Title: The Darkest Mercy
Author: tarklovishki
Beta: Slytherincess
Glomp For: ann7x
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: Being put in the Triwizard Tournament for the second time running, Harry finds out who his true friends are. With someone a lot closer to him than Voldemort out to kill him, Harry must rely on his Veela boyfriend, Draco, to save him.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Character death, time jumps.
Epilogue compliant? No
Word Count: 20k
Author's Notes: Thank you to my beta Slytherincess. You did an awesome job with this. Also, it's in 3 parts; directly from Serpentinelion's Glompfest section.
The Darkest Mercy
Chapter 1
The Great Hall was deathly silent; a pin could have dropped in the entrance hall, and everyone would have heard it as though it had landed right next to them. Not again, seemed to be the thought that ran through the heads of the Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. They already had a champion from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, and now they finally had their Hogwarts champion: Harry Potter. For a second time, Harry Potter was going to compete.
The problem was that, just like last time, Harry did not enter his name. He didn't want to compete; playing Champion in the Triwizard Tournament was enough for him the first time around. To go through it a second time … No, he couldn't do it. But when Headmistress McGonagall started to wave him up impatiently, he knew he had no choice. He was seventeen - old enough to compete - his name had been drawn, and that was that.
As Harry rose to his feet, his eyes sought out Draco at the Slytherin table. Draco looked as horrible as Harry felt. He was paler than usual, and his jaw had dropped in horror in a most un-Malfoyish manner. It was then that Harry knew he'd have some serious explaining to do when he caught up with Draco. He'd made a promise that he wouldn't enter his name, and to Draco, this would be a very serious issue, a breach in the trust of their relationship.
"You know where to go, Potter," said McGonagall. She didn't sound at all happy, but she didn't look angry either. In fact, she looked almost … ill. She waved him through the door that led toward the trophy room, a false smile touching her lips, which faded quickly.
Taking the slip of parchment, Harry looked down, and his heart leapt painfully in his chest. The slip of paper that held his name was from his Potions homework. His name had been ripped from his Potions homework!It was the homework assignment that was due next Friday, that he hadn't finished yet. Only another Gryffindor could have gotten this, because he hadn't taken the parchment out of Gryffindor Tower since he started working on it. But who would have done it? And, for once - just freaking once - couldn't Harry have a normal year at Hogwarts without someone trying to kill him? The whole "kill Harry Potter" shtick was getting old.
He remembered the words someone had spoken to him a few years ago about the Goblet of Fire. If the signature was made willingly by a person, they could be entered into the tournament. And when Harry had written his name down on his potions parchment, it had been willingly enough. Someone had entered him into the tournament the same way.
The Beauxbatons champion, Amélie Bessette had been born in the United States but came from a French background; she was the first French-American born into her family. The Durmstrang champion, Ivan Dimitrov, was pure Bulgarian. He was large and well-built, but had a very kind face. Both Amélie and Ivan greeted Harry with smiles and waves, which was a startling contrast to how the previous champions had acted at Harry's presence three years ago. Then again, he'd been the fourth champion back then. Harry waved back.
What weighed down his spirits was Draco. How would Draco react to having his mate thrown into danger yet again? Draco was half Veela; therefore, whatever pain Harry went through, Draco would experience, too. If Harry had his way, he wouldn't compete. He shouldn't be competing now. He'd thought that this time around he would curl up beside his boyfriend and put bets on which champion was going to win what task. It looked like his dream of a normal year at Hogwarts had gone down the tubes—again.
McGonagall came to see them, alongside Madame Maxime and the new Headmaster for Durmstrang, Volkanov. He was a rather refreshing change from Karkaroff, who always used to look as though he'd simply rolled in dung and hadn't bothered to take a shower. Volkanov looked to be fresh out of his twenties, and had a face that looked as though it were used to smiling, it was so bright.
After giving them a brief expectation of what was to come, and assuring them - Harry in particular—that almost no two tournaments were exactly the same. She let them go after that. And Harry, who had no idea whether he should feel happy or sick to his stomach that he was going to have to face something entirely different from the last time, went to find Draco. He need not have searched far.
