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Dignosco Perturbatio	By : KianaD Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1771 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Pairings:Primarily D/H, with SS/RL, DM/SS/RL, and DM/SS/RL/HP and mentions of DM/OFC. (RUN? Are you RUNNING AWAY? o.O)

Summary: A charmed snitch, evil!polyjuicepotion!plots, overuse of bad puns, and a twist on polyamory and romance. And mistletoe. What more could you ask for? ;) Oh, right. And smut.

Notes: fluffy without being overly sweet (listen to me lie! bwaha), lots of silly, and a wee bit of seriousness. I think. nbeta'd. - Harry Potter et al belong to Rowling, WB, and God knows who else. Probably everyone -but- me. Sadly. Mistakes? Comments? Suggestions? Flames? Lemme know. I'll bring marshmallows.

This story is pure fun - don't try to take it seriously.

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Draco Malfoy walked slowly back to his room, extremely gratefully that no one was about to stop him and attempt to make small chat.
Which, of course, no one in Malfoy Manor actually did. There was always a reason for even the most inane of questions and conversation, and had Draco been stopped just then he knew he would have been as unable to answer and lie the same as had he had been under Veritaserum.
He fell upon his bed without turning lights on, throwing an arm over his eyes, and thought.
Draco knew that his father had a single-minded hatred of Potter. Draco had known this for fact since the day he turned five and his father explained it, all of it, to him. The prophecy, how Potter had caused the Dark Lord�s downfall, how Lucius had plans.

Not one for ever second-guessing his father, Draco had agreed with a shrug. Not until he met Harry Potter did he understand his father�s dislike for the boy. Fucking Harry Potter was always coming out on top of Draco. He always bested Draco, no matter how hard Draco tried to beat him.
Until fifth year, Draco had taken a sardonic pleasure in the rivalry between himself and Potter. It was as much a part of his daily regime as waking, eating, breathing. It was comfortable and � enjoyable, in a way. Draco added to this by saying when he did beat Potter, it would be all the more sweet in victory.
Then, Potter had stopped.
No more scathing remarks back, no more heated exchanges, nasty looks, threats.
It was as if � as if Draco Malfoy had simply ceased to exist in Potter�s world.
Which was completely and utterly unacceptable to Draco. He spent the better half of their sixth year trying to coax Potter back into their routine, which Draco excused to himself by mentally stating that he was a creature of habit, and that not even the fucking Saviour of the Wizarding World would be allowed to stop that.
Of course, Potter never did listen to anyone, not even a Malfoy, and so he continued to ignore Draco. Draco, in turn, continued to become vexed quite thoroughly, and so he watched. Stalked, perhaps, would have been a better word for it, had Malfoys been the type that did such a plebeian thing. However, in the end, it did not matter what Draco tried to do, Potter continued to ignore him.
When Draco returned to Hogwarts for their seventh and final year at school, he again fell back into trying to force Potter back to participation in their rivalry, despite Draco�s self-inflicted vow during the summer that he would just ignore Potter. He very neatly dismissed his own oath by telling himself if he gave in and ignored Potter the way Potter obviously wanted him to, then Draco would be lose. Times were changing, everything Draco had known to be true was undone, but yet Potter�s hatred of him and been consistent. It was the only thing Draco could have sworn to stability and he did not want to lose that.
And then, during the Slytherin versus Gryffindor quidditch match that November, Draco won. Draco had caught the snitch, Slytherin had won; Harry Potter had not caught the snitch, he had lost. Gryffindor had lost, Harry Potter had lost, and Draco Malfoy of Slytherin House had finally bested Harry Potter on the pitch.
His euphoria had lasted all of five minutes � the time it took for Slytherin to be declared winner and the few moments it took for Draco to land his broom. As soon as he had landed, Harry bloody fucking Potter had landed next to him, dismounted his broom, and shook his hand, smiling softly at Draco.

