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Angels and Devils	By : Beren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 16945 -:- 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
- 2
- 3
- 4
Title: Angels and
Devils

Chapter: On Display 03/10

Author: Beren (aka Didi)

Email: beren.writes@gmail.com

LJ: http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=beren_writes

Wordcount: 5310

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created
and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury
Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money
is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Warnings: This story is set post OOTP and therefore has SPOLIERS. If
you don’t want to know anything that went on in book five do not read this
story.

Summary: Harry defeated Voldemort: his act of heroism is famous throughout
the wizarding world. He’s trying to finish his final year at Hogwarts in
peace, but something peculiar is happening to him, something he never would
have expected. It's all rather embarrassing and making his life very complicated.

Author's Notes: This fic has Veela!Draco and lots of other things that
appear to have become fandom clichés, which was part of the point in
writing it :). I've had great fun with this fic, trying to explore ideas in
a slightly different way than I have seen before. It may have Veela!Draco, but
it is all from Harry POV in case you were wondering. I will be posting in two
blocks, the first five parts now (05Jan05) and the second five parts next week.
Thanks go to Soph for the beta. I've actually had this one hanging around since
I was writing GTS.

====

Chapter 3 On Display

After his hearing changed
and his sight improved things seemed to settle down and Harry had gone without
any alterations for five days before things took a turn for the even more bizarre.
It was so ridiculous in fact, that he managed to put it down to not paying attention
or bad luck for nearly an entire week.

They may have ended up
fighting on the same side in the war, but that didn't mean that the seventh
year of Slytherin would even pass the time of day with the seventh year of Gryffindor;
the prejudices were too well ingrained on both sides. The fact that the Slytherin
turn around to the side of the light had been led by Draco Malfoy did not mean
that he and Harry were ever going to pass pleasantries in the hall, which was
why when Harry found himself looking at the sarcastic git in any way but with
distaste, he shocked himself. Then when he discovered that he was going out
of his way to be in the same place as the Prince of Slytherin he had known he
was in trouble, but worse than that, over the course of the week of denial he
found himself doing the strangest things.

Harry kept his head down
in Potions; it was a fact of his life. Snape hated him even though they had
been allies and if he so much as breathed out of place the head of Slytherin
relished in taking house points. Then one day just after he had started denying
that he wanted anything to do with Malfoy, Harry spoke up in Snape's class for
the first time. The really bizarre thing was that he managed it in such a way
that the potions master couldn't penalise him.

The answer to one of Snape's
questions had leapt into his head and before he realised what he was doing he'd
stuck up his hand. It had been a question designed for Malfoy, who was the unchallenged
potions king; the blond boy was a genius when it came to his house master's
class and Snape had obviously thought the only other person who could answer
would have been Hermione, whom he always ignored.

Harry was pretty sure that
Snape had only let him answer because the man assumed he would answer incorrectly.
Even Malfoy had looked impressed when he gave the correct response, which had,
worryingly, pleased Harry no end. That had been the first incident of several
and what was more worrying was that Harry found himself with his nose in books
so he would be ready for the next time as well.

It wasn't just potions
either; Harry eventually had to admit to himself that it was every subject he
had with Malfoy. It felt strangely to him as if he was trying to prove his worth
to the Slytherin, which he really didn't want to consider too closely. And it
happened out of the classroom as well; twice he had suddenly realised he was
trying to attract the other boy's attention. Harry felt as if he was going slightly
mad.

He had heard all the bad
things about eavesdropping and he really tried not to do it, but when his name
popped up in conversation he always seemed to zero in. He was walking to dinner
with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his new jeans and his head down,
trying to forget that he was going stark raving bonkers, when he heard himself
referenced by another voice. Harry had been finishing a paragraph of his homework
when the others had left to walk to the Great Hall so he was a good hundred
yards behind them, round a corner or two and they had no idea he could hear
them.

"It's like we're not
even in the same class anymore," Seamus bemoaned just after having uttered
a sentence containing Harry's name.

"I just wish he'd
pick someone and let the rest of us back in the game," agreed Dean mournfully.

Ever since he had broken
up with Ginny the artistic Gryffindor had been chasing a fair amount of skirt,
as his Irish dorm mate put it so colourfully. Harry felt sorry for his friends,
he really did, but there was nothing he could do about it.

