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Practicing Liars	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 63257 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any money from this story.

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Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Thirteen�A
Dance of Deceptions

�� Draco
grinned at the back of Potter�s head as Potter shut the door behind them. He
had been clever enough to realize that there was a certain type of lie that
should work with Madam Pomfrey. She thought that everyone was as naturally
concerned about people as she was, being a Healer, so Draco had gone to her and
confessed in a shy voice, looking over his shoulder every few seconds, that he
was really worried about �Harry� and
wanted to know what kind of condition he�d come in with the other night.

�� Pomfrey had
still pretended loftily that she couldn�t tell him, but this time, with the way
she frowned and stared at the floor and hemmed over basic details like Potter�s
welts, Draco recognized the symptoms of a Memory Charm. He�d seen them used
often enough in the Dark Lord�s ranks by now, mostly on Muggles.

�� Draco
grimaced and rubbed the Dark Mark on his arm, then froze as Potter turned
around again. He didn�t want to think about the Dark Lord and his incomplete
task right now. He wanted to pry the truth out of Potter. He could do that
because he�d been so clever.

�� I wonder if that�s why I want to know about
him so badly, Draco thought as he eyed Potter in expectation. It gives me something else to think about
than my doom and takes me out of my own head.

�� Well?�
Draco prompted, when it seemed Potter had chosen the sensible but limited
course of staying silent.

�� Potter
lifted his head and stared at Draco. His fingers clenched in his sleeves. Then
he sighed. �All right,� he said. �But it�s not my fault if you don�t believe
me.�

�� Draco
smiled. This sounded good.

�� I woke up,
and Madam Pomfrey was standing over me with this�expression.� Potter shuddered
and looked away from Draco, his eyes wide and haunted. �I recognized it. I
never wanted to see it again, but I recognized it.�

�� What was it, Potter, for God�s sake?� Draco
burst out. A moment later, he blushed. Both his father and Professor Snape
would have been ashamed of him for speaking like that, showing his emotions to someone whom he should convince of his
indifference.

�� Potter
didn�t seem to have noticed. That�s
because he�s bloody stupid, Draco thought in satisfaction. I never knew there was something good about
dealing with Gryffindors.

�� It was the
expression that someone wears who�s under the Imperius Curse,� Potter
whispered.

�� Draco
became aware his mouth was hanging open, and shut it. He knew what that expression looked like,
too�intimately. He�d had to perform the lesser two Unforgivables before the
Dark Lord would let him take the Mark. And Potter was right, those slightly
glazed eyes and relaxed, listening expression didn�t look like anything else.

�� Who could
have put her under Imperius?� he whispered.

�� Potter drew
himself up and gave him an impatient glance. �Well, really, Malfoy, who do you think?�

�� Draco shook
his head. �The Dark Lord wouldn�t bother with someone like her. If he comes too
close to the Hogwarts wards, I think Dumbledore would detect him.�

�� Potter
sighed. �Yes, but what if someone is in the school with a mission to put
Imperius on people? Someone else like you, a Death Eater? Madam Pomfrey would
be a great one to get like that. She knows a lot about the students, and
Voldemort��

�� Draco hissed.
The name seemed to make the scar on his arm burn hotter. But Potter, beyond a
faint smirk, just went on.

�� must know that I�m in and out of the hospital wing all the time.
So all he had to do was wait until I came in with some sickness or injury and
have her hurt me. And I couldn�t chance that word about the things I�m seeing
and feeling would get back to him. I don�t
even know what those things are. I don�t want him finding out.�

�� Draco
shivered, trying to think how he would feel if he was the one with a weakness
exposed to the Dark Lord�s probing eyes. Yes, anything could be excused as an
attempt to defend against that.

*

�� He bought it.

�� Harry hadn�t
been sure that particular lie would work, although it was one he�d thought of
over the summer if he had to explain why he was hiding things. Everyone was
afraid of the Imperius Curse, and there were plenty of people in the first war who had been cursed or claimed they had, like Lucius Malfoy.
Why shouldn�t someone use it now in order to put people on Voldemort�s side?

