Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Wind Rider	By : SuishouTenshi Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 13758 -:- 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
- 11
- 12
- 13
Chapter 12
Draco had never known Hogwarts to be so silent; even the eerie solidarity he’d experienced during night patrol couldn’t compare to this. The trek through the hallways during dinner time with no one but Harry by his side brought out a calmness Draco didn’t realize he still possessed. It was actually quite romantic, if he were Hufflepuff enough to admit it, almost like a walk after dark in a mystique garden, and they were lovers watched over by the stars, or in this case, rather creepy portraits.
Harry must’ve felt the same way, for by the time they reached the fourth floor, a callous hand had found its way into Draco’s palm with a mere shiver to show the other’s trepidation at this new development in their forced relationship.
Relationship... Draco had never had a relationship before. Would it be as Blaise and the others described, with sleepless nights and giddy mornings and involuntary smiles and blood boiling passion?
A relationship... Yes, he could have a relationship with Harry — selfless, beautiful, idiotic, naïve, stubborn, Gryffindor Harry.
In fact, he could feel that involuntary smile part rising to the occasion already.
“Why are you smirking?”
Draco jerked and to his ultimate pure-blood horror, tripped over his own right foot.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Harry caught him by the arm. Draco looked up with heated cheeks and saw nothing but concern within those electric green eyes.
“Umm, nothing. I er, I’m a bit lightheaded, didn’t eat anything, you know.” Draco groaned at this newly developed speech pattern. Take away his short-term memories and he’d become Longbottom.
Harry didn’t seem to mind, but he did frown at the reminder of their failed dinner. “I’m not going to apologize for that, call it Gryffindor stubbornness if you will. But I guess they did keep up their end of the bargain and kept me safe from Bellatrix Lestrange. If you insist, I could try again another time.”
“Does that mean you won’t bring up the subject of giving up on us again?” Draco whispered.
Harry jerked and let go of Draco’s hand. “How did you deduce that just from my willingness to dine with your parents again? And before you say anything with false hope, I’m telling you now, directly and clearly, I’m asking you to give me a few days... or weeks.”
“Is that enough time for you to rejoin civilized society?” Draco’s bite was as light as he could have made it.
Harry looked back with a frown. “I’m not going to argue with you on this topic any longer.”
“Just don’t say you’re giving up on us.”
Harry nodded tightly without looking at him.
“Come on, the Fat Lady is just ahead.” Deciding to push the unpleasant conversation topic to discuss at another time, Harry’s tone lightened as he tugged on Draco’s sleeve.
“You’re going to let me hear your password?” Draco tried to make it sound light, but the emotions he bore at the moment carried out through his voice and the question came out with a slight desperate undertone that he hoped Harry didn’t pick up on.
Harry looked at him guiltily but firmly. “No, at least, not yet.”
And that was all Draco could ask for.
“What if someone’s in there?”
Harry snorted through his nose, the same nose that Draco thought was extraordinarily cute for a boy. “We’re all Gryffindors. Even the vainest girls like Lavender and Parvati love to stuff themselves silly. Only difference is that they never gain weight. Unless it’s near exam time, you’ll find the entire Gryffindor dorms empty during meal time.”
The Fat Lady was exactly what her name suggested, though Draco made a conscious effort to refrain from making any callous remarks. His first impression of Gryffindor common room was actually rather positive. It was bigger than the Slytherin’s, the ceiling higher, and the temperature definitely warmer. The red and gold scheme made the embers in the fireplaces brighter. It was the perfect place for a group of friends to sit around and have fun, a definite Gryffindor theme. And just as Harry predicted, there was no one there (though the Fat Lady at the entrance was still shrieking in outrage at having a Slytherin enter her domain even after the portrait hole had closed).
Draco memorized the route to Harry’s room and had to hold back a gasp at the disgusting mess he found within. Harry’s four-poster (noticeable due to his white owl’s presence) was littered with the outrageously atrocious clothes that he had to alter due to his constant bodily changes, though in Draco’s opinion he should’ve shrunken them a long time ago.
“Nice... décor,” Draco drawled as Harry shut the door behind them. The snowy white owl named Hedwig was staring at Draco in a manner which he could only describe as menacing and protective. Draco stared back indignantly, slightly offended that the perceptive familiar didn’t trust his presence.
Harry was fidgeting and Draco wasn’t faring any better. He felt out of sorts, uncomfortable under his own skin; their silence was obtrusive in such a lively looking room. And worst of all, Draco simply didn’t know where to put his hands.
