The Face of His Enemy - Chapter 3
Look! Look! See my story. It has a plot. The plot is little, but it will grow. See it grow. Look! Look! Look!
Title: The Face of His Enemy
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 were sold. It is therefore AU. Any similarities between this story and JKR's is purely coincidental.
Thank you, thank you, thank you to jasmasson and lastscorpion. The more I write, the more I realise how much I depend on wonderful betas. Any remaining errors are mine and mine alone.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Draco watched the activity at the Gryffindor table avidly as he ate breakfast.
"I'm not sure what's happening over there," Blaise, who sat next to him said in a lowered voice, "but I suspect that you're currently the subject of a great many conversations."
"I'm always the subject of conversations," Draco remarked. "It's both my gift and my curse."
"Of course," Blaise inclined his head. "But this, I think, is the first time that the conversations have included the words 'Potter', 'bed', and 'unbelievable'." He thought for a moment. "Although I have heard your name connected with one or two of the other words before."
Draco's grin widened, which caused Blaise to grow even more curious.
"Whatever did you do to Potter, Draco? And, might I request that you do the same to me, as well?"
"Nothing of importance happened. Gryffindors however, with their sad, boring, pathetic lives, attach too much significance to the fact that Potter and I slept in the same bed last night."
"Truly?" Blaise leaned closer and asked excitedly, "How was it? Do tell. Perverted minds want to know."
"As I said, nothing of importance happened," Draco repeated.
"Now that is a tragedy."
Draco could only agree with that assessment.
Across the room, Harry was focusing entirely on his eggs, which were slowly congealing. Ron and Hermione, sitting on each side of him, were talking. Arguing, actually.
Didn't they notice that Harry was looking more and more unhappy? Draco wondered. What kind of friends were they, anyway?
Those sitting near them seemed equally oblivious to Harry's mood. The ones closest to the trio were not even pretending not to listen. Further along the table, groups were whispering and giggling behind their hands.
Potter suddenly leapt to his feet, angrily tossing his napkin on the table.
"You don't understand, Ron." His loud outburst served to focus all of the attention onto him. "You'll never understand how it is. The only one who does is Malfoy."
With those words, Harry stomped out of the Great Hall.
"Why Draco, you little friendship-wrecker, you," Blaise teased. "You've finally broken up that threesome. Congratulations."
Draco nodded, but felt a cold lump form low in his gut. Was this possibly what guilt felt like? If it was, it was absolutely horrible. He was hardly able to swallow down his muffin, eggs, sausages and two cups of tea.
* * *
Potions that morning would have been mind-numbingly boring if not for the various antics of Ron and Hermione.
To prepare for the NEWTs, Snape was periodically having them review potions they'd learned in prior years. Those that had fumbled in the past had another chance to get it right. Consequently, Draco was working closely with Neville, giving him step-by-step instructions on something that he should've learned during second year. This gave him plenty of time to observe the rest of the room.
The entertainment portion of the class began when Snape ordered the students to choose a partner. Weasley, instead of picking Harry, Hermione, or some other Gryffindor, strode across the room to Pansy Parkinson.
"Will you be my potions partner?" he asked her loudly. "Even though we're bitter enemies and hate each other passionately, it makes sense that you might understand me better than My Very Best Friend."
Hermione sighed and shook her head.
Pansy appeared confused. "Flattered as I am at that description, Weasley, I really don't think of you as my bitter enemy. To tell the truth, I often forget you even exist."
Ron glared at her. "Will you work with me on the potion or not?"
A moment passed as she considered his request, before agreeing. "If you mess the potion up and ruin my grade, however, I promise you that I will vow vengeance and start a blood feud that will wipe out most of our relatives. Just as bitter enemies should."
"Fine," Ron muttered.
Hermione sniffed and pointedly turned her back on Ron and Pansy.
It was after Draco had quietly instructed Neville on the correct way to slice huckleberry root when he heard Hermione speaking to Harry.
"I do want you to know that your relationship with Draco has my full support."
Harry coloured. "I don't have a relationship with Draco," he hissed. "At least not the kind that you're implying."
"Oh, right," Hermione answered. "Well then, I fully support your right to lose yourself and your worries by partaking of pleasures of the flesh with Malfoy."
"What?" Harry squeaked. He dropped his wand in shock and was forced to bend over and retrieve it. This gave Draco a lovely view of Harry’s arse, which he thoroughly enjoyed.
"I believe sex is an excellent method of relieving stress and tension so I'm assuming last night will be repeated. Many times. It's much better than brooding or bursting out in anger over the least little thing," Hermione continued. "Though you might want to use precautions since he is a bit of slut."
Draco had to stifle his laughter as he watched Harry drop his wand in shock a second time. After again retrieving his wand from the floor, Potter stared at Hermione as if her bushy hair now covered two heads.
"Who are you?" he asked. "You do know that all I have to do is keep you here for more than an hour and the polyjuice will wear off, don't you?"
Hermione dismissed his concerns. "Stop being silly. Naturally I was a bit against the idea at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense." Her smile weakened a bit. "At least more sense than... um... alternate solutions."
"Are you sure it's better than alternate solutions?" Harry asked, seeming to be completely at a loss as to how sex with Malfoy could be a better idea than anything else.
"Positive. But to ensure that you experience a wide array of experiences, I've taken the liberty of creating a list of things you might want to try."
Harry looked at her blankly. "A list," he repeated.
A list? Damn, Draco thought. There was definitely something to be said for know-it-alls.
"If you have any questions about what I’ve written down, I’m sure Draco can answer them, if you’d rather not discuss the subject with me. Also, I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a great many books on the subject. They make absolutely fabulous reading." She thought for a moment. "Though I might have to tear a couple of them away from Lavender and Parvati. You wouldn’t believe how some people only care about looking at the photographs."
This time, when Potter dropped his wand, he left it where it lay. He simply put his face in his hands and moaned. "The whole world has gone crazy."
Draco, however, was eyeing Hermione with approval. Perhaps Gryffindors weren't quite so boring, after all.
* * *
It had been a long day by the time the bell rang, signaling the end of Defence Against the Dark Arts class.
Although it was much more fun (and challenging) taking the class with the Gryffindors due to not having to hold back, he did occasionally miss being with his fellow Slytherins.
This class had been more demanding than usual. Knotlace had decided to pair him with Potter. Potter had spent the class taking out the frustrations of his day on Draco, until he was reduced to doing nothing more than ducking and dodging hexes and throwing up protective shields. Fortunately, he was quite good at those.
As the other students began to file out of the room, Draco limped to where he'd left his bookbag only to find Knotlace blocking his way.
"Mister Malfoy, I'd like to speak to you in my office, if you please."
Before he could answer him, Draco found Longbottom at his side.
"Do you want me to wait for you?" Neville asked.
"That's unnecessary. Off with you." Draco waved him away dismissively.
Neville stayed where he was and eyed Knotlace with suspicion.
"I don't mind. It's my job as your minion to keep you safe."
Was Longbottom actually trying to be protective? Draco wondered. And what was this Gryffindor propensity to dislike DADA instructors?
"I'll be fine," Draco assured him, and then watched as Neville reluctantly left the room.
He followed Knotlace through a door. He'd been there a number of times before with different professors. He, for one, had liked Professor Lupin. Additionally, Lockhart had once invited him for tea and spent the time asking whether or not it was true that his father had contacts in the publishing world. He'd discovered later that the git had switched his attentions to that Lovegood chit.
"Is anything wrong, Professor?" he asked, taking a seat.
"Actually," Knotlace replied, "I was about to ask you that same question." He opened a tin of biscuits, offering one to Draco, who politely refused. "I'm concerned for you, Mister Malfoy. I'm worried that your present, shall we say 'predicament', might be affecting your performance in my class."
Draco had to think for a moment before he realised that Knotlace was referring to him looking like Potter.
"I haven't noticed any changes."
Knotlace smiled slightly.
"You're not finding that you're faster or stronger, perhaps?" Maybe you've discovered a new power or that you're an animagus or a seer?"
Draco shook his head.
"There are no changes? None whatsoever?"
Draco thought for a moment of his improved flying and stupid mental connection to Voldemort. However, he didn't think that was what Knotlace had in mind.
"I am having difficulty adjusting to one thing," Draco said slowly.
Knotlace leaned forward encouragingly, apparantly quite eager to hear what it might be.
Draco pointed to his head. "Have you looked at my hair? I mean really looked at it? It's a disgusting mess."
Sighing, Knotlace settled himself back into his chair. "I'm afraid that's not something that I can help you with."
"No one can," Draco answered, mournfully.
* * *
Qudditich practice that evening after dinner went smoothly. One of the Chasers had been smashed in the foot with a bludger, and Goyle had taken one to the head. But, seeing how feet weren't necessary when flying a broom and Goyle rarely used his brain anyway, it was no great loss.
Afterwards, he noticed Pansy sitting in the bleachers and went to join her.
The previous year, the school had allowed Quidditch teams to have cheerleading squads. Pansy had been the head cheerleader for the Slytherin team. During the first game of the year between Gryffindor and Slytherin while several female Gyffindors danced and yelled, Pansy had led her squad around the pitch, spitting out curses at anyone who was supporting the Gryffindors too loudly. It had only taken ten minutes before McGonagall had descended upon them and told them that was not the type of behavior she'd expected from cheerleaders.
Draco had disagreed. It had certainly cheered him up.
Pansy had moped for almost two days before she realised that McGonagall was absolutely correct. Afterwards, a new squad had formed. At the next Slytherin game, the new squad had danced and yelled just like all the others, while the old squad had skulked under the bleachers, hiding in the shadows and continuing their dirty work.
He'd heard that the tryouts for that particular cheerleading squad had been even bloodier than those for the Quidditch team.