The sheer amount of surprise in those emerald eyes had pissed Draco off more than anything else had previously. It was not surprise that Draco had won, that Draco had bested him finally. It was that Potter was finally, finally remembering who Draco was. Through all that Potter had been through the past two years, in that moment it became glaringly obvious that he had just forgotten about Draco.
Which Draco realised, in blinding clarity, meant that Draco was, quite wholly, a selfish fucking bastard.
And if the all but previously unknown emotion of guilt was not enough, there was also the realisation that Potter was far more important to him than Draco was to Potter.
So, Draco stopped.
He stopped with the barbs against Potter and his friends, he stopped trying to cause trouble for Potter, and he stopped stalking him. He let Potter win. And Potter won in more ways than he would have ever realised.
And while it may have surprised Draco a few weeks before his Quidditch win, now it did not astound him in the least that Potter did not even notice the difference. Which left Draco where just now? He was not quite certain, but he knew he was not going to be able to just sit on what he had heard.
Slowly he sat up, slipped off his bed, and made his way into the bathroom. He undressed methodically, his mind racing. As he stepped into the shower, he realised he was enjoying having his mind challenged again, even if the pieces were falling together easily.
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"I have decided to spend the holidays in France," Draco announced that evening at supper.
As he had guessed, neither of his parents even batted an eyelash at his proclamation. He knew his mother would not have cared, and given that his father was keeping his plans secret from Draco, he had expected no resistance there either.
The rest of the meal passed in silence and Draco left after the port, much as he usually did. He packed several bags, waiting until the rest of the Manor retired before slipping into the Library to �borrow� several books, and then he left quietly and Apparated to the Black family estate in Northern France.

Contacting Potter, he decided, can wait until after I sleep.

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Draco should have known it wasn�t going to be easy. Not only did he have to hide who he was, but he had to wait for a chance to get to Potter alone. Every where Potter went, Granger and Weasley followed. Three days, and still Draco had been unable to get to Potter alone.
On the evening of the third night, Draco gave up and headed to the corner pub in disgust. Fuck it, he thought savagely. Let the fucker die then. Provided Lucius and his playthings can get past the Mudblood and the Weasel. Dumbledore is not worth putting up with cheap drinks.

He decided he would pay his Godfather a visit later instead, and it brought the first real smile to his lips in days.
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Walking through the doors of The Leaky Cauldron later that evening, Harry placed a hand on Hermione's back as he prompted her towards a table in the corner. "You go and get a seat, I'll get the drinks in. The usual?" When she nodded, Harry turned, and set off towards the bar.
"A pint and a Hurricane please Tom," Harry said, pushing himself up onto a bar stool as he waited for Tom to prepare his drinks. Turning to flash a polite smile at the patron next to him, his eyes narrowed in surprise as they fell upon someone he had most definitely not anticipated meeting again. Ever, in fact if he was being honest.
"Malfoy�"
Unable to keep the surprise from his voice, Harry's brows raised as he grabbed a handful of nuts sitting on the bar. "Didn't expect to see you here."
Draco barely, just barely, resisted the urge to bang his head on the bar in front of him. Not only was Potter there now, but he had recognised Draco immediately.
"You fucking utter twat," Draco breathed after the surprised had passed. "Only you would force me to wait for three days to find you alone only to show up at my bloody elbow when I wasn't paying attention." He shook his head and turned back to his drink. "You always were a bloody wanker," he sighed.

"Well, hello to you to you too," Harry snorted, placing the nuts back into the bowl, suddenly going totally off the idea of eating them. He wasn't hungry anyway. "Nice to see you haven't changed a bit."
Eying Draco, off footed slightly by the way the other man had turned away from him, turned rather than glare with the challenge and hostility that Harry had so been used to, he narrowed his eyes, and frowned.
"You were looking for me?" He asked, crossing his arms over the bar and leaning closer to it. "What for? Thought you'd be glad to see the back of me after leaving Hogwarts."
Draco turned back to Potter, raising a brow in amusement. "As if you knew anything about me, let alone enough to make an assessment of my character changes," he snorted in reply. "But yes, I have been looking for you. I need to talk to you."
His brow rising as he sighed, Harry shrugged, turning to watch Tom as he continued making Hermione's cocktail. Really, the way she knocked them back you'd think he would have gotten used to making them by now, but it seemed he still had some problems with it.
"If you say so, Malfoy," he replied eventually. "So, you've found me, or rather I found you but that's not really the point. You going to tell me what you want?"

