Draco Malfoy sat exhaustedly in the vacancy of the Slytherin common room, perched at an empty table that seemed the perfect post for studying. He reveled in the silence, pulling out his supplies as he braced himself for the atrocity that was their upcoming Defense exam. Things were going well, and he found himself a few lines into note-taking when he was rudely interrupted by his childhood friend.
"Draco!" His focus, already broken, shifted to Pansy as she entered the common room. "I've just left Divination, and I've got some excellent news!"
He couldn't help but roll his eyes. He loved Pansy like a sister, it was true, but her obsession with the Sight and her incredulous crush on him were enough to drive him crazy.
"What is it, Pans?" He rubbed his forehead, frustrated at the interruption.
"It's about you and your future lover," Her face held that look of confidence she wore when she ought not to. "According to my most recent prediction, the one that you are forever meant to be with has raven black hair." She smiled. "I also saw mention of the color emerald. You know, as in Slytherin?" Pansy took a moment to lean forward across the table, obviously trying to show off her cleavage since her school uniform was blatantly unbuttoned.
Draco leaned back casually, away from Pansy and her flirting.
"is that so?" Draco's brow raised in feigned interest. "Tell me again why you're taking such a bloody excuse for a class?"
Pansy's smile faded. "I should have you know that having the Sight is not something you can learn in class! I have been gifted!"
Now, it was Draco's turn to smile. "Is that what you're calling it?"
Pansy let out a loud "HMPH!" Before crossing her arms in frustration.
It was only a moment, however, before her icy stance had melted into something more trying.
Pansy tilted her head to the side and touched each of Draco's shoulders softly.
"I'm just trying to look out for you, darling. I don't want you-" she leaned in so that her face was inches from touching Draco's right cheek- "wasting your time courting some lady who-" she pressed a kiss to the arch of his face- "isn't fit to be your match." She pulled away slowly, seductively, searching for some form of acceptance in Draco's expression.
His face remained stoic and cold, as always. He knew what her motives were; Pansy had never been shy with her romantic interests. And she had been eyeing Draco since 4th year.
"So I suppose you're telling me that your prediction has somehow coincidentally shown my future love interest to be someone who fits the profile of say...someone exactly like you?"
Pansy turned beat red and stiffened behind him.
"Well, I suppose so...yes." She audibly gulped, then began to softly play with the edges of Draco's collar in an attempt to redeem herself. "Is that such a bad thing?"
Draco waved her off of him coldly.
"You should really think about dropping that class, you know." He hastily grabbed his things, and without giving Pansy another glance, walked away.
Pansy, crestfallen, bounced straight into rage as she became defensive at Draco's quite possibly hundredth rejection.
"You'll realize what you're missing one day!" She spat, and spun to stomp back up the stairs into the girls dormitory.
Draco, on the other hand, was heading away from the Slytherin common room and up to the library, where maybe he could get some well-deserved goddamned peace and quiet. Snape's upcoming exam left even his beloved God-son in a state of worry. Even though Draco held nearly perfect marks, all it took was one failing grade to plummet his GPA and place him even farther behind Granger.
Speaking of the devil, Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance as he entered the library to find none other than the Pathetic Trio huddled next to the only vacant table in the vicinity. He scanned the area once more, double checking for any half empty slytherin groups that he maybe wouldn't mind studying with so much. Sadly, the only other occupants were crowded groups of Ravenclaws, no doubt studying, and a few Hufflepuffs who began whispering feverishly at the sight of Draco's presence.
Too exhausted to begin to care about the rumors the Hufflepuffs were entertaining, Draco sat down and attempted to ignore the conversation the Boy Who Can Sod Off was having with his friends.
"Shhh! Harry!" Granger warned, "You're being ridiculous!"
Draco opened his textbook, turning to the chapter on Dark arts. Professor Snape had told his students that it was important to have a thorough understanding of dark magic to defend yourself against it. Draco should be enjoying this; his father of course had just been released from Azkaban recently for crimes related to The Dark Lord himself.
Draco, however, was quite the contrary, though he would never allow anyone to know. Slytherins of course prize themselves on self-preservation, and Draco intended to whole-heartedly. What would Lucius say upon learning that his only son, the Malfoy heir, didn't want to become a Death Eater?
Draco scratched his quill deeper into the parchment he was using for notes, as if by transferring his anger to the paper he would begin to take interest in the words he was recording.
