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

Chapter List
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Chapter Three�Glimpses

�� Harry
leaned hard on the practice broom and guided it around in a circle, bearing
down towards the ground. Ron chased him, yelling something that Harry couldn�t
make out, or at least wouldn�t let himself listen to, in the rush of the wind.
He shut his eyes for a moment, reveling in the flight.

�� He had
withdrawn from the Quidditch team after Seamus burned his broom, and he didn�t
regret that decision. Playing on the team would only give people more
opportunities to hurt him, the way that Dobby had broken his arm with the
Bludger a few weeks ago. But he could still fly.

�� The skill
sang in his blood and thrummed through the muscles in his legs. It felt
wonderful. Missing some practice didn�t mean he�d lost it. Harry pulled up at
the end of his wild dive and laughed.

�� Ron landed
beside him and looked at him cautiously from the corner of his eye. �You were
going pretty fast there, mate.�

�� Harry
turned to face him. He had gradually shown Ron and Hermione small signs in the
last few days that he was awakening from his apathy, but he hadn�t wanted to
show them an overnight change, because he knew he wouldn�t be able to explain
it. Snape�s order to keep their revenge secret sounded as loudly as the rush of
blood in his head.

�� Now, though, I think I can tell them. Let
Ron think the flight did it.

�� I know,�
he said, and took care to make his voice calm and normal. He saw Ron start as
if electrified, a hopeful smile touching his lips. For a moment, Harry felt
awful. He didn�t want to lie to his best friends.

�� But on the
other hand, what he�d told Snape was true. Hermione would insist on a different
means of revenge against Seamus, if they took any at all, and then it was
extremely unlikely Harry would ever see him punished.

�� He needed this. But as long as he kept it
secret, it was like he didn�t need it, and so no one could know about it and
try to take it away from him.

�� I�m
feeling better,� he said, in answer to Ron�s silent question, staring at the
ground for a moment and tracing a foot over it. Wind whipped past his head, and
he shivered. It always felt colder on the ground than it did in the air, but in
the air, he had the speed to think about. �I�ve decided that I can�t change it
and McGonagall was only ever going to give a month�s detention to Seamus
anyway, so�� He exhaled hard. �So why spend so much time worrying about it?�

�� Ron flung
his arms around him almost hard enough to knock him off the broom. Harry
grunted, then hugged him back and tried to ignore the small feeling of guilt. I have Ron and Hermione as friends and Snape
to help me plan revenge. Those are different things. I don�t have to feel like
Snape�s replacing them.

�� And if he
sometimes felt like having secrets from his friends made him more evil, more
Slytherin, so what? He was sure everyone felt like that sometimes.

�� Yeah, but it�s not everyone the Hat wanted
to put in Slytherin, and not everyone who speaks Parseltongue.

�� Harry
pushed the thought away, and listened to Ron�s happy chatter instead. It was so
much easier.

*

�� Severus
narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at the thick purple liquid in the cauldron,
which by this time had cooled into a useless mass. He prodded it with a ladle
and sneered. Yes, it was gelatinous and nothing else. It might accomplish its
purpose if they� could convince Finnigan
to swallow it, but Severus didn�t think the boy would be enthusiastic about it
if he saw it quivering on his plate.

�� He Vanished
the mess to the bottom of the lake. The giant squid took some pleasure in
feeding on the remains of Severus�s ill-fated potions. If they sometimes made
its tentacles lengthen or its skin pulse with odd and glowing colors, that was
no matter; Severus enjoyed the ability to observe the potions� effects from a
safe distance, and the squid never disdained another meal.

�� He turned
to glance at the shelves near him and choose the potion that he should
introduce Potter and Draco to tomorrow. He had hoped to create a new one in the
week he had chosen, but he had never been particularly skilled in working to a
deadline; he had to have time to work on the brewing in the privacy of his own
head and test the probable results against the vast array of his memorized
knowledge, if he could not have the chance to experiment in his cauldrons. What
seemed to his enemies like sudden bursts of genius came, in truth, from long,
silent weeks of work.

�� Of course,
Severus was careful never to discourage the impressions that formed the other
way. Being thought a genius had many pleasant repercussions.

�� At last he
picked up a small silver vial and elevated it to his eye level, smiling grimly.
The green liquid inside gurgled once, like a frog inflating its throat, and
then settled.

�� Not such a bad choice after all.