Once he got out into the entrance hall, a hand shot out from behind one of the old statues posted near the doors and grabbed him by the sleeve of his robes and pulled him off to the side. Draco pressed Harry to the wall, and then stood back, watching Harry calmly, with only a hint of disappointment. Harry's heart plummeted with sadness.
"You promised," Draco whispered, shaking his head at Harry. His eyes were lightly rimmed with red, as though he'd shed a couple of tears. "How could you go back on your promise, Harry? I trusted you when you said you'd stay out of trouble this year. Now you go and pull this?" He kicked the ground lightly with the toe of his shoe, and looked everywhere else but at Harry. A choked gasp escaped him, and he quickly wiped his glistening eyes, before stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I can't believe you."
"Hey," said Harry, his own eyes smarting with tears. He pushed off the wall and cupped Draco's cheeks in his hands, wiping away the lingering tears in Draco's eyes with the pads of his thumbs. Draco closed his eyes at the touch. "Draco, I never entered the Tournament, I swear to you. Someone put my name in the Goblet of Fire again." Dropping his hands from Draco's face, he fumbled around in his pocket, extracting the parchment and handing it over to Draco. "Look. This was ripped from my Potions homework. Only a Gryffindor could have done it; ever since I got it, I left it in the Gryffindor Tower."
Draco frowned, looking down at the parchment, and then looked up at Harry in confusion. "But that means ..."
"Someone in Gryffindor has entered me in the tournament," said Harry grimly, nodding his head. "I don't understand why someone from Gryffindor would do this. I mean, what's the motive? If they wanted to surprise me with a normal year at Hogwarts, they were way off the mark, but … I can't believe that someone would put my name into the Goblet again."
"It couldn't have been a first year," said Draco, lost in thought. Harry's shoulders sagged with relief; at least he wouldn't have to worry about Draco not believing him now. Not when he was currently figuring out who else could have done this. "The enchantments around the Goblet have been restricted to fourth years and up. No one younger could have got through. So everyone from your room mates to the Gryffindors you only know by face are suspects."
Then, he cleared his throat, scrunched up the parchment into a tiny ball in his fist, and looked up to meet Harry's gaze fully.
"Now," he said, his tone full of authority and power. It was one of the things Harry accepted and had learned to love about him. Harry liked the way Draco bandied his power about. "I have several theories on how to go about this. To keep you alive, of course. The first thing you have to do, Harry … is come out to your friends about being gay, and about our relationship."
Out of all the things Harry had been expecting Draco to say, this was not one of them.
"What?" He was completely floored. "What does coming out to my friends have to do with anything? Telling them I'm gay and in a relationship with you isn't going to solve anything. They're either going to ask if I've been cursed, or kill me."
"Think about it, Harry!" Draco said, closing the distance between them and taking Harry's warm hands into his own. His eyes were shining brightly at having come up with a plan. "One of your friends could be behind this. They're going to get angry. They obviously wanted to enter you into this tournament to get you hurt. Your friends know that I'm smart - I'm the second smartest person in the school! They'll know I'll try to come up with something to save you! With any luck they'll become careless in how they go about getting rid of you, and then we'll know who the culprit is. We can take them to McGonagall, where they can be questioned with Veritaserum. It's logical, Harry!"
Draco looked so excited that Harry didn't have the heart to turn up his nose up at the plan, even if he wanted to. Draco was right. This was a completely logical plan that Harry himself wouldn't have been able to formulate. He probably would have muscled his way through the tournament with brawn and sheer dumb luck, and used whatever wits he had about him—wits that didn't even come close to the scary amount of knowledge that resided in Draco and Hermione's brains.
"Can we rule out one person?" Harry asked nervously, and Draco, peering curiously at Harry, nodded. "Hermione."
"Why her?" Draco asked. He didn't sound angry, just curious.
