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The End Shall Come, And We Will Dance Forever	By : makochan0217 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6654 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Disclaimers: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, and Warner Bros. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

Chapter List
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Title: The End Shall Come and We Will Dance Forever

Author: Makoto Sagara

Series: Harry Potter

Archive: fanfiction.net, afallenangel.net/makotosagara/, mediaminer.org, Foreverfandom.net, makochanupdates.livejournal.com; anywhere else, please ask

Category: Angst, Drama

Pairings: Unknown

Warnings: Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP
Disclaimers: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, and Warner Bros. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?
A/N: I read some very, very awesome HP fics recently and I just couldn’t help to fight with this thing again. So, yeah…. I think it’s going to become my new favorite thing to work on for a while. Enjoy, yeah, because the muses are having fun with the Bretons involved in this fic. >> I worry.

Chapter Three – From Where I’m Standing

Draco hadn’t really had much opportunity to ever speak to Dumbledore alone before this very strange meeting. Usually, all of his disciplinary concerns had been handled by Snape, but Slughorn was now Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House. He’d never met the man and didn’t feel as if he could confide anything to him. Besides, if he was to get out of the very dangerous situation he found himself currently in, the Headmaster was Draco’s only hope.

In fact, this was the first time that Draco had even been in the Headmaster’s office. While he tried to find the words to speak to the older man, he took in his surroundings. There were many silvery, moving contraptions of dubious nature, a perch where his infamous phoenix sat, bookshelves that covered walls and were stuffed with books and the contraptions, the Sorting Hat, and behind the man’s desk, mounted on the one spot of the walls not covered with a portrait of a former Headmaster or Headmistress, was the famous Sword of Gryffindor. The overall feel of the room made the Slytherin extremely uncomfortable, even disregarding the roaring fire and the Headmaster’s warm smile and twinkling eyes.

“Sir,” Draco started uncomfortably, inwardly cursing the fact that he couldn’t find his words easily. “I understand that you have no reason to trust me right now.”

“Mr. Malfoy, I am unaware that I should have any reason to distrust you,” Dumbledore said, his voice that kind, grandfatherly tone that usually set Draco’s teeth on edge. “Is there some reason that I should?”

“You know who my father is, Headmaster.”

“Of course, I do. I remember Lucius very well when he was a student here, in fact.” Dumbledore leaned forward and pressed the bowl of yellow candies on his desk in the younger man’s direction. “However, I also am aware that one’s parents don’t necessarily make for accurate descriptions of their children.”

“Yes, I suppose so. I’ve heard about your father, Percival.”

Dumbledore’s face scrunched up into a brief frown. “Yes, that was a very unfortunate circumstance. But, I do believe we were discussing why I shouldn’t trust you, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Please call me by my first name, Sir.” Draco sighed quietly, part of him relieved that the distraction had been so quickly rebuffed. “I hadn’t said that you shouldn’t, Sir. I only mentioned that you’d be disinclined to do so because of my father and his associations.”

“Well, Draco, as I was saying before, you are not your father. However, judging from past behaviour, I was under the impression that you might have shared his proclivities.”

“I… I’m not sure about that anymore, Headmaster.” Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “At this point in time, the Dark Lord, my aunt Bellatrix, and the other Death Eaters are currently in residence at one of my father’s houses. Not Malfoy Manor, but one of the country estates in Somerset.”

“I… I see.” Dumbledore’s blue eyes narrowed and his smile faded. “And why did you bring this information to me, Draco?”

“I didn’t know where else to go. As far as I know, Aunt Bella and Father are taking turns torturing my mother to get my compliance. The Dark Lord gave me the choice to either join his ranks or I could come here and spy.” The blond pushed up the left sleeve of his robe, showing flawless, pale skin. “I chose the latter, but I would rather not do that either.”

“And what do you hope to gain from telling me this, Mr. Malfoy? Protection? I can certainly give you that here, but I cannot say that I would be able to protect your mother.”

“Mother decided to stay with my father on her own,” Draco said with a sneer. “I am merely trying to make the best of a bad situation.”

“Self-preservation is what you are seeking then? It is one of the more laudable traits of your House.” The old man’s eyes slid shut and his fingers steepled in front of his mouth. “What would you like for me to do for you, Draco?”