�� He turned
his mind then towards the way he would manage the meeting between Potter and
Malfoy when they arrived in the office tomorrow. He would have to be careful,
or his hobby would self-destruct before it truly began to function, ruined by
Draco�s aggressive interest and Potter�s defensiveness.

�� Still, he
had done harder things before. His fingers wandered down to his right arm and
the long scar that curved there, opposite the Dark Mark.

�� At some point I shall need to repay Lucius
for that little adventure.

�� This may be a way to start.

�� Severus was
pleased. The more he thought about the situation with Potter and Draco from all
angles, the more purposes it appeared to accomplish.

*

�� Draco
watched Potter with concerned eyes as he came down from Dumbledore�s office,
his face white with shock. He had been the one to discover the Finch-Fletchley
boy and the Gryffindor ghost�what was his name? Some stupid nickname referring
to his hanging head that Draco never bothered to remember�paralyzed after the
Chamber of Secrets was opened. Already people were spreading the rumor that
Potter was the Heir of Slytherin.

�� Draco
wanted to punch them for being so stupid. (At least Gregory and Vincent didn�t
say things like that, because Draco had ordered them not to). Did anyone really
think that someone with that open a face could be a liar?

�� Of
course,� squealed Daphne Greengrass when Draco brought it up in the Slytherin
common room that night. �It just means that he�s a really good liar.� Her eyes sparkled in a way that made Draco think
she would rather enjoy being cornered by Potter in a dark corridor and lied to.

�� He�s not
that good,� Blaise disagreed, leaning back in his chair and yawning
elaborately. He would someday be a master at deception, Draco thought, but for
right now, he used the yawn too often. He needed other ways to mask his
emotions, like the ones Lucius was suggesting in his letters to Draco. �If he
were, he would have arranged to be far away from the scenes of the attacks, so
someone else could find them.�

�� But if he
were behind them,� Pansy said, and folded her hands together in a way that she
assumed made her look mature and grown-up, and which really really didn�t, in Draco�s opinion, �then of course he
couldn�t get far away before they were discovered.�

�� A good
liar would find a way around that,� Blaise said inarguably. �A powerful wizard
could.� He paused. �The Dark Lord would.�

�� As always,
the mere mention of the Dark Lord produced a delicious silence in the common
room. Draco looked around. He knew that some people were shivering with genuine
fear and others with the thrill that Draco himself got when he contemplated the
drop from the Astronomy
Tower, but he hadn�t
learned to tell which was which, yet.

�� So is the
Dark Lord Slytherin�s heir?� Daphne asked.

�� He is?�
Vincent glanced up from where he was struggling with his Charms homework.

�� No, he�s
not,� Draco said authoritatively, and Vincent grunted and went back to his
work.

�� How do you
know?� Blaise sneered at him. �No one really knows who it is.�

�� We�ve just
been suggesting Potter,� said Draco. �And it�s true that he did find the
Petrified people each time.� His stomach squirmed uncomfortably, which he told
himself was ridiculous. He and Potter weren�t friends yet. He was sure Potter had no trouble talking all sorts of rubbish
about him. I can feel guilty after
tomorrow, he thought, and plowed on. �He�s just as likely a candidate as
the Dark Lord.�

�� But the
Dark Lord wants all the Mudbloods dead.� Pansy had her arms wrapped around
herself. Her eyes glowed, and suddenly Draco was sure she was someone for whom
the thrill of the Dark Lord�s name was wonderful. �He probably has something to
do with this. Reaching out beyond the grave, to command the monster!�

�� A profound
stillness enveloped the room for a moment. Draco sat back, looking absently
over Pansy�s head, because a new perspective had come to him.

�� If I�m Potter�s friend, am I the Dark Lord�s
enemy?

�� What are
you thinking about, Draco?� It was Blaise, his eyes bright.

�� Draco
snapped back to reality and shook his head. �Just that it seems awfully
coincidental for Potter to always be first on the scene,� he drawled. �And that
I�m tired�of puzzles I can�t solve, and in general. I�m going to bed.�

�� It was a
weak bit of wordplay, but it earned him a chorus of �Good night, Draco� from
most of them and grunts from Gregory and Vincent. Draco went to get ready for
bed, the new thought following him and taunting him.

�� It�s not as though I have to make a decision
right now, he finally thought, as he slid into bed and pulled the covers
around him. I don�t even know if Potter
will accept me.

�� But the
possibility that he might caused, finally, a thrill for Draco that the Dark
Lord�s name could never produce.