"Because she's been by my side since day one," said Harry with a shrug. "She's never turned her back on me, and I haven't turned my back on her. We've been close friends for years, and not once has she ever showed any signs of wanting me dead. Not even after the war. Besides, if Hermione did want me dead, she'd think of a better plan than this. Not to mention she'd know how not to leave evidence pointing to her."
"Okay." He seemed to grudgingly admit that Harry was right, and he crossed Hermione off the list of possible subjects he'd drawn in his mind. Then, he grinned. While Harry was glad to see it, he wondered why it made him feel uneasy all of a sudden, so he shot Draco a questioning glance. Draco continued, "I noticed that you haven't jumped to the Weasel's defence, Harry. You haven't told me that it can't have been him—or her," he added, apparently reminded that Ginny Weasley still attended Hogwarts.
"Well, as much as I want to say that they didn't do it, I can't," said Harry uneasily. While he didn't want to write off two of his closest friends as the ones who were possibly out to murder him, he wanted to be honest about his feelings to Draco. Besides, as much as it pained him to admit it, this was something he could see them doing. "But then I'd have to say that about the rest of my friends. They all knew how much I hated participating in the Tournament the first time around, it wouldn't take a genius to know how much I'd hate the second."
Ron and Ginny's names were suddenly underlined. This year, Draco would watch them carefully and do whatever he needed to do to keep his boyfriend alive.
Hearing the sounds of approaching feet from inside the Great Hall, Harry and Draco looked at each other, promising that they would finish the conversation later. With a tight hug and a quick kiss on the lips, they hurried off to their dormitories, just getting out of the entrance hall, just as the doors to the Great Hall opened and McGonagall stepped through.
. . . .
Harry decided that he would waste no time in telling Ron, Hermione and Ginny about his relationship with Draco. Truth be told they admitted they had suspected he was dating someone since around two months after the war had ended. Harry met Draco in the back of a coffee shop in Muggle London, and the two had started talking. A week after, Draco had found out that Harry was his mate, and their visits had become much more frequent. Around a month before they were set to return to Hogwarts, and three months after they first got to talking, Harry and Draco's relationship became sexual. And Harry'd kept it from his friends.
When he entered his dormitory, he wasn't surprised to see Ron, Hermione and Ginny waiting for him, the three of them sitting on Ron's bed. They must have told Seamus, Dean and Neville that they wanted privacy with Harry, because the room was otherwise empty.
"So," said Ron in a rather constricted tone. He looked as though he'd sucked on a lemon and was trying desperately to enjoy it. "Triwizard Champion again, huh?"
Oh, not this again,Harry thought angrily. If Ron was going to get jealous that Harry had been chosen again, then Harry would bloody well storm out of Gryffindor Tower and spend the night in the Slytherin common room with Draco. Pansy, Blaise and Goyle had been kind to Harry ever since Draco had decided to get them all together. They'd been shocked at first, but now they were all good friends who got the chance to take the mickey out of Draco once in a while.
"Yeah," said Harry, chuckling dryly. "It seems trouble has fallen in love with me." Trouble indeed,he thought, suddenly picturing Draco in his head, and smiled fondly. "Anyway, I didn't put my name in this time. Someone ripped my name off my Potions homework and stuck it in the Goblet."
He watched them carefully for any signs of nervousness, but they all looked genuinely shocked. Hermione got off the bed and ran over to Harry and threw her arms around him, promising that she would help him get through it again this time around, and Ron's lemon look slid right off his face. Ginny looked mournfully down at the ground.
"There's something else you should know, too," said Harry, his hands sliding down his thighs to rest on his knees as he sat down on the bed. Hermione opted to sit beside him his time, clutching his arm worriedly. "You remember how you all asked me if I'm seeing someone?" They all nodded. "Well, I am. For the last three and a half months, actually."
Ginny actually looked hurt at the revelation that Harry had moved on, even if it had been her that pushed Harry into dating again. She had been very specific that she couldn't be his girlfriend after the war. She didn't say it, but then again she didn't need to, that Harry carried too much baggage from the war and she couldn't handle it. With the death of Fred, she thought she was carrying enough on her plate without adding Harry's burdens to it.