The truth was, Draco would never be good enough for his father. His whole life had been spent trying to please the man, following his footsteps in earnest. It wasn't until recently that he had come to the conclusion that if he would live to never meet his fathers expectations, then he might as well make some of his own choices.
The first was to no longer be a follower. Of anyone. Not his father, not the dark lord. Draco would be his own person, with his own opinions and beliefs. The freedom from this secret release was overwhelming, but Draco kept it buried like everything else. He wasn't prepared to die at the hands of his father. Not yet, anyway.
With Draco's new perspective, there were plenty of new choices to be made.
Today, he would choose to work on his homework instead of terrorizing Potter like he normally would joy himself by doing. For some reason, Draco was too wrapped up in his thoughts to tolerate Gryffindor pettiness. Perhaps it was the grating responsibility of recently learning of Lucius's plan for Draco to become a-
"He is NOT a death eater! And if you're not quiet enough, he will HEAR you!" There was Granger again, playing mother Hen to Weasel and Potter. Her voice was barely audible, but Draco had always been keen to the voices around him. And it took little cunningness to know immediately who they were speaking of.
Draco grasped his quill so tightly he thought it was sure to break as he replayed scenes of Potter's suspicious behavior in his head.
It seemed that for the past few months Potter had been most peculiar with Draco, somehow arriving slightly behind him at the same places. Of course Draco knew that he was being followed; those Gryffindors were never known for shrewdness and it had always been a matter of time before Potter would get himself caught.
Draco had of course made some smart ass comment toward the boy each time. He didn't quite appreciate being snooped upon, but for once the Malfoy heir wasn't doing anything even half-ass immoral. He attended his classes, socialized with his house-mates, and traveled to Hogsmeade when allowed. The most reckless thing he'd done all semester was enjoy the bottle of Firewhiskey Blaise had smuggled into the Slytherin common room after they'd demolished Ravenclaw in the most recent quidditch match. Draco didn't particularity want to attract attention to himself anymore, not with his new change in alliance. Which is why it was almost funny-no hilarious- that it seemed the reason sodding POTTER was spying on him was because he thought Malfoy was a...death eater?
Oh, for the love of Merlin, Potter had come up with some piss-poor ideas in the past, but this? This was downright personal.
Apathy turned to ire as Draco slammed his defense book shut and left the library.
"Geez, Hermione, are you sure you want to spend all day studying for Snape's putrid test? I mean the sun is shining for Merlin's sake!" Ron griped his way down the corridor as the trio made its journey toward the library.
"You know, he's right, Hermione," Harry chimed, "we could be getting some serious quidditch practice in right now."
"Exactly!" Ron pushed, "Slytherin's already beat Ravenclaw so if we don't win they'll be getting the cup for sure! We have priorities, Hermione!"
She gave them both a stern look as they reached their destination.
Madam Pince was perched at her desk, scribbling call numbers furiously. She paused to give a slight smile to Hermione, her most favorite frequent customer, followed by a warning glance in the direction of Harry and Ron. They took one of the last open tables and began pulling out their books and parchment.
Hermione immediately began working, Ron stared at his text dumbfounded, and Harry glanced around the room, bored.
Finally, Harry motioned for his friends to lean in.
"So, I've been following Malfoy," Harry confessed. He waited tensely for their reaction.
Ron shrugged. "Somebody ought to. He's a shady git, you know." Ron seemed to be informing Hermione, as if he knew what she was about to respond with.
"Why on earth would you follow him!?" If she wasn't whispering, you'd have thought she was yelling. "Don't you two spend enough time around each other bickering as it is?"
"Yes, Hermione. We do. But I just can't shake this feeling about him this term. He just seems... different. You've noticed it, haven't you?" Harry inquired.
"Come to think of it, I have." Hermione had a look of deep thought, which she often wore when she was onto something. "He seems more withdrawn lately. But that is no reason to invade his privacy!"
"But Hermione," Harry pressed, "I'm telling you, somethings up. I have a theory."
Just then, the door to the library opened, revealing a certain blonde bloke that just so happened to be the subject of their conversation. After pausing for a moment, he took a seat at the table nearest them and began to work.
After checking to make sure Malfoy was absorbed in his studies, Ron leaned in: "Well, go on mate. What's your theory?"
Harry leaned in a little closer. "I think that Malfoy is a death eater."
Hermione gaped. Ron blinked a few times. "Well he's underage to be a death eater." Ron stated, "don't you think you're being a bit extreme?"
"I know!" Harry's voice was beginning to rise. "But this is Malfoy we're talking about."