*

�� Enter.�

�� Harry still
hesitated before he pushed open the door to Snape�s office, because he had no
idea what would really happen here. Would Snape tell him that the experimental
potions still needed to be worked on? Would he offer to demonstrate the potions
on Harry? Would�

�� Harry took
a deep breath and assumed as stoic a demeanor as he could when he stepped into
the room. After all, stoicism seemed to be what Snape preferred from him. Harry
doubted that he would have spoken as seriously as he had last time if Harry had
been whinging and sniffling like a baby.

�� Snape stood
on one side of an immense table that Harry hadn�t seen in the office before,
with a wire cage in the middle of it. A white rat scrabbled in the middle of
the cage, tapping its paws against the sides and raising its nose as if it
could sniff a way out through the ceiling. Snape had a silver vial in his hand
and absolutely no expression at all on his face.

�� And beside
him stood Malfoy.

�� Before he
had made a conscious decision to do it, Harry was running for the door. Hot
tears burned and stung his eyes, but he had no intention of letting them fall
until he was alone. He knew it.
Snape�s offer was too good to be
true, and now he would humiliate Harry in front of bloody Draco Malfoy.

�� Why do I ever trust anybody but Ron and
Hermione? he thought, his chest aching with rage. Why do I ever trust an adult? All they ever do is hurt me and betray me
and lie to me�

�� And then
the office door slammed in front of him, and Harry realized he had been
anticipated. He halted. Over his rushing, angry breaths, he could hear the
clear click of a locking spell.

�� The rage
raced through him again, but this time, it left a hollow behind. He felt almost
calm, though it was a fragile, straining sort of calm, the kind he had when he
realized he couldn�t escape a beating by Dudley and that Dudley
would be praised by his parents later for �helping keep the freak under
control.�

�� He turned
around and lifted his head, folding his arms. They could try to humiliate him,
but at least he�d face them down and lessen the pleasure they�d get from it.

*

�� Severus had
locked the door without thought; Potter was not bound by the Secrecy Spell as
Draco was, and Severus did not want him spreading word of what they had
intended to happen here if he had changed his mind.

�� But he
realized, when Potter turned around and gave them the best version of the
blank, indifferent face he could muster after a week of going without, that he
had misjudged the situation.

�� Severus had
thought it best that the boys come upon each other without warning, so that he
could see a natural, unpremeditated reaction and know how great the enmity
between them really was on Potter�s side. But, of course, Potter was
intelligent enough to realize that Draco�s presence here meant he would have had some kind of
forewarning. They were not equals after all. Potter was too used to this
situation, after Severus�s favoring of his Snakes in class. So he built a tight
wall of uncaring and tried to convince them both that they were on the other side
of it.

�� He would
need to work to make things up to Potter, but at the moment, he resented that
less than he might have. It was his own fault.

�� Draco took
an impetuous step in Potter�s direction, but Severus put a hand on his shoulder
and held him still. Draco shivered under his touch like a restive horse. Still,
he understood a moment later, to judge from the reluctant jerk of his head.
When Severus moved towards Potter, he remained behind.

�� Tell me
your thoughts, Potter,� he said, gently enough, deliberately choosing a normal
walk that did not sweep his robes behind him instead of the glide he usually
affected. The point now was to gain Potter�s trust rather than to put him off.
�Why have you thus retreated? Why do you believe Draco is here?�

�� To watch
my humiliation,� Potter said, and he had crushed the emotion flat in his voice.
Severus checked a sigh. Was his good work of the other week to be undone so
quickly?

�� Of course it may have been. Potter�s
wariness will be heightened by the new gossip that declares he must be the Heir
of Slytherin and stalking his classmates. The situation has changed yet again.
I must keep its dynamics in mind.

�� I have no
intention of humiliating you.�

�� Potter
stared at him with an extraordinarily cynical look for a twelve-year-old;
Severus did not believe Theodore Nott could have managed so well. �Course you don�t,� he said, and then
stood there, breathing as deeply as someone trying to control his fear of his
own execution.

�� Severus
regarded him contemplatively. It is no
longer a mystery why he did not press Minerva and Albus for more punishment of
the Finnigan boy. He has never learned to trust adults.

�� That is not the normal reaction of a
Muggleborn.

