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Inter Vivos	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 42948 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am making no money from this writing.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Ten�Surprises

�� Boy!�

�� Harry
turned around to face Uncle Vernon. He�d been busy cleaning up the breakfast
dishes, and usually, his uncle didn�t bother him whilst he was doing that. But
now he was here, and, just like he had to do with any break in his routine,
Harry kept his face blank and endured it.

�� What�s
this, then?� Uncle Vernon demanded, and thrust a letter under Harry�s nose.
Harry looked down at it. It was from Sirius, as the signature clearly said, and
he saw a few words about �school� and �on the run� and �hunting Pettigrew.� He
had to keep his hands from reaching out to grab it. He had learned the hard way
never to grab something from his uncle.

�� That�s a
letter from my godfather,� Harry said quietly.

�� Eh?�
Vernon took a step back from him, his mouth hanging open. Harry watched him
with contempt. He had only to think of the way Draco or Snape would take a
shock like that�assuming the news was a shock at all, and they weren�t only
pretending it was�to feel that contempt.

�� If you want to impress someone, restrain yourself.
Draco wouldn�t have fooled his father if he was wailing and upset about the
embarrassment he�d pretended to feel.

�� You don�t have a godfather, boy!� Uncle
Vernon stabbed a finger at him, face turning purple. �We would know if you did.
Those freaks you call parents��

�� Harry
interrupted quickly, because he could feel the bubble of magic building up in
him, just the way it had when he blew up Aunt Marge last year, and he wanted to
do something other than release it. �He came back this year, Uncle Vernon. He�d
been in prison.�

�� And God, it was nice to see the simple truth
widen Uncle Vernon�s eyes.

�� In
p-prison?� Uncle Vernon licked his lips with a tongue that left a bit of spit
at the corners of them. �What�d he do, then? Something unnatural?�

�� They
thought he killed thirteen people,� Harry said peacefully. And it was still the
truth. He�d told Uncle Vernon what everyone, even Dumbledore, believed about
Sirius at the time.

�� Dumbledore. A bit of the overheard
conversation between Snape and Sirius that Harry hadn�t paid much attention to
until now came back to him. Dumbledore didn�t
insist on a trial for Sirius, and he didn�t come to rescue Sirius when the
Dementors were coming after him.

�� Why?

�� But then
Uncle Vernon was speaking, and he would strike out fast and hard if he thought
there was the slightest chance that Harry wasn�t paying attention to his
all-important words. Harry forced himself to focus.

�� A
m-murderer?�

�� That�s
right,� Harry said. �And he�d be very
upset about it if he thought anything bad was happening to me. Like me not
getting his letter.� He paused as if he�d forgotten something, then snapped his
fingers. �Oh, yeah, that�s right, I forgot you�d heard of him! He�s that Sirius
Black who escaped last year.�

�� Uncle
Vernon pushed the letter into his hands and backed away, his face like old
cheese. Several times he stared at Harry before he lumbered out the kitchen
door.

�� Harry
smiled and read the letter.

�� As he�d
suspected, it said Sirius was hunting Pettigrew. He thought Pettigrew might
have gone to South America, and so he was there�enjoying the sun and far away
from anyone trying to find him in Britain. Harry sighed in relief. He didn�t
like what Sirius had done to Snape, but that was a long way from hoping he was
captured and hauled back to the Ministry, or hoping that the Dementors Kissed
him.

�� He finished
the breakfast dishes and went to check the list of chores on the door of the
cupboard beneath the stairs. It was much longer than usual for a Saturday.

�� Harry
concealed another sigh. Standing up to the Dursleys didn�t do much good, because
it didn�t win him the respect that Draco got from his father. They�d always
find some little or petty way to strike back.

�� But at
least he would have the right to read Sirius�s letters. That, Harry thought as
he grabbed the list and then went outside to grab the lawnmower, was something.

*

�� Draco
paused on the threshold of Lucius�s study and looked around cautiously. No one
was there, and he relaxed. He had known, of course, that his father had left
the house to go to the Parkinsons� and deal with some matter of distasteful
business, but there could still have been a house-elf here, or even his mother,
come to turn over the books that she never seemed to read. Draco wanted to be
alone.

�� He
stiffened his spine as he walked further into the room, forcing himself to
listen to his memories of Harry, and not the pounding of his heart. He had to
be like Harry. He had to be brave. And that meant being a spy.

�� Lucius didn�t
ever tell him anything important, except bits of information related to Malfoy
business. Those weren�t secrets.
Draco could have given Harry and Professor Snape a list of the families they
dealt with, but so what? If Professor Snape had really been a Death Eater, he
would already know about them anyway, and most of them either didn�t have
children in Hogwarts�they�d sent them all to Durmstrang�or had Slytherin children
Draco could keep an eye on, so Harry wasn�t in danger from that.

�� But lately
his father had been smiling more often, and sometimes talking to Draco�s mother
in an undertone that included the word �Potter.� So Draco knew something was
going on. But he wasn�t a good enough liar yet to draw it out of his father.

�� So he went
looking.

�� His father�s
desk was covered with neat stacks of paper. Draco glanced at the top sheet of
each, glad that Lucius was so organized. If one pile had a report from
Gringotts in it, then Draco knew all the other papers in the pile would be the
same thing.