"Shh! You're being ridiculous!" Hermione scolded. She dropped her head even lower. "Do you really think that Dumbledore would allow a death eater to enter this school?"
"No, of course not! But what if he doesn't know?"
"Trust me, Harry. Dumbledore would know if Malfoy was a death eater."
"But 'Mione-" Harry's voice was rising again.
"He is NOT a death eater! And if you're not quiet enough, he will HEAR you!"
Hermione went immediately back to her books, and Harry knew that the conversation was over. He turned around to see that the blonde boy had vanished, but a forgotten black plume remained upon the vacant table. Harry contemplated.
It wasn't until the next morning when Draco arrived in Slughorn's potions class that he noticed his favorite quill had gone missing. Annoyed, he found a less elegant one at the bottom of his book bag that would just have to do at the moment. Potions was his favorite subject after all (even if it was taught by the Daft Slug) and Draco wouldn't have himself missing notes. He took his normal spot seated next to Blaise and prepared for the next 2 hours of lecture.
Potter was seated on the opposite end of the room with his friends (of course). They were giggling about something the redhead was doing, though Draco wasn't completely sure of what. Their overall demeanor was definitely different than it had been in the library yesterday. You know, when Potter was wrongly accusing the innocent.
Draco had to admit, as much as he disliked the Mudblood (old habits die hard), she had the most sense of all 3 of them. She wasn't half bad at magic, and she and Draco were always competing for top marks. Potter may have had horrible taste in friends (especially when rejecting Draco all those years ago on the train), but at least Granger had the sense to know that Draco wasn't following in his father's footsteps. After all, she had in a way stood up for him, hadn't she?
"Pig head." Harry hastily made his way past the fat lady and rushed upstairs to the boys dormitory. After scanning the room for any unwanted company, he reached into his bag to retrieve the black feather quill that he had inconspicuously stolen from the library. He fully intended on returning it to its rightful owner; however, he had other plans for the moment.
The instant he had noticed Malfoy's forgotten prize, an idea had crossed Harry's mind. He knew that he had read somewhere- or maybe Hermione had- about quill magic. So, after attending class all day, Harry had decided to skip dinner and head to the library instead to do some research. It wasn't too difficult to convince Ron and Hermione that he really needed to get some extra help in potions, and that was why he was flaking out on supper.
After the way the two had reacted to Harry's most recent obsession, the Boy Who Lived decided it was best to keep this a secret.
So, here he was, alone in his bed, grasping his wand in one hand and the plume in the other. Pointing steadily, he readied himself to try a spell he had only learned today. A spell that, in his opinion, needed to be done.
The particular chapter on quill magic Potter had studied focused on reviving a quill of it's former script. In other words, if Draco had written a letter to his father- or anyone of that matter- with this quill, Harry would be able to read its contents. It was a long shot, sure, but Harry's spying had so far come up empty. To his knowledge, Malfoy thus far hasn't been doing anything out of the ordinary at all. This was odd, considering that the young man had been acting so strange while doing the mundane.
He had barely insulted Harry all term. There was the occasional snide remark or haughty proclamation, but nothing to the degree of their history. Harry had become almost numb without the conflict, aching for what once was. Convinced that Malfoy was hiding something, Harry began to watch the boy. Maybe Ron was right, and Harry was being a bit extreme.
...but does the apple really fall that far from the tree? Harry wondered. After everything that had happened last term at the Department of Mysteries, Harry had trouble disassociating Draco from his father. The same smirk that Lucius had worn on his face at the ministry had been worn by his school rival so many times before. It was as if he and his father were identical... and yet, lately it seemed possible that they weren't related at all.
Harry had to be sure though. His stubbornness wouldn't allow him to drop this hunch, and so without a second thought, Harry focused on the matter and hand.
"Interim scribam!" He exclaimed, and immediately blue sparks were expelled from the tip of his wand. They traveled instantly to the black quill, which seemed to resonate and glow for a moment before returning back to normal. All was silent, and Harry wondered if he had done the spell correctly. Then an idea stuck him.
"Parchment!" He thought, running towards his book bag and scrambling back onto the bed with a fresh roll.
He laid the parchment out next to the quill and held his breath. Suddenly, Draco's plume was trembling and began to levitate toward the stationary. Swirling lines of the most elegant cursive began to appear on the parchment as the quill scratched hastily away. The words were an iridescent red, glowing as if they were written on hot coals.