�� Still,
referring to that particular puzzle at the moment would only be a way to do
what the boy feared, so Severus laid it aside, and said, �What I say now is
true. Draco is bound by a Secrecy Spell. Should he try to confess what happens
here to anyone outside this room, whether by speech or writing, he will go mad.�
It could not hurt a little to exaggerate the effects of the spell. Even if
Granger looked it up and conveyed the pure truth to Potter, the boy could not
say he had lied.

�� Potter�s
face didn�t change. �It�s bad enough with an audience of two,� he said. �And
it�s worse�� He quickly cut off his confession of weakness, which Severus could
not but approve of. �Go ahead, sir. I�m ready.�

�� Severus
discovered the bad side of his hobby then. He could only subtly manipulate
Draco and Potter and watch in amusement as they danced when he truly understood their psychology. And
Potter�s deep separation from the world of authority was not adolescent
rebelliousness, as he had always assumed. It sprang from multiple bad
experiences.

�� No matter
his intentions and his skill, Severus could not overcome those scruples and
assume the place of the boy�s mentor figure in a week, especially with his
latest misstep.

�� He spared a
brief thought for what some of his old colleagues would say if they could see
him now, and then extended a hand to Potter. The boy stared at it without
expression, though his hands closed into fists, as if he imagined that Severus
was going to ask for his wand.

��

�� I give you
my word,� Severus said quietly, �that if anything happens to humiliate you tonight,
it will not be on purpose.� That was not as absolute a promise as someone like
Minerva would have made, but Severus�s first and hardest lesson had been not to
make promises he couldn�t keep. �Draco is here to help brew the potion, given
his skills, and because he has somewhat of an interest in this vengeance.�

�� What�s
that, then?� Potter had picked up the trick of sounding perfectly sullen from
the Weasley brat.

�� Should I--? Yes. I need a few moments to
think about handling Potter with more delicacy, and it is time for a test of
Draco�s mettle. Severus turned his head so that he was looking at the other
boy in the room, who had, so far, remained admirably silent. �Will you explain,
Draco?�

*

�� Potter�s
face darkened for the merest moment. Draco doubted Professor Snape would have
understood the meaning of that expression. He did.

�� He hears Professor Snape calling me by my
first name, really hears it, now. That suggests to him that I�m favored.

�� Draco kept
his voice as cool as possible. At the same time, he spoke without a hint of the
sneer that he knew would just make Potter more upset. �I want to see what the
potion does to Finnigan, and I�ll like it better if I can have a part in making
it.�

�� Then hurt
someone else.� Potter was all coiled tightness, like a dragon defending its
eggs. Draco felt a shiver of admiration move through him. Potter made anger
look good, despite what Father was
always saying about it being one of the most dangerous as well as the ugliest
emotions on a human face. �You have no shortage of people you hate, I�d
assume.�

�� Does he think I�m going to use the potion
against him? Maybe he did think that, and Draco knew this wasn�t the right
time to explain that he wanted to see Potter insulted, not physically hurt.

�� Mostly, anyway, he amended, thinking of
the Quidditch game and the serpent he had conjured in the Dueling Club.

�� Finnigan
burned an Invisibility Cloak,� he said. �I didn�t know you had one of those,
Potter. How did Finnigan?�

�� Potter put
up his chin. It made him look absurd, but also defiant. �I don�t think he did.
I just think he found it and decided to burn it because he knew I must value it
if I had it tucked carefully in the bottom of my trunk.�

�� Still.�
Draco let the silence pause for a moment, insanely proud of himself. He was
handling people just like Father had always said to do. He saw Professor Snape
shift his weight, as if he disapproved, but Draco didn�t care, because he
hadn�t said anything. �An Invisibility Cloak is valuable wizarding property.
Vengeance is appropriate when something like that is destroyed.�

�� But it
wasn�t yours.� Potter still peered at him suspiciously from behind those
enormous glasses.

�� By a
half-blood�� Draco began incautiously.

�� I�m a half-blood.�

�� Stupid, Draco, stupid. As always, the
chiding voice in his head carried his father�s accents. Draco nodded a little
in acknowledgment of that, and then said, his words cutting his throat like
shards of broken glass, �I�I apologize. I didn�t really mean that.�

�� Yes, you
did.� Potter was withdrawing into himself again.

�� All right,
I did!� Draco snapped, losing his temper abruptly. �I�m trying to help you, you git, and I can see
Professor Snape�s experimental potions before anyone else does, and I can make
a Gryffindor squirm, even if it�s not you,
and I can have an adventure with you for once! Can�t you just accept the bloody
help and not ask me so many bloody questions?�

�� He winced
in the next instant, and not only because Professor Snape was giving him a
glare fit to cut diamond.