�� One pile
was letters�and not business letters, because he had already passed those.
Draco took a deep breath and began to flick carefully through them. He�d used a
spell that would prevent any trace of his skin or scent from showing up on the
paper; Lucius shouldn�t be able to detect them even if he had a werewolf with
him.

�� A letter
from Mr. Parkinson, giving the suggestion that Draco and Pansy get betrothed
now. Draco shuddered.

�� A letter
from the Ministry, informing Lucius that now was the right time to make his
charitable contribution to the Fund for Widows and Orphans of the War. Draco
rolled his eyes. I can�t believe they�re
so stupid. My father fought in that war and helped to make those widows and
orphans! Don�t they see that he�s just giving them money to score political
points?

�� A letter
from the Wizarding Historical Society, requesting information on what had
caused the feud between the Malfoys and Weasleys. Draco was tempted to stand
there and read it, but he didn�t. He didn�t think the Society really knew
anything already, and Lucius certainly wouldn�t tell them.

�� A letter on
thick, creamy parchment. Draco turned it around so he could see the signature,
and gasped softly. The letter was from Walden Macnair, who worked for the
Ministry and would have executed the hippogriff if Draco hadn�t stood up to
Lucius. Draco knew that Macnair and Lucius had worked together before.

�� Maybe it
wasn�t very important, but it was the most exciting thing Draco had found so
far. He looked at the top.

�� Dear Lucius,

�� It has come to my attention that you may
know where a certain Very Important Artifact is. It has vanished from�

�� The door to
the study opened.

�� Draco
wanted to jump and fling letters everywhere, but he didn�t. Even if Snape�s
training in lying hadn�t been good enough to fool his father all the time yet,
his training in controlling emotions and movements had been. Draco tucked the
letter neatly back into place, smoothed the other letters on top of it, and
turned around to face his father with Mr. Parkinson�s letter in his hand and a
look of firm disgust on his face.

�� Draco.�
Lucius stood in the doorway with a kind of coiled energy to him. Draco had gone
to zoos and seen hunting entertainments; he knew jaguars coiled like that when
they were about to spring on their prey. �What are you doing here?�

�� Forgive
me, Father,� Draco said, which he knew was always a good start. �But I had to know if you were going to betroth
me to Pansy Parkinson.� He flourished the letter at his father. �You�re not really going to do it, are you?�

�� Lucius
curled his lip. �Has my loathing for that family not been made sufficiently
clear to you?� He crossed to the desk with quick steps and examined the papers
with a practiced eye. Draco ignored that. He�d been careful not to disturb the
other piles, and if the letters were disturbed, that was only because Draco had
been searching for this letter.

�� I know,�
said Draco, and controlled the impulse to step back as Lucius�s cane swept near
him. �But Pansy wrote me the most appalling rubbish this week about how her
father wanted it, and she wanted it,
and she was sure Mr. Parkinson had an offer that would get you to agree.�

�� Lucius
laughed, a sound, as far as Draco could tell, of genuine amusement. �There is
nothing in the world that would fit that description,� he said. He picked up
several of the letters, including, Draco was certain, the Macnair one, and
tucked them into his cloak. �I can understand why you think you had a right to
know this, Draco,� Lucius continued in slightly chiding tones, �since it
concerns you. But in future, please ask me, instead of invading my privacy.� He
held out his hand for Mr. Parkinson�s letter.

�� Draco gave
it back, but he kept his chin up, not accepting the soft, chilly rebuke implied
by Lucius�s last words. �I know,� he said, �but it seems that you don�t trust
me with much important business. I wasn�t sure that you would tell me if I
asked. And you should. I�m growing up, now.� He took a deep breath and said the
riskiest thing. �And I think I�ve proven that I care about the family dignity.�

�� Lucius paused,
his eyes hooded, his face still, and then nodded slowly. �You may be right
about that, Draco. Consider this summer your introduction to the larger world.
You will learn more about my political contacts, as well as the business that
is incidental to the Malfoy fortune.�

�� Draco kept
his face serene as he nodded, but inwardly cheered and jumped up and down. Now
he could really do some spying!

�� And he was
sure Lucius didn�t know he�d been snooping through the letters for something
else. Draco would know the signs of that.

*

�� Severus sat
back behind his desk and reached for the glass of tea he had promised himself
when he had made an honest effort to search for the solution to the riddle. And
though he knew he deserved it�though no one else could have spent this much
time trying to figure out where Finnigan�s family line led to�he had no
answers, and the tea failed to drown the bitterness in his mouth.

�� Why should it be so hard to locate his
relatives? Severus rolled the tea around on his tongue and tried to think
of possible answers to that question, but, as usual, the answers tumbled into
darkness when he employed logic.

�� Finnigan�s
father was a Muggle. It made sense that his Muggle relatives would not exist in
the records of the wizarding community. But Finnigan�s mother was pure-blood and
from a family that had once enjoyed a fairly strong reputation as supporters of
charitable groups. They had fallen off in wealth and power in the twentieth
century, but the records still existed.