�� He didn�t
think he could have come up with it immediately. But now Malfoy was watching
him with shadowed eyes and nodding slightly. He didn�t look the way Hermione or
Ron did when they didn�t believe Harry�s lies.

�� I have to
defend myself,� Harry finished. �I didn�t want to do it, but it was better than
some other things I could have done.�

�� Malfoy
started smiling, for some reason. Harry reached down and gripped his wand. If
Malfoy was about to show him what other things he needed to do and why, then
Harry would have to cast a spell quickly.

�� Now that I
know one of your secrets,� Malfoy said thoughtfully, �and you know one of mine,
we�re even.�

�� Good,�
Harry said, and nodded, and started for the door.

�� Why are
you leaving?� Malfoy had the gall to sound surprised.

�� Harry
turned around and stared at him. �Because we�re even, like you said,� was all
he could think of to mutter. �I won�t betray your
secret to anyone, you won�t tell anyone about me Obliviating
Madam Pomfrey, and everything�s fine. What else could we have to say to one
another?�

�� Malfoy
lowered his eyelids over his eyes in a way that he probably thought made him
look wise and mysterious. �I thought we could talk about the experiences we
have that no one else in the school does, Potter,� he drawled.

�� There�s
whoever put Madam Pomfrey under the Imperius Curse,� Harry pointed out hastily.
Malfoy�s words were probably a trick; Harry was supposed to agree, and then
Malfoy would accuse him of forgetting about the mysterious other person in
Hogwarts who was also on a mission for Voldemort.

�� Malfoy
leaned forwards and stared at him. �Sometimes you seem so smart, and then you
act stupid,� he said. �That other spy
is hardly someone we can talk to.�

�� Harry
flushed. Yeah, he should have known that. If Malfoy bought his lie, he wouldn�t
go around questioning it so soon, and if he hadn�t bought it, then Harry should
have tried harder in the first place. He cleared his throat awkwardly. �All right, but why would you want
to talk to me? I mean, you have Snape.�

�� Malfoy said
nothing, but gave him a slow smile and a shake of his head. Harry blinked. Malfoy
looked so�human was the only thing
Harry could think of to say, which was ridiculous, because he�d always been
human.

�� Maybe open and warm and relaxed were
better choices.

�� Harry�s
chest tightened in an odd way, as if he was holding his breath. He deliberately
exhaled and shifted towards Malfoy, because he thought shifting towards the
door would have been a bad idea right now, in front of someone who had reasons
to suspect him.

�� I want someone
my own age to speak to.� Malfoy sounded almost wistful. �All of my friends are
cut off from me now, because I can�t tell any of them the details. And if your
friends understand what it�s like to be close to the Dark Lord the way you are,
I�ll eat my hand.� His eyes gleamed, inviting Harry to share in the joke.

�� Harry did
the impossible, something he would never have dreamed of, something it would
have given Ron a heart attack to see.

�� He smiled
back.

*

�� Three of
the bricks were out of the wall.

�� This was delicate, Legilimency on oneself, attacking a memory wall
that had stood there so long it had practically become part of his mind.
Severus already knew that he would not finish tonight. His hands were shaking
and his legs trembled as though someone was shocking the muscles in them with
Muggle electricity. He would have fallen long ago, except that he had had the
foresight to seat himself on his bed so that he would not suffer such a loss of
dignity.

�� But he
remained determined to destroy it nonetheless. As the wall began to tumble,
fragments of light and color and sound came through. Severus could not yet tell
what the memory was about, but he could tell what surrounded it.

�� It had taken
place in a pub, from the sounds, or some of it had. That only strengthened
Severus�s curiosity. He would have expected screams, if Albus had blocked his
memory of a raid. Or there might have been the deep and deadly silence that
tended to cover him when he was brewing experimental potions. Perhaps Albus had
wanted him to forget that he had created a particularly deadly poison. He had
not always approved of Severus�s research.

�� He likes to pretend that research can exist
in isolation, that it is not done for a purpose, Severus thought with a
sneer as he drew back for another rush at the wall. It disturbs him when other people will not let him pretend that.

