a laugh. Potter wouldn't know what hit him.
* * *
"I need to go to the library and Longbottom is otherwise engaged," Draco announced to the trio as they worked on their homework, books and scrolls scattered about them. "Seeing how Dumbledore made you my keepers, you need to go with me."
He watched as Hermione, Ron, and Harry glanced at one another.
"Can't you put it off?" Ron asked, a scowl playing over his face.
"Some of us, Weasley, actually care about our grades."
"Fine." Harry sighed and rose to his feet. He was in the middle of packing up his satchel when Ron stood to do the same. Hermione, however, had a different idea.
"Harry should go with Draco alone," she said, stopping Ron in his tracks and causing Harry to stare at her. She shrugged as she replied. "It's silly for all three of us to leave off our own work, when one of us will do. Ron needs to concentrate on his own studies, and he needs me to help him."
"But..." Harry shot a quick peek at Draco, then looked at Hermione beseechingly. "You want me to go alone? With him?"
"Oh come now, Harry. It's the library, not the Forbidden Forest."
Potter turned to stare at him and Draco did his best to appear completely innocent and non-threatening which, unfortunately, only served to make Potter narrow his eyes in suspicion.
Giving up the effort, he sneered, "What's the matter? Scared I'm going to waylay you in some dark corner?" He let his gaze drift over Harry. "Or are you scared I won't?"
Swinging his satchel over his shoulder, Harry pushed past the blond. "You touch me, Malfoy and I'll make you beg for mercy."
"Promises, promises," Draco said airily.
* * *
They'd managed to make it most of the way to the library in peace and had turned a turn when Harry stilled for a second, then yanked Draco back behind the wall.
Before Draco could get a word out in protest, he found himself pressed against the wall with Harry's hand over his mouth.
This might have been fairly pleasant, but stupid Potter couldn't do anything right. He wasn't trying to cop a feel. There was no licking or biting. He wasn't taking advantage of the situation at all. Instead of rubbing against one another, Potter was too busy craning his neck to see around the corner.
He wondered how Gryffindors ever managed to make little baby Gryffindors.
After approximately ten seconds, the hand was removed from his mouth.
"Really, Potter. I must say that your waylaying technique needs work."
"Shut up," Harry hissed and began to step forward, moving extremely quietly.
Draco watched him, tilting his head as he did so in curiosity. "Whatever are you doing?
Harry spun to face him. "I said to shut up. If you can't keep your mouth closed, then stay the heck away from me."
"Well, since you asked so nicely..."
The look Harry threw at him would've made even his crazy Great-Aunt Black proud. Of course, he mused, Great-Aunt Black had been proud of the strangest things - such as that snuffbox that had bitten his finger when he was four. Lifting his hand, Draco bent over it to see if he still had the scar. When he raised his head again, there was no sign of Harry.
He hurried around the corridor, and at the next intersection of hallways, spied Harry down the one on the right. Opening his mouth to complain, he closed it again when another dirty look was shot his way.
They hadn't gone much further when Draco realised that all the stealth was because they were following someone. He tried peering ahead in an attempt to figure out who it was, but Potter grabbed him and forced him back. Within ten minutes, however, it became obvious where the mysterious person was heading - the Owlery, at the top of the West Tower.
As Harry began to climb what must have been the hundredth flight of stairs, Draco blocked his way.
"What?" Harry asked, confused.
"We're on the last landing. There's no reason to go any further. Nothing but the Owlery up there."
"He might be meeting someone," Harry whispered.
"And they'll have to come back this way, " Draco stated. Turning, he saw a door and pushed it open. The room was where supplies for the owls were stored. Wrinkling his nose at the smell, he motioned Harry to follow him inside. "We might as well wait in here so we don't get caught."
Giving one last look at the staircase ahead, Harry reluctantly entered the room after Draco and shut the door.
"What if they sneak by?"
"And your plan is to just rush in there? So Gryffindors aren’t actually brave, they’re just stupid."
"And Slytherins are nothing but lousy cowards. I remember first year during detention. We were in the Forbidden Forest and you ran away."
"I still maintain that was the wisest course of action."
"Cowards," Harry repeated again, not quite under his breath.
"Well?" Draco asked after a moment, leaning against a wall and folding his arms.
