The Face of His Enemy - Chapter 5
With only one more chapter to post after this, I wanted to take this opportunity to thank svmadelyn for organizing the wip_it_good challenge. If it hadn't been for her and this challenge, this story would still be languishing on my computer.
I also want to thank my wip_a_team for their encouragement and support. And I need to thank my daughter for telling me to quit whining and get writing.
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). No profit is being made on this work.
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.
I owe a tremendous amount of gratitude to my betas - lastscorpion and jasmasson. They both did amazing jobs with this. Any remaining errors are mine and mine alone.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Laughter.
That's all Draco could hear. Laughter ringing in his ears, making his blood pound angrily. Turning his head, he glared at the source of his irritation. That man. That thing. Voldemort.
All this time, he’d thought that he was Potter. He’d treated Ron and Hermione as though they were his best friends. He’d become resigned to his prophesied fate - that he would kill or be killed by Voldemort.
It was a wrench to drag his thoughts back to being Draco Malfoy. He saw his father across the room, standing next to Harry, and it was as if he were seeing a double image - one of the man who’d raised him and the other of an enemy.
On legs that felt unsteady, as if they belonged to someone else, he carefully made his way over to where his father still stood, staring at him. A movement nearby caught his eye, and he saw a tall figure bump hard into Knotlace, almost making him lose his balance. Part of Draco's brain concluded that it had to be Snape, shifting his position so that he could do what he could to protect Potter. Potter and not him.
Potter wasn't looking too good. The green of his eyes was the only bit of colour in his face, aside from the scar that was standing out vividly. He seemed to be having difficulty breathing. He was staring not at Voldemort, but at Lucius, his gaze filled with horror and pain. His mouth had opened, but no cry issued forth as though the anguish he was feeling could not be voiced.
Lucius was still, as still as a statue. Draco remembered that when Knotlace had dragged him into the chamber, his father had been protecting Potter. This was a serious mistake to make in the presence of the Dark Lord.
Voldemort was not known to be the forgiving sort.
All the other Death Eaters who had surrounded them had backed away, as if their touch was plague-ridden.
Draco continued moving until he stood facing the man who'd raised him.
"Father," he said, bowing his head in respect.
There was a slight tremor in the muscles of Lucius's face at the word, so slight that if Draco hadn't known him so well he wouldn't have noticed. Lucius was not nearly as calm as he was attempting to appear.
His father's only response was to nod his head in greeting and say calmly, "Son."
Draco then turned towards Harry. "Potter, you should be bowing down before the Dark Lord."
"Yes, young Malfoy," Voldemort hissed, still seated behind them. "Do instruct Harry Potter on the correct way to act when confronted with his betters."
Pettigrew let out a high-pitched laugh.
Harry gritted his teeth and looked defiantly at Draco, who ignored it.
"You always were a fool, Potter. Even when we were first-years and were sent into the Forbidden Forest for detention, you didn't know the proper way to act, while I had the correct response to the situation. I do hope that you have learned enough to follow my lead."
Harry's eyes darted about the room, lighting on Lucius for a moment, before returning to Draco. "You've got to be kidding me."
Turning, Draco gripped his wand and faced Voldemort. "My Lord, I do humbly request that before you kill him you allow me to punish Potter for having the audacity to believe that he could take my place at my father’s side. I believe that the Cruciatus curse would be-"
"No, master," Lucius interrupted. "Please allow me the honour of tormenting this half-blood mongrel before you terminate his life." He drew his wand out in preparation.
Voldemort nodded, his red eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Father and son - you may both entertain us by torturing Potter. Let us see if any power that might threaten my existence emerges."
"Prepare yourself, Potter," Draco sneered.
The two Malfoys looked at each other and raised their wands.
Together they spun around, facing Voldemort and Pettigrew.
"Crucio!" Draco shouted and Pettigrew tumbled to the ground in agony.
"Avada Kedavra!" From Lucius’s wand came a stream of green light that hit Voldemort in the chest.
For a moment, except for Pettigrew’s screams, the room was silent.
Then Voldemort began to laugh and stood up. "Fools. I am not destroyed so easily."
"Shit!" Draco had time to mutter, seeing Voldemort begin to raise his wand.
"Nox!" A voice that he recognised as Snape’s made all the torches in the room go dark.
Draco felt a yank on his robe and he followed where the hand was pulling him. A few seconds later he found himself racing out the door after Snape and Harry. Lucius was running alongside him.
"Can we apparate?" he heard Harry ask Snape.
"No. Voldemort puts up wards so no one can apparate out unless he allows it. Nor can we portkey until we get outside the building," was the hurried reply.
Snape twisted and shot a spell back the way they had come and a wall sprang up. "That will delay them."
"For less than a minute," Lucius interjected as they continued running down the corridor and rounding a bend.
"If you have any better ideas, be my guest," Snape retorted.
It was amazing how Snape could sound insulting even when running for his life, Draco thought.
As if waiting for the invitation, Lucius pointed his wand at the ceiling above their heads and murmured an incantation. The beams began to rattle and sway. They’d barely passed under them when a section of the floor above crashed down to block the passage.
"Showoff," Snape muttered.
"Jealous lout," Lucius snapped back.
Draco sincerely wished that both of them would shut up. It was interrupting his train of thought. Of course his train of thought at the moment was we’re all going to die, we’re all going to die, we’re all going to die.
When they rounded a corner and found themselves confronted by a group of Death Eaters in front of a barred door to the outside, his train of thought went screaming off the tracks. The foursome skidded to a halt.
"What’s going on?" A burly man snarled.
"Quick," Draco yelled. "Voldemort wants you to come at once. Harry Potter’s in the building."
"Wait - Isn’t that Harry Potter?" the man asked, pointing at Harry.
"Um… Oh my God, he’s followed us!" Draco shrieked.
Harry pointed his wand at the Death Eaters. Within seconds the Death Eaters had been turned into large purple pincushions. Snape and Lucius both looked at him with something akin to respect.
"Learned that from the Weasley Twins," he said, shrugging. "It won’t last long. None of their trick hexes do."
"Then we’d best be going." Snape unbarred the door, then shouted, "Alohomora!"
The door refused to open.
He began waving his wand, reciting incantation after incantation. Lucius joined him and their magic splayed across its wooden frame. Despite their efforts, the door remained firmly locked.
Draco could hear footsteps thundering closer.
"Hurrrreee," Draco said through gritted teeth. Stirring noises from behind him alerted Draco to fact that the Death Eaters were regaining their forms. He quickly stupefied them.
Harry yanked on Lucius’s sleeve. "Dad, blast the wall!"
For a moment, Lucius simply stared at him. Draco wasn’t sure if it was in reaction to the form of address or the instruction.
"The wall," Harry repeated, pointing to the stones next to the door. "Do the same thing you did to that ceiling, but do it to the wall."
A jet of magic hit the wall, sending the stones tumbling outward. A cloud of dust was thrown up causing Draco to cough and wave his hand in front of his face. As the air cleared, a hole approximately four feet in diameter appeared and the night could be seen outside.
Draco was quick to duck through the opening and clamber over the rubble. The sound of their pursuers was growing steadily closer.
Just as Harry scrambled out, a blast hit the wall next to him, resulting in a few more rocks plummeting down. Reaching out, Draco pulled Harry further away from the building.
More blasts of magic. The rumbling echoed around them. Flashes of coloured light could be seen coming from inside.
"We have to go back and help them." Harry had turned back toward the opening when Snape emerged.
"Grab hold," Snape ordered, reaching into a pocket of his robe and extracting a small box that he opened to reveal a quill.
Harry glanced at the hole in the wall. "But what about-"
"Do it. Now!"
A loud cry rang out in the night, then all was silent.
For a moment Harry continued to look, waiting for Lucius to appear. Snape clasped his wrist, yanking his hand closer to the portkey.
"Don’t make his sacrifice meaningless," Snape growled.
As they were transported away, Draco knew that the horrible feeling growing in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with the pull of the portkey.
* * *
It was a sober group that gathered in Dumbledore’s office. Snape herded the pair of boys inside. Unlike other times when Draco had been in the Headmaster’s office when he’d immediately seated himself, this time he remained standing, hovering close to both Harry and Snape as if seeking warmth from their presence.
"Should I request Madam Pomfrey’s help?" The Headmaster asked.
Snape shook his head. "That will be unnecessary. We have suffered no physical injuries."