Yes, of course Potter. You see, when you killed the Dark Lord and did your little duty to the Wizarding World by saving us from a raving fucking loon, you managed to really piss off Lucius Malfoy. He was not all that pleased to begin with that you killed his Lord, and the added fuck up the arse of having to give away most of the Malfoy lands and fortune to keep his sorry arse out of Azakban really seems to have pushed him over the edge.

"I do not suppose you will want to come with me to my home and listen as I spin a tale of yore and how I have information you need while we reminisce about times past, huh?"
"Not bloody likely," Harry laughed, not really believing Malfoy to be serious anyway. "And what information would that be then? Might have escaped your notice, Malfoy but the war's over. No one has any further use of me, so I dunno why you think I'd need it."
"Potter," Draco began, voice cheerful. "Let us ask ourselves this. Who is my father?"
"Well, if you don't know that, you've got more problems than I thought," Harry replied, smiling at Tom and thanking him as he placed his order on the bar in front of him.
Draco stiffened. Suddenly realising what a horrible idea this had been and that he was an utter fool, and that spending the rest of his life hiding in Italy was starting to sound very pleasant, he finished he drink in one swallow and stood facing Potter, all traces of humour gone. "I do hope you put as much faith in your death defying skills as the rest of the world does," he said, eyes narrowed. "Good bye."
Groaning, Harry shook his head. "God, sit down will you? Let me get you a drink." Eying the now empty glass, he wrinkled his nose as he held his hand up to get Tom's attention. "What was that anyway?"
"Someone is trying to warn me of an imminent plan on my life� what to do, what to do?" Draco mused, mimicking Potter's voice as best he could. Which, really, was rather well. "Perhaps I'll announce to all and sundry the messenger's name, the best to get him killed with after all, and then I'll buy him a drink in front of everyone, which is not suspicious in the least� all just to make certain that said gorgeous blonde man will die painfully as he so richly deserves."
By now, Harry was beginning to lose his patience. Grabbing his drinks, he slid off the stool, standing in front of Malfoy, their faces inches apart.
"Listen. I don't have a clue what's going on here, but you either tell me what you wanted to tell me, or you don't. I'm not going to beg, I'm not going to play any little game. It's up to you. Me? I've got Hermione sitting over there waiting for me. You can join us if you want, but if you don't?" Harry shrugged. "Your choice."
Draco growling in frustration, torn between wanting to merely leave and lick his pride in private, or hex Potter on the spot. "What part of �death threat, my father, and danger to myself by merely standing here with you� did you not understand? I am not playing a fucking game, Potter, but every second I have to been seen with you carries a far greater risk to me than it does to you," he hissed.
This was getting them no where quickly, and Draco knew he spoke the truth. A couple of glances had been spared their way already, and if Potter had recognised Draco so quickly, it wouldn�t be long before someone else did too. He slowly counted to five, giving himself a chance at control. "Of course, I realise that means naught to you. As you wish, we will join Granger."
"No�" Harry frowned suddenly unnerved by a level of seriousness he'd never actually seen displayed by Malfoy before. "No. We'll go somewhere else, just let me explain to Hermione and I'll follow on in about fifteen minutes or so. If things are as serious as that, us leaving together wouldn't be a good idea." Not that them leaving together to go anywhere at anytime was a particularly favourable idea to Harry, but as he took a step back he eyed Malfoy carefully. "You better be on the level with this."
"Of course not," Draco snorted in reply. "I just have a machoism streak, you see. Spending time with people that hate me really gets my rocks off." He sighed again. "Place?"
His first instinct was to suggest Grimmauld place, mainly because it had come to be somewhere he could rely on being completely safe. So safe in fact that Malfoy didn't even know where it was, nor could he see it even if he was standing right in front of it; and that wasn't a fact Harry was willing to change that the moment. In the end, he decided it would be better for Malfoy to decide. "You're the one worried about privacy; your call."
"I have a room upstairs," Draco clipped out. "Sixteen." At Potter�s agreeing nod, Draco spun on his heel and went upstairs to wait.