“Do you really want to know about Sirius?” Harry lingered before his school trunk, shifting his weight from side to side.
Draco nodded without hesitancy. Sirius Black’s name had always been a taboo in his household, so he had never known the man even though the majority of the wizarding world saw him as a Death Eater spy. During third year, Draco’ s curiosity was compelled by the rumors flying around and he went to his father with his questions, knowing that Sirius was still a sore subject to mention to Narcissa. Lucius had merely sneered and replied cryptically that Sirius Black was a blood traitor but he served his purposes. It wasn’t until Lucius’ arrest a few months prior that Draco learned a rough sketch of the truth about Sirius.
Draco’s sudden inquiry, however, was not completely due to a revived inquisitiveness about this cousin whom he had never met. It was, without a doubt, caused by that look of sheer pain and longing on Harry’s visage whenever Sirius’ name was mentioned. Draco found that he needed to know, needed to find out more about the man whom Harry loved like a father, the same man who, even in death, possibly had a large hand in steering the two childhood rivals toward one another.
And he also knew by looking at Harry’s haunted eyes that he desperately needed to talk to someone about Black.
Harry waved a hand toward his bed and Draco sat toward the foot of it as to stay as far away from Hedwig as possible. Just his luck that Harry’s familiar had the most finicky and jealous nature out of all owls.
Harry was rummaging through his battered looking trunk and came out of it with two antiques. One was a folded piece of yellow parchment, the other a square old mirror. He placed the two seemingly insignificant articles on the bed and sat next to the headboard; one hand stroked Hedwig’s head absent-mindedly.
Draco picked up the parchment and opened it, only to find it devoid of any writing. He raised an eyebrow and set it back down and picked up the mirror instead.
“I know my reflection is gorgeous and all, but what are these things?” Draco let his narcissistic side shine through; Harry’s expression and body language was too stiff and serious for his liking.
Harry didn’t take his bait; no exasperated smile or teasing remark came his way.
“Sirius gave me that mirror as a way of communicating with him before he died. He had one too, and had probably kept it with him that night. He said it used to belong to my dad, and they’d use it to chat whenever they had separate detentions.”
“A two-way mirror,” Draco exclaimed in awe. “These are really old heirlooms passed down to the eldest sons of pure-blood families. My father has one too, but it’s round and kept in pristine condition. He never uses it though.”
Harry finally smiled. “Let me guess, you want to ask him for it so you can communicate with me through it? Would it work though?”
Draco pursed his lips smugly, pleased that Harry had followed his thoughts so effortlessly.
“It should. The previous mate of this mirror is not in this dimension anymore, and my father’s mirror never had a mate ever since it was passed down to him.”
“Great, not only are we going to be mates, now our mirrors have to face the same fate too.”
Harry sounded slightly bitter and somewhat sarcastic, but Draco could only feel warm reassurance at the finality in Harry’s words.
“Well, if that’s not enough, my owl is getting quite lonely. I’m sure your Hedwig wouldn’t mind...” Draco never got to finish his sentence for Hedwig was already screeching in protest. Draco’s expression of shock must have been humorous, because Harry’s smile had widened.
“Lovely bird,” Draco grimaced.
Harry had looked away from him and was stroking the owl back to calmness. Draco felt a ridiculous twinge of jealousy at the prissy little bird. But he coughed nonetheless and brought Harry’s attention back to them.
“Your dad and Sirius were best friends, right?”
Harry nodded with a look of nostalgia. “They weren’t exactly kind teenagers... so I’ve heard. A pair of bullies, actually. But they were close, like brothers. Sirius was my dad’s best man at his wedding. I think they’re actually related by blood.”
Draco scoffed. “Is that so surprising? Most of the pure-blood families are related in some way or another. I’m fairly certain I’ve seen the Potter name hanging off of some odd branch of the Malfoy family tree.”
Harry made a grimace. “But then we...”
The Slytherin smiled teasingly. “I hope you won’t let something as insignificant as incest stop you from falling deeply in love with me.”
Yet still, Harry did not take the bait. He did not even offer a blush, and although greatly disappointed, Draco realized that it was time for him to sober up again.
“Here,” Harry took up the old parchment, “my dad and his friends made them during their Hogwarts years, for pranking purposes. The twins found it first and passed it onto me. They didn’t know that my dad had a part in making it, but...”
“Fate always finds a way to piece the mysteries of life together,” Draco murmured, “and we’re living proof of that. I’ve stopped thinking long ago that there was such a thing called ‘coincidence’. So, this parchment, what exactly is its purpose?”