Dumbledore made a motion with his hand, and a tea service with four cups popped up on his desk. "Then perhaps a nice bracing cup of tea."
Draco lifted his gaze to Snape’s. "He’s dead, isn’t he? My father’s dead."
"It is unlikely that Voldemort has allowed his continued existence." Snape’s hand settled on Draco’s shoulder. "You are now Lord Malfoy. It would do you well to remember your position and act accordingly."
"His father’s dead," Harry snapped. "Would it hurt you to show a little understanding and leave him alone? Talking to him about what’s expected of him isn’t helping."
Harry was wrong, though. Snape’s comment had helped. It allowed him to move past his grief, past the loss of his father to more important things.
"Tell me," Draco said, addressing the others. "Now that I’ve seen the face of my enemy - how do I kill him?"
* * *
Despite having returned to the Slytherin dormitories, Draco had yet to speak with his friends. It had been late by the time he'd left the Headmaster's office, and his roommates had been asleep. Overtired from the night before, he'd slept late and had to hurry through his morning routine simply to arrive in Potions on time.
He went to his usual spot next to Neville, who smiled widely at him.
"It's strange, seeing you looking like yourself again," Neville whispered once they began to work on their assigned potion.
"It's a little strange being like this again," Draco confessed. "This morning I spent several seconds trying to locate my glasses before remembering that I no longer needed them." He watched for a moment as Neville began slicing caterpillars. "You seem to doing that fairly competently."
Neville nodded. "I think some of your instructions must have sunk in."
Draco peered at him closely. "I don't remember you destroying any cauldrons over the last few weeks."
"I didn't. Not a one," Neville said proudly.
Draco focused his attention on crushing the scarab beetles the potion called for. "I no longer need a minion, having returned to Slytherin, and you obviously no longer need Potions help. You are more than welcome to stop bothering me and go be with your friends."
Neville paused in his work to gaze at Draco. After a moment, he resumed his slicing. "I believe I already am," he said quietly.
* * *
On the way to Care of Magical Creatures class, Draco spied Vince walking alone. Waving Neville to go on, he sidled up next to him.
"Where's Greg?"
"Still home. I got an owl from him this morning. His mom's not taking his dad's death too well."
Crap. Draco had forgotten about Greg's father being murdered by Voldemort.
He vaguely recalled Greg receiving an owl one morning and letting out a cry. He'd been much too caught up with training and being Harry Potter, though, to pay much attention or even care when a Slytherin classmate was hustled out of the Great Hall by concerned staff members.
A friend of his had been suffering and he'd ignored it. Actually, he usually ignored any suffering by his friends, but then again that was because normally he was the one causing it. "How's Greg handling it?"
"How do you think? As soon as the traditional period of mourning is over, he plans to join the Death Eaters. He'll make those Aurors pay for what they did to his father."
"But Voldemort was the one who killed him," Draco blurted out.
"What?" Vince said loudly, rounding on Draco.
Draco gave his classmates who'd glanced around toward them at Vincent's outburst dirty looks, then steered his companion further away so that their conversation wouldn't be overheard.
"I can't tell you how I know it, but I do."
Vince stared at Draco for a long time, both of them ignoring Hagrid's lecture on some strange malevolent monster.
"What do you want me to do?" Vince finally whispered.
Draco had been telling Vince and Greg what to do almost from the moment they'd met when they were six years old. By the time they'd embarked on the Hogwarts Express, it had become an ingrained habit. For the first time, however, it occurred to Draco that he might be responsible for their lives.
He took a deep breath before replying.
"Contact Greg. Tell him not to do anything until he speaks with me. If for some reason your father tries to make you join the Death Eaters, Vince, then you're to come to me immediately. And above all else, you’re not to tell a soul what I've told you."
Vince nodded. Without saying another word, they moved forward, joining the lecture in progress, though Draco knew neither of them was paying the least bit of attention to it.
* * *
He couldn't sleep. Draco told himself it was because he'd slept late that morning, but he also knew he was a notorious liar. Instead of tossing and turning and listening to Vince's snores and the lack of Greg's snores, he rose and donned his robe.
It didn't take long for him to sneak past Filch, who was patrolling the corridors, go up several flights of stairs and arrive outside the room where he had recently practiced spells with Ron and Hermione.
No, he corrected himself. It was Harry that called them that. He had to remember that to him they were Weasley and Granger.
Walking back and forth outside the Room of Requirement several times, he tried to imagine what he needed. He wanted a place that would help him to relax. A place that felt comforting. A place that felt like home.
Opening the door, he found himself in a copy of his own room at the manor. Most everything was the same, but there was one thing that entirely did not belong.
Potter.
Potter stretched out on his bed, propped up by his elbows and staring at him.
Draco blinked twice, thinking that his eyes were paying tricks on him. From his training session, he knew how this room worked. This hadn't been his vision of what he'd needed. It must have been Potter's.
Not wishing to reveal how discombobulated this realisation made him feel, he grinned widely.
"My God! The room did it. I asked for a slave that would fulfill my every sexual fantasy and here you are."
"You wish," Harry muttered, flopping back onto a pillow.
"Yes," Draco said grandly. "I did." He walked to the bed and lay down next to Potter. "Slave, rub my feet."
A pillow hit him in the face.
Grabbing the pillow, he rose to a kneeling position on the mattress. "Ah, this must be my turn-a-fight-into-a-sexual-encounter fantasy. That's always a good one."
He was rewarded with the sight of Harry's mouth dropping open. "Your what?"
"My turn-a-fight-into-a-sexual-encounter fantasy. It's starts with anger, escalates to aggression. The aggression quickly becomes passion and results in tons of shagging."
"You..." Harry paused, eyeing Draco suspiciously. "Whenever we fought..."
"What?" Draco said, pretending complete innocence.
"Did you ever... you know... " Harry made a waving motion with his hand, not wanting to elaborate.
"Are you asking if I ever imagined the two of us shagging when we were trying to kill each other?"
Harry nodded.
"Potter," Draco said quietly. "Can I tell you a secret?"
Harry nodded again and waited.
Which was why it came as a complete surprise when Draco slammed him with the pillow.
"The secret is that you are never supposed to let down your guard. Haven't they taught you anything? What if I were Voldemort?"
Pushing the pillow away from him, Harry scowled.
"I don't think Voldemort is likely to be confessing that every time we duel, he wants to have sex with me."
"Eww, Potter," Draco said, shuddering elegantly. "That's a foul image... yet vaguely fascinating in some strange sick way."
Draco found himself being tackled, pushed onto his back with Harry on top of him.
"Have some fantasies yourself, I take it? All you have to do is ask and I'd be more than willing to comply." Draco smirked at the boy above him, who quickly scrambled off of him, returning to the other side of the bed.
"Shut up," Harry muttered.
"It's not like this bed hasn't witnessed its fair share of fantasies," Draco sat up and looked at Harry. "Which brings us to the question of why this bed is even here. Why this copy of my room is here."
For a few seconds, Draco thought that Harry might ignore the question, but at last he spoke.
"It was my room. For a bit." Harry's eyes closed. "When they thought I was you - this was my room."
"Oh. That's right."
They were both lost in their memories when Harry spoke again. "I would've done it, you know."
"Done what?"
Harry's voice was low, as if speaking the words aloud was horribly wrong. "I would've joined the Death Eaters."
Draco shook his head, refusing to believe what Potter was saying. "No, you wouldn't have. I know you, Potter. You're too much of a goody-goody."
"I would've if my... if your father had asked." Harry opened his eyes, then rolled to his side so that he could look at Draco. "I didn't remember having a father, so there wasn't a feeling of loss at being without one. It was more of a blankness, an empty space. But now I know what it's like. Now not having a father... it hurts."
"You really did care for him?"
Harry nodded solemnly. "He treated me like a son. He treated me like he treated you. It would've been impossible for me to have felt differently."
Draco absorbed that information for a moment. "I’ve vowed to make Voldemort pay for killing my father. Would you care to join me in my quest for vengeance?"
Harry gave him a lopsided smile. "I'm sort of supposed to kill him anyway."
"Yes," Draco acceded to that argument. "But that was for trivial reasons."
"Right," Harry scoffed. "Preventing the Wizarding World from falling under the sway of a madman isn't too important."
Purposefully missing the sarcasm, Draco smiled. "So glad you agree." He extended his hand towards Harry. "Join with me," he urged.