Harry ignored him.
Draco let out a huff of breath. "Explain who that is and why we're following him." When Harry still didn't answer, he straightened from the wall and added, "Or I could just go upstairs and ask the gentleman in question."
"No! Don't." When Draco relaxed again, Harry ran a hand over his face before answering. "It's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, okay?"
"Knotlace? What do you have against him? Thought he was an Auror before coming to Hogwarts. You know, on the side of good and all that rot."
"I've just learned to be a bit... wary of people who take the DADA position, that's all. They tend to have it out for me."
Letting out a noise of disbelief, Draco shook his head. "Right. Because everyone's life revolves around the great Harry Potter."
"I'm serious." Harry's voice became a bit more strained. "Quirrell had Voldemort stuck in his head. Lockhart tried to obliviate me."
"What about Lupin? Thought you and he had a special relationship." There was a bin near where Draco was standing. As he spoke, he opened it to find sacks of dried insects. Owl food.
"We did. We do. But you know how he's a werewolf? I was almost wolf chow."
"Oh." Draco picked up a dried grasshopper and flicked it at Potter, smiling when it hit him in the chest. Mentally, he scored himself a point.
"Then we come to the fake Moody."
"Wait a minute," Draco protested. " There's no way that wanker did more to you than to me. He turned me into a ferret and bounced me up and down the bloody wall."
Harry glared at him. "He arranged for me to portkey to a graveyard where I was tied to a tombstone, bled so that Voldemort could rise, and almost died."
Draco stubbornly glared back. "I was a rodent. Vermin."
"Voldemort tried to kill me," Harry snapped.
"Yes, but that happened to you. I was the one turned into a ferret, so it was much more traumatic." Another grasshopper was flicked and hit Potter on the forehead. That was worth two points, Draco decided.
Defiantly, Harry turned away from him. Draco thought he could hear him muttering "Must not kill." The next grasshopper hit Potter on the arse.
"Stop that."
A second grasshopper thudded against Harry's backside.
Then a third.
Harry exploded in rage. With a roar, he spun around and shoved Draco against the wall. "Stop that," he snarled.
"But it's such a tempting," Draco drawled the last word, then licked his lips, "target."
Harry sucked in a breath. "You can stop that, too."
"Stop what?" He licked his lips again and then shimmied his hips against Potter.
"And," Harry's eyelids fluttered down, "don't do that either."
Draco leaned his head forward and let his mouth ghost over Harry's ear.
"You think I should stand here then and take it? Take it from you?"
This time when Harry spoke, it came out as almost a groan. "What does a person have to do to Shut You Up?"
Letting his lips slide along Harry's jaw, Draco murmured, "All you have to do is ask."
Harry pulled back and his gaze wandered over Draco in fascination.
"Is that really how I look?" he asked, his voice shaky. "Do I really look like I want it so badly, I'll die if nothing happens? Hot and wanton and needy?"
"I doubt it." Draco reached out and jerked Harry back against him. "I just do you better than you do you."
A small snort of laughter escaped Harry before he could contain it. "Yeah. Right."
Determined to get the seduction back on track, Draco thrust his hips forward. When Harry gasped, he smiled in satisfaction.
"Let me show you what else I do better than you," he whispered.
His mouth was mere fractions of an inch away from Potter's when a noise came clattering from the stairwell.
"Knotlace," Harry said, breaking free and heading for the door.
That was the exact moment that Draco decided he really didn't care for the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at all.
* * *
"I don't understand," Harry muttered as they looked around the Owlery. Although they'd waited for more than ten minutes after Knotlace had passed by their hiding place, no one had followed him down. After a bit of arguing, some insults, and a death threat or two, they'd finally agreed to climb the stairs only to find the place empty. "What do you suppose he was doing up here?"
"It's an Owlery. He was probably sending a letter, you moron."
The floor was disgusting, Draco thought. It was covered with various feathers, straw, and droppings. Potter, showing a casual disregard for the state of his shoes, wandered over to where his white owl nestled and began stroking her.
"He was here an awfully long time just to send a letter." The owl was now rubbing against the hand that stroked her.
"Perhaps he has a hidden fetish for birds, like a certain someone else I could name." Draco looked pointedly at Potter and his owl.