�� It seemed,
however, that every record Severus could find went back only to 1930, and that,
though he knew the Goodbody family had existed in the nineteenth century and
were related to Eleanor Goodbody, Finnigan�s mother, her parents might as well
have been created from spontaneous generation. Everything from 1850 to 1930 was
a blank.

�� And where
might they have learned such powerful Dark magic? There was no answer to that question,
either. Severus could not find a single newspaper article about Eleanor
Goodbody other than an announcement of her birth, none of her signatures on the
books in Hogwarts�s library that concerned the Dark Arts, no records in the
books available to him from colleagues that she had been trained by the Dark
wizards who managed to evade the Ministry.

�� And as for
whether they had really had a Parselmouth relative�

�� Severus
grimaced. Many of the records of Parselmouths in Britain were also missing, but
he knew the culprit in that case. The Dark Lord had destroyed them, fearing
that someone who could challenge his dominance might have arisen if they had
remained intact. After last year, when he had learned for sure that the Dark
Lord was the Heir of Slytherin, Severus could see why.

�� But none of
this got him closer to a solution or explained Finnigan�s hostility to Potter.
That hostility was quiet and simmering for now, but Severus knew people too
well not to think it would explode again at some point.

�� Severus?
Are you busy?�

�� Dumbledore
had come inside his wards without warning, and now stuck his head around the
door. Severus restrained his sigh and nodded a greeting. If Dumbledore wanted
to, he could take it as welcome. �Not so busy, Albus, now. Have a seat.�

�� Dumbledore
sat down on the chair in front of Severus�s desk and spent a moment staring
thoughtfully into the fire. Severus waited, unimpressed. He recognized this
tactic. It was meant to stir up either curiosity or uneasiness. Severus had
very little of the latter left, and almost none of the former where the
Headmaster was concerned.

�� Except for
one question, of course.

�� Why did he not intervene to rescue Black?

�� But he would
not get an answer to that question for asking. He would have to rely on
observation and insight, the spy�s tools. Given that, Severus folded his hands
in front of him now and patiently waited for Dumbledore to tire of his games.

�� Severus,�
Dumbledore said at last, still gazing into the fire, �it has come to my
attention that you spend a great deal of time with young Harry.�

�� Yes,�
Severus said, �I do.�

�� Why?� And Dumbledore
looked up, and looked him in the eye.

�� Severus met
the gaze without flinching. Dumbledore was an accomplished Legilimens, but not as
much so as Severus was an Occlumens. �The boy�s Potions scores are abysmal,� he
said. �But he shows some signs of intelligence. It is evident, therefore, that
lack of effort and not cleverness prevents him from getting higher marks. I am
trying to teach him to learn better.�

�� I have
sensed some evidence of the Dark Arts coming from the dungeons,� Dumbledore
said. �Vibrations from your wand have troubled me when we passed in the
corridors.�

�� I am teaching
him to defend against curses,� Severus said. �That naturally involves casting
the curses.�

�� But why, Severus?�
Dumbledore leaned forwards earnestly, the light shining on his glasses, and
incidentally concealing his eyes. �Why not someone else? I know the boy was
building a bond with Sirius before Sirius had to leave. And he was learning
from Remus. Minerva actually brought me word that she was concerned, that Harry
should have come to her for extra tutoring and did not.�

�� Severus
held absolutely still, and knew he was in more danger than Draco had been when
facing Lucius.

�� But he had
been in far greater danger every day that he knelt at the Dark Lord�s feet.

�� I have
remembered what I should have remembered long ago,� said Severus. �The thing
you tried to hint gently to me, Albus, and which I did not manage to think of
before now. To my shame,� he forced himself to add, though of course it wasn�t,
not really.

�� And what
is that?�

�� He is Lily�s
son as well as James�s,� Severus said. �And I loved Lily.�

�� It cut him
to speak the last words aloud, but not as much it would have to speak them in
front of an unknowing audience. Dumbledore knew every secret of his soul. And he
would do worse to keep the boy with him. He had been prepared to kill Black.

�� Besides, Severus
knew this was almost the only thing he could say that would convince Dumbledore
to go away and leave him alone.

�� Dumbledore collapsed
backwards as if someone had cut his strings. �Of course,� he said softly. �Severus,
forgive me. I had unwarranted suspicions, and I must admit, I thought your soul
had stopped growing some time ago. Forgive me,� he repeated.

�� Forgiven,�
Severus said magnanimously, whilst his soul made quiet plans to pull Potter
closer until even Dumbledore�s forbidding him to meet with Severus, if he did,
would have no effect on the boy�s behavior.

*

�� Harry had
nodded to Draco on the train, and Draco had walked past with his friends and
hadn�t stopped, but he did nod back. And during dinner, he mouthed a few
questions at Harry across the tables�mostly having to do with their secret
meetings with Snape, Harry thought, since one of the most frequent words was �detention��and
Harry had to shrug and shake his head, because Snape hadn�t owled him at all
over the summer. It seemed more likely that he would have contacted Draco than
anyone else, because Harry wasn�t blind; he knew Draco was Snape�s favorite student.

�� For a
moment, he swallowed bitterness with his potatoes. Draco had the relationship
with Snape that Harry had wanted to have with Sirius: guiding and subtle and
full of things to talk about. His own father didn�t love him that much, but
there was a substitute.