�� He charged.

�� It was not
like a punch or a blow, the way that some books recommended destroying Memory
Charms and which Severus considered responsible for pitiable cases like
Lockhart�s. This was a wind, a faint breeze that whispered along the wall,
around it, and through the cracks in the mortar.

�� It might
seem like nothing to someone who wasn�t deeply acquainted with Legilimency. But
the same people were liable to forget that it was wind that could wear down
mountains and turn buildings into sand.

�� Another
brick shivered, eroded, and fell. Severus could feel a face hovering there,
waiting for him, the face of someone important to the memory. He �rose�
slightly so that he could see through the gap.

�� Lily�s face
stared back.

�� Severus
paused in shock, and the break in concentration knocked him back to the surface
of his mind. He opened his eyes and found himself panting as though he had run
a long race, his throat scorchingly dry. He reached
for the water he had had standing ready on a table and sipped carefully, eyes
shut.

�� Lily would
have been alive at that time, of course. But she had already married Potter�Severus
had been able to pinpoint the age of the wall more precisely as his destruction
of it commenced�and had turned away from him. She would have had no reason to
be with him, no reason to be on a raid, no reason to try and sneak into the
Dark Lord�s hiding places. Her face, and her husband�s, were too well-known for them to play spy, and without
Severus, the Order had not had a competent brewer who could make Polyjuice.

�� And yet,
she was associated with the memory.

�� Severus ground
his teeth. If he were younger and stupider, he would have gone back to
destroying the wall, frantic to have the truth tonight.

�� But his
skull already felt like a thin iron barrier around jostling, splashing jelly,
and he stood a chance of transforming his
brain into jelly if he kept at it. No, he would hurt himself if he tried again
tonight. And it would take too much time to achieve the delicate trance that
would let him use Legilimency on himself a second time if he was to wake for
classes tomorrow.

�� He lay down
and forced himself to shut his eyes. His heart wouldn�t cease its excited
gallop for long minutes, but that was as well. Sleep would come.

�� It did, but
it brought with it odd dreams full of Lily�s face, and Potter�s, and his own.

�� And, over
all the images, the maddened ringing of a bell that sounded like one of his
nagging echoes of thought translated into audible form.

*

�� The next
few days were some of the most confusing that Harry could remember.

�� Ron and
Hermione were together, and fighting. Or fighting because they
weren�t together. Harry couldn�t entirely make it out. He had known, in
a vague sort of way, that Ron and Hermione liked each other, but he had also
assumed that shyness would keep them from speaking about it until they were all
sixty or seventy, so he hadn�t thought their row was about that at first. And
now it was, and Ron was also dating
Lavender at the same time, or he wasn�t and was just snogging
her to make Hermione jealous.

�� Hermione
told Harry that one evening when she seemed more in control of herself. They
were sitting in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room just after
practice with Dumbledore�s Army and she had her arms wrapped around herself,
eyes big as she stared into the flames.

�� It can�t
be real,� she whispered. �Because why would he get involved with a bint like her otherwise?�

�� Harry
opened his mouth to say that Lavender was pretty and he�d always heard she was
a good kisser; apparently Seamus had briefly dated her last year.

�� Then he
took a close, careful look at Hermione�s face and shut his mouth again.

�� But I don�t
understand why he keeps on with it,� Hermione said. �Because he has to see by
now that it isn�t working.�

�� Er�right,� Harry muttered, looking at Hermione�s red
cheeks, and then bent over his Potions homework again. The only bad thing about
doing it now that Snape wasn�t teaching the class anymore was that he kept wanting to look at the spells scribbled in the margins
of the Half-Blood Prince�s book instead of at the actual instructions. There
was a spell labeled For enemies that Harry half-hoped Voldemort
wouldn�t know about. The Prince seemed to know lots of strange things, why not
unusual spells?

�� I�ll go
and tell him so,� Hermione said, and got up and wandered out of the room.

�� Harry
counted to ten under his breath. Shouting erupted before he got there.