Harry’s lips thinned into a line, and Draco could visibly see the confusion wafting from his body, confusion at Draco’s sudden lack of humor and joviality. Draco set his expression into one of attentive sincerity. Harry needed him to listen and listen well.
“Tap your wand to the surface and say, ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good’.”
With the cold mirror resting on his lap, Draco followed Harry’s instructions to the letter. A sharp tingle of aged and yet vibrant magic rushed across the pages, ghosting over Draco’s fingers. Sharply inked lines vaulted into life on the yellowed parchment, creating walls, rooms, hallways that led Draco further away from everything he thought he knew and into the life and laughs and tragedy of Harry Potter, the boy who lived.
Standing in the solemnly silent Entrance Hall under the sole protection of Harry’s Invisibility Cloak in the cold November air comforted Draco unexpectedly. When the first of Gryffindors trickled back into their common room, Harry had handed Draco this family heirloom and sent him off. He passed laughing third years in a daze, head ringing with the haunting words of Harry’s narrative.
He had been standing there for quite a while now. The gibbous moon had drifted high into a cloudless sky and a gentle breeze threatened to rid Draco of his loose hold on the precious cloak.
Precious, it was the only way Draco knew to describe it, and Harry had of course parted with it reluctantly. Draco could feel a natural but old magic embedded within each strand of demiguise hair. The cloak, though currently under Harry’s ownership, did not smell like the boy who was now constantly on Draco’s mind. It bore a masculine wildness and unrestrained mischievousness to it that Harry never quite had the chance to fully explore. Within Harry’s hands, the cloak served as a weapon of defense against evil. But Draco felt the magic fighting to escape the candid confines of justice and was practically screaming to be used for its original purpose, a purpose that James Potter fulfilled most dutifully.
Harry’s story flooded back to him again, and Draco began to build an image in his mind of four young boys of fate eternally bound by friendship, loyalty, and betrayal. Two already gone, and two still chained to their individual masters, beasts without faces. Potter, Black, Lupin, Pettigrew, they were all still teenagers when life forced a most grievous choice into their hands.
Draco wrapped the cloak tightly around his frame as he ambled back to the dungeons. Amid the illusions of the night, Draco could feel two ephemeral hands gently pushing him forward toward the making of that final decision of a choice which Fate had unceremoniously deposited into his lap.
As he reached the entrance into Slytherin, Draco turned around, driven by pure instinct and saw two ethereal men standing calmly behind him in traditional wizarding robes, arms linked with brotherly fondness. The one with round framed glasses faded away first, leaving behind only a familiar smile. The second winked at Draco, long and disheveled black tresses bounced around a ragged but carefree visage before he too melted into the midnight air. The navy blue wings on his back were the last to go.
Draco noted with a reluctant fear that the Slytherin common room was unusually quiet upon entrance. His long time friend Blaise Zabini sat alone in lotus position before the hearth, head bent low and fingers pressed into each other rather nervously. Draco sensed oddness in Blaise’s body language and all of his previous contemplations about Harry’s story were momentarily pushed aside. He took the cloak off and tugged it within his robe.
Blaise looked up as the entrance sealed itself, worried hazel eyes squinted in pain as his gaze met Draco’s. The two friends stared at each other in pregnant silence. Finally, Blaise dropped his head and sighed.
“All right,” Draco inhaled deeply and strutted over to sit in an armchair by Blaise’s side, “what happened here while I was at home enjoying a happy dinner with my parents?” Draco couldn’t help but add a bit of sarcasm to that lie.
Blaise looked into the fire without really seeing the flames. “Were you really with your parents, Draco?”
Draco inhaled again. He had never heard Blaise’s voice in that manner, so deep and rich and steady. Perhaps Blaise had finally decided that he was done playing the willing underling in their twisted friendship.
“Continue Blaise, please, I’d rather like to hear the rest of your accusation concerning my whereabouts,” Draco projected calmly even though he knew his time was up. Blaise would never be so serious if the subject matter itself weren’t one of life and death.
Blaise sought out Draco’s gaze again and admitted apologetically, “Draco, I’m sorry but... it wasn’t me who saw you.”
“Saw what?”
“You and Harry Potter, half a corridor away from Professor Snape’s private rooms, hugging and kissing.”
When Draco didn’t give a response, Blaise continued, “Pansy saw you...”
“What?!” The first wave of panic flooded Draco’s veins. He had already scorned Pansy once before because of Harry. Even if the witch didn’t suspect anything then, she would definitely understand after seeing the tender way Draco embraced and caressed his Intended. They only had a silence bubble put up, and actions always spoke louder than words. Draco could not even remember how distraught he must have been to make such a careless mistake.