Quite frankly, Harry was grateful to see the back of her; if she couldn't love him entirely, flaws and all, then she didn't get the honour of loving him at all. Oh, she could claim that she did, but he'd never felt the connection with her that he had with Draco, and he was grateful for that.
"So, who is it, mate?" Ron asked, sitting on the edge of the bed with excitement. A large, goofy grin spread across his face. "Who is the lucky girl?"
Harry cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable. "That's the thing I want to talk to you guys about, as well." He was aware of Hermione's sharp eyes on him, and fervently wished she would stop scrutinising him. "He isn't a girl."
Ron had always had comically shocked expressions at hand whenever "ground-breaking" news was presented to him, and he didn't disappoint now.
"Blimey, Harry—you're gay?" he gasped. He made it sound very tragic indeed, as though he couldn't go on having a gay man for a best friend.
"Oh, honestly Ron!" Hermione snapped, shaking her head at Ron, who stared at Harry like a gaping fish. Her eyes narrowed in disgust. It didn't slip past her the fact that Ginny looked at Harry with round eyes, and a horrified expression. "You two, I'm surprised you haven't figured it out sooner! What with Harry's low interest in girls."
Harry rounded on her, surprised. "You knew I was … well, that I was gay?"
She looked at him, and nodded her head sharply. "I had my suspicions ever since you told me your first kiss from Cho was wet instead of wonderful. I practically had to explain to you how she was feeling at the time. If you were as involved with her as I'd hoped you might be, you'd have known how she was feeling."
"Well, you're not going to like it. But you have to promise me that you won't hate me or attack him." If Ron or Ginny decided to harm Draco … Well, Draco could protect himself from threats well enough. It was the threat that would Draco be in danger. Harry wouldn't be able to bear the sight of his boyfriend being attacked by his friends, or vice versa; he loved them all, and hated to see them fight. "Otherwise … Otherwise, I'd have to choose him over you guys."
If lightning struck them down at that very moment, he doubted his friends would have been any more surprised than they already were. Harry knew they could hardly believe that he could turn his back on his friends of eight years for some guy.
"He's a Veela, and I'm his mate," Harry clarified. "It'd hurt us both if I turn away from him. In fact, it would kill us. Besides, I love him too much."
Clearly having had enough of skirting around the issue of who this guy was, Ron burst out, "Who the bloody hell is he, mate?"
"Draco Malfoy!" Harry yelled, desperate to get the words out before he lost his nerve.
Once they were out in the open, leaving a prolonged silence in their wake, he waited for the inevitable explosion. Ron would chuck a fit, Ginny would probably scream that Harry had chosen Draco, and Hermione would probably see the logic in the relationship and help Harry pacify the situation so Gryffindor Tower wouldn't get burnt down by the fury of the two Weasleys. Ron and Ginny's reactions were getting mighty predictable nowadays.
"What?" Ginny screamed. She leapt from the bed, her hands curled into shaking fists, the skin white around the knuckles. There was something to be said about Ron managing to keep his cool. Of course he looked thunderstruck, but he wasn't offering to pummel Harry's skull in to make sure that there was a perfectly functioning brain inside. "You're dating Malfoy, of all people? Why, Harry?"
"Ginny, I just told you that I'm gay, and that I'm Draco's mate!" Harry said, rolling his eyes. Maybe spending the night with the Slytherins wasn't such a bad idea after all. From the look on Ginny's face, he wouldn't put it past her to kill him in his sleep. "Besides, you don't know him like I do."
"So you don't see him as a murderous little coward?" Ginny asked coolly, her tone dripping with malice.
Something snapped inside Harry, and he launched himself to his feet as well. He didn't remember pulling his wand out, but there it was, sitting comfortably in his hand and pointing directly at Ginny's chest. Ginny blinked in surprise, but her stubborn pride stopped her from backing down on this one.
"Oh, come off it, Harry!" she snapped, folding her arms across her chest. If anyone could talk sense into Harry and get him to leave Draco, she could. "It isn't like you haven't called him anything less over the years! Just because you're in love with the great prat doesn't mean anything, you know. It doesn't change who he is."