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Casting one final, distrustful look at Malfoy as he strode off, Harry turned and walked towards Hermione, lowering down onto a chair next to her as he laid their drinks in front of them.
She hadn't been pleased with Harry's announcement that he needed to leave, and she had been even less amused by his failing to explain to her where he was going and whom he was meeting. Nevertheless, exactly fifteen minutes later Harry arrived outside room sixteen. He stood there for several moments, shaking his head as he took a deep breath and wondered for what must have been the hundredth time why in earth he had agreed to this; any of it.
Concluding that he must either be mad, stupid, too nosy for his own good or quite possibly all three combined, he knocked sharply on the door twice and took a step back, waiting for someone to answer.
Draco let out a sigh when he heard the knock. He wasn�t certain Potter was going to come. Of course, Draco thought, it might not be Potter at all. He cast a quick charm, sighing in relief as he was reassured it was indeed Potter and that he was alone. Draco opened the door quickly, and ushered the other man in as he closed the door behind him and reset the wards.
"I was not certain you would come," he said, eyeing Potter like a curiosity.
"Yeah, well�" Harried replied casting a quick glance around the room before turning and facing the other man. "Here I am."
Draco�s mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Indeed. I would offer you a seat and a drink�" he let his voice trail off as a platinum brow curved up in sardonic amusement. "But I won�t prolong your suffering. At least, not at my hands."
He sat, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Tell me Potter. How many people would you say know you well enough to be you?"
Frowning, Harry seriously considered this for a moment before the bizarreness of the question actually sank into his mind. "Accurately? Very few; less than a handful I'd say. To the satisfaction of the majority of the wizarding world who think they know me? Pretty much anyone who can get their hands on a copy of 'Witch Weekly.' Why?"
"Because someone plans on doing just that," Draco replied.
Harry snorted; and he snorted loudly, as a peal of laughter erupted from his lips. "You're kidding me." Shaking his head and wiping the tears from his eyes as he took a few deep calming breaths, Harry raised his eyes to Malfoy again, the smile on his face fading as he noted the expression the other man was wearing. "Oh God, you're not kidding me."
Mouth thinning in an attempt to not snap back at the other man, Draco merely nodded.
Sinking down into a chair, Harry crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Malfoy. "I think you better explain."