Pansy was scanning the pitch and making notes, obviously working on her strategy for the upcoming game with Gryffindor.
"Need help?" he asked, sitting down next to her.
"I'm trying to decide whom to assign to the Hufflepuff bleachers," she answered. "Tracey has that excellent plague of field mice, but Graham has that creeping heebie-jeebies curse."
"Give Hufflepuff to Tracey and assign Graham to Ravenclaw. Ravenclaws rely on their intellect and, when hit with the creepy heebie-jeebies, will probably attempt to deny the feeling as illogical. Also, they're less likely to confess the weaknesses to their friends so it will probably go undetected for longer."
Pansy nodded and jotted it down in her notes.
"I was wondering," Draco began, attempting to be nonchalant, "if you knew anything about this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts professor?"
Pansy glanced up from her notes. "Knotlace? I make it my business to know everything about everyone. The real question is why do you want to know?"
Draco gazed off into the distance, avoiding her eyes. "I don't think you want me to tell you. That way, if it all goes pear-shaped, you can deny having any part of it."
She considered the situation for a moment, then asked, "What do you want to know about him?"
"Everything."
Putting down her quill and parchment, Pansy edged closer to him. "What I heard was that Knotlace was an Auror years ago. His expertise was defence"
"That's not surprising."
"You don't understand, Draco. When I say defence, that's exactly what it was. He knows more about shields, wards, disillusion, and memory spells than almost anyone else alive. I'm sure he can throw his fair share of hexes, too, but that's not what he excelled at. Because of his expertise, he could have gone far in the Ministry. However, during the last war, he and his partner were sent to investigate possible Death Eater activity and there was some sort of cock up."
"What kind of cock up?" Draco asked, curious.
"A Death Eater attack in London. It was two days before the Ministry realised that Knotlace and his partner had never reported in. It took another two days for Aurors to locate them. They discovered Knotlace holed up in a cave, still fighting to defend himself and his partner from a group of Death Eaters. Too bad his partner had died three days earlier."
Draco winced. "Ouch."
"Knotlace resigned in anger at the Ministry and went off somewhere to do private research. Most of the protective charms on the Cleansweep 11 are his doing."
"Is that it?"
Pansy shrugged her shoulders. "He turned down an offer to rejoin the Aurors in favour of teaching here. Other than that, all I can tell you is that on the 'Most Dishy Professor Ever Poll', he's still behind Lockhart, but is just edging out Lupin."
"And how am I doing on the 'Most Dishy Student Ever Poll'?" Draco smiled and batted his lashes and Pansy rolled her eyes at his blatant flirting.
"First the bad news," she said. "Oliver Wood is still number one."
"And the good news?" Draco prompted.
"Actually it's more bad news. Now that you look like Potter your rating has... "
"Tanked?"
"Um... no. It's gone up."
It really was a pity that he liked Pansy, Draco decided. Otherwise, he would've taken great pleasure in hexing her. Shooting the messenger may not be right, but it always made him a happy boy.
* * *
The day of the Quidditch match came and Draco felt ill at the riot of red and yellow that surrounded him when he woke.
Half-asleep, he stumbled into the bathroom to take his shower when Seamus clapped him on the back.
"Hey, ready to catch that Snitch today?"
Draco smirked. "Absolutely. I'm going to show those slimy gits exactly what's what. Teach them to respect their betters."
Seamus stepped back. It was only when Harry entered the bathroom that his face cleared of confusion. "Oh, it's you, Malfoy."
"Yes it is. And I must thank you for your encouraging words."
"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry said as he walked past, holding an extremely inferior brand of shampoo.
Giving Finnegan one last smirk, Draco followed closely behind Potter.
"What's the matter? Jealous that one of your fellow Gryffindors has finally seen the light?"
"He thought you were me. You know that."
"Perhaps he's finally acknowledging my superior skills."
Harry set his shampoo down, then turned to face him. "Um... Draco?"
"He won't be the only one, either. I'm going to get that Snitch, then everyone will know who the better Seeker is."
"Draco?"
"This time, Potter, I'm going to win."
"Draco!" Harry snapped.
"What?"
"Do you mind?" Harry glanced around, his face growing pink as he indicated the shower cubicle walls.
It occurred to Draco that if he didn't leave, then very soon there was going to be a wet, naked Harry Potter standing in front of him.
"Fine," he said. "Take your shower, but you really shouldn't bother because I'm going to rub your face in the dirt."
"Whatever."
Part of Draco wished he'd given in to temptation and stood his ground. His presence would have been sure to shake Harry up right before the game. Unfortunately, he suspected that it would've shaken him up just as badly.
* * *
Astride his broom, Draco searched the Quidditch pitch for the Snitch.
The Slytherins were doing extremely well. They'd hit one of the Chasers, injuring her badly enough that she was substituted out, and caused Weasley to tumble off his broom. Unfortunately, the prat wasn't hurt and was soon up in the air again. The cheerleaders were also apparently being quite effective - the Ravenclaw stands, in particular, were especially quiet.
Additionally, the score was Gryffindor 70, Slytherin 110.
He was hovering not too far from the Slytherin end of the field, when he saw a glint in the center of the pitch, close to the ground. Leaning forward, Draco dove toward it. There was a roar from the crowd as they realised he'd spotted his prey. From the corner of his eye he could see Potter closing in quickly.
Silently, he urged his broom to go even faster. He knew it was no match for Potter's, but he was slightly closer to the Snitch. Hopefully, it would make the difference.
The Snitch darted forward, practically skimming along the grass.
Hand outstretched, Draco tried to close the gap. Potter was alongside him now, so near that their Quidditch robes flapped against each other in the breeze their brooms created.
Potter's Firebolt was edging out his Nimbus, and Draco wanted to curse. Harry's fingers were almost touching the wings of the Snitch. Draco leaned farther out on his broom, but he knew it was too late. Despite having flown better and faster than he ever had in his life, it hadn't changed a thing. Once again, he was going to have to stomach Potter beating him.
Which was why, when the Snitch switched directions and hit Draco in the chest, he was almost too slow to clutch it to him.
But grab hold of it he did.
Letting out a whoop, he clasped it in his hand, proudly displaying it to the world. For a moment, all was quiet before the Slytherin stands let out a cry that seemed to shake the pitch.
Malfoy had done it! Malfoy had beaten Potter!
Gracefully landing on the grass, Draco continued to hold the Snitch aloft. When Madam Hooch arrived and started forward to take it from him, he glared at her and stepped away, moving it out of her reach. After two more attempts, she gave up, smiling at him indulgently.
In less than a minute, his teammates surrounded him, pounding on his back, whooping and hollering in his ear, the words undistinguishable in their enthusiasm. Crabbe and Goyle pushed through the mob around him. They grabbed him and lifted him up onto their shoulders, to march him around the pitch.
From his bouncing, shifting seat he saw Professor Snape in the crowd and had to twist his head to look at him a second time. The man was smiling - lips curled up, showing teeth and everything. Draco hadn't thought Snape was capable of it.
Also from his viewpoint he could see Potter. The loser, not nearly good enough Potter. He was standing where he'd landed, the end of his broom on the ground as the Gryffindor players passed by, patting his shoulder and most likely giving him words of condolence and encouragement.
He saw Harry give them all a weak smile before lifting his eyes once more to Draco's.
Draco wanted to see defeat. He wanted to see anger and rage. He wanted to see bitterness and self-recriminations.
What he didn't want to see was what happened - Potter giving him a nod and a mock salute in acknowledgement of his victory.
Damn, Potter for being a good sport, Draco thought. The boy always managed to spoil his fun.
* * *
The celebration after the game was one that had been a long time in coming.
Neville had valiantly entered enemy territory in his role as Draco's minion. It was only after he'd been grabbed and thoroughly snogged by Daphne Greengrass that he'd begun to relax.
Butterbeer was everywhere, a few contraband bottles of Firewhiskey made brief appearances, while two vaguely illegal potions lurked in the shadows.
A good time was had by all.
Several girls and two boys had made it clear that if Draco wanted to celebrate privately, they would be more than happy to oblige. Each one he politely refused, not wanting to miss a minute of this.
He'd done it. He'd finally beaten Potter.
His arm was wrapped around a blonde sixth-year girl and he'd just taken a swig of Firewhiskey, when Nott wandered over and clapped him on the back.
"Congratulations, Malfoy."
"Thanks." Draco gave him a brief nod then turned and whispered a naughty suggestion in the girl's ear. She giggled and her hand splayed against his chest.
Nott moved closer. "Guess it just proves the saying, if you can't beat them, join them."
Draco took another drink from his bottle then frowned at Nott. "What do you mean by that?"
Nott shrugged. "Nothing." There was a brief pause before he continued. "It's just you never managed to beat Potter before."
Shrugging off the female, Draco took a menacing step forward. "So?"
"I just think it's funny, is all." There was a malicious light in Nott's eyes. "Seems the only way you can beat Potter is to be Potter."
The bottle Draco had been holding crashed to the floor, but he didn't notice. He was too busy grabbing Nott by the throat, spinning around, and slamming him against the wall.
"Is that what you think?" he shouted.
At the sound of the bottle smashing, a silence descended among the partygoers. Draco, with his hands still around Nott's neck, twisted to glare at them.
"Is that what you all think? That the only reason I beat Potter is because I look like him?"
Pansy stepped out of the hushed crowd. "Of course not, Draco. It's simply a coincidence." She turned to the group. "That's right, isn't it? Just a coincidence."
There were several murmurs of "Of course" and "Uh-huh" and "Yeah." Even more people nodded.
Draco stared at them. Slytherins were sneaky and ambitious. Slytherins always looked to the main chance. Slytherins were also natural liars.