“We were all going down for supper and Pansy realized that she misplaced her prefect’s badge. You know how the rest of us are with the summoning charm and the seventh years wouldn’t help us so Pansy used a locating charm instead. Her wand tugged her away but she came back to the Great Hall a few minutes later — we were all standing outside waiting for her — and she looked paler than the Bloody Baron.” Blaise paused to run a hand through his rumpled hair. A pained sort of groan rumbled inside his throat. “Pansy started to babble about something concerning you and Potter. At first we thought you ran into him before going to your parents and were fighting again and Millicent and the others were jeering like morons. But I knew there was something odd going on, otherwise Pansy wouldn’t have been hyperventilating. So I told the others to go ahead and that I was going to make Pansy take me to where you were so I could give you a hand.”
Draco had always imagined that when forced into a tight spot, he of all people would be cunning enough to come up with some sort of plausible excuse. Now that he was finally stuck in such a situation, his brain actually ceased all functionality. “Then what?” were the only words he managed to chew out while he desperately prayed for his brain to work again.
“You and Potter were already gone by the time I got there. Pansy was able to speak coherently again and she began to call you all sorts of names. I got her to calm down and told her to be quiet about everything since we really had no idea what was going on and rumors like that would not only hurt you but everyone around you as well, including the entire Slytherin house. Neither of us ate dinner. We came back here and she told me exactly what she saw about... you and Potter, I mean... Draco, aren’t you going to refute any of this?”
Draco’s body was stiff, his facial features set into a near permanent mode of impenetrability. Blaise had sounded more exasperated than angry, and for Draco, it was a sign of safe territory.
“What’s to refute? You already believe Pansy’s words. And if I know you, Blaise, you probably suspected something like this long before today happened. The people in our House are not the brightest candles, but your talent at noticing the disguised is enough to balance out that grouped idiocy.”
Blaise chuckled humorlessly. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere at this point, Draco. Since you’re not even going to deny anything or blame the incident on any magical mishap, would you mind explaining exactly what is going on between you and scarhead? The tension between you during the last month was tell-tale in itself, but I’d like to know the full version, if you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” Draco scoffed, and replied sarcastically, “why, not at all. But two questions first. One, is our conversation safe?”
Blaise confirmed positively. “After everyone came back from supper, I told the sixth and seventh years that you were coming back from your parents with news from our Lord and an urgent firecall was to be taken place in the common room. It was a shaky excuse at best, but you know how they are whenever the Dark Lord is mentioned. So they literally locked everyone else in their rooms and shut themselves inside to ‘study’. I also stuck Pansy in our dorm room and told her to be quiet about everything until I sort out the truth. Crabbe and Goyle wouldn’t listen to anything she says anyway, and you know how Theodore is. The bloke wouldn’t even blink if you were to stab the Dark Lord right in front of him.”
Draco gave a nod of approval. Blaise was quite ingenious if he felt the need for it. Instead of dragging Draco aside and interrogating him alone, putting things out on such a bigger scale was a lot less suspicious. And he even calculated the higher year students’ self-inflated pride and desires to outrank even their own parents into the equation, thus ensuring that everything that went on in the Slytherin house that night would stay in the Slytherin house.
Since Blaise went into such an extend for him, Draco felt it was safe for him to ask, “What’s your opinion, Blaise, concerning Harry and me?”
Blaise’s eyes widened at Draco’s direct usage of Harry’s name. A look of sudden comprehension came over him and he seemed to choose his words very carefully. “My opinions range from ‘Bloody hell, you two make a hot couple’ to ‘Draco, what in the wizarding world do you think you’re doing?’ But it’s really not my place, is it, to voice any of these things? Besides, I have a feeling that despite what I say, Potter has already become ‘Harry’ to you, and that won’t change anytime soon.”
Draco’s body finally released itself from its stiffened state and he promptly slumped forward, burying his head in his right palm with a surrendered tremble. “Not just ‘anytime soon’, Blaise, ‘probably never’ is more like it. And I really was at the Manor tonight, but no more than ten minutes. Harry didn’t get along with my parents — no surprise there. I was with him in his room since then.”
He chanced a small look at Blaise to see his friend’s reactions and saw the other Slytherin flush a bright red. Draco cringed. “Stop it, Blaise, you look like a constipated Weasley. And get your mind out of the gutter, we weren’t doing anything inappropriate. Besides, Harry was downright angry with me and my whole family. He wouldn’t have let me touch him if I begged. So stop looking at me like I’ve been bitten by a werewolf.”