This was more what he had been used to, Draco decided with a small start. Pity he did not have enough time to enjoy it. He glanced at his watch before standing. He made his way to the bed, and waved his wand at the pile of clothes there in an order to start them packing. "Basically Potter, you pissed off yet another deranged mental fuck arse."
Apparently pleased his clothes were taken care of, he turned and started on the books sitting on the desk. "Lucius wants you dead, but before that he plans on humiliating you and tearing your name, and statue, down. He plans on doing this with the help of someone who apparently knows you well enough to be you."
"Wonderful. My life's just not complete without someone plotting of ways to kill me." Sighing, he rose to his feet, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his hand as he shook his head.
"Humiliation too huh? Maybe he should meet up with Rita Skeeter, get some tips, compare notes."
"Skeeter?" Draco echoed, staring blankly at Potter before recognition dawned. "No, Potter. I think whatever it is that Lucius has planned for you will make you beg for that old bat instead."
"No doubt." Harry could well believe it. Death Eaters didn't really come much nastier, or deadlier than Lucius Malfoy; not the ones who were still alive at any rate. What Harry didn't understand however, was why Malfoy was helping him. Unless it was part of a trap, which really wouldn't surprise him in the least.
"So, just so I get this straight," he began, pacing slowly around the room, a finger pressed to his lips as he spoke. "You expect me to believe that Lucius Malfoy, your father, plans to humiliate me by having someone who knows me pose as me, before finally killing me, right? You know this and you come to me to�what? Warn me? Help me? Set me up? I mean come on, you couldn't stand the sight of me for seven years, and then suddenly you show up with this information, telling me that your life is in danger for even being seen with me and you expect me to believe you? Why would I do that?"
Draco stopped what he was doing, turning so he could fully face the other man. "I think," he said in a conversational tone, "that the next time you presume to know anything about me, I might be forced to acquaint you with the other end of my wand. Then I might allow to say you know something about me."
He turned back, his gaze drawn to the world outside the window. "I cannot force you to trust me, nor do I have any desire to do so. My reasons are my own and I do not trust you enough to feel they are any of your business. I did what I came to do. What you do with that information is up to you."
"So you want me to trust you, but you're not willing to do the same to me?" Harry laughed and shook his head. "That's typical."
Walking towards Malfoy, Harry peered out the window, before turning to look towards the other man, his eyes narrow and questioning. "Why would a Death Eater put their life on the line to help someone and then try and act indifferent to whether or not that information is accepted? If it were me, if I were putting myself on the line as much as you say you are, I'd want to make damn sure that that information was taken seriously; doing whatever it took to convince them. If I was going to die for it, I'd bloody well make the sacrifice worth it."
"I assure you, I have no plans on dying for you," Draco replied dryly. He continued to stare out the window for a moment before he sighed. Spinning so he faced Potter, he unbuttoned his coat, his eyes never leaving the other man�s face as he did so. After he had thrown it on the chair, he held out his left arm at Potter.
Harry held Malfoy's gaze for several moments before finally slowly lowering it to the exposed forearm, confusion spreading over his features as his mouth opened to say something, then closed again, words seemingly failing him.
He stood like that for several moments, head tilted slightly to one side as his mind frantically tried to process the lack of the Dark Mark on the pale, opaline skin that he had been more than prepared to see, however unpleasant. The lack of it however, was more of a shock than Harry had anticipated.
It didn't prove anything, he tried to convince himself. So Malfoy didn't have the mark. There could be any number of explanations for that. Maybe Voldemort had fallen before he could be initiated, or perhaps his demise had been evident and Malfoy had been saving his own skin by not taking The Mark somehow so there would be nothing concrete to link him to Voldemort after the war. Despite these thoughts however, Harry didn't believe them. His gut instinct told him that for whatever reason, Malfoy seemed to be telling the truth, and that thought also disturbed him.
"Okay�" he breathed after a minute or two of dazed silence. "So what now?"
Draco lifted a shoulder. "No clue, Potter. I know that I, for one, do not plan to stay around and wait for Lucius to find me. You are, of course, free to do whatever the hell it is that you hero people do."
He turned back to the bed, picking up his coat from the chair on the way and shrugging carefully into it before closing his valise. He paused for a moment before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a snitch. Draco�s fingers tightened around it briefly, he spared at glance at pink tones with a sigh before he tossed it to Potter.
His seeker reflexes still very much in tact, Harry caught the snitch easily in his hand; at least it looked like a snitch, but it was glowing an odd pinkish colour instead of being golden as they usually were.
Turning it over in his hand, Harry inspected it carefully, noticing the colour begin to shift slightly; blue hues seeping into the soft rose tones, spreading like a drop of ink in a bowl of water as it completely eradicated all traces of its predecessor until the snitch now glowed a pale blue.
Frowning in confusion, he looked from it back to Malfoy's retreating figure.
"Wait," Harry said, not quite sure why but uncomfortable with the thought of Malfoy leaving alone, and even more uncomfortable with what he was about to suggest but somehow believing that not only was it the right thing to do, but that it was safe to do.
"I know somewhere you should be safe. You got into this, whether or not you admit it, because of me. The least I can do is try and make sure you don't get killed because of it. After all, isn't that what we hero people do?" he added with a wry smile.
"I�m quite certain I wouldn�t know," Draco said with slight trace of amusement in his voice. "And at any rate Potter," he continued, frowning now as he faced turned back to face the other man. "Wouldn�t whomever it is that Lucius was speaking with know this �safe place� of yours?"
"Yeah, it's possible," Harry conceded, despite the fact that this is a fact that he really didn't want to consider. Aside from Order members, the only others who knew about Grimmauld Place were Ron and Hermione.
"Even if they know where it is though they can't tell anyone. Well�they can but it won't do any good. They'd still never be able to find it."
"Fidelius," Draco said, with a faint, approving nod. "Although that makes me wonder�" he trailed off, obviously deep in thought. If the person working with Lucius had access to any of Potter�s memories, in any way�
Finally Draco sighed in defeat. "Would allowing you to view what I did force you to believe me?"