He gave Nott's throat one last squeeze, then released him, letting him slump, panting for breath, to the floor. Before anyone could think to stop him, Draco had grabbed a fresh bottle of Firewhiskey and stalked out the door.
* * *
Draco was quite pleased to see his victim lying there unaware. He stood over him, well, swayed over him, as he tried to decide how best to end his enemy's existence. If his thoughts had been known, then the boy would have cowered in fear and begged for mercy.
He frowned. His hated nemesis just lay there, sleeping. This most definitely would not do. There had to be cowering and begging.
Sitting on the bed next to Potter, he shook him.
"Hey," he said, trying to rouse him. "Hey," he said again, a little louder.
There was a murmur of protest from a bed on the far side of the room, so Draco put his bottle down on the floor next to the bed and pulled out his wand to do a silencing spell. He then shoved his wand back into his robes.
"Potter," he hissed.
Harry blinked and rubbed at his eyes.
"Oh, it's you," he said. He pulled the covers up and rolled over.
Draco pulled at Harry's shoulder until he rolled onto his back.
"You're supposed to be begging for mercy right now." He leaned closer. "Beg me, Potter."
The smell of alcohol hit Harry and he waved a hand in front of his face hoping to get rid of the stench.
"Fine. I'm begging you to please stop bothering me and get your arse off my bed or I'll be forced to wake up to smash your face in."
"Ha! I knew I'd have you begging at some point." Draco pushed the fringe gently away from Harry's forehead. "I've always hated you, you know."
"Have you?" Harry said flatly. "I've never noticed."
"You don't ever notice me. No one else does, either." He poked at Harry's scar with a fingertip. "Not with you and this thing around."
"Ow!" Harry pushed Draco's hand away from his forehead. "That hurt."
"You're all everyone ever talks about. I'd go home from school and my mother and father would ask about you, wonder what you were up to. Then it was your fault my father was locked up in Azkaban. I didn't know what you'd take away from me next and I hated you even more."
"Are you almost done, because I'd like to go back to sleep."
"Turns out you're not so scary, Potter. You're just a stupid git who has a stupid scar with a stupid madman after you. Hating you was… was…"
"Stupid?" Harry supplied.
"Exactly."
"Does this mean you don't hate me anymore?" Harry asked.
"Of course I hate you."
"But you just said it'd be stupid."
"Are you calling me stupid, Potter?"
Harry sighed heavily. "Never mind."
"No, you insulted me and must be punished for it." Draco slid under the blankets and made himself comfortable next to Harry.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked; panic beginning to creep into his voice.
"Going to torture you," Draco stated.
"By sleeping next to me? I think you need to reread your Junior Death Eater Manual. Doubt if that method's in there."
Draco tried to arch his eyebrow, but since he couldn't even feel his nose, he failed miserably.
"Don't think that I can torture you in bed, do you?"
"Well, if by torture me you mean pass out, then I'm sure you can."
"Oh, Potter," Draco said quietly, and then smiled wickedly. "How little you know me."
One hand smoothed along Harry's chest under the covers. They both watched as it made its way across the front of his pyjamas.
"'You really shouldn't challenge me like that. If you want me, all you have to do is ask," Draco whispered, edging so close that his breath teased the skin on Harry's cheek.
Harry was just about to reply when the hand found his right nipple through his pyjama top and started rubbing. He let out a gasp, instead.
"Oh God," he moaned.
"Oooh, more begging. You do know the way to my heart, don't you?" Draco's tongue flicked out to taste the skin near Harry's mouth. The hand abandoned the nipple and had started traveling downward when Harry trapped it.
"Stop it, Draco."
Draco took another small taste of Harry before replying. "Why?"
Harry turned to face him. "I can't do this. You look like me. It's too... weird. It'd be like me doing it to myself."
"I'm not you, though," Draco stated firmly, sobering a little. "Never be you."
"I know, but... I just can't fool around with someone who looks like I do."
"Really?" Draco asked. "I would have no problem with it, myself."
"That's because you're a narcissistic prick."
Admitting the truth of that statement, Draco laughed, then laughed again but stopped suddenly to clutch his stomach.
"Oh, no," he groaned. He sat up and the world began to spin.
"What's wrong?"
"Sick." He hurriedly covered his mouth with one hand.
"Accio rubbish bin," Harry shouted.
It came not a moment too soon. Draco was quite miserable for some time. He didn't remember much of what happened afterwards. A hand rubbing his back. A cool cloth on his brow. Several suggestions that he move to his own bed, which were ignored.
The next morning when he awoke, he was surprised to find that the sunlight was already strong and bright as it poured in through the window.
"Explain this again," he heard Weasley saying.
"Shush, Ron. Malfoy's sleeping," Harry admonished.
In a slightly quieter voice, Ron said, "Explain again, Harry."
"I told you, Malfoy crawled into my bed this morning, then was sick."
"Malfoy and you in the same bed. Again. I feel sick, myself."
Draco smiled to himself as he closed his eyes to go back to sleep. He hadn't managed to torture Potter, but making Weasley ill was almost as good.
* * *
Draco sat under the beech tree and nibbled on the strangely coloured leaf that Neville had sworn would make him feel better. It worked fairly well, as his head no longer felt as if Crabbe and Goyle had played Quidditch with it. Now it only felt as if someone had removed it from his shoulders and kicked it around the Great Hall for a while.
He cracked open an eyelid, which was quite an achievement, and looked at Neville.
"So - how was it?" Draco asked.
"How was what?' Neville handed him another leaf, and then put one in his own mouth and began to chew.
"Sex with Daphne. You did shag her, right?"
Neville began to choke on the leaf. Draco watched for a moment. Unless Neville turned blue, there was truly no point in getting upset or anything. After what seemed like a very long time and a large amount of coughing, he began to breathe normally again.
"You think I... that I... "
"Save the act for your idiot Gryffindor friends. I notice things. They might believe that you were out harvesting sneezewort this morning, but I know better. Sneezewort irritates the nasal cavities and your nose was neither red nor swollen when you returned."
Letting out a sigh, Neville shook his head.
"I don't think I should tell you anything. It wouldn't be right."
"Ah," said Draco knowingly. "You're a gentleman. That's quite all right, then. I understand completely."
As Neville smiled at him gratefully, Draco made plans to visit the Slytherin dorm and get the details from Daphne. Neville might be a gentleman, but she was certainly no lady. Not that he'd ever tell Neville that. The boy was showing all the symptoms of being in love. Or at least lust.
Thinking of lust made him think about Potter, and he decided that he really, really didn't want to even examine that connection too closely.
Potter had been quite nice the previous night. He'd helped him when he was sick. Soothed him while murmuring some complete nonsense about everything being all right. His mind drifted to what happened before the contents of Draco's stomach had decided to make an appearance. Potter had not only acted friendly, he'd tasted quite nice, as well.
Perhaps when this hideous curse left him, perhaps they might want to explore a possible relationship between them.
Glancing up, he saw Potter gripping a newspaper, stomping toward him with Weasley and Granger not far behind.
Or perhaps not.
"Did you know about this?" Harry demanded, brandishing the newspaper at Draco. "Did you know about what your father is doing?"
Draco grabbed the newspaper out of Potter's hand and scanned the headlines, then began to read the article. When he finished, Potter was staring at him, breath huffing out like a dragon without its fire.
"It seems that the Ministry is determined to right their wrongs. A return of his place on the Hogwarts Board of Governors seems like a credible start."
"Your father is a Death Eater!" Harry shouted. "The only place he deserves is a cell in Azkaban."
"That charge was overturned," Draco replied, his temper starting to rise.
"It's still true."
Draco let out a harsh, scornful laugh.
"You don't really believe that the courts are actually interested in the truth, do you?"
"You're just like him, aren't you?" Harry started towards him, but Weasley and Granger imposed themselves in between.
"You can't, Harry," Granger insisted. "We'd get in trouble. More trouble. He's still suffering from our spell."
Gritting his teeth, Harry let himself be pulled back a few feet. With Draco no longer a legitimate target, he swung to face Neville.
"I can't believe that you can stand to be around him, even with him helping you in Potions. You know what his father is. We all know."
Neville raised his eyes to meet a furious Harry's. "Yes, I know what his father is. But Draco isn't his father." He stood and took a few steps towards Harry. "It's not fair to judge people based on who their mum and dad are. I thought that's what this whole thing with Voldemort was about."
"But-" Harry began.
"Not everyone's parents are perfect," Neville said quietly.
Harry's anger seemed to wink out. Backing away, he seemed to take in his surroundings for the first time. His gaze lit upon the beech tree and its closeness to the lake and the colour drained from his face. When Weasley grabbed his arm and began to pull him back to the castle, he didn't try to resist.
Draco got to his feet and made his way over to Longbottom.
"I've called you a lot of names over the years. It seems that I owe you an apology. That was... that was quite well done."
Neville turned his eyes away from the trio that by now was almost inside Hogwarts and smiled at Draco.
"What names did you call me?"
"I'd rather not tell you."
"That bad?" Neville asked.
"No, that many. It would take hours." Draco considered the matter for the moment. "Possibly days."
"You really are a wanker," Neville said, grinning at Draco.
"Might even take weeks," Draco added, smiling back. He glanced over at the castle, but Potter and his friends had disappeared from sight. "All in all, that was a fairly painful experience."
Neville clasped his arm. "I know the two of you have been growing close lately. It must have hurt to have Harry angry with you like that."
"Oh, it wasn't that. It was his voice. Did he have to screech so loudly? Still suffering from a hangover, here."
Neville reached into his pocket and pulled out another leaf and handed it to him, which Draco gladly took.
* * *
The next morning, as Draco and Neville left Potions together, Harry sidled up next to them.