“I can’t help it,” Blaised admitted with a weak smile. “I mean, I’ve known Harry Potter just as long as you have, ever since we were just a bunch of little brats with barely developing magical powers. And growing up with everyone, then watching you fight each other, and now knowing how you’ve ended up... it’s weird, but kind of...”
“Don’t say it, Blaise, don’t you dare.”
The black-haired teen smirked. “It’s kind of cute.”
Draco groaned. “I knew you were a hopeless romantic. All right, I won’t deny the potential... cuteness of our relationship, especially since Harry himself looks more like an adorable puppy even when he gets slightly angry at me.”
Blaise’s expression was one of amused wonder. He scooted closer and nudged Draco’s leg with his elbow. “Now spill. How did this happen? I don’t mean to sound like a Hufflepuff third year asking for gossip, but anyone with half a brain would want to know how this came about.”
“I’m sure you’ve noticed the changes in Harry since the beginning of this year,” Draco stated. He didn’t expect a bewildered frown to overcome Blaise’s visage, but that was what he received.
“Hang on, that’s it? Harry Potter comes back to school suddenly gorgeous and you decided to seduce him? But even then you have to have noticed that there are times when he still looks like the dork he used to be. It’s probably just some spell, so everything you see is fake. Besides, Draco, I’m sure there are plenty of other equally beautiful wizards and witches out there who don’t happen to walk around with an unstable expiration date.”
Annoyed, Draco shrugged. “I didn’t much have a choice, really.”
It wasn’t until Blaise’s expression broke out into a mixture of horrified understanding that Draco realized the implications of his careless words.
“No, wait, that’s not what I meant.”
“No, no!” Blaise quickly got up and backed away, palms raised in a show of peaceful surrender. “I get it. You really shouldn’t say anything more to me, Draco. The Dark Lord wouldn’t like it if you spoiled his plans. Just a warning though — don’t get emotionally attached. After you successfully lure Potter to our Lord, you know you’ll never see him again, right? Well, at least now I understand your sudden attraction to him. Just be carefully, okay? This is still Harry Potter we’re talking about. He may be dimwitted, but the people around him aren’t.”
“Are you finished?” Draco smiled patronizingly and mentally dismissed all earlier praises concerning Blaise’s intelligence. When Blaise gave him an all too serious nod, Draco stood up, jerked Blaise into the armchair he abandoned, and proceeded to crouch over Blaise’s rigid posture with an intimidating stare. “First of all, do not call my Harry ‘dimwitted’, only I may do so. Second — and I’m only telling you this because I trust you, a rare privilege so I implore you to not forget it anytime soon — I am not pretending to fall in love with Harry Potter; the Dark Lord does not know about this and no one will inform him of it.”
Blaise sighed heavily.
“This really is happening.”
“Yes, yes it is.”
“You know, I half wished tonight was all a dream.”
“Did you really?” Draco quipped sarcastically.
Blaise shrugged. “Sort of. But it’s odd, when I thought you were just doing this for the Dark Lord, I was half disappointed too.”
Draco rolled his eyes and stepped back.
“What’s wrong with me, Draco? Fuck, Draco, what’s wrong with you?”
“Hey, I’ll have you know that Harry is...”
“No, no, I mean... oh great Salazar, just how did this happen?! How about we get through that part first before moving on to discuss the Pansy predicament?”
“Pansy won’t be a predicament. If needed be, I’ll obliviate her memory of tonight completely.”
Blaise shook his head fervently. “Look, I know Pansy can be quite annoying sometimes, but she’s still a friend. Neither of us knows how to do a memory spell correctly, and if you mess up, you’ll hurt her.”
“Better her than Harry.”
“You can’t mean that.” Blaise looked slightly angry now.
“Some sacrifices must be made,” Draco stated resolutely and scanned Blaise’s scrunched forehead. Blaise didn’t understand the direness of his situation, didn’t understand that if forced to make a decision, Draco would choose Harry’s well-being over any Slytherin’s safety. Then he observed silently as Blaise paced left and right before the fireplace mumbling about Draco’s sudden insanity. Blaise was really one of the only people he could truly call loyal, and he knew without a doubt that if it weren’t for lineage and his secret cunning mind, Blaise would definitely have been sorted into Gryffindor.
Blaise Zabini was a good man, but in a crisis, no matter how difficulty the choice would be, Draco would still choose Harry’s life over Blaise’s.