Harry reached out and shook Draco's hand. "I guess this makes us brothers in arms."
"Brothers?" Draco looked horrified. "I should say not. You and I will never be brothers."
A fleeting expression of hurt crossed Harry's face before moving on to irritation. "Why not? I'm not pureblooded enough for you?"
"No." Draco leaned over until they were so close that he could whisper into Harry's ear.
"I'm just not into incest."
* * *
When The Daily Prophet reported Lucius Malfoy as missing, Draco received quiet murmurs of condolences from his fellow Slytherins and sideways sympathetic looks from others.
Each of these he shrugged off. There would be time enough to bewail his fate, though he’d never bothered to put it off before.
He had to concentrate on his new goal. His old goal had been to be as rich, powerful, and attractive as possible while striving to make Potter absolutely miserable.
As Draco shot off another hex at Harry under Snape’s watchful eye, he noted how similar his current goal was to the old one. The only difference was that now he was trying to make Potter suffer for more than pure enjoyment.
It was called training.
Unfortunately, as one of Potter’s hexes burst through Draco’s shield and sent him tumbling back, he was being trained, too.
"Once more," Professor Snape ordered.
Stifling a groan, Draco dragged himself up and moved back into position. The floor had been covered with a cushioning spell, but it still stung when he hit it.
For the fourteenth time, Harry raised his wand and let loose a curse at the shield that Draco erected. This time the curse was so strong that Harry not only broke through the shield as if it weren't there, but sent Draco flying several feet.
"Oh that was quite good, Harry," Hermione said, clapping as she sat on a nearby sofa.
"Yeah," added Ron. "Do it again."
Draco picked himself up and glared at their audience, which consisted of Harry's best friends.
"Why do I have to do this? Why not Ron, I mean Weasley? If he's damaged, it's not like there aren't more where he came from."
"I, for one, like this arrangement just fine." Ron grinned back at Draco's scowl.
Professor Snape was unaffected by Draco's bad temper. "Despite the plethora of Weasleys, they are of no use in this instance."
"Tell me about it," Draco muttered.
"Your training over the last few weeks has increased your ability to repel spells. An ability that far exceeds those of your classmates."
"Knew he was repellant," Ron said to Hermione loudly enough for Draco to hear.
"Not only are you the more worthy opponent," Snape said, after staring at Ron until he cowered behind Hermione, "but I suspect that Potter has a tendency not to use his full strength against Mister Weasley and Miss Granger as he holds a certain fondness for them. He has none for you."
Again, Draco took his position and formed a shield. "Potter!" he roared. "Tell them all how you're secretly in love with me."
The time the force of the curse hurled Draco against the far wall, which he hit with a loud thump despite the cushioning.
"Obviously," Snape said, "his love is an extremely well kept secret indeed."
* * *
The others were long gone by the time Harry and Draco finished practicing.
Professor Snape had been the first to leave, citing his lack of patience in the face of extreme incompetence. Hermione had glanced at the time then let out a little exclamation of panic. She'd rushed off to the library to study, dragging Ron with her.
Draco sank onto the sofa, completely and utterly exhausted. To his disgust, his hair was sweaty and lay lank on the nape of his neck. Despite the cushioning spells, his body ached and he was sure he would have bruises. The worst of the pain was located in his back from a time when he'd hit the wall particularly hard.
Letting out a soft groan, he reached behind himself and tried to work at the muscles there.
"Are you okay?"
He turned to see Harry standing next to the sofa, concern on his face as he looked at Draco.
"I'm perfectly fine. You don't truly think you could do any real damage to me, do you Potter?" He began to rise, but his back protested and he bit his lip to stifle another groan.
"Actually, I think I did," Harry said, catching Draco by the arm and easing him back onto the sofa.
"It wasn't you," Draco sniffed. "It was the bloody wall."
"That explains it. You don't need to watch out for hexes and curses. It's the walls and floors that you have to be careful around. Now lay down," Harry ordered.
"Why?" Draco asked, not moving an inch.
"Because I'm about to shag you rotten." When Draco stared at him, too stunned to move, Harry sighed. "I'm going to massage your back, you git."
Draco stretched out on his stomach and folded his arms underneath his chin. "I'd much rather the first option, if I have a choice."
"You don't."
For a few seconds nothing happened and Draco considered asking Potter exactly what he was doing when he felt the sofa cushions depress on each side of his thighs and a weight settle down upon them.
Hands pressed down upon his back and began to make warm, circular movements. After a minute or two, he felt the hands leave his body.
"This might work better," Harry said quietly, "if I did it directly on the skin."
It took a bit of doing and Draco suspected that his hair was horrendously ruined in the process, but they had soon divested him of his robe, shirt and tie. At some point in their struggles, Harry had doffed his robe, as well.
Draco reached for his wand as they resumed their positions on the sofa. "Accio Lotion!"
When the lotion that he used to moisturise arrived, he passed it back to Harry. "I don't have any massage oil. A lack that will soon be rectified."
"I'm sure this will do."
Coldness hit his spine and Draco arched and let out a shriek.
"Warm it up, Potter! Are you trying to kill me?"
"Obviously." Draco could almost hear Harry roll his eyes as he spoke. "I plan to give massages to all my enemies. That's how I'll defeat them."
"And they say you don’t have the makings of a Dark Lord." Draco laid his head back on his arms once more.
The next time Harry's hands descended, the lotion was flesh-warm, and Draco relaxed as they slid over his skin. Occasionally, when they touched upon a muscle that ached or a particularly sore patch, they would linger, doing their best to press out any stiffness.
All that stiffness being pressed out had to go somewhere, Draco thought, trying to explain away a growing predicament. The massage was definitely working. He'd forgotten all about the aches in his back and was instead focusing on the one in his groin.
When Harry leaned forward to rub his shoulders, the shift of weight against him forced out a small groan before Draco could stifle it.
"Does it hurt that much?"
"You have no idea, Potter."
Slowly, as the massage continued, he noticed that there seemed to be much less kneading of his muscles and a lot more stroking. When it stopped altogether and Harry shifted off of him, then stood, he tried not to sigh in disappointment.
Reaching down, he grabbed his robe and shirt off the floor. "Thanks." He stood up quickly and turned his back to Harry to hide how much the massage had affected him. He’d stuck his arms through his shirtsleeves and was working on the buttons when he heard Harry speak.
"Draco?"
"What?" He continued doing up his buttons.
"I’m asking."
"Asking what?" When there was no reply he glanced over his shoulder at him.
Harry was staring, which wasn’t unusual. Those green eyes had been following every move he'd made for years. This time, however, there wasn’t hate or anger in their depths. There wasn’t even the faint sense of camaraderie in them that Draco had glimpsed over the last week or so.
Instead there was desire. And determination.
It caused a shiver to run up Draco’s back.
Harry stalked closer and Draco turned to face him, his shirt still partially open.
"You said all I had to do was ask," Harry said, his voice a low, deep rumble. "I’m asking."
Draco’s eyes met Harry’s heated gaze.
"You’re sure? I wouldn’t want you to wake tomorrow morning with all sorts of regrets. Then you’d be moping around and Weasley and Granger would show up, wanting my bits and not at all in the good way. I’d be forced to defend my-"
"Shut up," Harry said, leaning towards him until his mouth hovered over Draco’s.
"Make me," Draco said in anticipation.
Harry did.
* * *
There was certainly something to be said for sleeping with a wizard who really knew how to use his wand, Draco decided.
At some point during the night, after they’d rolled around on the floor a bit, Harry had transformed the sofa into a bed. The softness of its mattress and pillows rivaled those at Malfoy Manor.
Everything they needed appeared. Everything that was messy was cleaned up. Even wet spots disappeared.
When, deep into the night, their energies had finally begun to flag, Harry had summoned a restorative potion. It had arrived in a vial bearing Professor Snape’s distinctive mark, proving that the summoning spell had passed through all of the wards that protected Snape's storeroom. The thought that Harry possessed the power to do that excited Draco to the point where he didn’t know if it was the potion or this new knowledge that renewed his passion.
As he yawned and stretched, reawakening aching muscles, he wished they hadn’t used every bit of the potion. Okay, no, actually, thinking of the night before, he didn’t regret it in the least.
His movements caused the lump next to him to let out a little grumble and burrow deeper under the covers. A muffled "Quiet, Ron," was heard. Draco could see enough dark hair peeking out to determine that Harry was at least facing him.