"Draco, can we talk?"
He stared at the boy, who was biting his lip and looking at him through dark lashes. Guilt, thy name is Potter. Letting out a long, deep sigh to make it clear how put upon he felt, and how he was doing this completely out of the dubious goodness of his heart, he nodded.
"I suppose we must, since I still haven't perfected mind reading yet."
Potter opened his mouth, as if to make some retort, then shut it again. With a jerk of his head, he indicated for Draco to follow him.
Neville looked at Draco, not sure if he should go too, but was waved away.
He followed Potter until they reached a disused portion of the dungeons, disused to the point where a layer of dust coated the stones beneath their feet and cobwebs hung like curtains from the ceiling.
Folding his arms across his chest, Draco scowled. He hated cobwebs - sticky, dirty things and usually filled with dead bugs.
"Charming place you've found, Potter. Come here often?"
"Do you always have to be obnoxious?" Harry spat out.
"Potter, I'm impressed. You know words of three syllables. Which will be quite handy when you finally decide to tell me why you dragged me here?"
"I wanted to tell you something... but now I'm not sure if I want to anymore."
"Let me guess, you've decided that you can't live without me and you want me to do you up against the wall."
Harry rolled his eyes.
"You're a really bad guesser."
"I don't know," Draco mused. "You've lured me to an out of the way spot. Got me alone at last." He moved closer to Harry, who gulped and backed up a foot.
"It's not like that."
"Are you sure? You do know that all you have to do is ask?" Draco edged closer until their clothing brushed.
Harry nodded his head. "Positive."
"Well, that's a shame," Draco sighed. "Then why did you drag me here?"
Harry squared his shoulders. "I wanted to apologise, you git. I wanted to say that I shouldn't have said those things to you yesterday and I'm sorry."
"You wanted to apologise, so you brought me here?" Draco queried, his voice rising.
"Yes."
"This dusty, dirty dungeon is where you're informing me that you're sorry?" Draco's voice grew even louder.
"Yes." Harry's voice, indicated that he had no idea what was peeving Draco so much.
"So," Draco practically shouted, "instead of going some place where everyone could see you, the Wizarding World's Hero and my sworn enemy apologise to me. Some place like the Great Hall, where we all eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner every single day, you decided to do it here? Here?"
Harry stared at him.
"Did you really swear to be my enemy?"
Draco leaned closer and hissed, "Not yet."
* * *
"My Lord?" Dauntmoor strode forward and bowed low.
"Do you have the information I seek?"
Dauntmoor's face turned a nasty shade of grey as he shook his head. "I have scheduled a meeting tonight. I am sure there will be news."
'Then what are you waiting for?" the Dark Lord shouted. "Go! Now!"
Dauntmoor's body stiffened as he stepped away. A moment later, a large eagle stood in his place. With a flap of its feathers, it slowly pushed away from the ground. It swooped around the room before flying out the door and disappearing into the night.
"Pettigrew," the Dark Lord hissed.
A man with a silver hand shuffled closer. "Yes, Master?"
"I do not trust Dauntmoor's assertions in regard to the device he created. Testing will be necessary."
The man blinked. "Does my Lord wish for me to-"
"No. You have already proved your loyalty to me with your sacrifice. You must help me determine who will be best to perform this deed. It must be someone who deserves the attention we plan to bestow upon him."
"What would you have me do, Master?" Pettigrew sniveled.
"I want you to watch. Watch those in our ranks. Learn who is trustworthy and who is not. Seek out their secrets. Burrow into their pasts. When you have learned all that you can of them, return to me."
"And who would my Lord wish for me to focus upon first?'
"We will start with my most loyal followers. Those who were at my side years ago."
Voldemort paused for a moment as he mentally judged the value of his Death Eaters.
"Begin with Goyle."
* * *
Draco woke, quickly donned the glasses he was finally used to wearing, then grabbed his wand and a robe. It had been another one of those nasty visions featuring Mister Red Eyes. Fighting off a deep feeling of revulsion at the memory of his dream, he rushed to Potter's bed.
"Hey!" He shifted his items into one hand, then clasped Harry's shoulders and shook vigorously. "Get up. We've got to go."
"Go where?" Potter asked, blinking, still half-asleep.
Draco picked up Harry's wand and thrust it into his hands. Then, yanking on Harry's pyjama top, he pulled him out of bed so hard and fast that he thumped onto the floor.
"What's going on?" Harry asked, glaring at him blearily from the floor.
"'You dreamed what I did, right?" Draco flipped open the lid to Harry's trunk and retrieved one of his robes. "You know the eagle. The one in the dream?"
"What about it?" Harry slowly rose and moved to clamber back onto his bed.
"When we were in the Owlery that time we tracked Knotlace, I saw a feather. A huge one. I think it might've belonged to the eagle animagus we dreamed about."
Harry stilled.
"Then that eagle might be flying to Hogwarts right now. I knew Voldemort was close by. I could feel him."
"Well, come on then." Draco grabbed Harry's hand and began pulling him.
They were halfway down the stairs when Harry stopped suddenly, almost knocking Draco off his feet.
"Wait a minute. I don't even have my glasses. I've got to go back."
"There's no time," Draco replied. Waving his wand, he spoke the spell that he usually did on himself to correct his vision.
"Don't know why you couldn't have given me the ones you're wearing," Harry complained as they pushed the Fat Lady's portrait aside and tumbled out into the hall.
Draco ignored the complaint and tossed Harry a robe to put on. As he did the same he vaguely noted the Gryffindor crest on his chest. They'd been mixed up again.
"You think I'm right, don't you?" Harry asked. "You think Knotlace is in on it."
"I might if I had any idea what 'in on it' means. All I know is that the man has been asking a lot of questions lately."
Why were there so many damn stairs wondered Draco. And for that matter, why did it have to be Gryffindor Bloody Tower, anyway? Were the Gryffindors too high and mighty to just have a floor?
"Oh, he's definitely in on it," Harry asserted.
"I never noticed before how articulate you are, Potter."
"Stuff it, Malfoy."
"Ah, another shining example."
This time, Harry just threw him a dirty look.
Most of the rest of the way was run in silence. They'd reached the main floor and were now racing to the base of the West Tower that held the Owlery. As they neared the entrance to the tower, a voice rang out from behind them.
"Potter and... and Malfoy! What is the meaning of this?"
"It's Snape!" Draco instinctively began slowing down in obedience to his Head of House.
Harry grabbed hold of his sleeve and tugged him forward.
"We don't have time."
"But... but he'll be furious," Draco said, increasing his speed just the same.
"Bugger the git."
"Eww, nasty mental image there, Potter."
As they began to climb the stairs up to the Owlery, Draco could hear Snape still shouting at them in the distance. It sounded as if he was not only taking every point Gryffindor and Slytherin had ever earned since Hogwarts had been built, but was also doing so while storming after them.
"It's not like he has to catch us," Draco panted. "He knows who we are. He even knows where we are. All he's got to do is stay at the base of this stupid tower and he's got us."
"Oh, he'll come after us, all right," Harry gasped in reply. "He'd never miss a chance to throttle me."
Up and up they climbed. Any noise Snape was making faded away. Finally, they passed the storeroom where they'd hidden before and stopped. Laying a finger across his lips to shush any questions or comments Draco might make, Harry began to creep up the last flight of stairs with Draco behind him.
There was the murmur of voices. Harry looked at Draco, and then drew at his wand. Swallowing hard, Draco drew out his own.
This was a really, really stupid idea, Draco thought. And how'd he end up caught up in Potter's doings, anyway? He ought to turn around right now. Leave him and go back to bed. In fact, that sounded like a quite good idea. He'd do just that.
Then Potter flung open the door.
By the light of the moon and stars, two dark figures could be seen on the far side of the room. One appeared to be Knotlace. The other, Draco recognised as Dauntmoor.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted.
"Expelliarmus!" Draco's spell came out only a split second later.
A shield sprang up and both spells bounced off harmlessly.
"Expelliarmus!" was shouted back at them.
Draco felt his wand pulled out of his hand as it was sent flying. He could hear it clatter to the floor behind him. A moment later, Harry's wand joined it.
Dauntmoor strode forward, his eyes going back and forth between the boys. "Two Potters?"
"There was an incident. I reported it to our Lord. I thought it might make my current task easier, but it hasn't helped."
"No matter," Dauntmoor said. He raised his wand. "Avada-"
"No!" Knotlace interrupted. "One of those is Lucius's boy. Lucius may not be what he was before Azkaban, but I doubt if he's going to stand for you killing his heir."
"Well then, which one is it?" Dauntmoor asked, irritably.
Draco and Harry stepped closer to each other.
"I suppose we could curse them until they tell," Knotlace suggested.
"You were an Auror," Harry shouted at Knotlace. "How can you do this?"
Draco gritted his teeth as Dauntmoor's wand swung toward Harry. Trust Potter to burst out with some such Gryffindor nonsense and jeopardise his own safety. Not quite believing that he was actually doing it, Draco stepped forward to try to muddy up the waters.
"Dumbledore trusts you," he hissed. "The Ministry trusts you."
Dauntmoor's wand swung away from Harry to point between the two of them again. "Cruciatus?" he asked Knotlace, who nodded in agreement. He pointed his wand at Draco.
Closing his eyes, Draco braced himself for an onslaught of pain.
"When I get you..." A thunderous Snape shouted from somewhere not too far away "You'll wish that Filch was still allowed to use his whips and chains."
Dauntmoor turned to Knotlace.
"It's Severus. Voldemort made it clear that he's to know nothing of our project."
Knotlace's eyes slid to Harry and Draco. "Then there's only one solution to our problem."
"Obliviate!"
As a darkness descended over Draco's mind, he thought he heard the flurry of wings.