"It's not Harry's
fault he went through a growth spurt," Ron defended him in true best friend
fashion.

"You have nothing
to worry about," Seamus pointed out loudly, "you're firmly attached.
Harry needs to choose and he needs to choose soon."

There was a murmur of agreement
from Dean and Harry wished silently that it was that simple.

"He has chosen someone,"
Neville's calm addition to the conversation drew Harry to a sudden and complete
halt.

From the sounds of it,
Nev's simple phrase had done the same to his dorm mates as well. Ron was spluttering
incoherently and the other two were ominously silent.

"Neville," Dean
finally said in a very dark tone, "what do you know and how do you know
it?"

"Um," the other
boy returned nervously, "I thought it was rather obvious actually."

Harry wanted to hit his
head against the wall and willed Neville to shut up. Unfortunately for him his
dorm mate was not in a position to keep his mouth shut.

"Longbottom,"
Ron said pointedly, "just tell us."

"Malfoy," the
Gryffindor replied quietly.

That brought a long deep
laugh from Seamus, a thoughtful gasp from Dean and a dismissive snort from Ron.

"Oh, good one, Neville,"
the Irish boy said lightly, "you really had us going there for a moment."

As Harry listened the reactions
slowly petered out, and he realised that the others were probably noticing that
their friend was serious.

"I wasn't joking,"
Neville said, sounding a little hurt, "you must have seen it."

"You're insane,"
Ron said pointedly, "Harry would never..."

His best friend trailed
off and now Harry did bang his head against the wall as he realised Ron was
putting the pieces together. Sometimes Ron couldn't see what was in front of
his own face, but he never forgot and Harry was sure his friend was adding things
up. There was complete silence for a few moments.

"Bloody hell,"
was what came from Ron eventually.

"Holy mother of god,"
Seamus decided distinctly and what came from Dean's mouth did not bear repeating.

"Harry and Malfoy,"
Ron did not seem to be able to quite come to terms with the idea, "they
hate each other."

"But Malfoy is the
best looking boy in the school apart from Harry, and he's probably the most
powerful student next to Hermione and Harry as well," Neville pointed out.
"It makes perfect sense, in a match of equals kind of way."

There was silence again
except for the sound of shuffling feet and Harry thought that his friends were
probably having the same epiphany about Neville as he was. No one ever rated
Longbottom at anything but Herbology and yet he seemed to be far more than he
at first appeared.

"Neville," Ron
said in a much gentler, but never the less direct way, "are you gay?"

More shuffling of feet.

"Um, well, yes,"
the other Gryffindor replied.

Silence again.

"Thank Merlin for
that," Ron said and startled Harry because he was listening too hard, "and
there I thought the rest of us were out of touch."

"Nev," Seamus
commented lightly, "you never cease to amaze me. Now tell us everything
you know: we want details."

Harry banged his head on
the wall again for good measure and then turned back towards the common room;
there was no way he was going to dinner now. It was as he reached the portrait
that he met Hermione. As head girl she had been to her regular weekly meeting
with Dumbledore that always ran late and into dinner, which was why the others
had headed off without her.

"Harry," she
greeted brightly until she saw his face, "what's wrong."

"I think I'm losing
my mind and now everyone knows," he said dejectedly. "My life is over."

The portrait hole flipped
open as he gave the password and he stormed through without waiting for his
friend to react. Harry went straight for his dorm without pausing and was about
to slam the door loudly when he realised Hermione had followed him. She stood
there with her hands on her hips, looking at him with a worried frown.

"You don't think you're
getting away with that do you?" she said eventually and took a step over
the threshold. "Now sit and tell me what's bothering you."

When Hermione used that
tone of voice there was no disobeying and Harry knew it so he shoved his hands
back into his pockets, walked over to his bed and sat down.

"Malfoy," he
said plainly, guessing that if Neville had noticed then there was no way Hermione
wouldn't have.

"Oh, that," she
said and nodded sagely, "I wondered when you were going to face it."

"Face it!" Harry
replied, his voice rising before he dragged his temper back into check. "What
with everything else I do not need this as well. I did a Wronski Feint at practice
yesterday from three hundred feet just because he walked past. I'm either going
to kill myself or go completely mental if this doesn't stop."

"Or possibly get an
'O' in all your N.E.W.T.s and give the whole staffroom a heart attack,"
his friend attempted to inject some humour into the conversation and Harry glared
at her for her trouble.