�� But, he saw
when he looked up, maybe losing his temper was the best thing he could have
done. Potter was staring at him with something more like honest curiosity than
Draco had ever seen on his face.

*

�� An adventure with you, for once.

�� It had never
occurred to Harry that Draco Malfoy might want to have an adventure with him.

�� But the
more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He couldn�t have much of a
good time with those lumpish friends of his, and the way he looked at Blaise
Zabini and Pansy Parkinson and Theo Nott in class made Harry think he wasn�t
great friends with them, either. What would
Malfoy do for fun when he wasn�t at Quidditch practice and had finished his
homework? Sit around and stare at the walls of the common room? Try to play
wizarding chess with Goyle and Crabbe, who probably needed to be constantly
reminded what directions the pieces moved in?

�� He was probably envious last year when he
heard about our adventure against Quirrell, especially when he doesn�t know the
whole truth. Remembering the Mirror of Erised and Voldemort�s face in the
back of Professor Quirrell�s head still caused Harry to shiver, but he knew
that a lot of people just had the impression that he and Ron and Hermione had
been out of bed after curfew and not punished for it. And then we earned so many House points for it. He probably wants that,
too.

�� Harry could
feel himself relaxing. If Malfoy was really bound by the Secrecy Spell, he
couldn�t talk about it anyway. And if he wasn�t�Harry
wanted to laugh. He didn�t know what he�d been so worried about. Everyone
already whispered about him because he was (unfortunately) a Parselmouth and
(supposedly) the Heir of Slytherin. Would they even pay attention to a rumor of
his humiliation? Or would he notice it in the general whispering?

�� Yes, I can accept his bloody help. I
understand his motives, now.

�� All right,
Malfoy,� Harry said, and then ignored him entirely and turned to Snape. �What
does the potion do, sir?�

�� Snape
stared at him with eyes so sharp Harry was sure he was going to receive a
reprimand for fighting with Malfoy, but then he seemed to decide against it. He
was probably eager to show off his nasty potion, Harry thought, as he moved
towards the table and the cage with the rat in it.

�� On the
rat,� Snape said, his voice taking on dry, lecturing tones, �the potion has an
immediate and concentrated effect. Of course the doses that we gave Finnigan
would be in much smaller proportions, and would take some time to show the
results. In other ways, too, the potion must be modified, so that it does not
simply poison Mr. Finnigan.� His voice became soft and mocking. �Such a
horrible fate that would be, one which he surely does not deserve.�

�� Malfoy
crowded up beside Harry, his eyes bright with excitement. Harry shot him a
glance. He wanted to see the horrid potion demonstrated, of course.

��

�� Well, there
was a dark pleasure coiling around Harry�s spine, too. But he wasn�t about to
admit that to anyone. He looked back at the rat as Snape shot a sudden, expert
hand into the cage, squeezed its jaws open, and poured the contents of the vial
down its throat.

�� The rat,
released, hopped backwards, squeaking, and then proceeded to sniff its way
cautiously around the cage again. Harry had to admit the potion was boring so
far.

�� Then the
rat began to shiver, and its mouth abruptly dropped open.

�� The potion
causes a progressive loss of control,� Snape murmured, his voice so deep that
Harry could almost let it become background noise. �In the most embarrassing ways
possible for a human, of course, if not an animal.�

�� A thin line
of saliva began to roll from the rat�s mouth.

�� Finnigan
will drool into his breakfast.�

�� The rat
rolled to one side, convulsing. Its tail lifted, and dark gobs began to fall on
the table.

�� And, at
times,� said Snape, his voice running now under Malfoy�s high giggles, �give
vent to other things.�

�� Harsh
squeaking noises came from the rat�s mouth.

�� At the
most inconvenient moments,� Snape murmured, �he will babble his thoughts and not
be able to stop himself. He must beware of the malicious thoughts that might,
that must, cross his mind. Certainly
if he intends another plan like the one against you, Potter, he will be caught
in instants.�

�� The rat�s
hind legs kicked out and then came together again, as if it were swimming
through tar.

