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Dirty Magic	By : arianbrightside Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 5605 -:- 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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter Seven

Where Do I Put The Hate?

On Saturday, Ginny broke up with Harry. It was a rather forgettable affair, but the one feeling Harry took from it was that he felt as if he had been cast adrift.

He wasn't sad to have broken up with Ginny, not in the traditional sense, where there'd be much wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth, but in the sense that he had no idea what would happen next. With Ginny, at least he had some sort of security. Now he was adrift in a world that was rapidly turning to chaos.

It happened in a most unremarkable way, as well.

After a late breakfast, Ginny invited Harry to take a walk with her. They were strolling through the gardens in the fresh snow, when Ginny turned to Harry and said "I think we should break up."

Harry turned to look at her. "Oh." It was impossible to miss the tone of indifference in his voice.

Ginny, however, plowed on, giving Harry the distinct feeling that she'd rehearsed the conversation, and had expected more participation from him at that point.

"Because I think that you seem distracted lately, and as much as I love you, I think it's best for the both of us if we end things. I know there are other things on your mind at the moment, more important things that I don't want to interfere with."

"Really?" Harry asked. "Well, okay."

Ginny gave him a strange look. "Is that all you've got to say about it?"

"Yeah." Harry said. "What else is there to say?"

"Nothing, I suppose." Ginny conceded. "I want to still be your friend, Harry. I don't want this to affect anything else that could happen."

"Of course you'll always be my friend, Ginny." Harry said. "As long as you're Ron's sister, you'll be my friend." He reached out and touched her face.

"I do love you, Harry." Ginny said, smiling. "Come on, let's go back inside. It's freezing out here and I hear Ron has some Butterbeer from Hogsmeade."

Once inside, Harry and Ginny headed towards Gryffindor Tower. Halfway there, though, Harry's thoughts were invaded once again.

::Did you do it?::

Harry looked around wildly, somewhat startling Ginny, before he worked out what was happening.

::Do what?::

::Dump the red head.::

::No. She did it, if you must know. And what's it to you anyway?::

Draco laughed inside Harry's head.

::What are you laughing at?::

::Some man. Couldn't even break up with the Weasel's sister.::

::Leave it alone, Malfoy.::

::What are you going to do if I don't? Dob me in? I took the blame for you last week, you know.::

::Didn't fool McGonagall:: Harry thought bitterly. ::She's onto us. You. She knows about this.::
::Did you tell her?::

::Of course not. She's not an idiot, Malfoy. Give her a little credit.::

::Credit where credit's due, Potter.::

::Oh will you get out of my HEAD!:: Harry thought viciously, and Malfoy's mocking voice fell silent.

"All right, Harry?" He heard Ginny asking from somewhere distant. He looked around for her, before realising that she was standing right next to him.

"Yeah. I'm fine." He said vaguely.

"Is your scar hurting? Do you want to go and see Dumbledore?"

"I said I was okay. Leave it alone, will you?"

"Fine." Ginny said, and they continued to the Gryffindor common room in silence.

Inside the common room, they were confronted by a scene of near chaos. Someone had smuggled a Golden Snitch into the common room, and everyone was leaping around trying to be the first to catch it.

Hermione was sitting in an armchair in the corner, scowling at everyone; evidently she was trying to study. Harry wasn't surprised by this in the slightest, though he did briefly wonder why she hadn't taken leave and gone to her dorm or the library.

He was thankful, however, that she hadn't. He fought his way through the chaos, and perched himself on the arm of the chair. "Do you still have that dusty book?"

"Why?" Hermione asked, discarding her homework immediately.

"I need to know more about this telepath business."

"Oh yes? What specifically?"

"Well, just now, I was coming along with Ginny, and I could hear Malfoy inside my head again. But I couldn't see him anywhere."

"Really?"

"Really. What's the range, you know, for telepathic contact? How close together do we have to be?"

"I'm not sure. I'd suggest in the same room, if not within reasonable earshot or eyeshot of one another."

"Where's the book?"

"In my dorm room. I'll go and get it." Hermione jumped up and ducked through the crowd and up the girls staircase. Harry watched after her and when he turned back to her seat, he found Ron in it, holding two bottles of Butterbeer.

"All right, Harry?" he asked, passing a bottle over.