"It's not funny,"
he said pointedly and he knew he was beginning to sulk, but it did feel as if
his world was coming to an end.

He had wings for heaven's
sake and appeared to be obsessed with his living worst enemy, since the Death
Eaters who weren't dead had never met him personally. Malfoy may have led the
revolt against the dark in his own house, but he blamed Harry for his father's
demise and their relationship was acrimonious at best and homicidal at worst.

"Sorry, Harry,"
Hermione said gently and sat down next to him, "tell me what's up."

Harry glared at his fingers
and picked absently at the corner of one of his oh so perfect nails.

"I just want to be
Harry again," he said eventually with a sigh. "Everything was simpler
when heads didn't turn if I so much a sneezed. I know people have been watching
me forever, but now it's like I'm on display the whole time. And I don't seem
to have any control over my hormones at all. I do things without even realising
I'm doing them; stupid things and I must look like a real prat."

"Actually," Hermione said and patted him sympathetically on the arm,
"so far I think you've been pretty impressive. If Malfoy can't see past
this silly feud you two have going on, to what a great catch you are then he's
blinder than I ever gave him credit for."

Harry looked at Hermione
rather stunned and she smiled at him warmly.

"Don't look so surprised,"
she said in a very motherly fashion. "Harry, you were always good looking
in a boyish way, but now you're stunning. You are the most powerful wizard in
the world and you are finally using the considerable brain inside your head
rather than muddling through. It would be very difficult for you to be anything
but impressive."

He didn't know what to
say; he was completely taken aback. Most of his instincts were telling him she
was just being nice.

"But it's Malfoy,"
was all he could find to say.

"I know, Harry,"
Hermione said sympathetically, "and I wish it was someone easier, but I
don't think that's going to happen. I've been doing a little reading and I think
I know what's going on."

Harry couldn't help it,
he laughed rather hysterically; if there was anyone who could be relied upon
to figure things out it was Hermione.

"You're displaying,
Harry," she told him calmly, "you've chosen a mate."

At that he couldn't keep
the horror off his face.

"How much do you know
about Seraphim?" Hermione asked gently.

"Not much," Harry
admitted; he had read a little, but there weren't many books on the subject
and he had hoped that the physical changes were all he had to worry about.

"Did you know they
mate for life?" the young woman asked slowly.

He shook his head.

"Start from the beginning,"
he said with a resigned tone, "assume I know nothing."

Hermione patted his hand
and nodded, at least she seemed to understand how difficult this was for him.

"Okay, well I know
you know it takes a lot of magic for a Seraphim to reproduce," she started
evenly; Harry had told both his best friends what Dumbledore had told him, "but
what you probably don't realise is that Seraphim are androgynous. Some of them
can appear more male or female, but they aren't either. They choose a mate based
on power as well as physical attraction: the more power the more likelihood
of successful breeding."

She paused and looked at
him to see if Harry was following, he nodded for her to go on.

"When they find a
mate who they deem suitable a Seraphim goes into heat," Hermione continued
and held his eyes. "They display for their chosen mate to bring them into
heat as well, sort of a chemical and magical reaction. The only way a Seraphim
will stop pursuing a mate is if the mate dies or the mate chooses another."

"But Malfoy isn't
Seraphim," Harry pointed out, "he can't come on heat."

"No," Hermione
said slowly and he could hear the 'but' in her voice, "but I did some digging
and he is Veela, or rather there is Veela blood in the Malfoy line. Veela have
a similar mating cycle to Seraphim: although they look female they go into heat
during the mating season and become hermaphrodites. The don't mate for life,
but display and mate once every three years, which is how you end up with pure
Veela offspring. They used to lure human males with sex and kill them when not
in heat, but for the last few hundred years it seems to be just about the sex
and every now and then you end up with half-breeds both male and female. Malfoy's
heritage is a little more distant than that, but you may be sensing what's in
his blood."

It occurred to the corner
of Harry's brain where his dry sense of humour was lurking that purebloods in
the wizarding world were actually anything but, if his father's and Malfoy's
family were anything to go by. The rest of him was trying to figure out what
the hell he was going to do.

"You're saying I want
to shag Malfoy within an inch of his life because he's the most powerful eligible
wizard and he's part Veela?" he asked bluntly.