With a wicked smile, he dove under the covers, going deeper and deeper until he was in exactly the right position.
A moment later, Harry flung the blankets off his face and let out an "Oh, fuck."
This phrase was repeated until he finally sucked in a huge breath, held it for what felt like forever, before emitting a shuddering groan.
Draco emerged from under the covers.
"Good morning." He licked his lips and gave Harry a brilliant smile.
"Oh dear God," Harry whined. "You’re a morning person."
The smile grew even brighter. "That's not quite accurate. Malfoys don't rise with the sun. The sun rises with the Malfoys."
Draco glanced about the room. "Do you suppose if we requested it, the Room of Requirement could install a bathroom?" He gave Harry a mock leer. "Up for a little shower sex?"
"You’re still horny?" Harry asked, scooting back from him as if Draco might initiate something that Harry would physically not be able to finish. "You can’t possibly…"
Now the smile seemed to light up the entire room. "What can I say? The sun isn't the only thing that rises on command."
* * *
Draco let the conversation between Neville and Daphne buzz about his ears as he focused most of his attention on the action at the Gryffindor table.
He’d browbeaten Neville into sitting with his girlfriend. When he’d first proposed it, Neville had blathered on about not wanting to be eaten by grumpy Slytherins for breakfast. Draco had assured him that Slytherins would never eat him since it was a well-known fact that Longbottoms consumed early in the day caused all sorts of digestive complaints.
Unfortunately, this hadn’t reassured Neville in the slightest.
Neville had begun to edge towards the Gryffindor table when Daphne had appeared and winked at him. The battle for Longbottom had thus been won.
What was going on over there? Draco wondered, eyeing the Gryffindors. Earlier, he and Harry had played an amusing staring contest - one in which Harry would pretend not to look while Draco did something fairly lewd. Weasley had caught them at it when Draco was licking a stray strand of honey off of his finger and Harry had been reduced to making a noise of appreciation.
The resulting back and forth between Weasley, Granger, and Harry would be much more amusing if he could hear exactly what they were saying.
He watched, fascinated, when Weasley’s face turned a colour that matched his hair. Granger was next, as she prattled on to Harry about something. Then Harry’s face flushed a bright red, too.
The state of Harry’s face seemed to owe much more to anger than embarrassment for he let out a loud "Draco," pushed away from the table, and marched across the space that separated them. Weasley and Granger followed in his wake like baby ducklings.
Draco stood, believing it might be better for him to meet Harry face to face instead of being hovered over.
"For some strange reason, Draco," Harry said, putting enough emphasis on the name that Draco knew he was in trouble, "Ron’s under the impression that I fancy you."
Weasley stepped forward. "The thought of you and Harry makes me ill, you being such a prat and all, but Hermione explained it to me. Why it was best not to interfere and let you both get on with it."
"You mean Potter doesn’t adore me to distraction?" Draco put the back of his hand against his forehead as if about to faint. "I have been ill-used."
Harry didn’t let Draco’s dramatics deter him. "Months ago, Hermione was told that I liked you. By me. In the same conversation, she was also told that I wanted both her and Ron, together. Funny how I don’t remember that at all. You wouldn’t know anything about it, now would you?"
"It could be that you don’t remember because your mind is going," Draco suggested, shooting a quick glance towards the door of the Great Hall to ensure that his escape route was clear. "Or there could be remnants of the obliviate spell still working."
"I don’t think that’s it." Harry glared menacingly.
Draco took a step backwards. "Perhaps this is a roundabout way for you to ask for a foursome."
Ron made a gagging noise while Hermione rolled her eyes.
"No. It’s not that, either." Harry moved closer.
Draco did his best to appear innocent. "Maybe you’re just a kinky bastard."
An inarticulate roar came from Harry’s throat.
Before Harry could attack Draco, Neville rose from his seat and placed himself between the two of them. "As Draco’s minion, I believe that-"
"You’re not," Harry interrupted, trying to push past him. "You’re not his minion anymore. He’s back to normal."
Neville looked at Draco, then smiled. "Oh. Right. Carry on then."
"Traitor!" Draco screeched as he raced out the door of the Great Hall with Harry at his heels.
He made it out of the castle and as far as his favourite beech tree before Harry caught up and tackled him to the ground.
"Really, Potter," Draco said once he’d regained his breath. "First you propose a foursome with your little friends. Now you’re playing rough. You are a kinky bastard."
Harry shoved Draco around until he lay on his back and then loomed over him.
"Damn it. What am I going to do with you?" Harry asked, his breath still coming out in short gasps.
Draco didn’t say a word. He simply stared at Harry. Slowly they became aware of the position of their bodies.
Reaching up to cup Harry’s cheek, Draco said huskily, "What do you want to do with me?"
"Stop that." Harry swallowed hard. "I’m mad at you."
"Then you should punish me." The hand traveled from Harry’s cheek to the nape of his neck and began to pull him down. "Thoroughly. I’ve been a very bad boy."
"Now isn’t the time." Harry exhaled shakily. "We have…." His breath hitched as Draco’s other hand pulled up his shirt and began to slide along the exposed skin. "We have class."
"Potter, we’ve vowed to kill Voldemort, a bloke who has proven to be quite unkillable. It’s likely that we’ll die in any attempt we make. Now is definitely the time for this." He pressed kisses along Harry’s jaw working his way to his ear.
"But we’re outside." Despite his words, he shifted so that he lay between Draco’s legs. "And it’s in the middle of the day. Everyone will see us."
"Let them."
"I…I…"
Draco licked the rim of an ear while his fingers opened Harry’s trousers. "I’ll be extremely disappointed if the most powerful wizard in the world can’t figure out some way out of this predicament."
It turned out that Harry could.
* * *
"Funny weather we’re having, isn’t it?" Hermione commented as Draco and Harry trained that evening with Snape.
"Very odd," Ron agreed.
Snape easily blocked Harry’s hex, sending it ricocheting at Draco who just managed to dodge it.
"I couldn’t believe it," Hermione continued. "Right in the middle of a lovely warm spring day a huge cloud of fog rolled in."
"Not just any fog, either. Quite thick, it was."
"I can think of something else that’s pretty thick," Draco muttered, giving Ron a dirty look and completely missing the hex that Snape aimed at him. "Damn," he said as a leg-locker curse caused him to fall to the ground.
"Concentrate, Mister Malfoy," Snape ordered.
Shaking off the spell, Draco regained his feet.
"It must have been terrible for Malfoy and Harry to be lost in that fog." Hermione sighed.
Ron snorted. "You wouldn’t think it would have taken them hours to get out of it, though. It seems to me they have a lousy sense of direction."
"Or," Hermione added, "a lousy sense of discretion."
The sofa the pair was sitting on transformed into a patch of Devil’s Snare.
"At last, Mister Malfoy, you have shown a mastery of one of your subjects," Snape said in approval.
* * *
"I am most disappointed, Knotlace. You spent most of the year at Hogwarts and you still failed to discover the power that Harry Potter will use to defeat me."
"Master," Knotlace bowed low. "It is not my fault. I see now how that traitor, Snape, interfered. Protecting the boy. Additionally, for a good portion of that time it was not Potter but the Malfoy brat in his stead."
"Perhaps something has slipped your mind. Allow me to help you remember it.." Voldemort pointed his wand at the now trembling man before him. "Crucio."
Knotlace shrieked in pain and fell to the ground. His body writhed for a moment before Voldemort released him.
"Potter’s power, Knotlace - What is it?"
"I don’t-"
The sentence ended in a scream as he was struck again with the Cruciatus curse. This time, when Voldemort ended it, he lay panting and holding his side.
"Have you recalled anything of importance yet?" Voldemort hissed.
"Lucius," Knotlace cried. "He was with Potter for weeks. He must know something."
Voldemort paused. "That is possible."
Knotlace, seizing the chance that Voldemort’s anger might be turned elsewhere, spoke eagerly. "Potter wouldn’t even have known to hide it. Lucius must have discovered it."
Voldemort signaled to a guard. "Have Lucius brought before me. Oh, and do see that we have a Healer standing by. It would not do to have blood get everywhere as it did last time I decided to remind Malfoy of how I deal with those who betray me."
As Harry related his latest dream, Draco curled up in the bed next to him. For a long time after Harry finished, they stared at one another in the darkness of the Room of Requirement. Finally, Harry pulled Draco into an embrace.