“I apologize, Blaise, but I think our discussion should end here. I’ll go up and handle Pansy myself. Forget about what you know so far. It’s for your own good.”
The blonde’s escape was deterred by an angrily trembling hand. “Wait, is that all? I thought you were going to explain everything to me.”
“Some things just cannot be explained. In this case, it shouldn’t be explained. It’s for your own good, Blaise.”
“Draco, you can’t possibly expect me to...”
Whatever he was about to say was interrupted as the entrance opened to let in a dark shadow of a man. Blaise jumped back in surprise and almost burned his trousers.
“Draco,” Professor Snape’s voice somehow chilled the already damp dungeons even further, “a word.” Even in the dimness, Draco could see Snape’s midnight black eyes sweep over the nearly empty common room with unsettling suspicion. Thankfully for all three of them, he didn’t say anything about the Slytherin’s lack of activity on a weekend night.
The teen in question thanked his Head of House mentally and left the Slytherin common room gladly. As the entrance portal closed behind him, he turned and shook his head at a stunned Blaise through the diminishing crack. He had his priorities, but if possible, he would prefer not to be made to choose at all.
Polished silver clunked against the wall, courtesy of Blaise’s right arm. The four headed candle holder plummeted unto the stone floor and proceeded to roll toward the couch and Blaise, cursing, crouched down to retrieve it before it was able to set the couch on fire.
He gently set the candle holder back to its original position by the armchair and stepped away lest he felt tempted to throw something again.
Honestly, sometimes Draco brought the worst out of him.
Draco — his friend, ex-crush, idol. It was perhaps shameful for a Slytherin to admit to idolizing someone so young, but Blaise knew that upper classes included, there weren’t many Slytherins who didn’t hero-worship Draco in some way or another. Their way of showing it was just different from the Gryffindor definition of loyalty and respect.
He wondered how much longer anyone would continue to revere Draco if the blonde’s relationship with the boy who lived were revealed to the public.
Rushed whispers and three sets of footsteps flew down from the direction of the stairs. Startled, Blaise schooled his expression to normality. Pansy was flailing toward him half hesitantly, eyes flooded with anger and fear. Behind her, Vincent and Greg stopped at the bottom of the stairs and shrugged simultaneously.
Blaise sighed and waved a hand dismissing them. They had kept Pansy away long enough and had far surpassed the record time for surviving in the same room with the girl. The two bumped into each other continuously on their race back up the stairs, childish in their own burly ways. They were the type of people whom Blaise didn’t want to see involved in this war of races, this war that they were almost certainly going to lose due to tonight’s revelation. Did Draco consider the consequences of his decisions? Did he consider how many of his friends and kinsmen he would have to betray to pursue this inexplicable tryst with Harry Potter?
And this quivering girl of glassy eyes, their friend since birth, did Draco intend to break not only her heart and trust, but her spirit as well?
“Did you find out something, Blaise?” Everything about Pansy at that moment spoke of despondency.
It felt like two invisible hands were wrapped about Blaise’s throat. “He...”
Blaise searched Pansy’s eyes, the same set of eyes that some mean-spirited Gryffindor girls labeled as “droopy”, and shivered. They were so dull, so lacking in hope. It suddenly became clear to Blaise that while stuck up there in the boy’s room, Pansy had already made up her own theories, and despite what she was asking him now, she really wasn’t expecting for a positive answer at all.
Pansy wasn’t a bad person. She was cunning when needed be and extremely clueless whenever it came to the subject of Draco. If Blaise could be characterized as having Gryffindor traits of loyalty, then Pansy could be said to possess the Hufflepuff ideology for romance. And so idealistic her dreams were that she consciously denied reality all together.
Blaise sighed. Pansy was the kind of girl who lived within her dreams and despite how wrong it was for him lie to her, it would be much crueler to take away those dreams of hers.
“Don’t worry, Pansy,” Blaise patted her arm reassuringly, “Draco knows what he’s doing. It’s for the good of everyone, I promise.”
And as Pansy’s eyes glowed once again with hope, Blaise cursed Draco and swore to himself that he was doing this for Pansy’s sake and that next time he saw Potter, he was going to deck him. Hard.
“You mean, Draco’s...”
Blaise nodded. “He needs to get on Potter’s good side in the fastest way possible. So don’t blame him too much.”
Pansy’s countenance lit up like a lumos. “Something big is happening, isn’t it, Blaise? It’s all going to end soon, right? If Draco succeeds this... mission, He’ll be happy, right?”