“Headmaster, I would like the sanctuary of Hogwarts, if at all possible,” Draco said, surprised that such words flowed from his mouth effortlessly. “And I would like to help in any way that I can.”

“Well, you are still Prefect of your House, as there are no other members of your house that are seven years. There are very few six years as well, if I can recall correctly. We have put most seven years together for classes. I will have Professor Slughorn give you a schedule.” The older wizard looked at Draco, and the teenager felt as if he was examining the inner reaches of his soul. “I hope that there will be no trouble with the other Houses.”

“You mean, of course, the Gryffindors,” Draco snarled, contempt lacing his words now.

“No, Mr. Malfoy, you misunderstand. I meant with all the other Houses. Since Voldemort’s return,” Draco flinched at the name, “the other students have been very aggressive towards Slytherin students who speak out of line.” The blond nodded, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in. “Now, how often are you to report into Voldemort?”

“I am to give a weekly report, unless something unusual happens, and then I am to report immediately.”

“Of course.” Dumbledore stood and began to pace before his fireplace. “Do you have any specific instructions? Perhaps having to do with Muggle-born students or Harry Potter?”

“I’m supposed to behave as I would if this was a normal year, but I don’t see how that’s going to happen if there’s hardly anyone in my House to socialize with.”

“Yes, Slytherins aren’t really known for mingling with the other Houses… I don’t have to tell you that Quidditch matches have been cancelled this year. You’re an intelligent young man. Professor Swanly has replaced Professor McGonagall.” Draco noticed the look of pain on the old man’s face as he said that, but made no comment. “My suggestion is that you report to Professor Slughorn, you will find him in the Potions classroom, I don’t doubt, and speak with him regarding your class schedule. You will also have to speak to the other professors to get any classwork or homework that you have missed. You have all of your belongings, I take it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good, good.” The Headmaster stopped in front of the chair that Draco was sitting in and looked at him carefully. “I don’t wish to offend you, Draco, but I will have you watched.”

“I expected nothing less, Headmaster.”

“Well, I’m glad to see that you have returned, my boy. Please, report to Slughorn and enjoy the rest of the weekend.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Draco stood and Dumbledore moved so that the boy could leave his office. Before he left, the blond turned to stare at the Headmaster. “Sir?”

“Yes, Draco?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And feel free to come and speak to me if you have any difficulties.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

After his conversation with the Headmaster, Draco breezed through the halls of Hogwarts as he had the previous six years, ignoring all the hostile glares and whispers of the other students. He made his way to the dungeons and knocked on the familiar door to the Potions class, half expecting to hear Snape’s cold voice and saddened when he heard the happy tones of Slughorn. “Professor, the Headmaster told me to come to you.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Malfoy. The Headmaster told me that you had arrived and needed your schedule and other things,” Slughorn replied jovially, looking up from a pile of essays. “Please, come in, my boy.”

Draco carefully entered, warily watching the old man as he rooted through the piles of parchment on his desk. “Here, here it is.” He handed the blond the familiar schedule and another parchment with assignments hastily scrawled on it. “Those, of course, are the things that we have worked on in the last week. Review, as you can see, but necessary all the same. The practicals you can make up in your free time, as long as you clear them with me first. I’ll give you until the end of next weekend to have them done. Can’t give you special treatment, after all.”

“Thank you, Sir.” He glanced at the classwork and homework assignments quickly. There were two potions he had to brew that would take a few hours to make and hand in and an essay dealing with the usages of dragon’s blood. “Is the room for the seventh year boys available for usage?”

“Of course, Mr. Malfoy, although you will be the only one living there. None of your year mates returned.” Slughorn’s happy attitude died. “I’m sure that the Headmaster explained that all seventh year students will be sharing classes this year?”

“Yes, he did, Sir.”

“Good. Mr. Malfoy, I do hope that you know that you can come to me if you wish to talk about anything? I may not be as helpful as Professor Snape was, but that does not mean that I don’t care.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Draco answered carefully, eyeing the frowning man before him. “I will see you Monday afternoon then.”

“Good night, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco spent the next hour and a half speaking to his professors and getting assignments. He was lucky enough to be able to get cooperative staircases and to just miss Peeves the Poltergeist, who managed to get his grubby, ghostly hands on a group of Hufflepuff second years. After looking at all the assignment parchments he’d received, he decided to head to the library to see if there were any books that he could use for his Potions essay. And that was when he saw Potter talking to the Mudblood, Granger. They seemed to be arguing lowly, and then Potter stomped out.