Harry accepted the bottle and gave Ron a sidelong look. "Not really. Ginny and I broke up earlier."

Ron's face changed. Harry took a long draught from his bottle, trying to discern Ron's feelings. "Who broke up with who?" Ron asked.

"Ginny broke up with me." Harry said honestly.

"Why?" Harry could hear the suspicion in Ron's voice.

"She said that with everything that's going on, it would be better if I had less distractions."

"Did she?"

"Yes."

"Is she all right?" Ron asked. "Cause if you've done anything to hurt her..." He trailed off.

"She's good. Why don't you go and speak to her?" Harry said. He had looked around and could see Hermione hanging by the girls' stairs, waiting for Ron to leave.

"Yes. Think I will." He got up. "Don't feel too bad, Harry. I know you liked her." Ron smiled at Harry and made his way through the crowd to where Ginny was involved in a conversation with Neville Longbottom.

Then Hermione was sitting beside him again, and Harry was beginning to feel as if he was stuck on the wrong side of a revolving door.

"Honestly, you'd think they'd never seen a Snitch before." Hermione grumbled, flicking angrily through the book. Dust was billowing out of it.

"Most of them probably haven't." Harry pointed out. "I can barely see the Snitch at the best of times, and I'm the Seeker."

"Hmm. Fair point then. Where did they get the sodded thing anyway?"

"Quidditch store, probably."

She threw him an exasperated look. "Listen." She began reading.

"It is not necessary for a Telepath and his target to be in the same room as one another. Communication is possible as long as the communicants are within reasonable earshot or eyeshot of one another."

"What's reason-" Harry began.

"Reasonable earshot or eyeshot is defined as the distance wherein one could communicate with another by by speaking, or visially locate another without external factors influencing communication."

"External factors?" Harry asked, "like loud cheering or walls?"

"For instance," Hermione went on, "in a situation where normal verbal communication may be impossible, such as a loud Quidditch match, Telepathic communication is possible, so long as the Telepath is within reasonable eyeshot of his target. It is not necessary that they be making eye contact, it is enough that the Telepath can see, or potentially be able to see his target."

"So, if he can see me, but not hear me, he can Telepath me?" Harry asked.

"And if he can hear you but not see you, he can Telepath you." Hermione concluded.

"So he wouldn't be able to communicate with me from the Slytherin dungeons to here?"

"No." Hermione said. "But if he was hiding in a cupboard or something near you, he'd be able to, provided that verbal communication could normally take place between people located on either side of the door. If a Silencing Charm or an Imperturbable Charm has been placed on the door to prevent verbal communication, then he probably couldn't."

"Oh, spirits! Why me?" Harry said gloomily. "Why can't he just leave me alone?"

"I don't know Harry." Hermione reached out and grabbed his hand firmly. "But I don't think you should continue with this. He's not trustworthy and his motives have never been stellar. Whatever he's trying to do, he's not doing it for any noble or just reason."

"I know. But I'm kind of interested all the same. I'm curious about what he's capable of. And I'm on my own now. Ginny and I broke up this morning."

Hermione scowled. "That's no reason to continue with this. Think how hurt she'll be if you take up with Malfoy."

"I have no plans to take up with Malfoy. Besides, she dumped me."

Hermione gave Harry a pitying look.

"Harry." She slammed the book shut pointedly. "When a girl breaks up with a boy, especially if it's a boy, especially if it's a boy she really loves, and especially if she did it for the reasons she did it for, she doesn't want to see him take up with someone new immediately. Or ever, if we're being honest. There's a mourning period, Harry. The next few weeks are supposed to be the saddest of your life. She'll be expecting you to pine away for her, look sad and downtrodden whenever she's nearby, pick at your food and not eat properly, make a few attempts at getting her back, and generally let your grief at the break-up take over your life. It's an insult to a girl's feelings to not do at least two of these things."

"Why?"

"Because it reassures the girl that you really do love her. It's a matter of pride, Harry, that girls are able to have such an effect on boys." Hermione looked smug.

"I will never, ever understand women." His eyes flicked upwards for the briefest of moments.

Instinctively, he reached up and caught the Snitch.

____________________

On Sunday afternoon, an unexpected delivery arrived for Harry.