“Yes, but it’s not a simple mission, not when his target is the boy who lived. So we mustn’t interfere, Pansy. And keep this to yourself. No one is supposed to know; the only reason why Draco confided in me is because it’s not going as smoothly as he had hoped.”
“What do you take me for, Blaise? And knowing how stubborn that Gryffindor brat is, I’m surprised Draco managed to get so far. Oh, why didn’t I notice earlier? Draco had been out of sorts of weeks. He must have been so frustrated, trying to seduce Potter by himself.” A wistful sort of smile bloomed on Pansy’s cheeks. “Oh, we must help him, Blaise. I won’t ask for glory as long as Draco knows that I’m doing this for his sake. Let’s plan, Blaise! Don’t you want to help Draco too? Well? Don’t you?”
Blaise’s fingers were itching for that candle holder again.
Draco’s legs weren’t much shorter than Professor Snape’s, but for some reason, he could never keep up with the older man whenever they walked together. Tonight, Snape’s feet shuffled even faster than usual. Draco knew better than to ask him to slow down. Such a blatant show of weakness would surely earn him a glare.
For security’s sake, no words were exchanged until Snape’s door was firmly shut behind them. Pitch black eyes froze him on the spot with one glare. Stunned by this baseless show of hostility, Draco could only frown as Snape moved toward the fireplace with a handful of floo powder in hand.
“Careless!” Snape suddenly roared. Even the flames seemed to cower from his anger. “Do you know how many portraits I’ve had to obliviate throughout dinner time simply because you couldn’t keep your emotions in check and hands on your own body?!”
“Profe...”
“And beware of whom you decide to trust,” his voice was now as low as a whisper but somehow no less intimidating, “remember that though some may worship you and your family name, human nature will always be unpredictable. If Gryffindors could partake in the ultimate betrayal, then you should know to ward yourself against the traditionally definitive ‘traitorous’ Slytherins even more carefully. You can always prepare against enemy invasion, but an inside rebellion would be sudden and difficult to put down.”
Before Draco could make heads or tails out of Snape’s heated warning, the professor had already thrown the floo powder into the fire and excused himself from the room. Lucius Malfoy’s head appeared in the fireplace just as Draco felt several extra cautious privacy wards set into the very air around him.
“Dad?” Draco murmured hesitantly as he made to kneel down before the hearth.
“Your aunt left a few moments ago, Draco.” A pause. “I’m afraid the inevitable has finally arrived.”
Even though his head was practically inside the flames, Draco thought he felt his lungs freeze up. “So soon?” he croaked.
“It’s not soon at all. I’m surprised they waited so long, in fact. But nonetheless, the Dark Lord has given the Lestranges full control on this operation, and it’s to begin over the course of Yule.”
“Operation? Training little ol’ me has now become an ‘operation’?” Draco smirked humorlessly. “Should I feel honored?”
“Hardly,” Lucius spat out in disdain. “And it’s not just you, Draco. The Dark Lord wishes to be prepared for the final stage. Werewolves, dementors, giants, trolls... every beast imaginable have been bribed or threatened to join our... their side, but the Dark Lord wants fresh blood. The Lestranges won’t be training just you, son, but your year mates and the seventh years as well. The current roster has 12 Slytherins, 3 Ravenclaws, and surprisingly, 2 Hufflepuffs. There will also be several students from Durmstrang.”
“What?!”
Lucius scowled, clearly disgusted with this entire plan. “A Death Eater training facility, if you wish to give it a name. A bunch of children yet to take their N.E.W.T.s, most of whom can’t even cast a decent Imperious.... But of course, He expects Bellatrix to change that.”
“In just three weeks?”
“The Dark Lord has high expectations for his followers. And rest assured, Draco, that Bellatrix will use every trick she knows to make sure that this training will be a successful one. You will most certainly be named as leader of this new team and will definitely receive private lessons on controlling your powers.”
Draco shook his head. “Dad, I thought we’ve deflected. The Order of Phoenix can’t possibly agree to let me go through with this.”
Lucius actually snorted. “Just because they label themselves as shining knights doesn’t mean they won’t resort to lowly means to achieve their goals. Severus is currently dispatching news of this recent development to the leading members of the Order, and we shall have to await their verdict. But Severus and I have discussed this, and he agrees that the Order will most definitely want you to enter the training. As much as I disapprove of this, I must admit this is our only option. Denial isn’t a choice. Master the color changing spell for your wings, and you should find no troubles. As much as I have loathed the eventuality of this, I must demand you to do this, Draco. Spying is not an honorable task, but it is your Zephyr side that has chosen Harry Potter as your Intended, and it has become your sole responsibility to protect him and aid him in whatever way possible. Do you understand me, Draco?”