"My father," Draco whispered, not quite believing it. "He’s still alive."
Back to Chapter 4
Chapter 6
I also want to thank my wip_a_team for their encouragement and support. And I need to thank my daughter for telling me to quit whining and get writing.
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). No profit is being made on this work.
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.
I owe a tremendous amount of gratitude to my betas - lastscorpion and jasmasson. They both did amazing jobs with this. Any remaining errors are mine and mine alone.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Laughter.
That's all Draco could hear. Laughter ringing in his ears, making his blood pound angrily. Turning his head, he glared at the source of his irritation. That man. That thing. Voldemort.
All this time, he’d thought that he was Potter. He’d treated Ron and Hermione as though they were his best friends. He’d become resigned to his prophesied fate - that he would kill or be killed by Voldemort.
It was a wrench to drag his thoughts back to being Draco Malfoy. He saw his father across the room, standing next to Harry, and it was as if he were seeing a double image - one of the man who’d raised him and the other of an enemy.
On legs that felt unsteady, as if they belonged to someone else, he carefully made his way over to where his father still stood, staring at him. A movement nearby caught his eye, and he saw a tall figure bump hard into Knotlace, almost making him lose his balance. Part of Draco's brain concluded that it had to be Snape, shifting his position so that he could do what he could to protect Potter. Potter and not him.
Potter wasn't looking too good. The green of his eyes was the only bit of colour in his face, aside from the scar that was standing out vividly. He seemed to be having difficulty breathing. He was staring not at Voldemort, but at Lucius, his gaze filled with horror and pain. His mouth had opened, but no cry issued forth as though the anguish he was feeling could not be voiced.
Lucius was still, as still as a statue. Draco remembered that when Knotlace had dragged him into the chamber, his father had been protecting Potter. This was a serious mistake to make in the presence of the Dark Lord.
Voldemort was not known to be the forgiving sort.
All the other Death Eaters who had surrounded them had backed away, as if their touch was plague-ridden.
Draco continued moving until he stood facing the man who'd raised him.
"Father," he said, bowing his head in respect.
There was a slight tremor in the muscles of Lucius's face at the word, so slight that if Draco hadn't known him so well he wouldn't have noticed. Lucius was not nearly as calm as he was attempting to appear.
His father's only response was to nod his head in greeting and say calmly, "Son."
Draco then turned towards Harry. "Potter, you should be bowing down before the Dark Lord."
"Yes, young Malfoy," Voldemort hissed, still seated behind them. "Do instruct Harry Potter on the correct way to act when confronted with his betters."
Pettigrew let out a high-pitched laugh.
Harry gritted his teeth and looked defiantly at Draco, who ignored it.
"You always were a fool, Potter. Even when we were first-years and were sent into the Forbidden Forest for detention, you didn't know the proper way to act, while I had the correct response to the situation. I do hope that you have learned enough to follow my lead."
Harry's eyes darted about the room, lighting on Lucius for a moment, before returning to Draco. "You've got to be kidding me."
Turning, Draco gripped his wand and faced Voldemort. "My Lord, I do humbly request that before you kill him you allow me to punish Potter for having the audacity to believe that he could take my place at my father’s side. I believe that the Cruciatus curse would be-"
"No, master," Lucius interrupted. "Please allow me the honour of tormenting this half-blood mongrel before you terminate his life." He drew his wand out in preparation.
Voldemort nodded, his red eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Father and son - you may both entertain us by torturing Potter. Let us see if any power that might threaten my existence emerges."
"Prepare yourself, Potter," Draco sneered.
The two Malfoys looked at each other and raised their wands.
Together they spun around, facing Voldemort and Pettigrew.
"Crucio!" Draco shouted and Pettigrew tumbled to the ground in agony.
"Avada Kedavra!" From Lucius’s wand came a stream of green light that hit Voldemort in the chest.
For a moment, except for Pettigrew’s screams, the room was silent.
Then Voldemort began to laugh and stood up. "Fools. I am not destroyed so easily."
"Shit!" Draco had time to mutter, seeing Voldemort begin to raise his wand.
"Nox!" A voice that he recognised as Snape’s made all the torches in the room go dark.
Draco felt a yank on his robe and he followed where the hand was pulling him. A few seconds later he found himself racing out the door after Snape and Harry. Lucius was running alongside him.
"Can we apparate?" he heard Harry ask Snape.
"No. Voldemort puts up wards so no one can apparate out unless he allows it. Nor can we portkey until we get outside the building," was the hurried reply.
Snape twisted and shot a spell back the way they had come and a wall sprang up. "That will delay them."
"For less than a minute," Lucius interjected as they continued running down the corridor and rounding a bend.
"If you have any better ideas, be my guest," Snape retorted.
It was amazing how Snape could sound insulting even when running for his life, Draco thought.
As if waiting for the invitation, Lucius pointed his wand at the ceiling above their heads and murmured an incantation. The beams began to rattle and sway. They’d barely passed under them when a section of the floor above crashed down to block the passage.
"Showoff," Snape muttered.
"Jealous lout," Lucius snapped back.
Draco sincerely wished that both of them would shut up. It was interrupting his train of thought. Of course his train of thought at the moment was we’re all going to die, we’re all going to die, we’re all going to die.
When they rounded a corner and found themselves confronted by a group of Death Eaters in front of a barred door to the outside, his train of thought went screaming off the tracks. The foursome skidded to a halt.
"What’s going on?" A burly man snarled.
"Quick," Draco yelled. "Voldemort wants you to come at once. Harry Potter’s in the building."
"Wait - Isn’t that Harry Potter?" the man asked, pointing at Harry.
"Um… Oh my God, he’s followed us!" Draco shrieked.
Harry pointed his wand at the Death Eaters. Within seconds the Death Eaters had been turned into large purple pincushions. Snape and Lucius both looked at him with something akin to respect.
"Learned that from the Weasley Twins," he said, shrugging. "It won’t last long. None of their trick hexes do."
"Then we’d best be going." Snape unbarred the door, then shouted, "Alohomora!"
The door refused to open.
He began waving his wand, reciting incantation after incantation. Lucius joined him and their magic splayed across its wooden frame. Despite their efforts, the door remained firmly locked.
Draco could hear footsteps thundering closer.
"Hurrrreee," Draco said through gritted teeth. Stirring noises from behind him alerted Draco to fact that the Death Eaters were regaining their forms. He quickly stupefied them.
Harry yanked on Lucius’s sleeve. "Dad, blast the wall!"
For a moment, Lucius simply stared at him. Draco wasn’t sure if it was in reaction to the form of address or the instruction.
"The wall," Harry repeated, pointing to the stones next to the door. "Do the same thing you did to that ceiling, but do it to the wall."
A jet of magic hit the wall, sending the stones tumbling outward. A cloud of dust was thrown up causing Draco to cough and wave his hand in front of his face. As the air cleared, a hole approximately four feet in diameter appeared and the night could be seen outside.
Draco was quick to duck through the opening and clamber over the rubble. The sound of their pursuers was growing steadily closer.
Just as Harry scrambled out, a blast hit the wall next to him, resulting in a few more rocks plummeting down. Reaching out, Draco pulled Harry further away from the building.
More blasts of magic. The rumbling echoed around them. Flashes of coloured light could be seen coming from inside.
"We have to go back and help them." Harry had turned back toward the opening when Snape emerged.
"Grab hold," Snape ordered, reaching into a pocket of his robe and extracting a small box that he opened to reveal a quill.
Harry glanced at the hole in the wall. "But what about-"
"Do it. Now!"
A loud cry rang out in the night, then all was silent.
For a moment Harry continued to look, waiting for Lucius to appear. Snape clasped his wrist, yanking his hand closer to the portkey.
"Don’t make his sacrifice meaningless," Snape growled.
As they were transported away, Draco knew that the horrible feeling growing in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with the pull of the portkey.
* * *
It was a sober group that gathered in Dumbledore’s office. Snape herded the pair of boys inside. Unlike other times when Draco had been in the Headmaster’s office when he’d immediately seated himself, this time he remained standing, hovering close to both Harry and Snape as if seeking warmth from their presence.
"Should I request Madam Pomfrey’s help?" The Headmaster asked.
Snape shook his head. "That will be unnecessary. We have suffered no physical injuries."
Dumbledore made a motion with his hand, and a tea service with four cups popped up on his desk. "Then perhaps a nice bracing cup of tea."