He was sitting on his bed, reading, when an elegant Eagle Owl swooped into his dorm and deposited a small, folded piece of parchment on his lap. It clicked it's beak once, and was gone, as suddenly as it arrived.

Harry picked up the piece of parchment and turned it over in his hands. He recognised the watermark on it as the Malfoy family coat of arms, and ran one finger over it thoughtfully.

He unfolded it cautiously

Potter,
Meet me in the Quidditch store in five minutes.

- Malfoy

He looked at the note, wondering what five minutes meant. It's awfully subjective, time, and one can never be sure that one's concept of five minutes is the same as another's.

There was no time to lose. He shoved the note into the pocket of his jeans, and tore out of the room and down the staircase. The Common Room was nearly empty save for a few first-years poring over their homework, and they barely batted an eyelid at the Boy-Who-Lived sprinting through the room. Harry flung the portrait hole open and leapt out, pelting through the castle towards the Quidditch pitch.

He wasn't quite sure why he was running, he couldn't explain the urgency he felt to get there within the five minutes. He had no idea how long it had taken the owl to deliver the note, and between Malfoy writing it and him reading it, several minutes could have passed. Malfoy had not included a threat or an ultimatum, but he knew that if he got there late, he'd miss out on whatever it was the Malfoy wanted to see him for.

When he reached the door to the Quidditch store, he stopped and fixed himself up. The cuffs of his pants were soaking wet from running through the snow, and he was cold, as he'd rather foolishly neglected to put a jacket on in his haste. His hair was going in every direction; he looked like a birch broom in a fit.

As he was frantically trying to flatten his hair, the door opened and a familiar voice said, "Give up, Potter. It's as uncontrollable as a wild Hippogriff."

It was Draco Malfoy.

"Well? Are you going to come in, or are you going to stand there like a shag on a rock?"

Harry blinked once, and entered the room. Draco had conjured some Bluebell Flames against the cold, and the room was accomodatingly warm. Immediately, he was on his guard. He knew Malfoy favoured comfort, especially if he was planning to stay somewhere for any length of time. Harry certainly didn't want a repeat of the Broom Cupboard Incident.

"Please, sit down." Draco offered, not unkindly.

"No, I'd rather stand, thankyou."

"Suit yourself." Malfoy perched himself upon the window ledge.

"Typical Malfoy. Always have to put yourself above everyone else."

Malfoy ignored this, and they were both silent for a moment. Then;

"I don't hate you, Potter."

"Really? You've done an excellent job of hiding it these seven years."

"Don't cheek me, Potter." Malfoy said dangerously. "I don't hate you."

"Yes, so you've said. Are you going to elaborate, or are we going to leave it there?"

"Stop interrupting me!" Draco's voice rose unnaturally. "I don't hate you. I never hated you. I strongly disliked you, from time to time, but I've never hated you. I've got some information that can help you. But I need you to trust me."

"Trust, Malfoy? That's a word I'm surprised you know."

"Shut UP!" Malfoy shouted, slamming his fist down onto the windowledge. "Do you want this information or not?"

"What's it about?" Harry asked, trying to discern Malfoy's motives.

"It's a book."

"A book?"

"Yes. I found it in my house. It belonged to Father."

"Oh, this is a convincing argument." Harry said mockingly.

"I'm trying to help you!" Malfoy exclaimed desperately.

"Are you on my side?" Harry asked.

"No. I'm not on anyone's side."

Harry gave him a blank look. "How can you not be on anyone's side?" he asked.

"Believe it or not, Harry, there are some of us more interested in self-preservation than any grand cause, noble or otherwise."

"Would I be right in assuming those people are Slytherins?" Harry said derisively.

"Some of us are. Some of us arent." Draco's face betrayed nothing.

"Why are you trying to help me?"

"Because I don't want to be a Death Eater."

Harry blinked in surprise. He hadn't been expecting that answer.

"Didn't expect that, did you?" Draco asked accusingly. "You thought that because I'm Lucius Malfoy's son, that being a Death Eater is predestined from birth, didn't you?"

Harry couldn't stop himself from nodding.

"Well, its NOT!" Draco leapt off the windowledge and started pacing up and down. "There were no Death Eaters in the family before my father. My father was the first. He remains the only, aside from one of my mother's sisters, and two of her cousins, one of whom is dead."