�� Harry didn�t
get to have that.

�� A hand
touched his arm. Harry banished the thoughts, because they were full of
self-pity and not productive, and turned to look at Hermione, who was frowning
at him. �We need to talk,� she said quietly.

�� Harry
swallowed more potatoes and nodded. He thought he knew what she wanted to talk
about.

�� And sure
enough, when Hermione and Ron turned around and faced him in a corner of the Gryffindor
common room far from the fire, and thus from the conversations and games of
Exploding Snap going on near the hearth, the first words out of Hermione�s
mouth were, �Are you friends with Malfoy, Harry?�

�� Harry didn�t
have a plan prepared for this. He had always vaguely hoped that he could put
off telling Ron and Hermione for a while, and then a while longer, and try to
make them see, slowly, that Draco was good.

�� In some ways, he reminded himself,
because Draco had still said some things about Hermione on the last day of
school last year that Harry had almost hit him for.

�� Yeah,� he
said, �I am.�

�� Ron at once
looked distressed. Before, he�d been half-smiling, and Harry decided he hadn�t
really believed Hermione. �Why, mate?�
he demanded. �What did he do? Did he cast the Imperius Curse? Because��

�� It�s not
the Imperius Curse, Ron,� Hermione snapped back. �There are ways to detect
that, and I already used them on Harry.�

�� Because she couldn�t trust me. Harry
didn�t say anything, though, because it wouldn�t do any good. Hermione had
already cast the spells. He would just have to be more alert in the future, and
try to explain things about the Slytherins in his life before his friends got
to this point. �Yes, I�m friends with Malfoy,� he said. �Because he�s been
telling me things about his father. Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater during the first
war. Draco is trying to teach me things about him, so that I�m not caught
off-guard when Voldemort comes back.�

�� But that�s
dangerous, Harry,� Hermione said, her face immediately smoothing into lines of
concern.

�� And you
don�t need to be his friend to do
that,� Ron added, obviously more worried about that aspect of things.

�� All right, a lie won�t work. �Yeah, but
I want to be,� said Harry. �And he was the one who got the execution against
Buckbeak stopped, and he stood up to his father, and he did it because I asked him to. So he�s all right, all
right?�

�� He could
sense a few other Gryffindors looking at him curiously, but none of them seemed
to be listening in the way they would if they realized it was Malfoy Harry was
talking about. And Hermione�s face was pink, and Harry realized that he was
embarrassed, in turn, about yelling like that. He tugged irritably on his hair
and added, �And I don�t think he�ll always be nice. But you don�t have to spend
time with him. I promise. I was spending time with him last year, and it never
made me have less time to fly with you or study with you, did it?�

�� Hermione
narrowed her eyes. �But what if he chooses his father over you when You-Know-Who
comes back, Harry? How are you going to handle that?�

�� He won�t,�
Harry said.

�� You can�t
be confident of that.�

�� Then I can�t
be confident of anything,� Harry said, and looked at Ron. �You don�t mind, do
you, mate?�

�� Yeah, I
do,� said Ron, and scowled at him. �But I know that you�ll go ahead and do it
no matter what.�

�� Yeah,�
Harry said, �I will.�

�� After a
moment, Ron gave a reluctant smile. Hermione glanced back and forth between the
both of them, looking baffled, and then went back to trying to persuade Harry
to leave Draco alone, �for his own good.�

�� Harry
ignored her. In some ways, he liked Hermione better than Ron; she got angry
less easily. But in another way, he just had an understanding with Ron that he
didn�t with Hermione, probably because she was a girl.

�� And he
understood Draco even better, but he didn�t think he could tell his friends why.
Part of the secret was Draco�s, and part was his, the way the Dursleys always
had been.

*

�� But I don�t
understand that.�

�� Severus
just kept himself from grinding his teeth. The boy was testing his patience. He
had seen for himself, in the battle against the Dementors and the confrontation
with Black afterwards, that the boy had remarkable courage and stubbornness and
magical power, and he was not stupid�not if he could see through the excuses
that Black threw up to mask his own behavior. He should be able to grasp
Potions. That he couldn�t was a failing on his part, not on Severus�s.

�� You would
if you would concentrate,� Severus said, in lieu of the nastier comments he
could have made.

�� I�ve been concentrating
for the last hour!� Potter cast the
stirring rod he�d been using down on the table and leaned forwards, not seeming
to notice the way one of his robe sleeves was nearly trailing in the cauldron. Severus
stared severely, but that didn�t make Potter take his sleeve out or realize he
had almost broken the stirring rod, which was glass. �It�s no use. I�ll never
make a good Potions brewer. Let�s just concentrate
on Defense Against the Dark Arts, instead.�

�� Severus experienced
a brief jolt of shock. That the brat could so far have lost his fear of Severus
as to make demands and mock him was incredible.

�� He took a
step forwards, his eyes narrowed, one hand reaching out to scoop up the
stirring rod and show the boy what should be done with it, the simple motions that he could learn if he
wanted to, if he cared as much about potions
as he did about Quidditch and the perverted spells that Dumbledore had given
Moody permission to teach them�

�� And then he
realized that Potter had moved. Not a large movement, a small one, but back
from the table. And now he was lightly poised on his feet, in a way that
indicated he was ready to spring at a moment�s notice in any direction.