Harry leaned over and began to read what the quill recorded.
The first few lines appeared to be notes, DADA notes to be exact, and certainly nothing to bind Draco to a crime. Harry kept his eyes peeled in earnest as the quill continued to expose its secrets. After the conclusion of defense notes came a short letter to Pansy instructing her to pay attention to Professor Binns instead of wasting her education trying to play footsies with him. Harry's stiff demeanor softened, and he let out a chuckle. Draco could be such a dick sometimes, especially when he wasn't interested in something (or here, someone).
Come to think of it, Harry couldn't recall ever having seen Draco fancy anyone. Not that Harry would be the first to know; they were hardly on a not-arguing basis, let alone secret telling. But it had been no secret last year when Harry had kissed Cho, and he'd never heard any snogging rumors about the blonde. Come to think of it, Harry pondered, it was as if none of the girls around met his expectations.
Harry began to tire after a few minutes of watching the quill write. It seemed the most interesting thing Draco had been up to recently was taking down advanced potions tips. He began to become disheartened, kicking himself for not catching the bloke. Potter began once again questioning his motives, when the quill's next sentence struck his eye:
"Did you bring it?"
Harry's waning interest peaked and he eagerly leaned toward the parchment.
"Yes. But we have to be careful. We don't want Snape finding it, or worse, Dumbledore."
Draco was having a written conversation with someone, and apparently they were sharing a quill. Most likely passing notes in class, Harry deduced. But who was he sitting by? And what in the hell were they bringing into the school?
"No, of course not. Let's not be stupid. Bring it to the common room tonight. This should be good."
"So good."
And that was it. The quill skipped a bit farther down the parchment and began writing Draco's most recent arithmancy essay. Harry rolled his eyes.
"You'd think this was Hermione's quill," He muttered to himself, pointing his wand at the plume. He stated the incantation to stop the spell, feeling satisfied with his findings, and put away his supplies. Dinner was ending, so Harry had made for perfect timing. Now, he just had to figure out what and with whom Malfoy was plotting.
Ron and Hermione joined Harry near the fire in the Gryffindor common room after supper. Harry had decided not to leak his most recent findings on Malfoy until he had more substantial evidence. The question was, Harry pondered, how he was going to get that exactly.
Harry remained deep in thought, sitting in an armchair positioned across from the love seat Hermione and Ron were relaxing upon. Hermione had a book in her hand, as per usual, the pages glowing in the firelight. Harry happened to notice Ron peering over Hermione's shoulder, and if he hadn't known the bloke most of his life, he'd have thought the redhead was reading. But Harry could tell by the look gleaming in Ron's eyes that it wasn't the book he was interested in.
It was hard to say just when Ron's affection for Hermione had begun. Harry wondered if maybe it had been there all along, a flower that began as a seed and was just beginning to bloom. He was happy for them; Harry knew somehow deep down that they would end up together eventually. He just hoped Ron wasn't stupid enough to mess it up along the way. Ron ran a single hand through Hermione's bushy hair, brushing a lock behind her ear. She glanced back at him and gave him a shy smile before returning to her story.
Harry couldn't help but envy them slightly. There was a spark there between them, lighting like fireworks that Harry was unsure that even they could see. He couldn't quite say that his feelings for Cho last year had been the real deal; they were flitting and fast and over before Harry could say Lemon Sherbet. The truth was, he'd never felt the way Ron appeared to feel now about anyone.
Harry rose, deciding to call it a night. He bid his friends farewell and headed up to his four poster bed. With all that was going on in his mind, sleep sounded like a nice escape from reality. As he shut his eyes, he prayed that rest would come soon.
They were in the Department of Mysteries. Again. This was a familiar dream, one that always ended the same. The six of them stood, backs to each other. They were guarding the prophecy, held tightly in Harry's hand. Lucius and the rest of the Death Eaters would show up any minute, and then the spells would begin to fly.
Harry could recite this dream act by act. Sure enough, Harry heard the voice of Lucius Malfoy before them, demanding that he hand over the prophecy. Harry took a deep breath. "it's just a dream," he reminded himself, and with a deep inspiration, he refused.
Then they began running. Neville and Luna weren't the fastest, so they took guard from the back as the friends made their way along the rows and rows of glowing glass balls. As Voldemort's right hand men began gaining on them, spells were cast in closer proximity and the shelves all around them began tumbling. One after another they crashed like dominos, narrowly missing the group as they increased their speed.