Draco nodded and wrapped his dress robe tighter against himself. So much has happened since the failed dinner merely a few hours ago. He inhaled as he felt the light pressure of the bundle that was Harry’s invisibility cloak.
“I understand, Dad. Harry’s mine to protect, I won’t let him down, or you.”
His father nodded in stern approval. “You will surely receive a briefing in a matter of days, but I think it’s best for you to hear it from me. Your goal will be simple. This training will be nothing but beneficial for you. Aside from acquiring whatever skills Bellatrix decides to pass on to you, I want you to take note of the rest of the students that will be going with you. Remember their names, faces, family lineages, remember their weakness and their strengths, and remember whatever information they can provide you with. Draco, you will be the focal point of this training camp, so do not hesitate to use your influence and our family’s influence in your favor.”
“Of course. The Hogwarts students know better than to deny me any answers, but I promise you the ones from Durmstrang will bend to my will as well.”
Lucius smirked quite sinisterly, which made Draco wonder momentarily how his family was going to survive being one of the “good guys” when it seemed to directly oppose their very nature.
“Lastly, Draco, while this is very much your own choice, but Severus and I both agree that it would perhaps benefit everyone if the boy who lived were to be kept out of this information.” Lucius glared at Draco meaningfully.
The younger Malfoy shook his head exasperatedly. “Dad, I’m hardly going to put Harry in that position. He would either try to talk me out of it or drown in guilt. Honestly speaking, after tonight, I’m already treading on thin ice, just waiting for the giant squid to surface and swallow me. I can’t have him distracted when he needs every bit of his concentration on our... whatever it is we have.”
Lucius’ eyebrow twitched, and Draco could almost see his father’s hand reaching for a cane that was no longer there just so he could hit something. “That’s the other thing I wished to talk to you about, Draco. Your mother is still extremely upset about the... words we exchanged with Potter. The most sensible thing to do is to try this dinner again, but not until you’ve tamed your Intended and taught him some caution and respect.”
Draco glowered back, only to look away when his father’s eyes narrowed at his clear insubordination. “But Dad, you and mum were not exactly courteous host either. I’ve just barely managed to salvage some of Harry’s good favor after tonight’s disaster.”
“There are simply some things in life that even the boy who is worshipped by all should learn.” Lucius looked as if his very dignity had just been insulted. “Now that he belongs to you, he must be more cautious. If our entire family is to be forced to help mudbloods because of him, then he should very well value his own life, value you, and win this war!”
Draco’s lips tightened to a thin line. He wanted to refute so many things his father just said, but sixteen years as a Malfoy had taught him that there were just some moments when silence was worth more than gold.
“You can pass on this message to your mate-to-be: Malfoys do not lose!”
His father was right on that last account — Malfoys did not lose, not when it came to something this important. Everything was on the line now. Draco would have to play the heroic role this time around. A sixteen-year-old spy. He would do what was needed from him. He won’t lose his family. He won’t lose his life. He won’t lose Harry.
Draco silently touched his fingers to the bulge under his robe, formed by the shimmering material of Harry’s precious cloak.
“Oh, Dad, I almost forgot.”
“Do you need money, Draco?”
“No, just something trite. Harry has a two-way mirror that had lost its mate. I was wondering if you’d give me the one you have, Dad, since you have no need for it.”
It could have been an illusion, but Draco could’ve sworn his father had turned slightly pink. He was about to ask why when his father called up a house elf and commanded it to wrap up the old mirror in his left desk drawer and owl it to Draco as soon as possible. When Lucius turned back to him, Draco was still blinking amusedly. He had never really seen his father flush from anything aside from anger before.
Lucius sighed and answered the unvoiced question, “It is odd, Draco, for parents to know that their child is growing up and has begun to care for those outside of his family.”
Draco nodded with a half hidden smile. Lucius, seemingly sensed that Draco’s respect for him was beginning to dwindle, put on the best scowl he could muster and lectured, “Remember this, Draco, pureblood or not, you could lie to and cheat on your best friends and sworn masters and even yourself, but the lowest of the low are those who turn their backs on family.”
“Yes, Dad,” Draco replied proudly and silently swore to himself that Harry too will one day be a legitimate and permanent part of his family.
Harry Potter-Malfoy... Draco shivered at the thought.
- TBC
- 11
- 12
- 13
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