Draco lifted his gaze to Snape’s. "He’s dead, isn’t he? My father’s dead."
"It is unlikely that Voldemort has allowed his continued existence." Snape’s hand settled on Draco’s shoulder. "You are now Lord Malfoy. It would do you well to remember your position and act accordingly."
"His father’s dead," Harry snapped. "Would it hurt you to show a little understanding and leave him alone? Talking to him about what’s expected of him isn’t helping."
Harry was wrong, though. Snape’s comment had helped. It allowed him to move past his grief, past the loss of his father to more important things.
"Tell me," Draco said, addressing the others. "Now that I’ve seen the face of my enemy - how do I kill him?"
* * *
Despite having returned to the Slytherin dormitories, Draco had yet to speak with his friends. It had been late by the time he'd left the Headmaster's office, and his roommates had been asleep. Overtired from the night before, he'd slept late and had to hurry through his morning routine simply to arrive in Potions on time.
He went to his usual spot next to Neville, who smiled widely at him.
"It's strange, seeing you looking like yourself again," Neville whispered once they began to work on their assigned potion.
"It's a little strange being like this again," Draco confessed. "This morning I spent several seconds trying to locate my glasses before remembering that I no longer needed them." He watched for a moment as Neville began slicing caterpillars. "You seem to doing that fairly competently."
Neville nodded. "I think some of your instructions must have sunk in."
Draco peered at him closely. "I don't remember you destroying any cauldrons over the last few weeks."
"I didn't. Not a one," Neville said proudly.
Draco focused his attention on crushing the scarab beetles the potion called for. "I no longer need a minion, having returned to Slytherin, and you obviously no longer need Potions help. You are more than welcome to stop bothering me and go be with your friends."
Neville paused in his work to gaze at Draco. After a moment, he resumed his slicing. "I believe I already am," he said quietly.
* * *
On the way to Care of Magical Creatures class, Draco spied Vince walking alone. Waving Neville to go on, he sidled up next to him.
"Where's Greg?"
"Still home. I got an owl from him this morning. His mom's not taking his dad's death too well."
Crap. Draco had forgotten about Greg's father being murdered by Voldemort.
He vaguely recalled Greg receiving an owl one morning and letting out a cry. He'd been much too caught up with training and being Harry Potter, though, to pay much attention or even care when a Slytherin classmate was hustled out of the Great Hall by concerned staff members.
A friend of his had been suffering and he'd ignored it. Actually, he usually ignored any suffering by his friends, but then again that was because normally he was the one causing it. "How's Greg handling it?"
"How do you think? As soon as the traditional period of mourning is over, he plans to join the Death Eaters. He'll make those Aurors pay for what they did to his father."
"But Voldemort was the one who killed him," Draco blurted out.
"What?" Vince said loudly, rounding on Draco.
Draco gave his classmates who'd glanced around toward them at Vincent's outburst dirty looks, then steered his companion further away so that their conversation wouldn't be overheard.
"I can't tell you how I know it, but I do."
Vince stared at Draco for a long time, both of them ignoring Hagrid's lecture on some strange malevolent monster.
"What do you want me to do?" Vince finally whispered.
Draco had been telling Vince and Greg what to do almost from the moment they'd met when they were six years old. By the time they'd embarked on the Hogwarts Express, it had become an ingrained habit. For the first time, however, it occurred to Draco that he might be responsible for their lives.
He took a deep breath before replying.
"Contact Greg. Tell him not to do anything until he speaks with me. If for some reason your father tries to make you join the Death Eaters, Vince, then you're to come to me immediately. And above all else, you’re not to tell a soul what I've told you."
Vince nodded. Without saying another word, they moved forward, joining the lecture in progress, though Draco knew neither of them was paying the least bit of attention to it.
* * *
He couldn't sleep. Draco told himself it was because he'd slept late that morning, but he also knew he was a notorious liar. Instead of tossing and turning and listening to Vince's snores and the lack of Greg's snores, he rose and donned his robe.
It didn't take long for him to sneak past Filch, who was patrolling the corridors, go up several flights of stairs and arrive outside the room where he had recently practiced spells with Ron and Hermione.
No, he corrected himself. It was Harry that called them that. He had to remember that to him they were Weasley and Granger.
Walking back and forth outside the Room of Requirement several times, he tried to imagine what he needed. He wanted a place that would help him to relax. A place that felt comforting. A place that felt like home.
Opening the door, he found himself in a copy of his own room at the manor. Most everything was the same, but there was one thing that entirely did not belong.
Potter.
Potter stretched out on his bed, propped up by his elbows and staring at him.
Draco blinked twice, thinking that his eyes were paying tricks on him. From his training session, he knew how this room worked. This hadn't been his vision of what he'd needed. It must have been Potter's.
Not wishing to reveal how discombobulated this realisation made him feel, he grinned widely.
"My God! The room did it. I asked for a slave that would fulfill my every sexual fantasy and here you are."
"You wish," Harry muttered, flopping back onto a pillow.
"Yes," Draco said grandly. "I did." He walked to the bed and lay down next to Potter. "Slave, rub my feet."
A pillow hit him in the face.
Grabbing the pillow, he rose to a kneeling position on the mattress. "Ah, this must be my turn-a-fight-into-a-sexual-encounter fantasy. That's always a good one."
He was rewarded with the sight of Harry's mouth dropping open. "Your what?"
"My turn-a-fight-into-a-sexual-encounter fantasy. It's starts with anger, escalates to aggression. The aggression quickly becomes passion and results in tons of shagging."
"You..." Harry paused, eyeing Draco suspiciously. "Whenever we fought..."
"What?" Draco said, pretending complete innocence.
"Did you ever... you know... " Harry made a waving motion with his hand, not wanting to elaborate.
"Are you asking if I ever imagined the two of us shagging when we were trying to kill each other?"
Harry nodded.
"Potter," Draco said quietly. "Can I tell you a secret?"
Harry nodded again and waited.
Which was why it came as a complete surprise when Draco slammed him with the pillow.
"The secret is that you are never supposed to let down your guard. Haven't they taught you anything? What if I were Voldemort?"
Pushing the pillow away from him, Harry scowled.
"I don't think Voldemort is likely to be confessing that every time we duel, he wants to have sex with me."
"Eww, Potter," Draco said, shuddering elegantly. "That's a foul image... yet vaguely fascinating in some strange sick way."
Draco found himself being tackled, pushed onto his back with Harry on top of him.
"Have some fantasies yourself, I take it? All you have to do is ask and I'd be more than willing to comply." Draco smirked at the boy above him, who quickly scrambled off of him, returning to the other side of the bed.
"Shut up," Harry muttered.
"It's not like this bed hasn't witnessed its fair share of fantasies," Draco sat up and looked at Harry. "Which brings us to the question of why this bed is even here. Why this copy of my room is here."
For a few seconds, Draco thought that Harry might ignore the question, but at last he spoke.
"It was my room. For a bit." Harry's eyes closed. "When they thought I was you - this was my room."
"Oh. That's right."
They were both lost in their memories when Harry spoke again. "I would've done it, you know."
"Done what?"
Harry's voice was low, as if speaking the words aloud was horribly wrong. "I would've joined the Death Eaters."
Draco shook his head, refusing to believe what Potter was saying. "No, you wouldn't have. I know you, Potter. You're too much of a goody-goody."
"I would've if my... if your father had asked." Harry opened his eyes, then rolled to his side so that he could look at Draco. "I didn't remember having a father, so there wasn't a feeling of loss at being without one. It was more of a blankness, an empty space. But now I know what it's like. Now not having a father... it hurts."
"You really did care for him?"
Harry nodded solemnly. "He treated me like a son. He treated me like he treated you. It would've been impossible for me to have felt differently."
Draco absorbed that information for a moment. "I’ve vowed to make Voldemort pay for killing my father. Would you care to join me in my quest for vengeance?"
Harry gave him a lopsided smile. "I'm sort of supposed to kill him anyway."
"Yes," Draco acceded to that argument. "But that was for trivial reasons."
"Right," Harry scoffed. "Preventing the Wizarding World from falling under the sway of a madman isn't too important."
Purposefully missing the sarcasm, Draco smiled. "So glad you agree." He extended his hand towards Harry. "Join with me," he urged.
Harry reached out and shook Draco's hand. "I guess this makes us brothers in arms."