"And who is he, Ginny?" Harry genuinely wanted to hear this one; he had no doubt it would give him a laugh as he hexed her face off. Yes, he'd called Draco names, but that was before he'd gotten to know that wonderful man hidden underneath all that arrogance and bitterness. If one took the time to get to know Draco, and made the effort to strip away all the bad feelings, and actually hold him when he broke down, then they'd find beauty. "Tell me exactly who you think he is."
Even when she sensed imminent danger, Ginny didn't know when to quit. "A vicious, cowardly little murderer, that's what!"
In an instant, Harry forgot all about his wand and charged at her. Ron leapt to his feet in an instant, pushing Harry away from his little sister. Ginny stared at Harry in shock for a moment, then pursed her lips and shook her head; apparently Harry was too far gone for simple words to bring him back. Ron and Harry scuffled in the middle of the dormitory, ignoring Hermione's shrieks for them to stop. She dared not get in between them; they could cause damage when they wanted to.
But even in her distressed state, she noticed how Ginny couldn't give a damn about what happened. Ginny hadn't even pretended to be happy when Harry had announced that he was actually seeing someone. In fact, Ginny looked quite angry. Not that he was seeing someone else, but because he was actually happy.
Hermione shivered, as if chilled to the bone,
Tears of anger and anguish were streaming down Harry's cheeks when he screamed, "Enough! I'm staying with Draco tonight—so just leave me alone!" Pushing past Ron in his haste, Harry rummaged through his trunk, half-blinded by tears, and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and Marauders Map. Then he ran out of the room before anyone could call him back.
"Harry!" Hermione called after him sadly, but the door had already slammed shut.
To say that Draco was enraged and saddened to see Harry standing outside the common room with a face full of tears was a massive understatement. As soon as the third year that had summoned him turned away to give them privacy, Draco snatched Harry up into a tight hug, swaying from side to side the way Harry liked, and whispered that it would all be okay. He had a feeling that his boyfriend's pain was induced by his so-called friends. Already Draco's scheming mind had started planning ways to get back at them for this.
"Draco," Pansy called, sitting in an armchair by the fire, watching Harry and Draco calmly. "Are you going to invite him in or are you going to stand there all day?"
Clearing his throat, Draco turned and wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders, leading him inside the common room. "Of course I am, Pansy, what do you take me for?" he asked, feigning hurt. "It is incredibly rude not to invite someone in. Especially when they've got nowhere to go."
"Then why did it look like you two were going to stand out there all day?" Blaise demanded, arching an eyebrow challengingly.
"You must need your eyes checked, Blaise," Draco said airily, waving the comment away. "Because that was not what I was doing."
Blaise only smirked.
Draco turned to Harry. "You wanna tell me what happened?"
He had a feeling he already knew, but it wasn't his curiosity that got him to ask; he sensed that Harry needed to talk about it, even if he didn't want to. An upset Harry was enough to bring down an entire room.
Harry's eyes travelled over the room slowly, then he met Draco's eyes with a significant look. He didn't want to speak about it in front of witnesses. While he trusted Draco and his friends, he didn't trust the rest of the Slytherins; they were known to pass on gossip when there was something in it for them. Gossip about Harry Potter would spread like wildfire. Pansy took the hint, and started banishing the Slytherins from the chairs, shooing them off to bed. No one disobeyed Pansy Parkinson, and they all took off.
"A Muffliato spell should do the trick," Harry muttered, pulling out his wand as Blaise and Pansy got comfortable in their seats. He cast the spell and set the wand down on his lap. Then, taking a breath, he started to recount what happened.
"Some friends," Pansy scoffed when Harry finished. She inspected her nails with a nonchalant air about her. "If they really cared about you, they'd support you in whatever relationship you want, no matter how much they disapprove. If Draco were to go out with a Hufflepuff—" She pretended not to notice Draco's disgusted shiver "—then I suppose we'd have to accept his stupidity until he came back to his senses. And that Weaslette needs a swift kick in the face. She thinks she owns you. That is so not cool."