�� His eyes
were curiously blank. There was no longer any trust or openness in them, not
that there had been much in the first place. He looked the way he had looked
when Severus happened to pass Vector�s class one night: attentive and bored, as
if he were putting up with a teacher he didn�t really like but had no
alternative to.

�� It struck Severus,
then, that demands and mockery might be one way that Potter showed his comfort
around someone.

�� He took a
deep breath and laid the stirring rod down. �Potter,� he said in a neutral
voice, or at least as much of a neutral one as he could muster given the
emotions and revelations of the moment, �perhaps you could tell me why you find
it so difficult to remember Potions ingredients.�

�� I don�t
like it. Sir.�

�� Potter hadn�t
called him sir in some time, except just after a duel, when Severus knew the
title came from Potter�s respect for his spellcasting skills rather than for
him as a person. He had fulminated against the omission in his head, but
realized that he didn�t know a way to scold Potter on the matter without making
him back away.

�� As he just did.

�� Even the
dropping of the title might be�affectionate, in its way. Or at least a sign
that Potter didn�t resent Severus�s instruction.

�� You don�t
like Astronomy, either,� Severus said temperately, �and you mange good marks in
that class.�

�� Potter
narrowed his eyes. Lily�s eyes. �How
did you know that? Sir.�

�� I took an
interest in your scores after the last year,� said Severus. �And I know that
you possess the brains and the talents to succeed at this, Potter. Yes, the
talent is not natural to you the way it is to Draco, or the way that your
Quidditch talent is.� The words burned his mouth, since that �natural� talent
at Quidditch was one of the ways that James Potter had become more popular than
Severus himself ever would be, but it calmed Potter down to be praised. �But
you can master it if you try. Why don�t you want to try?�

�� Potter
lowered his eyes for a moment and seemed to be struggling. Severus let him do
it. In the end, Potter was the only one who could answer this question. Severus
had come up with many theories on his own, but none of them fit all the
circumstances present.

�� Because it
doesn�t make a difference,� Potter said at last, in a low voice. �Whether I�m
doing bad or doing good��

�� Severus,
with an effort, held his tongue against his own instinctive desire to check the
boy�s grammar.

�� You react
the same. Sometimes you say it�s right, but you don�t say why I got it right,
and I can try just as hard and not get it right.� Potter looked up at him, the
light from the fire catching on his glasses and hiding his eyes this time in an
uncanny mimicry of Dumbledore. �When I get something wrong, Professor Vector
tells me so, and why. And so does Professor McGonagall. And they tell me when I
get something right, and at least smile.
With you, I can�t tell anything at all, and your explanations are too quick.�

�� Severus did
understand, then. And he would have understood it on his own if he had allowed himself
to think about the matter in depth, rather than deciding that Potter was simply
refusing to put in the necessary effort through some perverse reasoning of his
own.

�� Potter was
one of those students who needed general theories explained to them, rather
than the interactions of individual ingredients. Severus was reluctant to do so
in his classes because the general theories held so many exceptions. There was
no way to tell, if a student relied solely on them, when the ingredients one
handled might be exceptions and need exceptional treatment.

�� But he
could begin with the theories, and Potter could follow on the individual
details when he understood the subject from the base up.

�� As for the
other problem�

�� Severus
knew he could forge a connection with the boy if he explained his memories of Lily
and revealed the bond that had existed between him and the woman he loved, his
best friend. It would counterbalance the connection between Black and Potter�s
father, and that would be all to the good.

�� But he
could not.

�� The memories
he shared with Lily were his. They were for no one else to paw over, not even
her son. He could learn more about her from Black and Lupin, if he really
wanted to know. He hadn�t asked any extensive questions, so Severus doubted it.
Someone who had been an orphan for so long and from such a young age had
probably got used to not having parents, anyway, and to dealing with missing
memories.

�� And he did
not want to join the general chorus of praise that would pour over Potter as he
began to become a hero, to go against the Dark Lord, and to face Dementors and
other Dark creatures. If he thought of himself as a hero, he was more likely to
take insane risks. He would get all the positive reinforcement he needed from
his friends, from Dumbledore, and now from Draco. There had to be someone in
his life who would treat him more sternly.

�� I will
explain more slowly,� Severus said.

�� Potter
seemed to recognize it as the best compromise he�d get. He nodded and picked up
the stirring rod again. �That would help.�

�� If his
voice was a bit flat and a bit dull�well, Severus ignored it. The deepest and
bitterest truth of the world, and the one it had taken him the longest to
accept, was that no one got everything he wanted.

*

�� Harry had
decided they should sit by the lake today. Draco didn�t much care. He was too deliriously
happy that Harry had acknowledged that they were friends when he returned from
the summer holidays and that he hadn�t lied to the Gryffindors�for long, at
least�or ignored Draco.

�� Eventually,
that attitude would wear off, Draco knew, and he would stop acting pathetic
simply because one of his childhood dreams had come true. But he was prepared
to indulge himself for now. He had so few childhood dreams, and so few ever
came true.