�� Involuntary
movements and loss of motor control are the final stage,� Snape said in a
detached tone that reminded Harry of the Muggle physicians he�d seen on the
telly. �I do not know if we will permit the potion to go that far. It would be
rather noticeable, and it might interfere with my own class in non-amusing
ways.�

�� He turned
towards Harry, resting one elbow on the table. �Well, Potter? Is this vengeance
too Slytherin for you?�

�� Harry was
silent for long moments, struggling with himself. As the moments passed,
Snape�s face became more neutral and Malfoy�s drooped. Harry licked his lips
and looked at the rat again, which had got slowly back to its feet, shivering.

�� I think it
is,� he said in a low voice.

�� Snape�s
mouth tightened. Malfoy gaped at him.

�� But I want
to use it anyway,� Harry finished, his hand clenching on the edge of the table,
his mind filling with images of the photographs of his parents withering and
crisping in the flames whilst the people in them cowered away to the edges of
the pictures. He hadn�t seen that happening, but he was sure it had. He looked
up at Snape. �When can we start?�

*

�� Severus
kept a thoughtful eye on Potter as he made a list of different concentrations
of various ingredients and Draco prepared them on the table, from which the
rat�s cage had been removed. Potter, on his strict instructions, was doing
nothing more involved than passing leaves and petals, powders and liquids, to
Draco on his request.

�� He is an interesting puzzle�more interesting
than I had supposed.

�� Already he
had a source of courage that Severus did not think was typical for Gryffindors,
that of being able to face up to and acknowledge the darker parts of himself,
and then use them anyway. Severus would have expected that Potter would either
refuse this particular potion or wear an expression of tormented guilt even as
he watched Severus and Draco enter the modification process. Instead, though
his eyes were over-bright, he had said nothing more about it after that pair of
extremely self-revealing statements.

�� And then
there were the other statements he had made.

�� It�s bad enough with an audience of two.

�� And it�s worse when they already hate me.

�� Severus was
sure that would have been the next sentence.

�� He would
have said, if he had heard the story at second hand, that Potter was
complaining about nothing, that he could have had little experience with true
humiliation in his life. But his sight of the occurrence had conveyed, as no
narrator could be trusted to, the flush of the boy�s cheeks and the ancient
sting in his voice. Yes, he knew what he was talking about, and the mere last
month was not sufficient to have taught him.

�� The Muggles.

�� Severus did
have some memories of Lily�s sister Petunia. She would have had the raising of
the boy. And of course she had failed at it, as she had always failed to deal
well with things associated with magic.

�� Severus was
interested in the Muggles and their doings, because they made Potter more
complicated than he would have reckoned. Perhaps he would study them in time,
but for now he was content to pick up on the clues that he had detected in
Potter�s face and voice. It made them more interesting when he did not know
every single truth right away.

�� And Draco�

�� Severus was
attentive, as Potter assuredly was not�and Draco himself could not be�to the
sidelong glances Draco gave the other boy as he passed him vials and packets
and pouches. The glances were small, but constant, and there was a softening
around his cheeks, as if they had suddenly reacquired some of their baby fat. After
seventeen surreptitious minutes of study, Severus concluded the softening was
occasioned by the dropping of lines of tension that Draco had constantly
carried about.

�� This association with Potter will be good
for Draco. He gets what he has wanted, whilst seeing, perhaps, that he must
fight to earn and keep it.

�� The boys
had begun to talk to each other, cautious on both sides. Mostly, Potter was
asking for pure information about the ingredients, and Draco was providing it.
Potter showed wariness; Draco strove to keep his emotion out of his voice.

�� Wary they must be of each other for now, Severus
thought, but it will work out. I will
make it so.

�� He pondered
the strength of his desire for a moment, but realized after some careful
consideration that it was akin to his interest in Potions brewing. A hobby that
made his life more amusing was of considerable value. Of course he wanted to
smooth out difficulties that might arise, in this case the year and a half of
hostility between the two boys.

�� I need them both to make each other more
amusing. They are inherently reactive.

�� And,
feeling he had given all the thought he could to that matter for the moment,
Severus put it out of his head and began to consider the properties of other
reactive substances.

*

�� He had
forgotten about it.

�� Somehow, he
had forgotten.

�� And now Ron
and Hermione were standing in front of him expectantly, and Harry found that he
had a decision to make.