Instead of acting insulted, Harry only smiled. "You're just jealous because Hedwig likes me, while your owl barely acknowledges your presence."
"Nonsense." Hands in his pockets, he cautiously stepped to where his eagle owl roosted, trying to avoid the more obvious piles of refuse. "We just don't believe in blatant fondling."
"Yeah. Right."
"Very well," Draco sniffed. "If it's proof you want..." He removed a hand from a pocket and lifted it to his owl's face, leaving it there for a few seconds before running his hand over the soft feathers of the head.
"I guess I was mistaken," Harry said slowly, his gaze assessing Draco in an effort to reconcile this new information with his previous knowledge.
"It simply shows how little you truly know me."
As Harry headed back down the stairs, Draco pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped his hands on it. He'd planned on launching those last two grasshoppers that he'd stowed away at Harry when he least expected it. Feeding them to his owl to prove Potter wrong, however, had been intensely satisfying.
Walking to the exit, he once again picked his way among the debris on the floor. As he neared the door, his eyes happened upon an enormous brown feather lying among the straw. Quickly he scanned the room, then exhaled in relief. He had no desire to meet whatever monster owl had lost that particular feather.
* * *
A few days later, Draco strode towards the pitch, broom in hand, with Neville hurrying to keep up next to him.
"I love Quidditch," he announced. "The sea of colours, the roar of the crowd, the feel of the wind in your hair, the scent of blood."
"The scent of blood?" Neville repeated, looking a little scared.
"Nothing for you to worry about. I think." Malfoy glanced at him. "You won't tell the Gryffindor team any strategies you see here today, will you Longbottom?"
Neville acted affronted.
"Of course not. I'm your loyal minion." He gave Draco a sheepish smile. "Also, I know next to nothing about Quidditch."
"Oh." Draco thought about that for a moment. "So... you wouldn't be able to tell me whether Weasley is planning on focusing his beaters on protecting his Chasers, have them actively harass my Chasers, or split them between the two then?"
"I did hear Ron say that-" Neville stopped and folded his arms across his chest. "Wait a minute. You're not trying to get Gryffindor secrets out of me, are you?"
"Absolutely not!" Draco protested. "How could you even think that I would stoop to such sneakiness?"
"Seven years of experience?" Neville suggested.
Draco let out a laugh. "Fine. You got me. But I was actually testing out how loyal you are, and you passed with flying colours. Besides, I'm already well aware that Weasley's going to have his beaters cover different areas of the pitch."
Neville relaxed. "Okay, but don't do that again. I don't want anyone to think I'm passing information to Slytherins."
As they continued on, Draco forced himself not to rub his hands in glee. Longbottom hadn't denied Draco's guess for Weasley's beater strategy. Now all he had to do was alter his team's plans to reflect that knowledge.
His mind was awhirl with different Quidditch strategies to employ when he realised that Crabbe and Goyle were blocking his way.
"Where do you think you're going, Potter?" Goyle growled.
"Probably wants to spy on us," Crabbe added.
"It's me, you idiots," Draco sighed.
His two Slytherin minions thought for a minute. Then they thought for another minute. "Prove it," Crabbe finally muttered.
"If the two of you don't get out of my way, I will hex you so that your genitals become daisies. Then I'll invite some first-years to play 'he loves me, he loves me not'."
Goyle looked at Crabbe. "That's Draco, all right."
Crabbe nodded his agreement.
At the pitch, Malfoy signaled for everyone to gather around.
"Gentlemen," he said, then added hastily, "and Ladies," when he spied a shape that might possibly be female. After taking years to establish that Blaise Zabini was male, Draco was no longer quite as confident on his ability to determine sex from appearances.
"Our purpose here today is to determine who will be on the Slytherin Quidditch team and enjoy all the glory and honour that entails, including first crack at any stolen test papers and a much higher likelihood of getting shagged at any point in time. We will also discover who will be on the reserve team, to bask in our reflected glory while quietly plotting accidents to incapacitate a starting player. Lastly, we will learn who will be sent away, dejected and humiliated, to continue their pitiful, miserable existences until the shame of failure leads them to remove themselves from this earth."
There were a few murmurs and a shuffling of feet, but Draco was pleased to note that everyone still seemed intent on trying out for the team.