�� Harry was
lying on his back under a small tree when Draco arrived. He opened one eye,
grunted, and closed it again. Draco sat down next to him and leaned his back
against the tree, looking into the lake. He was quietly happy that Harry didn�t
think he had to sit up, or draw his wand, or do anything else that would show
he considered Draco a threat.

�� How was
your summer?� Harry asked lazily.

�� He had asked
that before, but their conversation had been interrupted by Granger, who had �accidentally�
run into them in the library and declared that she needed to talk to Harry
about Charms homework. Draco pulled his legs up and spent a few moments looking
for a stone, which he picked up and flung into the lake. �Busy,� he said. �I
said that I wanted to learn about more important things, so my father�s telling
me about them.�

�� Important
things?� Harry sounded so gentle and so uninterested that Draco would have been
insulted, except he knew it came from that same trust that made Harry lie on
his back in Draco�s presence, his wand firmly in his robe pocket.

�� Things
like what political connections he has, and the Dark Arts spells that he uses
most often,� Draco said.

�� Harry turned
his head towards him and opened his eyes. Draco expected to see excitement
there, but all he could make out was concern. �Are you sure you should be
asking about that? It could be dangerous.�

�� I know it
could be,� Draco said, a little annoyed that Harry wasn�t happy to have a spy
in the middle of a Death Eater house. The thought of what he was doing, and how
much Harry would appreciate it, had comforted Draco when he was bored silly by
another of Lucius�s meandering, insistent conversations. �But it�s the only way
I can help you.�

�� Help me do
what?� Harry wrinkled his forehead.

�� Honestly. He really is thick sometimes. �Help
you fight the Dark Lord, of course,� Draco said patiently.

�� Harry sat
up then and reached out to put a hand on Draco�s arm. �I don�t want you to choose
between your father and me,� he said.

�� Are you
blind or what?� Draco really was feeling annoyed by now. He pulled away from
Harry and ran a hand through his hair. His father and Pansy weren�t around to
tell him he was messing it up. �I already did. That was what that confrontation
with him last year was all about.�

�� But�� Harry
looked at the lake, so obviously fumbling for words that Draco wanted to say
something. How was he going to be an inspiring public speaker and become
Minister, the way that of course he would when he was a hero and had defeated
the Dark Lord, if he kept hesitating like that?

�� I thought
that wasn�t permanent,� Harry said at last. �I thought that was just about one
thing, and you could go back to liking him later.�

�� I still
like him,� Draco said. �I love him. But we aren�t on the same political side
anymore. You and I are. And we�re friends.� He held his breath a moment, wondering
if Harry was about to deny that again.

�� We are,�
Harry said, which at least reassured Draco on that score. Harry bowed his head
and sat still like that, except for a hand that twitched and opened again and
again on his knee, as if he were struggling not to grasp his wand.

�� What�s so
hard to understand about it?� Draco flung another stone at the lake with great
force. �I chose your side. You�re my friend, and I wanted to.�

�� But I�m
only fighting Voldemort because he killed my parents,� Harry said, and looked
up. The expression in his eyes froze Draco. It was so determined, as if he had
looked death in the face. And he had, Draco thought, thinking of the basilisk and
the Dementors. �I don�t have a choice. You do, just like Ron and Hermione. I
mean, I�m grateful for the help, and I know that my friends want to help me,
but that doesn�t mean you need to abandon your whole lives and everything you
were raised with. I wouldn�t expect Ron to leave his whole family if it turned
out that one of them was a Death Eater.�

�� Draco felt
a stirring of deep pity, which, for the first time, wasn�t connected to the
thought that Harry had refused his friendship for the Weasel�s. He really doesn�t understand about war.

�� Draco put a
hand on Harry�s shoulder. �I can�t imagine the Weasleys would become Death
Eaters,� he said. �But if one of them did, then either the rest of his family
would cast him out, or the whole
family would follow the Dark Lord, too, or Wease�Weasley would have to choose
you over him. That�s just the way it works,
Harry. How can you stay close to someone who�s your best friend�s deadly enemy?
This isn�t just a political disagreement. My father disagrees with people and
then works with them again. This is war. People
will try to kill you.�

�� But at
least it only has to be me,� Harry insisted. �It doesn�t have to be you, too.�

�� You�re not
leaving me behind again,� Draco said quietly.

�� But war
isn�t an adventure��

�� And the
adventure was only an excuse, really,� Draco said. �I�ve realized I want
something more than that.�

�� What?�
Harry asked warily. His fringe was hanging in his eyes, making him look
half-wild.

�� Your
company,� Draco said. �Your friendship. To�share.� He had to leave it there, because
he couldn�t have listed all the things he wanted to share with Harry if he
talked for an hour. �So I�ll be with you. And you can try to leave me behind,
but you�d have to tie up my legs and my arms and break my wand. Much easier
just to have me with you, right?�

�� And maybe Harry
didn�t understand about war, and maybe he still thought the sacrifice Draco was
making was wrong, but he had a slow warm smile that, right then, made Draco
feel any sacrifices were worth it.