�� So his
friends were occupied, and sometimes they wanted to talk to Harry about it and
sometimes they wanted to brood, but either way, neither of them seemed to
notice the other confusing thing about the past few days: the attention Malfoy
was paying him.

�� Malfoy had
apparently meant it when he said the other night that they should talk to each
other. He nodded to Harry every morning at breakfast, even if it was with a
sneer, and usually tried to bump shoulders with him when they were walking to
Potions or Defense. There hadn�t been time for conversation, really, but Malfoy
passed flying dragon notes constantly to him in front of Slughorn, who could be
counted on not to notice when he had his head down a cauldron.

�� Mostly, the
notes said things like Blaise is a prat.
He thinks it�s an honor to be chosen to go on a mission for the Dark Lord and he
has no idea what it really means,
or I can�t believe that Pansy gets uglier
every day. She must have some sort of special cream she applies.

�� Harry
responded cautiously, with the kinds of ordinary words that seemed appropriate.
He tried to keep the conversation focused on Malfoy instead of himself (which,
since Malfoy was so self-absorbed he made Dudley look outgoing, wasn�t
difficult). He also tried to keep the doubts about the wisdom of this from the
front of his mind.

�� After all,
it really seemed that Malfoy did just
need someone to talk to about things that troubled him, not someone to plot
with.

�� And it kept
Harry from thinking about things like why Snape watched him with a burning,
brooding gaze now. He seemed to spend a lot of time in particular staring into
Harry�s eyes.

*

�� Draco
grinned as he leaned against the wall outside the Great Hall. It had become a tradition
to surprise Potter in the last few days. He always showed up in at least one
place and during one time that the prat thought he wouldn�t, and then walked
and talked with him until Potter relaxed and stopped acting like Draco was
about to cut his scar open.

�� Tonight it
would be after dinner. Potter�s friends hadn�t even come to dinner, probably
because Granger was sulking and Weasel was trying to recover from the spell she�d
performed on him that stuck his tongue down his throat, backwards. So Potter
strolled out alone, and it was the most natural thing in the world for Draco to
fall into step beside him.

�� Potter
started and then glared. Draco glanced over his shoulder just to make sure that
no one had followed, but it was unusually early. He judged that they could get
outside the castle, which was safer than staying inside, without being seen.

�� Miss me?�
he asked, and pursed his lips in a mock pout when Potter�s glare sharpened.

�� How can I
miss you when I saw you not two hours ago?� Potter retorted, and shoved his
shoulder.

�� Draco
shoved back, and then Potter slammed an elbow, hard, into the skin under his
ribs, and Draco had to punch back, and they ended up struggling together for
several moments until they broke apart, panting. Potter had the odd ability to
look good when hair was hanging in his eyes and his cheeks were flushed, Draco
thought with some admiration. In fact, it was practically natural for him to
look that way. Draco pictured the way he�d looked dressed up in fancy robes for
the Yule Ball two years ago, and snickered.

�� Potter
scowled. �What are you laughing at?�

�� Draco shook
his head. �It doesn�t matter. Come on.� And he turned and dashed down the
corridor, knowing that Potter�s instincts would inevitably compel him to
follow.

�� They burst
out through the doors onto the grounds and made for the Quidditch pitch. They
had to avoid Hagrid, who was calling �Spot!��undoubtedly the name of some
creature of gigantic size and ferocious temperament�and two Hufflepuffs who
seemed to think that tonight was the perfect night to come outside and snog. Finally they were in the Ravenclaw stands, and Draco
flopped down on one of the seats. Potter hesitated, turned to look back at the
castle and then up into the air as if just now realizing that he was alone with
a Slytherin, and then shrugged and sat down next to Draco.

�� I didn�t
bring you here to ambush you.� Draco cocked his head at Potter. He knew he wasn�t
grinning like an idiot, because his mother had taught him better than that, but
there was a shadow of a smile around his lips that he couldn�t seem to get rid
of.