Pansy looked as if she'd be happy to deliver a swift kick to Ginny's face.
Harry leaned a little into Draco, who could sense that his mate was starting to relax a little. "Yeah. It's kind of weird, though. My friends can't accept who I am, but Draco's friends can. I wonder if I should have let the Sorting Hat put me into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor."
The only warning they had was Pansy's widening eyes before she started spluttering in shock. Rolling his eyes, Blaise pounded her on the back.
"You were nearly Sorted into Slytherin?" she gasped once she regained her composure. "Why didn't you just let the stupid hat put you in here?"
"Because of … Well," he muttered, and glanced at Draco. "Because of Draco. He was an arrogant arse when I met him—not much has changed." He laughed as Draco light-heartedly slapped him across the back of the head. "And then Ron told me that there wasn't a witch or wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin. So when the Sorting Hat told me that I'd do well in this House … I asked it not to."
"And the damn thing listened to you?" Blaise asked, incredulous.
"Weasley told you we were all evil?" Pansy demanded angrily.
Harry nodded. "Yes and yes. After meeting Draco, I kind of agreed with Ron that all Slytherins are bad. Now I just wish I hadn'tlistened to him." He probably would have ended up friends with Draco, Pansy and Blaise and the seven years of Hogwarts probably wouldn't have been as bad as what they were. Not that Hermione was a bad friend. Or Ron, when he pulled his head out of his arse and realised that things didn't always work out the way that he wanted them to.
But would he have wanted to give up his Gryffindor friends to be here? Yes, yes he would.
"Well," said Pansy, stifling a yawn behind her hand. She stood up. "This has been fun, truly, but I am in desperate need of sleep. I'll see you all in the morning. Good night."
"Yeah, I'm going to catch up on some sleep, too," Blaise said. He waved, but didn't bid them goodnight.
Draco turned to Harry. "We should go, too. Come on. We've got Potions first thing."
Harry's answering groan echoed around the common room.
. . . .
Ron and Ginny were particularly sour that morning, glaring at Harry, who sat at the Slytherin table in between Draco and Blaise. They seemed to think that his being over there was an insult, as though they hadn't played their part in chasing him out of Gryffindor.
"I really wish they'd stop glaring at me," said Harry, nodding his head to Ron and Ginny. "I don't like being watched when I'm eating."
"Now you know how I felt whenever you stared at me," said Draco, amused, buttering a piece of toast. "And you wondered why I always left the Great Hall early."
Harry elbowed him in the ribs. "Draco, I'm serious."
"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" Draco asked with an impatient roll of his eyes. "I can't go over there and tell them to stop staring at you. Just ignore them. If you don't pay them any attention, you can only hope that they'll take the hint and leave you alone."
"And if they don't?"
"Then I have to say that you have very poor taste in friends," Draco replied, glancing up. "At least Granger has the manners not to stare. She doesn't even look remotely bothered by you sitting here. I think she's more concerned with keeping the gingers in their seats. It's astounding how many people think they can lay claim to you."
Harry blinked in surprise. "Did you just compliment Hermione?"
Standing up, Draco shot Harry a disgruntled look. "Perhaps I ought to take you to Madam Pomfrey on the way to Potions? Just to check if your brains have been addled at all. Now, come on. I'd like to get to Potions early."
"Yeah, only you would want to get to Potions," Harry replied, tossing his bag over his back, standing up, too. Draco had the highest Potions score in their year, at least five over Hermione, a fact that peeved her greatly. Harry knew that Draco had raw talent that couldn't be attained by just reading books. "I don't know what the appeal of being taught by Slughorn is. He lets us brew anything we want, as long as it is legal."
Draco stared at him, waiting for him to get it.
"You'd better not be brewing anything that'll help me win the Tournament," Harry warned, grabbing Draco by the shoulder, spinning him around. "I'm not going to cheat. If I could handle it in my fourth year, I can handle it now."
"No, you idiot, I'm going to brew something that'll help me help you," said Draco, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, as if I didn't know you wouldn't cheat."