Then, they were surrounded. Lucius was blocking Harry; two more masked men were armed and pointing at Ginny and Hermione.
This was the part that Harry dreaded. It hadn't even actually happened when the six were in the Department of Mysteries, but his nightmare played it so. In this scene, Harry would refuse once more to hand over the prophecy. Instead, he would intentionally break it. In response, Lucius and the other death eaters would kill his friends. And Harry would be alone right before he'd wake up drenched in sweat.
This time, however, was different. Something small, something subtle, had changed. Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he was sure. Malfoy demanded the prophecy, and Harry destroyed it. But then, there was a pause. And right when his friends should have been dying, there were foot steps. Everyone turned to see the slender blonde that stepped from the shadows: Draco.
"Ah, my son, I'm glad to see you could join us," Lucius greeted. Harry noticed the deep pit that had grown in his stomach, confirming his suspicions. Draco smirked that Malfoy smirk, then looked deeply at Harry. For a moment, Harry was sure he saw something in Draco's eyes that he'd never seen before: fear.
"Harry," Draco said, and everyone was quiet. Then, he turned to face his father before quickly yelling "Expelliarmus!"
Draco had disarmed Lucius Malfoy. He began firing off curses at the other Death Eaters, pausing momentarily to tell the others to run. And as they raced away, Harry peered over his shoulder to see Draco standing his ground against the masked men. Protecting them. He smiled gratefully.
And then he was awake sweating as always.
Sleep apparently wasn't in the cards for Draco. He had tossed and turned several times, groaning as his mind whirled with thoughts of earlier's events. The blonde sat up, rubbing his eyes and placing his head between his knees. He had to get out of here.
Just hours beforehand, Draco had been enjoying his treacle tart in the Great Hall when an owl had swooped down and dropped a letter onto his lap. Draco immediately recognized the Malfoy crest viewed upon the seal, and the elegant handwriting that read "Open when alone."
He stuffed the letter into his robes, dreading what was to become of it.
Not wanting to draw too much attention, Draco finished his dessert before excusing himself and heading back to the common room. As he entered the Slytherin lair, he was pleased to find the solitude he needed. Draco removed the letter from his pocket, broke the seal, and unfolded his father's stationary.
The letter included a detailed description of Lucius's plans for his son. Not too obvious, of course; after his stay in Azkaban, the man would do nothing to blatantly incriminate himself. No, there was just enough code to tell Draco exactly what Lucius wanted him to know.
Draco's stomach knotted as he processed the words before him. "You will undergo the proper ritual when you come home on winter break," he read, "But you will begin your work now at Hogwarts. You have been chosen to complete the task we spoke of when I was released from prison. You will not disappoint me."
These were the words that stuck out the most to Draco. Because, he thought as the knot in his belly tightened, he knew exactly what task his father was referring to. He had spoken with Draco at the manor, days before the beginning of term, of the Dark Lord's next plan to gain control of the wizarding world.
Now, he had involuntarily placed Draco in the center of it. This was the farthest place from where he wanted, where he needed, to be. Draco crumbled the paper in his left hand as the pit in his abdomen transformed into ire. He threw the letter into the fire, watching it blaze and wishing that it would be as easy to remove himself from this mess.
Draco stood up abruptly from his four poster bed. If he couldn't sleep, he damn sure wouldn't be stuck wasting time in his sheets. Grabbing his cloak, he decided to take a walk to clear his mind. Lord knows he needed it.
He exited the common room and made his way through the dungeons inconspicuously, avoiding Filch and Mrs. Norris. With thoughts of his father's letter, the air seemed to become thick around him. Draco decided the best place to breathe in the crisp night air would be the astronomy tower, so he began the ascent hastily.
It had to be 2, maybe 3 am. Harry was always rattled by nightmares, but this one seemed to shake him to the Core. Seeing Draco in that role, with his eyes soft and honest, had done something to Harry's insides. Draco had been his enemy, his rival even, but never his protector. It made Harry feel fuzzy, like he'd seen some hidden part of Draco that no one else believed in. Did Harry?
He needed to get some air. He felt confused and startled by this new premonition, and part of him wanted to run from it. With one hand retrieving the invisibility cloak, Harry checked the Marauder's map for any sign of Filch prowling about. It appeared that he was patrolling the trophy room, which was far enough away from Harry's destination: the astronomy tower. When he peered in that direction, however, he was startled to find the name "Draco Malfoy" already plotted there. Even more unsettling was the name that appeared next to it.