"Brothers?" Draco looked horrified. "I should say not. You and I will never be brothers."
A fleeting expression of hurt crossed Harry's face before moving on to irritation. "Why not? I'm not pureblooded enough for you?"
"No." Draco leaned over until they were so close that he could whisper into Harry's ear.
"I'm just not into incest."
* * *
When The Daily Prophet reported Lucius Malfoy as missing, Draco received quiet murmurs of condolences from his fellow Slytherins and sideways sympathetic looks from others.
Each of these he shrugged off. There would be time enough to bewail his fate, though he’d never bothered to put it off before.
He had to concentrate on his new goal. His old goal had been to be as rich, powerful, and attractive as possible while striving to make Potter absolutely miserable.
As Draco shot off another hex at Harry under Snape’s watchful eye, he noted how similar his current goal was to the old one. The only difference was that now he was trying to make Potter suffer for more than pure enjoyment.
It was called training.
Unfortunately, as one of Potter’s hexes burst through Draco’s shield and sent him tumbling back, he was being trained, too.
"Once more," Professor Snape ordered.
Stifling a groan, Draco dragged himself up and moved back into position. The floor had been covered with a cushioning spell, but it still stung when he hit it.
For the fourteenth time, Harry raised his wand and let loose a curse at the shield that Draco erected. This time the curse was so strong that Harry not only broke through the shield as if it weren't there, but sent Draco flying several feet.
"Oh that was quite good, Harry," Hermione said, clapping as she sat on a nearby sofa.
"Yeah," added Ron. "Do it again."
Draco picked himself up and glared at their audience, which consisted of Harry's best friends.
"Why do I have to do this? Why not Ron, I mean Weasley? If he's damaged, it's not like there aren't more where he came from."
"I, for one, like this arrangement just fine." Ron grinned back at Draco's scowl.
Professor Snape was unaffected by Draco's bad temper. "Despite the plethora of Weasleys, they are of no use in this instance."
"Tell me about it," Draco muttered.
"Your training over the last few weeks has increased your ability to repel spells. An ability that far exceeds those of your classmates."
"Knew he was repellant," Ron said to Hermione loudly enough for Draco to hear.
"Not only are you the more worthy opponent," Snape said, after staring at Ron until he cowered behind Hermione, "but I suspect that Potter has a tendency not to use his full strength against Mister Weasley and Miss Granger as he holds a certain fondness for them. He has none for you."
Again, Draco took his position and formed a shield. "Potter!" he roared. "Tell them all how you're secretly in love with me."
The time the force of the curse hurled Draco against the far wall, which he hit with a loud thump despite the cushioning.
"Obviously," Snape said, "his love is an extremely well kept secret indeed."
* * *
The others were long gone by the time Harry and Draco finished practicing.
Professor Snape had been the first to leave, citing his lack of patience in the face of extreme incompetence. Hermione had glanced at the time then let out a little exclamation of panic. She'd rushed off to the library to study, dragging Ron with her.
Draco sank onto the sofa, completely and utterly exhausted. To his disgust, his hair was sweaty and lay lank on the nape of his neck. Despite the cushioning spells, his body ached and he was sure he would have bruises. The worst of the pain was located in his back from a time when he'd hit the wall particularly hard.
Letting out a soft groan, he reached behind himself and tried to work at the muscles there.
"Are you okay?"
He turned to see Harry standing next to the sofa, concern on his face as he looked at Draco.
"I'm perfectly fine. You don't truly think you could do any real damage to me, do you Potter?" He began to rise, but his back protested and he bit his lip to stifle another groan.
"Actually, I think I did," Harry said, catching Draco by the arm and easing him back onto the sofa.
"It wasn't you," Draco sniffed. "It was the bloody wall."
"That explains it. You don't need to watch out for hexes and curses. It's the walls and floors that you have to be careful around. Now lay down," Harry ordered.
"Why?" Draco asked, not moving an inch.
"Because I'm about to shag you rotten." When Draco stared at him, too stunned to move, Harry sighed. "I'm going to massage your back, you git."
Draco stretched out on his stomach and folded his arms underneath his chin. "I'd much rather the first option, if I have a choice."
"You don't."
For a few seconds nothing happened and Draco considered asking Potter exactly what he was doing when he felt the sofa cushions depress on each side of his thighs and a weight settle down upon them.
Hands pressed down upon his back and began to make warm, circular movements. After a minute or two, he felt the hands leave his body.
"This might work better," Harry said quietly, "if I did it directly on the skin."
It took a bit of doing and Draco suspected that his hair was horrendously ruined in the process, but they had soon divested him of his robe, shirt and tie. At some point in their struggles, Harry had doffed his robe, as well.
Draco reached for his wand as they resumed their positions on the sofa. "Accio Lotion!"
When the lotion that he used to moisturise arrived, he passed it back to Harry. "I don't have any massage oil. A lack that will soon be rectified."
"I'm sure this will do."
Coldness hit his spine and Draco arched and let out a shriek.
"Warm it up, Potter! Are you trying to kill me?"
"Obviously." Draco could almost hear Harry roll his eyes as he spoke. "I plan to give massages to all my enemies. That's how I'll defeat them."
"And they say you don’t have the makings of a Dark Lord." Draco laid his head back on his arms once more.
The next time Harry's hands descended, the lotion was flesh-warm, and Draco relaxed as they slid over his skin. Occasionally, when they touched upon a muscle that ached or a particularly sore patch, they would linger, doing their best to press out any stiffness.
All that stiffness being pressed out had to go somewhere, Draco thought, trying to explain away a growing predicament. The massage was definitely working. He'd forgotten all about the aches in his back and was instead focusing on the one in his groin.
When Harry leaned forward to rub his shoulders, the shift of weight against him forced out a small groan before Draco could stifle it.
"Does it hurt that much?"
"You have no idea, Potter."
Slowly, as the massage continued, he noticed that there seemed to be much less kneading of his muscles and a lot more stroking. When it stopped altogether and Harry shifted off of him, then stood, he tried not to sigh in disappointment.
Reaching down, he grabbed his robe and shirt off the floor. "Thanks." He stood up quickly and turned his back to Harry to hide how much the massage had affected him. He’d stuck his arms through his shirtsleeves and was working on the buttons when he heard Harry speak.
"Draco?"
"What?" He continued doing up his buttons.
"I’m asking."
"Asking what?" When there was no reply he glanced over his shoulder at him.
Harry was staring, which wasn’t unusual. Those green eyes had been following every move he'd made for years. This time, however, there wasn’t hate or anger in their depths. There wasn’t even the faint sense of camaraderie in them that Draco had glimpsed over the last week or so.
Instead there was desire. And determination.
It caused a shiver to run up Draco’s back.
Harry stalked closer and Draco turned to face him, his shirt still partially open.
"You said all I had to do was ask," Harry said, his voice a low, deep rumble. "I’m asking."
Draco’s eyes met Harry’s heated gaze.
"You’re sure? I wouldn’t want you to wake tomorrow morning with all sorts of regrets. Then you’d be moping around and Weasley and Granger would show up, wanting my bits and not at all in the good way. I’d be forced to defend my-"
"Shut up," Harry said, leaning towards him until his mouth hovered over Draco’s.
"Make me," Draco said in anticipation.
Harry did.
* * *
There was certainly something to be said for sleeping with a wizard who really knew how to use his wand, Draco decided.
At some point during the night, after they’d rolled around on the floor a bit, Harry had transformed the sofa into a bed. The softness of its mattress and pillows rivaled those at Malfoy Manor.
Everything they needed appeared. Everything that was messy was cleaned up. Even wet spots disappeared.
When, deep into the night, their energies had finally begun to flag, Harry had summoned a restorative potion. It had arrived in a vial bearing Professor Snape’s distinctive mark, proving that the summoning spell had passed through all of the wards that protected Snape's storeroom. The thought that Harry possessed the power to do that excited Draco to the point where he didn’t know if it was the potion or this new knowledge that renewed his passion.
As he yawned and stretched, reawakening aching muscles, he wished they hadn’t used every bit of the potion. Okay, no, actually, thinking of the night before, he didn’t regret it in the least.
His movements caused the lump next to him to let out a little grumble and burrow deeper under the covers. A muffled "Quiet, Ron," was heard. Draco could see enough dark hair peeking out to determine that Harry was at least facing him.
With a wicked smile, he dove under the covers, going deeper and deeper until he was in exactly the right position.