Hermione blinked at him.

"Thank you for that
visual image, Harry," she said with a slight smile and nodded.

"And my only way out
is if someone knocks him off or," he paused and thought about it, "knocks
him up?"

His companion laughed.

"Not exactly,"
she replied as she regained control of herself, "Veela go into heat to
mate and produce offspring, Seraphim go into heat to mate with the prospect
of producing offspring in the future. It's possible you may loose interest if
he just sleeps with someone else."

"So all I have to
do is go up to him and say 'Malfoy if you don't want me dogging your every step
for the foreseeable future please go and shag someone'," Harry said incredulously.
"I can see that going down so well." Then something occurred to him.
"Why isn't he shagging someone else? As my hormones have been pointing
out for days he is the most eligible bachelor in the school."

Hermione shrugged, Harry
did not think it was a question his friend had asked herself. It was not a question
he'd ever thought to ask himself until just then.

"Maybe because he
is Veela," the head girl offered thoughtfully. "Male Veela descendants
don't tend to show much of their heritage other than the obvious physical attributes
like hair and bone structure, not like Fleur or her sister. According to the
book I was reading, if the males do give any signs it's towards the end of their
teens when in nature they would be thinking of breeding." Hermione's face
had brightened as if she was beginning to warm to the idea; the young woman
was always excited by explanations even when they didn't help the situation.
"Maybe Malfoy is going through something similar to you: for different
reasons of course, but it could definitely be a reason why he's not, um, active.
He'd have to be very careful if he was coming into heat, even partially, if
he slept with a girl he'd almost be bound to end up with a little Malfoy running
around."

"Hermione," Harry
pleaded, "you're not making this sound any easier. Now I have to convince
Malfoy to sleep with another boy, which given his track record he will not be
interested in."

The young woman thought
about it for a moment.

"I think you may be
wrong there if Blaise Zabini is anything to go by," Hermione said calmly.

This was all a bit much;
Harry was learning things he never, ever wanted to know and his sensibilities
began rebelling.

"Zabini," he
repeated to himself just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. "Malfoy
and Zabini?"

The surge of irrational
jealousy that this caused didn't help his equilibrium very much either.

"For about two months
in the final term of last year, after you clobbered Voldemort," Hermione
told him with a nod. "I think everyone was so glad to be alive that they
let themselves be what they wanted to be rather than what was expected for a
while. You were in the coma for most of it so I can't blame you for not knowing."

Harry grabbed at the lifeline
and held on for grim death.

"So maybe if I just
come out and tell Malfoy what's going on he and Blaise..." his voice trailed
off as Hermione shook her head.

"Blaise is with Pansy
now," the girl advised helpfully.

Harry gave up and ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

"Hermione," he
said a little at a loss, "how do you keep all this information straight
and still come top in all your subjects?"

"I'm a girl,"
she replied and patted him fondly on the arm, "it's part of the job description."

With a sigh Harry let himself
fall back onto the bed and stared at the canopy for a moment.

"And do you know what
makes this so much more fun?" he said in a very resigned manner. "All
my dorm mates know now as well."

"They do?" Hermione
sounded very surprised.

"Neville told them,"
Harry said shortly and then a question occurred to him. "Did you know Neville
was gay?"

"Of course,"
the young woman said as if it was old news, "didn't you?"

Harry had to laugh; it
was that or cry.

"Just chalk it up
to the whole dorm missing the blindingly obvious," he said and closed his
eyes as if that would help. "What am I going to do?"

It was all so confusing.
In some ways it had been so much easier when Voldemort was still alive, at least
all he had to worry about then was dying.

"I'm sorry, Harry,"
Hermione said as he looked at her, "but I don't think you have a choice.
You could talk to Madame Pomfrey, but I doubt there's much she can do. I think
you're going to have to speak to Malfoy. Sooner or later he's going to figure
it out or you're going to do something that makes it blindingly obvious."

Taking a deep breath Harry
slowly sat up again, at least he knew he wasn't going crazy. With a small nod
he gave his friend's hand a squeeze.

"I'll go and see Madame
Pomfrey in the morning," he decided firmly. "If she can't help me
I'll try and talk to Malfoy after the Ravenclaw/Slytherin Quidditch match tomorrow
afternoon. Don't want to be accused of putting off their Seeker."