"I'm aware of how other teams run their tryouts, testing how well a player performs a standard set of skills. But we Slytherins pride ourselves on making sure that only the very best are allowed to join, so listen carefully to the rules. First of all, no position is guaranteed, no matter how long you've held it. Everyone tries out, every year. Now - how many of you wish to play Keeper?"
Three hands were raised.
"Ah, new victims," Draco said.
The three students glanced at each other nervously.
"Each one of you will choose a hoop. You must stay within fifteen feet of that hoop at all times. A Keeper must be able to move quickly and be aware of where everything is. The beaters will help us test whether or not you have those skills. They'll be aiming bludgers at you. Every time they hit you, they score a point. Every time you dodge, you earn a point."
The aspirants for the Keeper position blanched.
"Chasers?" Draco said and a group looked at one another and moved forward. "You will attempt to catch the bludgers after they have passed the Keepers."
A small murmur ran through the crowd.
"Yes, I'm well aware that might sting a trifle, but for each catch you make you earn a point. After catching the bludger, you will throw it in an attempt to hit a beater with it. If you do so, you will earn another point. However if the beater hits the bludger without being hit himself, the point will be his."
He stopped and surveyed the group. "Any questions?"
"You actually have people who survive this?" Neville ventured.
Draco laughed and rolled his eyes.
"Gryffindors," he said disparagingly.
The other students also laughed, then mounted their brooms to begin.
"Insane, that's what this is," Neville muttered. "And what do you Seekers do? Toss knives at each other?"
"Of course not. We haven't done that in years."
Draco pointed his wand at the side of the pitch that was currently not in use and three times spoke a spell that Neville had never heard of before.
A growing rumble began and tufts of grass and dirt began to rise into the air, spinning and dipping as three miniature tornado spouts appeared.
"You chase Snitches in that?"
"Not Snitches." Putting his wand away, Draco drew a flower out of his pocket. He motioned for the three challengers for the Seeker position to move forward.
"There are exactly twenty-one petals on this flower. The one who collects the most petals becomes Seeker." With those words, he flung the flower into the maelstrom where it was quickly torn apart.
"Suicide." Neville's tone was hushed and filled with horror.
"Fun," Draco corrected. "Now if you will be so kind as to give us the signal to start?"
He and the other three students mounted their brooms.
"Three... two... one... Go!" Neville shouted.
Draco soared into the air. While the others plunged straight into the mass of coiling air, he swung to the side and slowly merged into it. His hand reached down low and snatched at a petal.
One.
Faster and faster he flew through the air, diving and rising as necessary. In practically no time at all he had gathered six petals. Never before had he found them so quickly. Instead of forcing his broom to obey his commands, it was a natural extension of himself. Each small shift of his body resulted in a change of direction. Not only was he flying better and faster than ever before, the petals seemed to come to him, as if 'accioed' to his hand.
When he had collected eleven, he realised he had obtained the majority. Although part of him wanted to remain on his broom and continue experiencing the wonderful feeling of being part of the air and sky, he forced himself to head for the ground.
As he landed, Neville ran up to him.
"That was incredible! I mean, I always knew you were good, but... but that was bloody well amazing."
Draco simply nodded, still a bit awed by the experience himself.
"I mean it," Neville continued. "If I hadn't known it was you, from the way you flew I would've thought it was Harry up there."
Draco's feeling of exuberance deflated.
"You're comparing me to Potter?"
"He flies the same way. Like the sky is where he belongs, instead of on the ground like the rest of us." He glanced at Draco's messy hair, green eyes, and glasses. "You don't suppose..." he started slowly.
Tossing his broom on the ground, Draco stalked off. He didn't want to hear the rest of Neville's sentence.
* * *
"Dauntmoor!"
.
A short, thin man hurried to stand at the front of the room. Two Dementors that had followed him inside clung to the shadows near the entrance. Flickering firelight served to highlight the gleam of nervous sweat that stained the man's features. His dark, beady eyes darted over to Pettigrew in the corner for a moment, then swiveled back to face the Dark Lord.
"Yes, Master?"
"Report. Is the device completed?"
"Yes, my lord." Dauntmoor reached into his pocket and pulled out a square box approximately six inches high. Opening it, he carefully retrieved a leather pouch. When he reached into it, something inside the bag began thrashing, as if attempting to race away from the invading hand.