A moment later, Harry flung the blankets off his face and let out an "Oh, fuck."
This phrase was repeated until he finally sucked in a huge breath, held it for what felt like forever, before emitting a shuddering groan.
Draco emerged from under the covers.
"Good morning." He licked his lips and gave Harry a brilliant smile.
"Oh dear God," Harry whined. "You’re a morning person."
The smile grew even brighter. "That's not quite accurate. Malfoys don't rise with the sun. The sun rises with the Malfoys."
Draco glanced about the room. "Do you suppose if we requested it, the Room of Requirement could install a bathroom?" He gave Harry a mock leer. "Up for a little shower sex?"
"You’re still horny?" Harry asked, scooting back from him as if Draco might initiate something that Harry would physically not be able to finish. "You can’t possibly…"
Now the smile seemed to light up the entire room. "What can I say? The sun isn't the only thing that rises on command."
* * *
Draco let the conversation between Neville and Daphne buzz about his ears as he focused most of his attention on the action at the Gryffindor table.
He’d browbeaten Neville into sitting with his girlfriend. When he’d first proposed it, Neville had blathered on about not wanting to be eaten by grumpy Slytherins for breakfast. Draco had assured him that Slytherins would never eat him since it was a well-known fact that Longbottoms consumed early in the day caused all sorts of digestive complaints.
Unfortunately, this hadn’t reassured Neville in the slightest.
Neville had begun to edge towards the Gryffindor table when Daphne had appeared and winked at him. The battle for Longbottom had thus been won.
What was going on over there? Draco wondered, eyeing the Gryffindors. Earlier, he and Harry had played an amusing staring contest - one in which Harry would pretend not to look while Draco did something fairly lewd. Weasley had caught them at it when Draco was licking a stray strand of honey off of his finger and Harry had been reduced to making a noise of appreciation.
The resulting back and forth between Weasley, Granger, and Harry would be much more amusing if he could hear exactly what they were saying.
He watched, fascinated, when Weasley’s face turned a colour that matched his hair. Granger was next, as she prattled on to Harry about something. Then Harry’s face flushed a bright red, too.
The state of Harry’s face seemed to owe much more to anger than embarrassment for he let out a loud "Draco," pushed away from the table, and marched across the space that separated them. Weasley and Granger followed in his wake like baby ducklings.
Draco stood, believing it might be better for him to meet Harry face to face instead of being hovered over.
"For some strange reason, Draco," Harry said, putting enough emphasis on the name that Draco knew he was in trouble, "Ron’s under the impression that I fancy you."
Weasley stepped forward. "The thought of you and Harry makes me ill, you being such a prat and all, but Hermione explained it to me. Why it was best not to interfere and let you both get on with it."
"You mean Potter doesn’t adore me to distraction?" Draco put the back of his hand against his forehead as if about to faint. "I have been ill-used."
Harry didn’t let Draco’s dramatics deter him. "Months ago, Hermione was told that I liked you. By me. In the same conversation, she was also told that I wanted both her and Ron, together. Funny how I don’t remember that at all. You wouldn’t know anything about it, now would you?"
"It could be that you don’t remember because your mind is going," Draco suggested, shooting a quick glance towards the door of the Great Hall to ensure that his escape route was clear. "Or there could be remnants of the obliviate spell still working."
"I don’t think that’s it." Harry glared menacingly.
Draco took a step backwards. "Perhaps this is a roundabout way for you to ask for a foursome."
Ron made a gagging noise while Hermione rolled her eyes.
"No. It’s not that, either." Harry moved closer.
Draco did his best to appear innocent. "Maybe you’re just a kinky bastard."
An inarticulate roar came from Harry’s throat.
Before Harry could attack Draco, Neville rose from his seat and placed himself between the two of them. "As Draco’s minion, I believe that-"
"You’re not," Harry interrupted, trying to push past him. "You’re not his minion anymore. He’s back to normal."
Neville looked at Draco, then smiled. "Oh. Right. Carry on then."
"Traitor!" Draco screeched as he raced out the door of the Great Hall with Harry at his heels.
He made it out of the castle and as far as his favourite beech tree before Harry caught up and tackled him to the ground.
"Really, Potter," Draco said once he’d regained his breath. "First you propose a foursome with your little friends. Now you’re playing rough. You are a kinky bastard."
Harry shoved Draco around until he lay on his back and then loomed over him.
"Damn it. What am I going to do with you?" Harry asked, his breath still coming out in short gasps.
Draco didn’t say a word. He simply stared at Harry. Slowly they became aware of the position of their bodies.
Reaching up to cup Harry’s cheek, Draco said huskily, "What do you want to do with me?"
"Stop that." Harry swallowed hard. "I’m mad at you."
"Then you should punish me." The hand traveled from Harry’s cheek to the nape of his neck and began to pull him down. "Thoroughly. I’ve been a very bad boy."
"Now isn’t the time." Harry exhaled shakily. "We have…." His breath hitched as Draco’s other hand pulled up his shirt and began to slide along the exposed skin. "We have class."
"Potter, we’ve vowed to kill Voldemort, a bloke who has proven to be quite unkillable. It’s likely that we’ll die in any attempt we make. Now is definitely the time for this." He pressed kisses along Harry’s jaw working his way to his ear.
"But we’re outside." Despite his words, he shifted so that he lay between Draco’s legs. "And it’s in the middle of the day. Everyone will see us."
"Let them."
"I…I…"
Draco licked the rim of an ear while his fingers opened Harry’s trousers. "I’ll be extremely disappointed if the most powerful wizard in the world can’t figure out some way out of this predicament."
It turned out that Harry could.
* * *
"Funny weather we’re having, isn’t it?" Hermione commented as Draco and Harry trained that evening with Snape.
"Very odd," Ron agreed.
Snape easily blocked Harry’s hex, sending it ricocheting at Draco who just managed to dodge it.
"I couldn’t believe it," Hermione continued. "Right in the middle of a lovely warm spring day a huge cloud of fog rolled in."
"Not just any fog, either. Quite thick, it was."
"I can think of something else that’s pretty thick," Draco muttered, giving Ron a dirty look and completely missing the hex that Snape aimed at him. "Damn," he said as a leg-locker curse caused him to fall to the ground.
"Concentrate, Mister Malfoy," Snape ordered.
Shaking off the spell, Draco regained his feet.
"It must have been terrible for Malfoy and Harry to be lost in that fog." Hermione sighed.
Ron snorted. "You wouldn’t think it would have taken them hours to get out of it, though. It seems to me they have a lousy sense of direction."
"Or," Hermione added, "a lousy sense of discretion."
The sofa the pair was sitting on transformed into a patch of Devil’s Snare.
"At last, Mister Malfoy, you have shown a mastery of one of your subjects," Snape said in approval.
* * *
"I am most disappointed, Knotlace. You spent most of the year at Hogwarts and you still failed to discover the power that Harry Potter will use to defeat me."
"Master," Knotlace bowed low. "It is not my fault. I see now how that traitor, Snape, interfered. Protecting the boy. Additionally, for a good portion of that time it was not Potter but the Malfoy brat in his stead."
"Perhaps something has slipped your mind. Allow me to help you remember it.." Voldemort pointed his wand at the now trembling man before him. "Crucio."
Knotlace shrieked in pain and fell to the ground. His body writhed for a moment before Voldemort released him.
"Potter’s power, Knotlace - What is it?"
"I don’t-"
The sentence ended in a scream as he was struck again with the Cruciatus curse. This time, when Voldemort ended it, he lay panting and holding his side.
"Have you recalled anything of importance yet?" Voldemort hissed.
"Lucius," Knotlace cried. "He was with Potter for weeks. He must know something."
Voldemort paused. "That is possible."
Knotlace, seizing the chance that Voldemort’s anger might be turned elsewhere, spoke eagerly. "Potter wouldn’t even have known to hide it. Lucius must have discovered it."
Voldemort signaled to a guard. "Have Lucius brought before me. Oh, and do see that we have a Healer standing by. It would not do to have blood get everywhere as it did last time I decided to remind Malfoy of how I deal with those who betray me."
As Harry related his latest dream, Draco curled up in the bed next to him. For a long time after Harry finished, they stared at one another in the darkness of the Room of Requirement. Finally, Harry pulled Draco into an embrace.
"My father," Draco whispered, not quite believing it. "He’s still alive."
Back to Chapter 4
Chapter 6