�� You never
know,� Potter muttered, but leaned forwards with his arms around his knees. �Why
did we come out here?�

�� Draco took
a deep breath. He knew what he wanted to discuss; he just wasn�t sure that
Potter would want to hold up his end of the conversation. But he�d been to the
Room of Hidden Things again that afternoon for another hopeless try at fixing the
stupid cabinet, and he�d received a letter from his mother with several blurred
words, and trying to act calm and collected in front of the Slytherins, who
knew nothing about it, was just too much.

�� I�m only doing what�s sensible, Draco
told himself defensively. Father always
said that you should find an outlet for your passions before they overwhelm
you. He finds his in sneering at people like the Weasleys. Potter can be mine.

�� It�s hard,
working for him,� he said slowly.

�� Potter
snorted and pushed up his fringe. Draco thought that his scar looked redder
than it normally did. �Try being connected
to the bloody bastard.�

�� I am.�
Draco slapped his left arm and glared at Potter before he could think better of
it.

�� Potter�s
eyes widened, and he let out a small breath, nibbling
his lip. �Oh. I didn�t think about that.� He hunched his shoulders and looked
down at his feet as if he was somehow counting his toes through his shoes, then
looked back up. �Why did you agree to?�

�� You really
think I had a choice?� Draco
shuddered and closed his eyes as he thought of that night. He didn�t, often.
The darkness was one thing, but the heat and the hatred and the nearness of the
Dark Lord as the Mark had burned into his arm was something else again. �Unless
I wanted to die, but not everyone�s a noble Gryffindor who would choose death
before dishonor.�

�� I�m not
sure I would, either.� Potter shifted towards him. Draco heard him, but he didn�t
open his eyes and look. He wanted to be alone with his memories right now.
Potter touched his shoulder, gingerly, as if he thought Draco might be hot. �Did�I
mean, did your parents think it was for the best? Or did they try to stop you?�

�� I think my
mother was going to,� Draco whispered. �She had some plan. But Aunt Bellatrix
found out about it and betrayed her, and now the Dark Lord spends his time
torturing her.�

�� Bellatrix,�
Potter whispered. �I have reason to hate her, too.� His hand tightened, and he
leaned closer. Draco looked up to see his eyes wide and intent behind his
glasses.

�� I�m sorry,�
Potter said.

�� For putting my father in Azkaban?� Draco asked. He was in a
mood to be nasty. He rubbed at his eyes and looked away. �Or
for not really getting rid of him
when you were a baby, so that he could come back and torture me and my parents?�

�� Potter
flinched. Then he licked his lips with a loud smacking sound and said, �I�m
just sorry. That�s all.� He hesitated, and then leaned nearer so that his shoulder
touched Draco�s the way it did when they were walking to Defense.

�� They sat
there and watched the moon rise. Sometimes Potter shivered. The third time he
did, Draco took out his wand and cast a Warming Charm. Potter gave a little
gasp when it settled around him, then turned his head and eyed Draco.

�� You always
seem to forget that you�re a wizard,� Draco said flatly. �I don�t.�

�� Potter
muttered something that sounded like ��try living until you�re eleven years old��

�� What?�

�� Potter
shook his head. �Nothing important. Not like what you
said was important.� He squeezed Draco�s shoulder again, and fell silent.

�� Draco found
that he was content for it to be so.

*

�� The last
brick of the memory wall fell.

�� Severus saw
what was to be seen, and heard what was to be heard.

�� Alcohol in his throat, and Lily�s voice in his ears, offering
apologies and accusations and demands for explanations.

�� The sheets
beneath them, and the way Lily had cried out when she reached her climax, in
what seemed to be surprise.

�� The way it
had felt for him, the way it had
never felt with anyone else.

�� How Lily
had turned around in the morning, hair full of light and eyes full of guilt,
and lifted her wand, and whispered, �This isn�t the way I want to live. I�m
sorry, Severus. Obliviate.�

�� And the way
the memories trembled and vanished at once behind the solid black wall of the
charm, shutting away the very last sight he would ever have of Lily, and
something he would never have wished to forget.

�� Severus
opened his eyes and felt for sleep in the corners. But this was no dream.��

*

�� I have
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Practicing Liars