Harry glared at him suspiciously. "What are you planning?"
"If I can get inside your head," said Draco. He held up a hand when Harry opened his mouth to protest. "Just hear me out, okay? If I can get inside your head, I can help you get through the tasks without injury. Harry, you know that I'm meant to protect you from harm, and you'll be disqualified if I physically get involved. But, if I'm in your head, there's no need for me to get physically involved."
"Won't McGonagall know you're up to something if you don't even react when I get so much as a cut?" Harry demanded. "I mean, she does know that you're a Veela."
Stepping around Harry, Draco headed straight for the door that led down to the dungeons.
"I know a Potion that'll allow my … my mind to latch onto yours," he said, one hand trailing along the wall as he descended the narrow steps. "I'll still be able to control my body. All I will need is some of your hair when I've completed the Potion, and then that's that."
"What if I don't want to give you some of my hair?" Harry asked stubbornly.
Draco stopped. "You've got to go to sleep sometime, Harry. There's no stopping me from doing this, you know. I'm not going to sit back and watch you get killed."
Slughorn mopped at his sweaty face with a handkerchief as he entered the classroom and found his class already sitting at their desks with their Potions ingredients out. It was a force of habit after so many years of being taught by Snape. Slughorn greeted the class cheerily.
"All right, everyone!" Slughorn called, clapping his hands."Remember what I told you last lesson? I bet you do! It's time to surprise me with your fantastic Potion making skills!"
The fact that the class exchanged looks with each other right in front of him didn't deter Slughorn's mood. He motioned for them to start concocting their Potions, then went to sit behind his desk to watch them, his smile fixed. Draco immediately started setting out his ingredients, opening his book and Harry saw that he'd already marked the page he needed. It was as if had come up with the idea of the mind-reading Potion the night before, when they'd been asleep, for Harry didn't remember Draco getting up at all last night.
"What am I supposed to make?" Harry hissed at him. "Do you reckon he'd get angry if we worked on the same Potion?"
"Slughorn, angry at you?" Draco smirked, slicing his roots finely with a steady hand. His eyes kept darting back to his book. "What world are you living in? Slughorn adores you. Anyway, just make something like a … burn-healing Potion, okay? Just in case."
"Are you sure you don't need my help?"
"If I needed your help, I would ask for it. Just make the burn-healing Potion,. I have a feeling we're going to need it. And try not to mess it up."
Harry sighed, grabbing his own book and rifling through it until he came to the right potion. He made sure to check the directions at least twice before attempting to do anything with the ingredients.
Under his breath, Draco kept muttering. His hands were quite literally flying everywhere, seemingly doing two things at once. Harry turned to Draco and said, "Draco, I know you're working hard and the Potion can't be easy, but do you think you could shut up for a bit? I'm finding my Potion a little bit difficult, and you're not making it any better."
Draco glared at him for a moment out of the corner of his eye, and then returned to his Potion, thankfully quiet this time.
In a matter of half an hour, the classroom was filled with smoke. Harry was rather surprised at how well his was coming along. With his double-checking he ensured that he got it right.
"All right, time is … up!" Slughorn called, standing up. "Step back from your cauldrons and let me take a look."
Slughorn proceeded to walk around the room checking the potions. Most of the attempts were abysmal. He took out his wand and started vanishing the contents immediately after he'd checked them, out of fear that the fumes most of them chugged out would be toxic to the lungs.
Draco stood proudly, his hands clasped behind his back.
"If the bell will just hold back for another five minutes, the potion will be ready to sample," he told Harry from the corner of his mouth. "It was supposed to be left standing for three days, but Snape taught me a few tricks to speed up the process. Hopefully they've worked."
"Hopefully?" Harry asked warily.
"Well, I'll be testing one phial out tonight with your hair. If I get poisoned, I'm counting on your magnificent acting skills to come up with a decent lie."
Hearing the slight sarcastic edge to Draco's tone, Harry glared at him witheringly, but let the matter drop. He had been to the hospital wing so many times with incredible injuries—lying to Madam Pomfrey wasn't exactly unknown territory for him.