*

�� Severus.�

�� Igor.�

�� It was no
use trying to avoid Karkaroff. Severus already knew that. What he had done was
catch the man�s eye shortly after the Durmstrang contingent arrived, and then
stand up from the High Table a bit early. Karkaroff had followed him, of course,
and now they stood together in a dungeon corridor not far from Severus�s
office.

�� Karkaroff
had changed less than Severus would have thought he had. He hadn�t tried to
hide his hair color, his eyes, or anything else from the past, at least, except
for the thick glamour spells Severus could sense wound about the Dark Mark on
his arm. Severus disdained such things as long as the Mark was a dormant,
barely noticeable scar. Such spells were more
likely to attract the attention of anyone with sensitivity.

�� Of course, considering
the magical signatures of most of his students, Severus supposed Karkaroffhe
did not often need to worry about that. He was glad that Lucius had not sent
Draco to Durmstrang, as he knew Lucius had once considered doing. A young child�s
magical signature could expand or fluctuate, contract or change, in association
with many other children�s. Draco had become more powerful at Hogwarts, where
he was surrounded by powerful professors and older students, than he would have
been under Karkaroff�s tutelage.

�� And part of
that probably came from Karkaroff carefully directing the teaching so that none
of his students would challenge him at a duel. He was unchanged in mind or attitude,
either.

�� Have you
felt it?� Karkaroff demanded, leaning forwards.

�� Severus
raised an eyebrow. �Felt what?�

�� The
tingles in your arm,� Karkaroff said. �The flashes of phantom pain.� He
hesitated, then leaned even nearer and hissed, �The visions.�

�� No,� Severus
said, though a cold hand opened and engulfed his spine. �You are deceiving
yourself as usual, Igor.� He folded his arms.

�� He is
awake again,� Karkaroff insisted, �and on the move.� Though he folded his arms
in answer, it looked more as if he were trying to comfort himself than anything
else. �It is foolish to ignore this.�

�� I have
felt nothing,� Severus insisted. And he truly had not. He knew Pettigrew stood
a chance of finding and resurrecting the Dark Lord, but on the other hand,
though the Dark Lord would certainly know that magic, he was not in a state
that would allow him to perform the physical spells. And Pettigrew�s skill, if
enough to become an unregistered Animagus, was not enough by itself to reach those
heights of evil.

�� Evil. There was little in the world that
Severus would call by that word, knowing how many times his Slytherins and
ordinary human behavior had been named evil.

�� The magic
the Dark Lord studied was part of that little.

�� You are
not lying to me?� Karkaroff�s eyes searched Severus�s face intently.

�� I am not.�
I will not tell him about Pettigrew. He
has offered me no information worth the trade, and it would only panic him.

�� Then,
perhaps�� Karkaroff trailed off, and didn�t tell Severus what he thought the
visions and pains might be instead. He simply turned around and walked away.

�� Severus was
just as glad. He did not wish to be entangled with the Death Eaters again. He
had done enough spying to pay his debt to Dumbledore, and he did not like the
constant pressure and discomfort of such a life. No one had fun among the Death Eaters save those,
like Macnair, for whom the opportunity to cause pain was enough.

�� And there
was the constant reminder, every time his left arm brushed against a sleeve or
a wall or a shelf, that the reason he had lost Lily was forever branded on his
skin.

*

�� Draco was
avoiding him, and Harry had no idea why.

�� Of course,
in the last few days that school had gone mad with the arrival of the
Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students, and Harry reckoned that it was easy for
someone whose House they were living with to get distracted by Viktor Krum. He
hadn�t been able to go to the Quidditch World Cup�Uncle Vernon�s petty revenge
for Sirius�s letters�but he�d heard Ron describe Krum�s playing. Harry
fervently hoped that he would get to see it happen, though Quidditch at Hogwarts
had been canceled for the year.

�� Meanwhile,
the rest of his life seemed ordinary enough. Ron sometimes grumbled about
Draco, but mainly, seemed to think that not mentioning him would make him go
away. Hermione was researching the history of the Triwizard Tournament and,
now, age-lines. In a way, Harry admired her, because she only had to hear about
or see something and then she was interested in and researching it. But he
found the thought of it exhausting. He
didn�t have that much energy.

�� Draco
finally went past him as they were leaving Care of Magical Creatures, and Harry
took the chance to step in at his side, since Crabbe and Goyle were trailing behind.
Draco didn�t notice the change at first; he was looking at the ground and
frowning all the while.

�� Then he
looked up and saw Harry, and his face contorted and turned ugly. �What are you
doing here?� he asked in a harsh whisper.

�� I wanted
to know why you haven�t been talking to me,� said Harry. �If I offended you by
talking about your father��

�� Draco
laughed, and the sound was one he would have made last year, back when Buckbeak
attacked him. �You have no idea, do you?� he demanded. �None at all?�

�� Er, no,�
Harry said, and then turned around and stepped in front of Draco. �So tell me.�

�� Draco
clenched his fists and fumed for a moment, clearly wanting to keep silent. But
Harry had learned that just looking bored would make Draco burst out with something.
He hated it when there was a chance he might not have Harry�s or Snape�s
attention.

�� You�ve
been staring at her the entire time,�
Draco said, and pointed across the grounds.