Back to Chapter 2
Chapter 4
Title: The Face of His Enemy
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 were sold. It is therefore AU. Any similarities between this story and JKR's is purely coincidental.
Thank you, thank you, thank you to jasmasson and lastscorpion. The more I write, the more I realise how much I depend on wonderful betas. Any remaining errors are mine and mine alone.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Draco watched the activity at the Gryffindor table avidly as he ate breakfast.
"I'm not sure what's happening over there," Blaise, who sat next to him said in a lowered voice, "but I suspect that you're currently the subject of a great many conversations."
"I'm always the subject of conversations," Draco remarked. "It's both my gift and my curse."
"Of course," Blaise inclined his head. "But this, I think, is the first time that the conversations have included the words 'Potter', 'bed', and 'unbelievable'." He thought for a moment. "Although I have heard your name connected with one or two of the other words before."
Draco's grin widened, which caused Blaise to grow even more curious.
"Whatever did you do to Potter, Draco? And, might I request that you do the same to me, as well?"
"Nothing of importance happened. Gryffindors however, with their sad, boring, pathetic lives, attach too much significance to the fact that Potter and I slept in the same bed last night."
"Truly?" Blaise leaned closer and asked excitedly, "How was it? Do tell. Perverted minds want to know."
"As I said, nothing of importance happened," Draco repeated.
"Now that is a tragedy."
Draco could only agree with that assessment.
Across the room, Harry was focusing entirely on his eggs, which were slowly congealing. Ron and Hermione, sitting on each side of him, were talking. Arguing, actually.
Didn't they notice that Harry was looking more and more unhappy? Draco wondered. What kind of friends were they, anyway?
Those sitting near them seemed equally oblivious to Harry's mood. The ones closest to the trio were not even pretending not to listen. Further along the table, groups were whispering and giggling behind their hands.
Potter suddenly leapt to his feet, angrily tossing his napkin on the table.
"You don't understand, Ron." His loud outburst served to focus all of the attention onto him. "You'll never understand how it is. The only one who does is Malfoy."
With those words, Harry stomped out of the Great Hall.
"Why Draco, you little friendship-wrecker, you," Blaise teased. "You've finally broken up that threesome. Congratulations."
Draco nodded, but felt a cold lump form low in his gut. Was this possibly what guilt felt like? If it was, it was absolutely horrible. He was hardly able to swallow down his muffin, eggs, sausages and two cups of tea.
* * *
Potions that morning would have been mind-numbingly boring if not for the various antics of Ron and Hermione.
To prepare for the NEWTs, Snape was periodically having them review potions they'd learned in prior years. Those that had fumbled in the past had another chance to get it right. Consequently, Draco was working closely with Neville, giving him step-by-step instructions on something that he should've learned during second year. This gave him plenty of time to observe the rest of the room.
The entertainment portion of the class began when Snape ordered the students to choose a partner. Weasley, instead of picking Harry, Hermione, or some other Gryffindor, strode across the room to Pansy Parkinson.
"Will you be my potions partner?" he asked her loudly. "Even though we're bitter enemies and hate each other passionately, it makes sense that you might understand me better than My Very Best Friend."
Hermione sighed and shook her head.
Pansy appeared confused. "Flattered as I am at that description, Weasley, I really don't think of you as my bitter enemy. To tell the truth, I often forget you even exist."
Ron glared at her. "Will you work with me on the potion or not?"
A moment passed as she considered his request, before agreeing. "If you mess the potion up and ruin my grade, however, I promise you that I will vow vengeance and start a blood feud that will wipe out most of our relatives. Just as bitter enemies should."
"Fine," Ron muttered.
Hermione sniffed and pointedly turned her back on Ron and Pansy.
It was after Draco had quietly instructed Neville on the correct way to slice huckleberry root when he heard Hermione speaking to Harry.
"I do want you to know that your relationship with Draco has my full support."
Harry coloured. "I don't have a relationship with Draco," he hissed. "At least not the kind that you're implying."
"Oh, right," Hermione answered. "Well then, I fully support your right to lose yourself and your worries by partaking of pleasures of the flesh with Malfoy."
"What?" Harry squeaked. He dropped his wand in shock and was forced to bend over and retrieve it. This gave Draco a lovely view of Harry’s arse, which he thoroughly enjoyed.
"I believe sex is an excellent method of relieving stress and tension so I'm assuming last night will be repeated. Many times. It's much better than brooding or bursting out in anger over the least little thing," Hermione continued. "Though you might want to use precautions since he is a bit of slut."
Draco had to stifle his laughter as he watched Harry drop his wand in shock a second time. After again retrieving his wand from the floor, Potter stared at Hermione as if her bushy hair now covered two heads.
"Who are you?" he asked. "You do know that all I have to do is keep you here for more than an hour and the polyjuice will wear off, don't you?"
Hermione dismissed his concerns. "Stop being silly. Naturally I was a bit against the idea at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense." Her smile weakened a bit. "At least more sense than... um... alternate solutions."
"Are you sure it's better than alternate solutions?" Harry asked, seeming to be completely at a loss as to how sex with Malfoy could be a better idea than anything else.
"Positive. But to ensure that you experience a wide array of experiences, I've taken the liberty of creating a list of things you might want to try."
Harry looked at her blankly. "A list," he repeated.
A list? Damn, Draco thought. There was definitely something to be said for know-it-alls.
"If you have any questions about what I’ve written down, I’m sure Draco can answer them, if you’d rather not discuss the subject with me. Also, I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a great many books on the subject. They make absolutely fabulous reading." She thought for a moment. "Though I might have to tear a couple of them away from Lavender and Parvati. You wouldn’t believe how some people only care about looking at the photographs."
This time, when Potter dropped his wand, he left it where it lay. He simply put his face in his hands and moaned. "The whole world has gone crazy."
Draco, however, was eyeing Hermione with approval. Perhaps Gryffindors weren't quite so boring, after all.
* * *
It had been a long day by the time the bell rang, signaling the end of Defence Against the Dark Arts class.
Although it was much more fun (and challenging) taking the class with the Gryffindors due to not having to hold back, he did occasionally miss being with his fellow Slytherins.
This class had been more demanding than usual. Knotlace had decided to pair him with Potter. Potter had spent the class taking out the frustrations of his day on Draco, until he was reduced to doing nothing more than ducking and dodging hexes and throwing up protective shields. Fortunately, he was quite good at those.
As the other students began to file out of the room, Draco limped to where he'd left his bookbag only to find Knotlace blocking his way.
"Mister Malfoy, I'd like to speak to you in my office, if you please."
Before he could answer him, Draco found Longbottom at his side.
"Do you want me to wait for you?" Neville asked.
"That's unnecessary. Off with you." Draco waved him away dismissively.
Neville stayed where he was and eyed Knotlace with suspicion.
"I don't mind. It's my job as your minion to keep you safe."
Was Longbottom actually trying to be protective? Draco wondered. And what was this Gryffindor propensity to dislike DADA instructors?
"I'll be fine," Draco assured him, and then watched as Neville reluctantly left the room.
He followed Knotlace through a door. He'd been there a number of times before with different professors. He, for one, had liked Professor Lupin. Additionally, Lockhart had once invited him for tea and spent the time asking whether or not it was true that his father had contacts in the publishing world. He'd discovered later that the git had switched his attentions to that Lovegood chit.
"Is anything wrong, Professor?" he asked, taking a seat.
"Actually," Knotlace replied, "I was about to ask you that same question." He opened a tin of biscuits, offering one to Draco, who politely refused. "I'm concerned for you, Mister Malfoy. I'm worried that your present, shall we say 'predicament', might be affecting your performance in my class."
Draco had to think for a moment before he realised that Knotlace was referring to him looking like Potter.
"I haven't noticed any changes."
Knotlace smiled slightly.
"You're not finding that you're faster or stronger, perhaps?" Maybe you've discovered a new power or that you're an animagus or a seer?"
Draco shook his head.
"There are no changes? None whatsoever?"
Draco thought for a moment of his improved flying and stupid mental connection to Voldemort. However, he didn't think that was what Knotlace had in mind.
"I am having difficulty adjusting to one thing," Draco said slowly.
Knotlace leaned forward encouragingly, apparantly quite eager to hear what it might be.
Draco pointed to his head. "Have you looked at my hair? I mean really looked at it? It's a disgusting mess."
Sighing, Knotlace settled himself back into his chair. "I'm afraid that's not something that I can help you with."
"No one can," Draco answered, mournfully.
* * *
Qudditich practice that evening after dinner went smoothly. One of the Chasers had been smashed in the foot with a bludger, and Goyle had taken one to the head. But, seeing how feet weren't necessary when flying a broom and Goyle rarely used his brain anyway, it was no great loss.
Afterwards, he noticed Pansy sitting in the bleachers and went to join her.
The previous year, the school had allowed Quidditch teams to have cheerleading squads. Pansy had been the head cheerleader for the Slytherin team. During the first game of the year between Gryffindor and Slytherin while several female Gyffindors danced and yelled, Pansy had led her squad around the pitch, spitting out curses at anyone who was supporting the Gryffindors too loudly. It had only taken ten minutes before McGonagall had descended upon them and told them that was not the type of behavior she'd expected from cheerleaders.
Draco had disagreed. It had certainly cheered him up.
Pansy had moped for almost two days before she realised that McGonagall was absolutely correct. Afterwards, a new squad had formed. At the next Slytherin game, the new squad had danced and yelled just like all the others, while the old squad had skulked under the bleachers, hiding in the shadows and continuing their dirty work.
He'd heard that the tryouts for that particular cheerleading squad had been even bloodier than those for the Quidditch team.