The pair shared a small
smile. At least with Hermione's support Harry could see that this could be amusing
from another's point of view.

"Which leaves only
one problem," he said with a small frown, "what to do about Ron, Seamus,
Dean and Neville."

"Leave Ron to me,"
Hermione said and her smile became a grin, "and then tell the others part
of the truth. Explain that it's to do with your absorbing of Voldemort's powers
and the coma. Tell them your hormones are all out of whack and you're tying
to sort it all out, but you need complete secrecy. They're Gryffindors; they'll
support you all the way."

Harry considered the idea
and he couldn't find a flaw in it.

"Sounds like a plan,"
he agreed and on impulse reached out and hugged his friend. "Thanks, Hermione,"
he said warmly, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You're welcome,"
she replied and returned the hug before breaking away. "Now let's get to
dinner, the sooner you confront the others the less danger there is of anyone
else finding out."

Harry nodded and they both
stood up, at least now with an idea of what to do he did not feel quite so lost.
Trying to school his features into calm he hurried after Hermione as she disappeared
down the steps. It was only as they entered the Great Hall that he began to
feel nervous again. All four of his dorm mates turned to look at them both as
they moved to sit down. There was mischief in Seamus' eyes and amusement in
Dean's which did not bode well; Harry decided to take charge.

"Before any of you
say anything," he said firmly, "you should know I wasn't that far
behind you; I heard."

Looking each of his friends
in the eye he made sure they were paying attention.

"I need to speak to
you all in private as soon as dinner is over," he said plainly. "Does
anyone have any objections?"

Hermione had been right,
the moment he told them seriously what he needed, every one of his dorm mates
sobered and nodded. The whole conversation through dinner was about Quidditch
and the latest homework assignments. No one so much as mentioned Malfoy or anything
else relating to relationships, platonic or otherwise through the whole meal,
not until they were all back in their dorm with the door closed.

"Yes, I'm after Malfoy,"
Harry said bluntly before anyone else could speak, "no I don't really want
to be."

He turned to face his friends
from where he had just walked to the other end of the room. No one looked particularly
clear about the situation.

"Are you going to
explain," Seamus asked in a manner that suggested he was not about to push
for the information although he'd like it, "or is that it?"

Harry had been preparing
this speech all through dinner and he drew in a deep breath to give it.

"You may have noticed
I've changed quite a lot lately," he began with the easy part.

"Yeah, Harry,"
Dean said with a grin, "we noticed."

Harry nodded; it had been
rather stating the obvious.

"It's to do with all
the power I absorbed when I killed Voldemort," he said truthfully, after
all that was what had started the whole process. "It's, um, changing me
physically and lucky me, my hormones are out of whack. Do not ask me why I'm
fixated on Malfoy, I couldn't give you a positive answer, but I am and I'm trying
to sort it out. I'm hoping he and the rest of the school never have to know
because the more people who know the more difficult it will be to fix. Please
don't tell anyone."

Harry glanced at Ron knowing
that his friend knew when to keep his mouth shut and trying to apologise for
hedging. Ron nodded very slightly and then shared a look with the other three.

"Whatever you need,
mate," Seamus said firmly, speaking for the whole group.

Harry had never been so
glad he was a Gryffindor in his entire life.

"Do you ever do anything
the easy way, Harry?" Dean asked conversationally and he couldn't help
but smile.

====

The Hospital wing was thankfully
empty of other pupils as Harry walked in on Saturday morning. It would have
been unusual for anyone to require Poppy's services so early, it was still before
breakfast, but it was not unheard of. Harry knew he would find the healer already
in her office or in her supply cupboard; he was familiar with her habits and
he knew Poppy was always up early to sort through her inventory on a Saturday.
With no lessons going on, Saturday was the day the healer was least likely to
be interrupted by pupils poisoned in potions or half changed into heaven knew
what from bad transfigurations.

Harry decided to check
the supply cupboard first and walked over quietly. Ever since his nails had
decided to turn into lethal weapons he had developed the habit of keeping his
hands in his pockets, but he pulled them out now. It was a matter of respect
and Harry had a lot of that for Poppy. As he stood in the doorway of the supply
cupboard he found his guess had been correct: the healer was standing on a small
ladder looking at one of her top shelves.

"Um, Poppy,"
he said after a moment, knowing that the woman would remain engrossed in her
inventory until he made himself known, "please may I speak to you?"