�� Bewildered,
Harry followed the direction of his finger, and saw Cho Chang walking with
several of her friends. She laughed and tossed her hair back, and Harry felt a
smile creep across his lips.

�� See?� Draco said, in highly aggrieved
tones.

�� Do you
like her?� Harry looked at him curiously. He�d never noticed Draco paying any
attention to Cho, but he could have missed it. According to both Draco and
Snape, he missed a lot.

�� No!�

�� And then
Draco pushed past him and ran madly towards the school. Crabbe and Goyle
followed him with mildly threatening scowls at Harry, as if they didn�t know
whether he was an enemy or not, but didn�t want to take any chances.

�� Harry
blinked, and dropped slowly back to join Ron and Hermione, who asked him
questions he couldn�t answer.

*

�� Draco had
managed to control himself by the time he came down to dinner, but he didn�t
look at the Gryffindor table. He wouldn�t give Harry the satisfaction of
thinking that he could possibly play around with Draco�s attention like that.

�� Besides,
Harry would just be staring at the Chang girl again.

�� Moodily,
Draco spooned carrots onto his plate and then mashed them into unidentifiable
pieces. He couldn�t even say why Harry staring at Chang made him so angry,
except that it did. He felt that he
should have the first claim on Harry�s attention after his friends, and Chang
got too much of it. And then Harry didn�t even seem to realize he was doing it,
and asked if Draco liked her.

�� Draco
snorted. She�s skinny and self-absorbed
and too pretty. Why would I like her?

�� He just
wanted his fair share of Harry�s time, that was all. And Harry still didn�t
realize when he was withholding himself and treating Draco differently than he
did Granger and the Weasel.

�� At least he
had the choosing of the Hogwarts Champions to watch. He was completely unsurprised
when Viktor Krum was chosen for Durmstrang. It had become obvious, after
spending a few days around those students, that Krum was the best of them,
magically and physically and intellectually.

�� A beautiful
girl, probably half-Veeela, was chosen for Beauxbatons. Draco found it hard to
pull his eyes away from her as she went to the front of the room. He wouldn�t
have blamed Harry if he was interested in someone like that.

�� And then a
Hufflepuff, of all people, was chosen for Hogwarts. Draco had to stop rolling his
eyes after a moment, or they would have rolled out of his head. The Goblet had
no sense at all. Well, of course not, it was a mindless magic artifact. He felt
silly now for having anticipated its choice so keenly.

�� He was
about to turn back to his dinner when a fourth piece of paper shot out of the
Goblet and into Dumbledore�s hand. The Headmaster first looked surprised, then
grave, as he read it. When he looked up, it was to stare at the Gryffindor
table with an expression of pity on his face.

�� And Harry
Potter,� he said, with some difficulty, �is second Champion for Hogwarts.�

�� Amid the
roar of sound that erupted around him�among the Slytherins, it was mostly
exclamations of envy and speculation about how he could have cheated the age
line�Draco stared at Harry, too, betrayed. Harry hadn�t told him about that, but he�d probably told the
Mudblood.

�� But then he
saw Harry�s shocked expression, and the way the Weasel was leaning away from
him and the Mudblood was staring at him in concern, and a conviction grew up
rapidly in Draco�s mind.

�� He didn�t know about this. He doesn�t know
what�s happening.

�� And now he�ll have to compete in a
tournament full of dangerous challenges.

�� This wasn�t his fault. It�s the Dark Lord
trying to kill him again.

�� And the
conviction turned into a resolve to support Harry as fully as he could. The
Weasel couldn�t do that, from his reaction; the Mudblood was a girl and would
get in the way; Chang didn�t know Harry well enough. Snape would decide Harry
was arrogant and had somehow managed it on his own. (Snape seemed to think
Harry was incompetent half the time and too competent the rest, which didn�t
help him teach Harry). Draco was the one with the best chance and the best
reason to help him.

�� Everything will be all right, after all, Draco
thought, half to himself and half to Harry, as Harry rose slowly to his feet
and walked into the room off the Great Hall where the other Champions had
gathered. I�ll have you, and you�ll have
me.

�� And who else do we need?

*

�� heyyou: Thank
you!

�� linagabriev:
Sirius is kind of acting badly, yeah, but Harry is willing to forgive him. It�s
probably best there�s some distance between them now; he can do it more easily.

�� Draco
fooling Lucius was a hard scene to write. I�m glad you thought it was tense, because
it was meant to be. Poor Draco.

�� Snape will
alienate both Draco and Harry if he�s not careful. He doesn�t want to give open
support to them for fear of getting hurt, but they know he can read and
understand them; they want some openness in return.

�� Harry is
slowly changing his mind about Dumbledore.

�� Lunatic
with a hero complex: That�s an interesting comparison. I think this Harry will
not be so massively in denial about himself as the Harry in Forgive Those Who Trespass,
though. But he does think that he needs to do everything alone.

�� Anon:
Thanks!

�� MewMew2: Great!
This has been my favorite chapter so far, too.

�� Thrnbrooke:
Here it is.

�� Mangacat:
Yeah, it�s been�interesting, and complicated, trying to work out how canon
should blend with AU in this story.
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Inter Vivos