Pansy was scanning the pitch and making notes, obviously working on her strategy for the upcoming game with Gryffindor.
"Need help?" he asked, sitting down next to her.
"I'm trying to decide whom to assign to the Hufflepuff bleachers," she answered. "Tracey has that excellent plague of field mice, but Graham has that creeping heebie-jeebies curse."
"Give Hufflepuff to Tracey and assign Graham to Ravenclaw. Ravenclaws rely on their intellect and, when hit with the creepy heebie-jeebies, will probably attempt to deny the feeling as illogical. Also, they're less likely to confess the weaknesses to their friends so it will probably go undetected for longer."
Pansy nodded and jotted it down in her notes.
"I was wondering," Draco began, attempting to be nonchalant, "if you knew anything about this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts professor?"
Pansy glanced up from her notes. "Knotlace? I make it my business to know everything about everyone. The real question is why do you want to know?"
Draco gazed off into the distance, avoiding her eyes. "I don't think you want me to tell you. That way, if it all goes pear-shaped, you can deny having any part of it."
She considered the situation for a moment, then asked, "What do you want to know about him?"
"Everything."
Putting down her quill and parchment, Pansy edged closer to him. "What I heard was that Knotlace was an Auror years ago. His expertise was defence"
"That's not surprising."
"You don't understand, Draco. When I say defence, that's exactly what it was. He knows more about shields, wards, disillusion, and memory spells than almost anyone else alive. I'm sure he can throw his fair share of hexes, too, but that's not what he excelled at. Because of his expertise, he could have gone far in the Ministry. However, during the last war, he and his partner were sent to investigate possible Death Eater activity and there was some sort of cock up."
"What kind of cock up?" Draco asked, curious.
"A Death Eater attack in London. It was two days before the Ministry realised that Knotlace and his partner had never reported in. It took another two days for Aurors to locate them. They discovered Knotlace holed up in a cave, still fighting to defend himself and his partner from a group of Death Eaters. Too bad his partner had died three days earlier."
Draco winced. "Ouch."
"Knotlace resigned in anger at the Ministry and went off somewhere to do private research. Most of the protective charms on the Cleansweep 11 are his doing."
"Is that it?"
Pansy shrugged her shoulders. "He turned down an offer to rejoin the Aurors in favour of teaching here. Other than that, all I can tell you is that on the 'Most Dishy Professor Ever Poll', he's still behind Lockhart, but is just edging out Lupin."
"And how am I doing on the 'Most Dishy Student Ever Poll'?" Draco smiled and batted his lashes and Pansy rolled her eyes at his blatant flirting.
"First the bad news," she said. "Oliver Wood is still number one."
"And the good news?" Draco prompted.
"Actually it's more bad news. Now that you look like Potter your rating has... "
"Tanked?"
"Um... no. It's gone up."
It really was a pity that he liked Pansy, Draco decided. Otherwise, he would've taken great pleasure in hexing her. Shooting the messenger may not be right, but it always made him a happy boy.
* * *
The day of the Quidditch match came and Draco felt ill at the riot of red and yellow that surrounded him when he woke.
Half-asleep, he stumbled into the bathroom to take his shower when Seamus clapped him on the back.
"Hey, ready to catch that Snitch today?"
Draco smirked. "Absolutely. I'm going to show those slimy gits exactly what's what. Teach them to respect their betters."
Seamus stepped back. It was only when Harry entered the bathroom that his face cleared of confusion. "Oh, it's you, Malfoy."
"Yes it is. And I must thank you for your encouraging words."
"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry said as he walked past, holding an extremely inferior brand of shampoo.
Giving Finnegan one last smirk, Draco followed closely behind Potter.
"What's the matter? Jealous that one of your fellow Gryffindors has finally seen the light?"
"He thought you were me. You know that."
"Perhaps he's finally acknowledging my superior skills."
Harry set his shampoo down, then turned to face him. "Um... Draco?"
"He won't be the only one, either. I'm going to get that Snitch, then everyone will know who the better Seeker is."
"Draco?"
"This time, Potter, I'm going to win."
"Draco!" Harry snapped.
"What?"
"Do you mind?" Harry glanced around, his face growing pink as he indicated the shower cubicle walls.
It occurred to Draco that if he didn't leave, then very soon there was going to be a wet, naked Harry Potter standing in front of him.
"Fine," he said. "Take your shower, but you really shouldn't bother because I'm going to rub your face in the dirt."
"Whatever."
Part of Draco wished he'd given in to temptation and stood his ground. His presence would have been sure to shake Harry up right before the game. Unfortunately, he suspected that it would've shaken him up just as badly.
* * *
Astride his broom, Draco searched the Quidditch pitch for the Snitch.
The Slytherins were doing extremely well. They'd hit one of the Chasers, injuring her badly enough that she was substituted out, and caused Weasley to tumble off his broom. Unfortunately, the prat wasn't hurt and was soon up in the air again. The cheerleaders were also apparently being quite effective - the Ravenclaw stands, in particular, were especially quiet.
Additionally, the score was Gryffindor 70, Slytherin 110.
He was hovering not too far from the Slytherin end of the field, when he saw a glint in the center of the pitch, close to the ground. Leaning forward, Draco dove toward it. There was a roar from the crowd as they realised he'd spotted his prey. From the corner of his eye he could see Potter closing in quickly.
Silently, he urged his broom to go even faster. He knew it was no match for Potter's, but he was slightly closer to the Snitch. Hopefully, it would make the difference.
The Snitch darted forward, practically skimming along the grass.
Hand outstretched, Draco tried to close the gap. Potter was alongside him now, so near that their Quidditch robes flapped against each other in the breeze their brooms created.
Potter's Firebolt was edging out his Nimbus, and Draco wanted to curse. Harry's fingers were almost touching the wings of the Snitch. Draco leaned farther out on his broom, but he knew it was too late. Despite having flown better and faster than he ever had in his life, it hadn't changed a thing. Once again, he was going to have to stomach Potter beating him.
Which was why, when the Snitch switched directions and hit Draco in the chest, he was almost too slow to clutch it to him.
But grab hold of it he did.
Letting out a whoop, he clasped it in his hand, proudly displaying it to the world. For a moment, all was quiet before the Slytherin stands let out a cry that seemed to shake the pitch.
Malfoy had done it! Malfoy had beaten Potter!
Gracefully landing on the grass, Draco continued to hold the Snitch aloft. When Madam Hooch arrived and started forward to take it from him, he glared at her and stepped away, moving it out of her reach. After two more attempts, she gave up, smiling at him indulgently.
In less than a minute, his teammates surrounded him, pounding on his back, whooping and hollering in his ear, the words undistinguishable in their enthusiasm. Crabbe and Goyle pushed through the mob around him. They grabbed him and lifted him up onto their shoulders, to march him around the pitch.
From his bouncing, shifting seat he saw Professor Snape in the crowd and had to twist his head to look at him a second time. The man was smiling - lips curled up, showing teeth and everything. Draco hadn't thought Snape was capable of it.
Also from his viewpoint he could see Potter. The loser, not nearly good enough Potter. He was standing where he'd landed, the end of his broom on the ground as the Gryffindor players passed by, patting his shoulder and most likely giving him words of condolence and encouragement.
He saw Harry give them all a weak smile before lifting his eyes once more to Draco's.
Draco wanted to see defeat. He wanted to see anger and rage. He wanted to see bitterness and self-recriminations.
What he didn't want to see was what happened - Potter giving him a nod and a mock salute in acknowledgement of his victory.
Damn, Potter for being a good sport, Draco thought. The boy always managed to spoil his fun.
* * *
The celebration after the game was one that had been a long time in coming.
Neville had valiantly entered enemy territory in his role as Draco's minion. It was only after he'd been grabbed and thoroughly snogged by Daphne Greengrass that he'd begun to relax.
Butterbeer was everywhere, a few contraband bottles of Firewhiskey made brief appearances, while two vaguely illegal potions lurked in the shadows.
A good time was had by all.
Several girls and two boys had made it clear that if Draco wanted to celebrate privately, they would be more than happy to oblige. Each one he politely refused, not wanting to miss a minute of this.
He'd done it. He'd finally beaten Potter.
His arm was wrapped around a blonde sixth-year girl and he'd just taken a swig of Firewhiskey, when Nott wandered over and clapped him on the back.
"Congratulations, Malfoy."
"Thanks." Draco gave him a brief nod then turned and whispered a naughty suggestion in the girl's ear. She giggled and her hand splayed against his chest.
Nott moved closer. "Guess it just proves the saying, if you can't beat them, join them."
Draco took another drink from his bottle then frowned at Nott. "What do you mean by that?"
Nott shrugged. "Nothing." There was a brief pause before he continued. "It's just you never managed to beat Potter before."
Shrugging off the female, Draco took a menacing step forward. "So?"
"I just think it's funny, is all." There was a malicious light in Nott's eyes. "Seems the only way you can beat Potter is to be Potter."
The bottle Draco had been holding crashed to the floor, but he didn't notice. He was too busy grabbing Nott by the throat, spinning around, and slamming him against the wall.
"Is that what you think?" he shouted.
At the sound of the bottle smashing, a silence descended among the partygoers. Draco, with his hands still around Nott's neck, twisted to glare at them.
"Is that what you all think? That the only reason I beat Potter is because I look like him?"
Pansy stepped out of the hushed crowd. "Of course not, Draco. It's simply a coincidence." She turned to the group. "That's right, isn't it? Just a coincidence."
There were several murmurs of "Of course" and "Uh-huh" and "Yeah." Even more people nodded.
Draco stared at them. Slytherins were sneaky and ambitious. Slytherins always looked to the main chance. Slytherins were also natural liars.