The healer turned instantly
and smiled as soon as she saw him.

"Good morning, Harry,"
she said in a warm, motherly tone, "I'll be down in just a minute."

Harry nodded and half smiled
back before waiting patiently for Poppy to finish what she was doing. The woman
efficiently ticked off lists on her clipboard that was hovering next to her
and then climbed down the ladder.

"Now, Harry,"
she said in the tone she reserved for patients who had become more like family,
"what can I do for you today?"

Harry frowned slightly
and then decided to just come out with it.

"I think I'm in heat,"
he said shortly and tried not to appear too embarrassed.

For a moment Poppy looked
at him thoughtfully and then she spoke; "Oh dear," was her considered
opinion.

"I was thinking something
along those lines myself," Harry replied with a slight shrug.

The woman frowned for a
moment and then placed a supportive hand on his shoulder and steered him out
of the store cupboard.

"Let's go to my office,"
she said firmly, "I think this requires some tea."

A few minutes later Harry
was seated one side of Poppy's desk with a cup of sweet tea in hand and the
healer was sitting on the other side with her own beverage. She appeared thoughtful,
but thankfully not worried.

"So, Harry,"
Poppy began eventually, "what led you to this conclusion?"

"I'm displaying,"
he replied honestly. "I find myself doing the strangest things whenever
the subject of my affections is around. I tried denial for a while, but a couple
of my friends have noticed and I think I'm going to do something stupid if I
don't handle this soon."

"And how long had
this been going on?" his companion asked calmly.

"A little over a week,"
Harry admitted and took a sip of his tea.

It was somehow very easy
to talk to Poppy about things like this; she never judged and she was very discrete.

"Do you mind telling
me who you are attracted to?" the woman asked in a gentle tone.

This was the difficult
bit: no matter what his hormones or his instincts were telling him, he was still
incredibly embarrassed that he was fixated on his arch rival.

"Malfoy," he
replied and did his best not to run and hide.

Poppy appeared surprised
for a moment and then she nodded as if she found the idea logical.

"And is Mr Malfoy
aware of your attentions?" the healer continued her enquiries.

"I don't know,"
Harry told her openly, "I haven't spoken to him. Please say you can just
give me a potion and make this all go away."

The slightly pained expression
on Poppy's face told him that a quick solution was not about to reveal itself.

"I'm sorry, Harry,"
she said sympathetically, "but it is not quite that simple. I could give
you something to inhibit your sexual drive, but it would not last for long and
repressing such urges can be very dangerous. When they came back you might find
them overwhelming."

It was the news he had
been dreading, but rather expecting; he shrugged in a resigned manner.

"So what do you suggest?"
he asked eventually, knowing that he was probably not going to like the answer.

Poppy considered her reply
for a moment and placed her cup and saucer on the table.

"Mr Malfoy should
be made aware of the situation," the healer said firmly, "and there
are some things about him I believe you need to understand, but I will have
to ask him and the headmaster about that."

"He's part Veela,"
Harry said before she could go on, "and probably at least partially in
heat himself."

Now Poppy looked very surprised.

"Hermione worked it
out," Harry explained honestly.

"Miss Granger always
was too clever for her own good," the healer observed with a small frown.
"I'm afraid I cannot discus the subject further at the moment."

Harry nodded: Poppy's discretion
was one of her finest qualities. He would not have liked her to discus some
of the things she knew about him and he expected no less for any of her other
patients.

"I understand,"
the Gryffindor replied, "I just thought you should know what I think I
know."

"If you would like
I will explain the situation to Mr Malfoy," Poppy offered helpfully, "and
then we can proceed from there."

It was a tempting proposal,
but even though it would be far easier to leave it in the healer's hands Harry
shook his head.

"Thanks," he
said earnestly, "but he'd take that as cowardice on my part and that won't
help at all. I'll try myself and come back to you if he tells me to shove off."

Poppy gave him a supportive
smile.

"I believe you may
be correct," she told him calmly, "Mr Malfoy can be ... difficult
at times. If you have no objections I will make the matter known to the headmaster
just in case we require his assistance."

It was difficult to squelch
the desire for as few people to know as possible, but Harry recognised the need
to make Dumbledore aware of the situation so he nodded. If this got out of hand
he was going to need all the support he could get.

End of Chapter 3
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Angels and Devils