Curious, Draco followed the black-haired boy through the halls to a supposedly empty classroom. He cast a Concealing charm on himself, listening to a conversation between the Boy-Who-Lived and the Weasel girl. He was surprised to see Loony Lovegood and one of the Patil twits coming down the hall and knock on the door. The female Weasley left with the other girls and before the door to the classroom shut completely, Draco slipped in. He watched the other boy as he rested his head on his arms on top of one of the desks. After a few minutes of just watching him, Draco shut the door, loudly, to get his attention and dropped the charm. And then, he was faced with the green eyes that stalked his dreams.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He was absolutely the last person Harry wanted to see when he was moping over Ginny and their lost relationship. Ferret Face had absolutely no clue about how to stay lost, did he? And yet, there he was. And somehow, Harry wasn’t nearly as annoyed as he should have been. That was, until he opened his mouth.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your entourage, Potter,” the blond drawled effortlessly. “Did you have a fight with your little friends?”

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Harry shot back.

“Tsk, tsk, such language; if only Professor McGonagall were here to take off House points.” Before Harry knew what he was doing, he’d jumped from his chair and was punching Draco, yelling wordlessly. He could feel the other boy’s nose crunch under his fist and the sob of pain before he let up. His hand was covered in crimson liquid, and the other boy’s face was already starting to bruise. “Get off!”

Harry felt his anger simmer down as he watched as the blood poured from Malfoy’s nose and lips. It was then that he realized that he was panting as if he’d been running a marathon and he could feel cool sweat slide down the back of his shirt.

The other boy brought out his wand, but Harry had his out before. “Don’t even try it, Malfoy,” he snarled, his anger rising back and a Stunning spell on his tongue to be used if there was any movement from the other boy.

“Ugh, stupid Gryffindor, I have to repair my nose,” the blond said, tapping his wand against his squashed nose and swollen lips. The sound of bones realigning made both boys cringe. “What is your problem?”

“Don’t you dare talk about McGonagall like that, you bloody prat!”

“Well, I am bloody now, thanks to you,” Malfoy snarled, casting a Cleaning Charm to get rid of the red staining his face and clothing. “And, I apologize.”

Harry blinked, not sure that he could trust what his ears just heard. “What?”

“I forgot that she died at the end of last year,” the blond said quietly.

“She didn’t die, Malfoy. Snape murdered her, in front of me!” His rival turned his face away, a flush creeping up his neck. “Not that I expect you to care.”

“Potter, believe it or not, I didn’t hate that woman. She was a good teacher.”

“Whatever,” Harry spat out, standing and moving as far from the other boy as he could, keeping a close watch over his wand hand, and keeping his own at the ready. “Why are you here?”

“The last time I checked, Hogwarts was my school as well, unless you’ve forgotten.”

“Why are you here?” Harry asked again, rubbing his hand against his dark robes to get some of Malfoy’s blood off of the knuckles. “Why are you still here?”

“I don’t know,” Malfoy answered, standing gracefully as he kept his steely eyes locked on Harry’s face. The bruising had disappeared, but his nose and mouth looked unnaturally pink and tight, making his already angular face look even sharper. ‘When did I notice that?’ He lifted pale hands to brush his hair back into place and out of his eyes when the sleeves of his robes fell away, revealing the unmarked skin that had rested underneath.

Harry’s eyes widened as he took that information in, and, before he could stop himself, he gasped. The other boy glared at him, his jaw clenching. “What?” he said darkly.

“N-nothing,” Harry said quickly, his wand slipping in his loosened grip. ‘What the hell am I doing?’

“HARRY! Where are you?!” Ron’s voice, followed by Hermione’s plea of “I’m sorry, Harry. Please come back,” brought him back from the odd world that had only existed between himself and Malfoy since the door had shut.

“I suppose I should go out there,” Harry said guiltily, to which Malfoy only raised one pale eyebrow and smirked haughtily. “Whatever. Just… stay away from me, Malfoy.”

“It was elucidating to speak to you as well, Potter,” was the other boy’s reply. Harry stomped to the door and wrenched it open. In his haste to get away, he nearly missed the rest of the Slytherin’s comment. “I’ll see you later, Harry.”

TBC
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The End Shall Come, And We Will Dance Forever