He gave Nott's throat one last squeeze, then released him, letting him slump, panting for breath, to the floor. Before anyone could think to stop him, Draco had grabbed a fresh bottle of Firewhiskey and stalked out the door.
* * *
Draco was quite pleased to see his victim lying there unaware. He stood over him, well, swayed over him, as he tried to decide how best to end his enemy's existence. If his thoughts had been known, then the boy would have cowered in fear and begged for mercy.
He frowned. His hated nemesis just lay there, sleeping. This most definitely would not do. There had to be cowering and begging.
Sitting on the bed next to Potter, he shook him.
"Hey," he said, trying to rouse him. "Hey," he said again, a little louder.
There was a murmur of protest from a bed on the far side of the room, so Draco put his bottle down on the floor next to the bed and pulled out his wand to do a silencing spell. He then shoved his wand back into his robes.
"Potter," he hissed.
Harry blinked and rubbed at his eyes.
"Oh, it's you," he said. He pulled the covers up and rolled over.
Draco pulled at Harry's shoulder until he rolled onto his back.
"You're supposed to be begging for mercy right now." He leaned closer. "Beg me, Potter."
The smell of alcohol hit Harry and he waved a hand in front of his face hoping to get rid of the stench.
"Fine. I'm begging you to please stop bothering me and get your arse off my bed or I'll be forced to wake up to smash your face in."
"Ha! I knew I'd have you begging at some point." Draco pushed the fringe gently away from Harry's forehead. "I've always hated you, you know."
"Have you?" Harry said flatly. "I've never noticed."
"You don't ever notice me. No one else does, either." He poked at Harry's scar with a fingertip. "Not with you and this thing around."
"Ow!" Harry pushed Draco's hand away from his forehead. "That hurt."
"You're all everyone ever talks about. I'd go home from school and my mother and father would ask about you, wonder what you were up to. Then it was your fault my father was locked up in Azkaban. I didn't know what you'd take away from me next and I hated you even more."
"Are you almost done, because I'd like to go back to sleep."
"Turns out you're not so scary, Potter. You're just a stupid git who has a stupid scar with a stupid madman after you. Hating you was… was…"
"Stupid?" Harry supplied.
"Exactly."
"Does this mean you don't hate me anymore?" Harry asked.
"Of course I hate you."
"But you just said it'd be stupid."
"Are you calling me stupid, Potter?"
Harry sighed heavily. "Never mind."
"No, you insulted me and must be punished for it." Draco slid under the blankets and made himself comfortable next to Harry.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked; panic beginning to creep into his voice.
"Going to torture you," Draco stated.
"By sleeping next to me? I think you need to reread your Junior Death Eater Manual. Doubt if that method's in there."
Draco tried to arch his eyebrow, but since he couldn't even feel his nose, he failed miserably.
"Don't think that I can torture you in bed, do you?"
"Well, if by torture me you mean pass out, then I'm sure you can."
"Oh, Potter," Draco said quietly, and then smiled wickedly. "How little you know me."
One hand smoothed along Harry's chest under the covers. They both watched as it made its way across the front of his pyjamas.
"'You really shouldn't challenge me like that. If you want me, all you have to do is ask," Draco whispered, edging so close that his breath teased the skin on Harry's cheek.
Harry was just about to reply when the hand found his right nipple through his pyjama top and started rubbing. He let out a gasp, instead.
"Oh God," he moaned.
"Oooh, more begging. You do know the way to my heart, don't you?" Draco's tongue flicked out to taste the skin near Harry's mouth. The hand abandoned the nipple and had started traveling downward when Harry trapped it.
"Stop it, Draco."
Draco took another small taste of Harry before replying. "Why?"
Harry turned to face him. "I can't do this. You look like me. It's too... weird. It'd be like me doing it to myself."
"I'm not you, though," Draco stated firmly, sobering a little. "Never be you."
"I know, but... I just can't fool around with someone who looks like I do."
"Really?" Draco asked. "I would have no problem with it, myself."
"That's because you're a narcissistic prick."
Admitting the truth of that statement, Draco laughed, then laughed again but stopped suddenly to clutch his stomach.
"Oh, no," he groaned. He sat up and the world began to spin.
"What's wrong?"
"Sick." He hurriedly covered his mouth with one hand.
"Accio rubbish bin," Harry shouted.
It came not a moment too soon. Draco was quite miserable for some time. He didn't remember much of what happened afterwards. A hand rubbing his back. A cool cloth on his brow. Several suggestions that he move to his own bed, which were ignored.
The next morning when he awoke, he was surprised to find that the sunlight was already strong and bright as it poured in through the window.
"Explain this again," he heard Weasley saying.
"Shush, Ron. Malfoy's sleeping," Harry admonished.
In a slightly quieter voice, Ron said, "Explain again, Harry."
"I told you, Malfoy crawled into my bed this morning, then was sick."
"Malfoy and you in the same bed. Again. I feel sick, myself."
Draco smiled to himself as he closed his eyes to go back to sleep. He hadn't managed to torture Potter, but making Weasley ill was almost as good.
* * *
Draco sat under the beech tree and nibbled on the strangely coloured leaf that Neville had sworn would make him feel better. It worked fairly well, as his head no longer felt as if Crabbe and Goyle had played Quidditch with it. Now it only felt as if someone had removed it from his shoulders and kicked it around the Great Hall for a while.
He cracked open an eyelid, which was quite an achievement, and looked at Neville.
"So - how was it?" Draco asked.
"How was what?' Neville handed him another leaf, and then put one in his own mouth and began to chew.
"Sex with Daphne. You did shag her, right?"
Neville began to choke on the leaf. Draco watched for a moment. Unless Neville turned blue, there was truly no point in getting upset or anything. After what seemed like a very long time and a large amount of coughing, he began to breathe normally again.
"You think I... that I... "
"Save the act for your idiot Gryffindor friends. I notice things. They might believe that you were out harvesting sneezewort this morning, but I know better. Sneezewort irritates the nasal cavities and your nose was neither red nor swollen when you returned."
Letting out a sigh, Neville shook his head.
"I don't think I should tell you anything. It wouldn't be right."
"Ah," said Draco knowingly. "You're a gentleman. That's quite all right, then. I understand completely."
As Neville smiled at him gratefully, Draco made plans to visit the Slytherin dorm and get the details from Daphne. Neville might be a gentleman, but she was certainly no lady. Not that he'd ever tell Neville that. The boy was showing all the symptoms of being in love. Or at least lust.
Thinking of lust made him think about Potter, and he decided that he really, really didn't want to even examine that connection too closely.
Potter had been quite nice the previous night. He'd helped him when he was sick. Soothed him while murmuring some complete nonsense about everything being all right. His mind drifted to what happened before the contents of Draco's stomach had decided to make an appearance. Potter had not only acted friendly, he'd tasted quite nice, as well.
Perhaps when this hideous curse left him, perhaps they might want to explore a possible relationship between them.
Glancing up, he saw Potter gripping a newspaper, stomping toward him with Weasley and Granger not far behind.
Or perhaps not.
"Did you know about this?" Harry demanded, brandishing the newspaper at Draco. "Did you know about what your father is doing?"
Draco grabbed the newspaper out of Potter's hand and scanned the headlines, then began to read the article. When he finished, Potter was staring at him, breath huffing out like a dragon without its fire.
"It seems that the Ministry is determined to right their wrongs. A return of his place on the Hogwarts Board of Governors seems like a credible start."
"Your father is a Death Eater!" Harry shouted. "The only place he deserves is a cell in Azkaban."
"That charge was overturned," Draco replied, his temper starting to rise.
"It's still true."
Draco let out a harsh, scornful laugh.
"You don't really believe that the courts are actually interested in the truth, do you?"
"You're just like him, aren't you?" Harry started towards him, but Weasley and Granger imposed themselves in between.
"You can't, Harry," Granger insisted. "We'd get in trouble. More trouble. He's still suffering from our spell."
Gritting his teeth, Harry let himself be pulled back a few feet. With Draco no longer a legitimate target, he swung to face Neville.
"I can't believe that you can stand to be around him, even with him helping you in Potions. You know what his father is. We all know."
Neville raised his eyes to meet a furious Harry's. "Yes, I know what his father is. But Draco isn't his father." He stood and took a few steps towards Harry. "It's not fair to judge people based on who their mum and dad are. I thought that's what this whole thing with Voldemort was about."
"But-" Harry began.
"Not everyone's parents are perfect," Neville said quietly.
Harry's anger seemed to wink out. Backing away, he seemed to take in his surroundings for the first time. His gaze lit upon the beech tree and its closeness to the lake and the colour drained from his face. When Weasley grabbed his arm and began to pull him back to the castle, he didn't try to resist.
Draco got to his feet and made his way over to Longbottom.
"I've called you a lot of names over the years. It seems that I owe you an apology. That was... that was quite well done."
Neville turned his eyes away from the trio that by now was almost inside Hogwarts and smiled at Draco.
"What names did you call me?"
"I'd rather not tell you."
"That bad?" Neville asked.
"No, that many. It would take hours." Draco considered the matter for the moment. "Possibly days."
"You really are a wanker," Neville said, grinning at Draco.
"Might even take weeks," Draco added, smiling back. He glanced over at the castle, but Potter and his friends had disappeared from sight. "All in all, that was a fairly painful experience."
Neville clasped his arm. "I know the two of you have been growing close lately. It must have hurt to have Harry angry with you like that."
"Oh, it wasn't that. It was his voice. Did he have to screech so loudly? Still suffering from a hangover, here."
Neville reached into his pocket and pulled out another leaf and handed it to him, which Draco gladly took.
* * *
The next morning, as Draco and Neville left Potions together, Harry sidled up next to them.
"Draco, can we talk?"