"Regulus Black." Harry murmured, wondering who the other cousin could be.

"We don't talk about him." Draco said. "My mother is not proud."

"Neither do we." Harry said, referring to himself and Sirius. That thought was accompanied by the familiar pang he got whenever he thought of his godfather. He was looking at Draco in a new way. For the first time, he fully appreciated the fact that Draco Malfoy was Sirius Black's cousin.

"You're like him, you know." Harry said quietly.

"Like who?" Draco was confused.

"Sirius Black."

"No, I'm not!" Draco shouted. "I'm not anything like him! What he did to your family was unforgivable, Potter, gaining their trust like that and then betraying them."

Harry realised then who the other cousin was, and found himself surprised at the new-found humanity coming from Malfoy.

"He didn't do it, Malfoy. He didn't betray them. Peter Pettigrew did. Sirius is innocent. He was never a Death Eater."

"Peter Pettigrew." Dracu mused. "Peter Pettigrew. Isn't he the one Sirius is supposed to have killed?"

"You might know him as Wormtail." Harry said.

Draco suddenly looked as if a light had come on in his head. "I know him. He was a friend of my father."

"I suppose a lot of unpleasant types are." Harry said.

Neither boy said anything. A long moment passed before Harry found his voice again.

"So. Tell me about this book."

The book, it transpired, was a Malfoy family heirloom. Draco didn't "find" it in his house so much as it had been passed on to him by Lucius before his disappearance. It had been passed through the generations to the oldest Malfoy boy, and was now in the sole possession of Draco.

"It's not very big." said Harry, turning the small book over.

"What were you expecting? Magical Phenomena and Human Traits?"

Harry smiled as he remembered Hermione's dusty book.

"No. It's just smaller than I expected it to be. What's it called?"

"The Serpens Codec."

"Which is what, exactly?"

"A guide to the Dark Arts, written by Godric Gryffindor."

"I don't understand." Harry said.

"Godric Gryffindor. Named Gryffindor House, was best friend to Salazar Slytherin until the Division, disapproved of the Chamber of Secret and Slytherin's pureblood obsession." Draco said slowly, as if Harry were the slowest person on Earth."

"Yes, I know all that." Harry said impatiently. "Why are you giving me this? How is it going to help?"

"Because it contains vital information about how the Heir of Slytherin operates. It was foretold in the days before the Division that the Heir of Slytherin would becom the most powerful Dark Lord in history. Godric Gryffindor, who was wary of what Slytherin was doing, wrote the Codec and entrusted it to a Custodian for safekeeping, so that eventually the information it contains could be used.

"But Slytherin found out about Gryffindor's betrayal, and had the custodian killed and the Codec stolen. He then entrusted it to a distant but direct relative of mine, Eridanus Malfoy, who willed it to his eldest son, who willed it to his eldest son, and on it went.

"Eridanus took an oath that the Malfoy family would keep it safe, prevent anyone who might want to stop the Heir from seeing the information it contains, and for generations we've been bound to the magic of that oath. However, I'm able to break that oath now and give you the book, because my father didn't die before I came to possess it. He willingly passed it to me, and I am able to now willingly pass it to you."

Harry had listened silently, taking all this information in. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Draco looked blank for a moment. "Take it to Dumbledore. Let him see it. He'll know what it is."

"And if you're lying?"

"If I was lying, would I do this?"

In a second, Draco had crossed the room to where Harry was standing, and gently placed his lips on Harry's. He slowly began to kiss Harry, and Harry's lips slid willingly into Draco's. He dropped the Codec wrapped his arms around Draco's waist, pulling him closer. Draco responded to this by thrusting upwards, pressing himself into Harry, and gripping the back of his head with one hand. They remained like this for several long moments, enjoying the taste of each other's mouths, the texture of each other's tongues, the delicious pressure of each other's hard bodies. Harry felt everything around him drop away, the room, the cold, the worry about Draco's motives, and gave himself entirely to the kiss. Just as he'd abandoned everything, he felt Draco ending the kiss, slowly pulling away.

Draco stepped back and gave Harry an appraising look.

"What was that?" Harry asked.

"Me not hating you." Draco replied, putting his cloak on and leaving the Quidditch store.
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Dirty Magic