"Now, now, what have we got here?" Slughorn asked, reaching Harry and Draco's table. Behind him, Ron had turned around, trying to stare Harry down. Hermione slapped him lightly across the head, twirling her finger in front of his face. Ron turned back around.
"Malleus potion, sir," said Draco. "Over there Harry made a burn-healing Potion. I assure you these are done correctly, sir."
It seemed for a moment that Slughorn couldn't find anything to say. While he normally would have just praised Harry's efforts and moved on (nearly always avoiding Draco's potion like the plague) the Malleus potion was better than a burn-healing Potion, and with the two sitting right next to each other … he couldn't just ignore that.
"W-well done, Mr. Malfoy," said Slughorn, wincing. Draco's expression soured.
"Of course, sir. But you see, I think this qualifies as a Potions Master level, not to mention the fact that I've used my own little tricks to speed up the process. What normally would have taken three days now has taken one hour. But, as a Potions professor, I'm sure you know what those tricks are." Draco smirked when Slughorn ducked his head, blushing. "But if you just want to commend it with a well done, that's fine."
Harry wanted to slam his head into something solid. What was Draco playing at?
Looking thoroughly chastised, Slughorn moved away, mumbling under his breath.
"What the hell was that all about?" Harry demanded. "You're lucky he didn't send you to McGonagall for that!"
"If there's anything Slughorn doesn't like," said Draco, "it's confrontation. He's vanished every potion but ours, simply because I challenged him."
Harry looked around the classroom, surprised. Everyone else stood in front of empty cauldrons. He didn't know how he could have missed it. When he turned back to Draco, the git wore an "I told you so" look. Harry elbowed him in the ribs for it.
"Right," said Draco. "Hand me my vials, would you? Time to sample this—and make sure you label them. Burn healing Potion is incredibly bad for the skin when it doesn't have anything to heal."
"Why do I have to label them?"
"Because I slaved in front of my cauldron making a potion ten times harder than yours!"
Grumbling under his breath, Harry grabbed for his quill and ink and scribbled the names of the potions on the phial labels. Handing the phials to Draco one at a time, he sneered when Draco scoffed at his poor penmanship.
"If you don't like the way that I write, you could have written it out yourself."
Draco rolled his eyes. He poured the potions into the phials under their correct labels. "Don't talk like that. I'll be counting on you to check if I've used the right one. Trust me, if I end up in the infirmary because you can't write better, then I am seriously going to kick your arse—Veela or not,. I'll find a way to do it."
Harry didn't doubt it for a second.
The bell rang and Draco put the phials in his bag, ensuring their safety with an unbreakable charm. Then he vanished the contents of the cauldrons with one lazy flick of his wand, and began to pack away his cauldron.
"Come on," he said, taking Harry's hand in his own, once their belongings were packed away, leading him toward the door. "I want to drop these off before our next class."
They were outside the classroom now, when Harry wrapped his arms around the back of Draco's neck and pulled him closer. He and Draco pointedly ignored anyone who'd stopped to watch; no one existed in their own little world but them.
"You're going to win this Tournament, Harry," Draco whispered, dropping his head until his and Harry's noses touched. "I know it."
"Mm, with you there, how could I not?" Harry replied.
Grinning, they closed their eyes as their lips met. A chorus of gasps and whispers broke out in the corridor—not that Harry and Draco noticed much. No matter how many times Harry kissed Draco, experience would never take away the thrill that sent his heart racing, his blood pumping. He knew that Draco felt the same; he could feel Draco's heart beating beneath his hand when he lowered it to touch Draco's chest.
In fact, they were so wrapped up in each other, they probably would not have resurfaced from the kiss for a while if Ron Weasley's voice hadn't have crashed down on them like a bucket of icy cold water. "Oi! Do you think you can do that somewhere else?"
Draco pulled away from the kiss. "Jealousy does not become you, Weasley. Not with that hair."
Grinning maliciously at the sniggers his words had caused, Draco placed a firm kiss on Harry's cheek, and then led him away.