He stared at the boy, who was biting his lip and looking at him through dark lashes. Guilt, thy name is Potter. Letting out a long, deep sigh to make it clear how put upon he felt, and how he was doing this completely out of the dubious goodness of his heart, he nodded.
"I suppose we must, since I still haven't perfected mind reading yet."
Potter opened his mouth, as if to make some retort, then shut it again. With a jerk of his head, he indicated for Draco to follow him.
Neville looked at Draco, not sure if he should go too, but was waved away.
He followed Potter until they reached a disused portion of the dungeons, disused to the point where a layer of dust coated the stones beneath their feet and cobwebs hung like curtains from the ceiling.
Folding his arms across his chest, Draco scowled. He hated cobwebs - sticky, dirty things and usually filled with dead bugs.
"Charming place you've found, Potter. Come here often?"
"Do you always have to be obnoxious?" Harry spat out.
"Potter, I'm impressed. You know words of three syllables. Which will be quite handy when you finally decide to tell me why you dragged me here?"
"I wanted to tell you something... but now I'm not sure if I want to anymore."
"Let me guess, you've decided that you can't live without me and you want me to do you up against the wall."
Harry rolled his eyes.
"You're a really bad guesser."
"I don't know," Draco mused. "You've lured me to an out of the way spot. Got me alone at last." He moved closer to Harry, who gulped and backed up a foot.
"It's not like that."
"Are you sure? You do know that all you have to do is ask?" Draco edged closer until their clothing brushed.
Harry nodded his head. "Positive."
"Well, that's a shame," Draco sighed. "Then why did you drag me here?"
Harry squared his shoulders. "I wanted to apologise, you git. I wanted to say that I shouldn't have said those things to you yesterday and I'm sorry."
"You wanted to apologise, so you brought me here?" Draco queried, his voice rising.
"Yes."
"This dusty, dirty dungeon is where you're informing me that you're sorry?" Draco's voice grew even louder.
"Yes." Harry's voice, indicated that he had no idea what was peeving Draco so much.
"So," Draco practically shouted, "instead of going some place where everyone could see you, the Wizarding World's Hero and my sworn enemy apologise to me. Some place like the Great Hall, where we all eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner every single day, you decided to do it here? Here?"
Harry stared at him.
"Did you really swear to be my enemy?"
Draco leaned closer and hissed, "Not yet."
* * *
"My Lord?" Dauntmoor strode forward and bowed low.
"Do you have the information I seek?"
Dauntmoor's face turned a nasty shade of grey as he shook his head. "I have scheduled a meeting tonight. I am sure there will be news."
'Then what are you waiting for?" the Dark Lord shouted. "Go! Now!"
Dauntmoor's body stiffened as he stepped away. A moment later, a large eagle stood in his place. With a flap of its feathers, it slowly pushed away from the ground. It swooped around the room before flying out the door and disappearing into the night.
"Pettigrew," the Dark Lord hissed.
A man with a silver hand shuffled closer. "Yes, Master?"
"I do not trust Dauntmoor's assertions in regard to the device he created. Testing will be necessary."
The man blinked. "Does my Lord wish for me to-"
"No. You have already proved your loyalty to me with your sacrifice. You must help me determine who will be best to perform this deed. It must be someone who deserves the attention we plan to bestow upon him."
"What would you have me do, Master?" Pettigrew sniveled.
"I want you to watch. Watch those in our ranks. Learn who is trustworthy and who is not. Seek out their secrets. Burrow into their pasts. When you have learned all that you can of them, return to me."
"And who would my Lord wish for me to focus upon first?'
"We will start with my most loyal followers. Those who were at my side years ago."
Voldemort paused for a moment as he mentally judged the value of his Death Eaters.
"Begin with Goyle."
* * *
Draco woke, quickly donned the glasses he was finally used to wearing, then grabbed his wand and a robe. It had been another one of those nasty visions featuring Mister Red Eyes. Fighting off a deep feeling of revulsion at the memory of his dream, he rushed to Potter's bed.
"Hey!" He shifted his items into one hand, then clasped Harry's shoulders and shook vigorously. "Get up. We've got to go."
"Go where?" Potter asked, blinking, still half-asleep.
Draco picked up Harry's wand and thrust it into his hands. Then, yanking on Harry's pyjama top, he pulled him out of bed so hard and fast that he thumped onto the floor.
"What's going on?" Harry asked, glaring at him blearily from the floor.
"'You dreamed what I did, right?" Draco flipped open the lid to Harry's trunk and retrieved one of his robes. "You know the eagle. The one in the dream?"
"What about it?" Harry slowly rose and moved to clamber back onto his bed.
"When we were in the Owlery that time we tracked Knotlace, I saw a feather. A huge one. I think it might've belonged to the eagle animagus we dreamed about."
Harry stilled.
"Then that eagle might be flying to Hogwarts right now. I knew Voldemort was close by. I could feel him."
"Well, come on then." Draco grabbed Harry's hand and began pulling him.
They were halfway down the stairs when Harry stopped suddenly, almost knocking Draco off his feet.
"Wait a minute. I don't even have my glasses. I've got to go back."
"There's no time," Draco replied. Waving his wand, he spoke the spell that he usually did on himself to correct his vision.
"Don't know why you couldn't have given me the ones you're wearing," Harry complained as they pushed the Fat Lady's portrait aside and tumbled out into the hall.
Draco ignored the complaint and tossed Harry a robe to put on. As he did the same he vaguely noted the Gryffindor crest on his chest. They'd been mixed up again.
"You think I'm right, don't you?" Harry asked. "You think Knotlace is in on it."
"I might if I had any idea what 'in on it' means. All I know is that the man has been asking a lot of questions lately."
Why were there so many damn stairs wondered Draco. And for that matter, why did it have to be Gryffindor Bloody Tower, anyway? Were the Gryffindors too high and mighty to just have a floor?
"Oh, he's definitely in on it," Harry asserted.
"I never noticed before how articulate you are, Potter."
"Stuff it, Malfoy."
"Ah, another shining example."
This time, Harry just threw him a dirty look.
Most of the rest of the way was run in silence. They'd reached the main floor and were now racing to the base of the West Tower that held the Owlery. As they neared the entrance to the tower, a voice rang out from behind them.
"Potter and... and Malfoy! What is the meaning of this?"
"It's Snape!" Draco instinctively began slowing down in obedience to his Head of House.
Harry grabbed hold of his sleeve and tugged him forward.
"We don't have time."
"But... but he'll be furious," Draco said, increasing his speed just the same.
"Bugger the git."
"Eww, nasty mental image there, Potter."
As they began to climb the stairs up to the Owlery, Draco could hear Snape still shouting at them in the distance. It sounded as if he was not only taking every point Gryffindor and Slytherin had ever earned since Hogwarts had been built, but was also doing so while storming after them.
"It's not like he has to catch us," Draco panted. "He knows who we are. He even knows where we are. All he's got to do is stay at the base of this stupid tower and he's got us."
"Oh, he'll come after us, all right," Harry gasped in reply. "He'd never miss a chance to throttle me."
Up and up they climbed. Any noise Snape was making faded away. Finally, they passed the storeroom where they'd hidden before and stopped. Laying a finger across his lips to shush any questions or comments Draco might make, Harry began to creep up the last flight of stairs with Draco behind him.
There was the murmur of voices. Harry looked at Draco, and then drew at his wand. Swallowing hard, Draco drew out his own.
This was a really, really stupid idea, Draco thought. And how'd he end up caught up in Potter's doings, anyway? He ought to turn around right now. Leave him and go back to bed. In fact, that sounded like a quite good idea. He'd do just that.
Then Potter flung open the door.
By the light of the moon and stars, two dark figures could be seen on the far side of the room. One appeared to be Knotlace. The other, Draco recognised as Dauntmoor.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted.
"Expelliarmus!" Draco's spell came out only a split second later.
A shield sprang up and both spells bounced off harmlessly.
"Expelliarmus!" was shouted back at them.
Draco felt his wand pulled out of his hand as it was sent flying. He could hear it clatter to the floor behind him. A moment later, Harry's wand joined it.
Dauntmoor strode forward, his eyes going back and forth between the boys. "Two Potters?"
"There was an incident. I reported it to our Lord. I thought it might make my current task easier, but it hasn't helped."
"No matter," Dauntmoor said. He raised his wand. "Avada-"
"No!" Knotlace interrupted. "One of those is Lucius's boy. Lucius may not be what he was before Azkaban, but I doubt if he's going to stand for you killing his heir."
"Well then, which one is it?" Dauntmoor asked, irritably.
Draco and Harry stepped closer to each other.
"I suppose we could curse them until they tell," Knotlace suggested.
"You were an Auror," Harry shouted at Knotlace. "How can you do this?"
Draco gritted his teeth as Dauntmoor's wand swung toward Harry. Trust Potter to burst out with some such Gryffindor nonsense and jeopardise his own safety. Not quite believing that he was actually doing it, Draco stepped forward to try to muddy up the waters.
"Dumbledore trusts you," he hissed. "The Ministry trusts you."
Dauntmoor's wand swung away from Harry to point between the two of them again. "Cruciatus?" he asked Knotlace, who nodded in agreement. He pointed his wand at Draco.
Closing his eyes, Draco braced himself for an onslaught of pain.
"When I get you..." A thunderous Snape shouted from somewhere not too far away "You'll wish that Filch was still allowed to use his whips and chains."
Dauntmoor turned to Knotlace.
"It's Severus. Voldemort made it clear that he's to know nothing of our project."
Knotlace's eyes slid to Harry and Draco. "Then there's only one solution to our problem."
"Obliviate!"
As a darkness descended over Draco's mind, he thought he heard the flurry of wings.
Back to Chapter 2
Chapter 4