�� Harry?�
Hermione prompted him when he paused. �The Polyjuice is ready now. I have a plan to get the hair we need from Crabbe and
Goyle, so you can pretend to be them and visit the Slytherin common room for an
hour.� She smugly held up a dark hair in her hand. �And I have a hair from
Millicent Bulstrode so I can go along, too. I got it off her at the Dueling
Club.�

�� Come on, mate.� Ron was dancing up and down
in place, an unholy glee suffusing his face. �Wouldn�t it give Malfoy a nasty start
if he knew what we were planning?�

�� Harry
swallowed and leaned his head into his hands for a moment. On the one hand,
Malfoy was still their best candidate for Heir of Slytherin. His father was a
school governor, and, thanks to Mr. Weasley, they knew Lucius Malfoy was
involved with Dark artifacts. And Harry knew,
now, in case he needed a reminder, that Malfoy still thought in terms of
pure-bloods versus everyone else.

�� But at the
same time, he didn�t think Malfoy was capable of being the Heir of Slytherin
and still lying convincingly to Snape,
of all people. And Harry didn�t think Snape would countenance the entire Heir
of Slytherin business. He seemed to be too joyously involved in the preparation
of the potion for Seamus, which Harry had met with him and Malfoy two more
times to work on.

�� He likes his evil subtle, not obvious, Harry
thought suddenly, knowing it was true. And
the Heir of Slytherin business is too bloody obvious by half.

�� So he knew
they didn�t need to investigate Malfoy like they�d had to. But he didn�t know
how to explain that to Ron and Hermione, since he couldn�t tell them about what
had convinced him they didn�t need to investigate.

�� Mate?� Ron
had a hand on his shoulder now. �You all right?�

�� We could still do it. Hermione�s an expert
brewer, and Snape hasn�t noticed those ingredients missing from his stores.
Malfoy would never know.

�� Harry
thought of the way Malfoy had talked to him like an actual human being the last
time they were together, the way his mouth tugged towards a smile when he
thought Harry wasn�t watching.

�� But I would.

�� I don�t
want to do it,� Harry said abruptly, sitting up and back.

�� His best
friends stared at him with expressions of astonishment on their faces. Harry
felt the familiar squirming of guilt in his stomach. They�d never understand. They wouldn�t understand me wanting to use
that potion, either. It�s a little sick.

�� But he felt
more than a little sick when he
thought of way Seamus had destroyed his things. On the other hand, he�d
pretended to be over that for a week now.

�� Why not?�
Hermione demanded.

�� Harry took
a deep breath, and released it in a lie. �You know all those detentions Snape�s
been giving me lately?� They nodded, and he rushed on, before he could lose the
thread of inspiration. �He was muttering something about boomslang skin being
missing last time. He also said something about tracking spells.�

�� Hermione�s
face turned a sickly yellow. �He could figure
it out if he had tracking spells on the ingredients themselves and not just
their shelves,� she said. �It�s delicate, but he could manage it. He�s a
Potions master. And there�s still some left. Oh, no!� she wailed, and rushed
out of the room, heading, Harry was certain, towards the bathroom on the second
floor.

�� Ron sat down
in the middle of the couch and sighed heavily. �Well, that�s some of the
excitement of the hols shot,� he groused. �What are we going to do now?�

�� Harry
smiled at him. �Go flying?� he suggested.

�� Ron shot to
his feet and out the door, heading for the school pitch and the brooms that
were kept there. Harry looked around out of habit for his Nimbus before he
remembered.

�� You can still fly, though, he told
himself, and ran after Ron, determined to be only a Gryffindor and a schoolboy
for at least one afternoon.

*

��

�� Jennie: The
way Harry is being helped might be a bit dark at the moment, but it will
brighten as more feelings grow between the characters.

�� MewMew2:
Thanks. I don�t know if I�ve ever seen an AU starting after the Parseltongue incident,
either.

�� Lunatic
with a hero complex: Thank you so much! In general, I don�t think I write
children well, which is one reason I haven�t ventured on a Hogwarts era fic before. I�m hoping this will work.

�� Ron and
Draco, I�m hoping, will have the chance to shine more now that the story isn�t
just from Harry�s perspective.

�� Dezra: Just being close to Harry is enough for Draco right
now.

�� And thanks.
A few people had problems with Harry�s apathetic defense, but I think it�s
natural for someone who has intense distrust of most of the people around him
and doesn�t want to be hurt again.

�� linagabriev: Harry is less impulsive here because the
situation has hurt him so badly. He�s really trying anything he can to avoid
getting hurt again.

�� Snape will
pry more into Harry�s past as the story goes on, though at first only for his
own amusement.

�� Thrnbrooke: Thank you!
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Inter Vivos