After a moment, Dauntmoor let out a cry of triumph. When he withdrew his hand from the pouch, he was clutching what appeared to be a colourless, multi-faceted crystal tightly in his fist.
"That is it? Give it to me. Now."
Still holding it tightly, Dauntmoor stepped forward. "Careful, Master. It constantly seeks to escape."
A bone-white hand reached out and clasped the crystal. "Bah. This will not do. It is altogether too fragile."
"My apologies, but the device has been created to be impervious to all charms, hexes, and spells. Although it is susceptible to brute force, it will still be difficult to destroy for it was designed to avoid all touch. Release it and it will dart off, flying away at an astonishing speed and evading all attempts to capture it. It can neither be located nor retrieved with spells. It is, therefore, much tougher than it appears; practically invulnerable ."
The device was turned over in the claw-like grasp before at last being held out for Dauntmoor to take. Soon it was safely tucked away in its pouch and returned to the box.
"We will soon discover if your creation does all that you promise," the cold voice hissed. "Continue with your report. Has our servant acquired any new information?"
"He... he says that things are going slowly. There have been complications. Harry Potter is rarely alone."
The man cringed as he reported news that would not be well received.
"You would do well to remind our friend that obstacles are meant to be overcome. I did not strive over the last two years to discover the full prophecy, only to be denied the true meaning."
The cold voice rose in volume. "Let this serve as a lesson to all that I am not to be disappointed." A wand was pointed at a now trembling Dauntmoor.
"Crucio."
Draco woke, Dauntmoor's screams still echoing in his ears. As he pulled back the covers of his bed he realised that his heart was pounding and the scar on his forehead was throbbing in pain. Also, to his disgust, he found that he was covered with a light sheen of sweat.
Grabbing his wand from underneath his pillow and putting on his glasses, he marched across the room to where Harry was tossing and turning while murmuring protests in his sleep. Roughly, he shook him until green eyes blinked open and peered blindly at him. Pointing his wand, Draco muttered the spell he used on his own eyes to correct his vision.
If anything, Harry seemed even more confused. "What's wrong? What do you want?"
"I want some answers," Draco demanded, his voice rising in anger. "And the first things I want to know is what the bloody hell is going on with this stupid scar and what the hell did I just see?"
* * *
Draco couldn't believe his bad luck. It wasn't enough that he looked like Potter. It wasn't even enough that he flew like him now.
No, now he had to have the same awful nightmares as that loathsome prat, too.
After Potter had awakened, it had taken the idiot several minutes to figure out what had happened. Instead of explaining what was going on, he'd grabbed a couple of robes out of his trunk, flung one at Draco, and insisted that he dress. Draco had started to protest that he'd much rather wear his own robes which were so very much better, when Harry's eyes had narrowed and he'd acquired a look so downright dangerous, that Draco had quickly donned the robe in his hands.
The next thing he knew, he was at the entrance to the Headmaster's office, having been dragged there by Potter. Dumbledore arrived, wearing nightclothes of red, purple, and orange in a pattern that would haunt Draco for years.
They were shown into the office, and he made himself comfortable while Potter spouted excitedly about Voldemort, Dementors, and Unforgivables. He helped himself to a handful of lemon drops as Dumbledore nodded solemnly at several points during the recitation.
At last, Dumbledore turned to Draco. "You must understand, Mister Malfoy, that Harry's scar is a connection to Voldemort; more so than even the dark mark on the arms of his followers. It allows Harry to see what Voldemort is seeing."
"He can also send visions. False ones," Harry mumbled.
"The spell on you, the one which transformed you to appear to all as Harry, must have resulted in your sharing the same connection."
Draco swallowed the remainder of the lemon drops in his mouth, almost choking in the process.
"What? Are you telling me all that really happened?"
"Well... " Harry began.
"Most likely it did," Dumbledore interrupted. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that you are currently connected to Voldemort."
The man didn't look sorry at all, Draco decided. In fact, he'd say that the barmy old coot looked secretly pleased. If it had been anyone else other than one of the most powerful wizards living, Draco would've given into the temptation to see how sorry the man was after Draco doused that damned twinkle in the eye by poking it hard with a quill. In fact, he nearly did it anyway, despite Dumbledore's power.