Harry wasn't all that surprised to discover that he already believed Malfoy, for reasons which he couldn't define any better than saying it was 'just a feeling he had.' Really, when it came down to it, it was a pretty poor reason to believe someone you spent the best part of your teenage years fighting with. However, the snitch that he still held in his fingers, combined with Malfoy's offer and the fact that he was here at all made Harry begin to wonder if perhaps there was more to Draco Malfoy than he had previously believed.
"Show me," he replied eventually, apprehensiveness beginning to build in his chest as for the first time since the news of this latest plot against him he began to actually feel nervous; and scared, and surprised to find that it wasn't for himself.
Draco nodded once. "We will have to go to Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts?" Harry echoed, confusion evident in his voice. What Hogwarts would have to do with anything he wasn't certain, and truth be told Harry was a little nervous about returning to the school. He hadn't been there since the end of the war, nor had it exactly been full of pleasant memories between the two men, the snitch in his hand suddenly reminding him of the final time they had come up against one another.
"You kept it�?" Blinking, Harry gazed at the shining golden ball in his hands, its wings hanging limp by its sides.
"Hogwarts," Draco replied firmly, ignoring Potter�s second question, feeling uneasy and quite frankly surprised he had given the snitch to the other man in the first place. "Unless you know of another wizard you trust with access to a Pensive? And can think of who before I change my mind."
"No�" Letting out a long, slow exhale, Harry ran a hand through his hair before rubbing his eyes from beneath his glasses. The only wizard he knew that was in possession of a pensive was Dumbledore, and if Dumbledore trusted Malfoy enough to let him borrow it� Harry definitely wanted to know what was going on here.
"Right then, Hogwarts it is." He replied, shoving his hands into his pockets, suddenly feeling rather awkward.
Amusement was visible in Draco�s features, knowing that he must be annoying the other man to not know what was going on. "Go on, I�ll be right behind you," he said with a slight smirk.
Glaring at Malfoy, Harry grabbed his wand from his wand pocket and muttering quietly, disappeared with a sharp crack, finding himself just outside the Hogwarts grounds waiting for the disorientation that always followed Apparating to clear.
It felt�odd, to be back at Hogwarts after so long. The place that he had considered to be more like home than anywhere he had ever known, now felt alien; cold and unwelcoming as the castle loomed overhead, nothing more than a dark silhouette against the night sky.
Maybe it was because he had been away for so long that the school felt different, or maybe it was the memories of a battle he'd rather forget that made him feel this way, he wasn't entirely certain. What he was certain of however, was that he was bloody freezing and Malfoy hadn't shown up yet.
Draco appeared several minutes later, bag in tow. He nodded once at Potter and started walking toward the castle, with only the sound of their feet crunching on the snow for company.
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Dignosco Perturbatio