Swallowing hard, Draco nodded his understanding and silently vowed revenge on everyone who was currently making his life a living hell.
At this point, the list was extremely long.
* * *
"Draco," Harry asked quietly as they began to make their way up the stairs to the Gryffindor rooms. "Is everything all right?"
"Everything’s peachy," Draco said sarcastically. "I just found out that, thanks to you and your friends, I'm now mentally connected to a Dark Wizard. Tell me, Potter, do you see him all the time? Do you know when he sleeps, eats, takes a... "
A thought struck Draco and he found that he couldn't hide his horror.
"Dear God, that creature doesn't have a sex life, does he? Because if I have to see him naked and... and... grunting, I'll die. I'll lose the will to live and shrivel up and die."
"Relax," Harry said. He began patting Draco’s back in attempt at comfort. "As far as I know, Voldemort is celibate. I haven't seen anything like that. Ever. It's usually him and his followers." He paused for a moment. "Voldemort has a really big snake too."
"Ugh! Yuck!" Draco said, completely disgusted. "That's definitely more information about the Dark Lord than I ever wanted to know."
Harry looked at him for a moment in confusion before letting out a laugh and shaking his head. "Not like that, you prat. I mean that he has a real snake, one that slithers on the ground, and hisses, and stuff."
"Oh."
They walked a bit further in silence. "So - you're okay?" Harry finally ventured, sounding a bit worried.
Draco opened his mouth to tell Potter exactly what he could do with his concern, when it struck him that he now had a unique opportunity. Harry wanted to comfort him. To make him feel better. Who was he to deny the Hero of the Wizarding World?
He stopped walking and leaned against the wall.
"It was awful," he said quietly to Harry, who was watching him and looking sympathetic. "It was a nightmare that I couldn't wake up from."
Harry leaned closer to him and Draco wondered if tears would be overplaying the part. Deciding that they were, he settled for making his lower lip tremble a bit.
When he was embraced, his face pressed into the crook of Harry's neck, he realised that his ploy had worked better than he'd anticipated.
"I'm sorry that happened to you," Harry murmured.
"I'm sorry, too," Draco answered busy contemplating the smooth skin in front of him. No, it was much too soon to start licking, he decided. Instead, Draco let his hands creep around Potter's waist and pull their bodies closer.
Harry's hands had begun to rub his back soothingly and Draco wished that they'd move a bit lower.
"If you want, we can go see Snape. Get some Dreamless Sleep potion."
A wave of panic washed over Draco. That was not a good idea at all. There was no way he could fool Snape into thinking that one vision of Voldemort had turned him into a weakling.
"No," Draco said, speaking the words against Harry's skin and sneaking in a slight taste at the same time. "I don't want Snape to know. I don't want anyone to know. But maybe..." He paused then shook his head. "No, it's too much to ask."
Harry pulled back a little, then tilted up Draco's chin with one hand.
"What's too much to ask?"
"I-I don't want to be left alone."
"You won't be. I'll be right across the room. You can wake me up any time."
"I suppose that'll have to do." Draco made his voice sound shaky. "I was just hoping that you could perhaps..."
"What, Draco?"
He raised his eyes to meet Harry's. "Stay with me. Just for the rest of tonight."
The git was actually considering it. Draco wanted to crow with victory, but turned and pretended to be dejected instead. He'd broken free of Harry's embrace and had only taken two steps away when he felt a hand on his arm.
"I'll do it," Harry said solemnly.
Later, as Harry climbed into his bed with him, Draco smiled. Although Potter tried to stay as far from him as it was possible in such a narrow bed, lying stiffly on his side, back to Draco, his efforts were ignored. He soon had Draco snuggled up against him.
After several minutes of concerted cuddling, he heard Potter sigh and relax. Morning would arrive soon, he thought. And perhaps, with the new day, there might be new opportunities - such as morning sex.
* * *
A horrendous sound woke Draco from a most delicious dream. The noise was followed by the immediate loss of his warm, cozy sleeping arrangement.
He yawned and resigned himself to another morning without sex.
Although not nearly an adequate substitute, Weasley's screams of horror at finding Draco and Harry in bed together were still intensely satisfying.
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Chapter 3