A/N: I actually have a lot more of this fic written already, but I decided that it would be better to post it little by little, than to post a huge story every three months. This fic is mostly about Draco, but there are scenes with Harry and his crew too. If you're wondering, yes, this is my first post at fanfiction.net, but I've been reading here since about last March.
Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story belong to me because they all belong to JK Rowling- and her publishers too, I guess. (If they did belong to me, do you think I'd be writing here??)
The Potion of Immortality:
Part OneDraco leaned back in his personal chair in the Slytherin common room, absentmindedly twirling his quill. It was almost winter break in his fifth year, and the year had been frankly boring in comparison to the excitement of last year. At least, it appeared to be less exciting to most people, but there had been things going on involving the community of dark witches and wizards that were being kept quiet, or maybe even being overlooked, by the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Draco shook his head slightly, with a bit of a smirk on his face. The whole of the Ministry was blind to everything it didn't want to believe to be true. Well, they'll find out soon enough, thought Draco.
"Hey Draco, wanna play chess?" asked Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe as one. Like those idiots are even halfway decent opponents, thought Draco to himself as he tried his best to conceal a snicker.
"No," he sneered, "I don't." With that said, he stood up, collected his various unfinished papers, and marched from the room with his chin in the air and grey eyes dangerously unemotional.
"Uhhhh. I'm going to bed," mumbled Crabbe, leaving Goyle with the halfway set-up game of chess. Goyle stared at the pieces, with a mixture of willing them to move back into their places in the box on their own, and of confusion as to where the pieces belonged. Finally, he dumped all of the glaring pieces into the box, covered it up hastily, glanced around the room, and stumbled up to his dormitory.
Draco lay on his bed with his eyes closed and a copy of the Daily Prophet over his face. This winter break is going to be crazy, he thought to himself. Father says that it's time for me to become a Death Eater. Voldemort has been asking for me, but why? Father says that he was much older than I am when Voldemort called on him. I don't know anything about Potter, and I never had his trust to begin with. I wouldn't be able to bring in any information about Potter to Voldemort, so what else could I have that he wants?
Draco smiled under the paper. Why should I care why Voldemort wants me? I'll get to be a Death Eater! It's everything I've ever wanted! I will get to do more than just tease mudbloods and muggles. I'll get to kill and torture them, just as I've always dreamed about. I wonder whether I'll get to kill Granger. That would be so cool. She's been asking for it for a while- like getting better marks than I get! That was way out of line for her type. At some point during his later thoughts, Draco fell asleep with his face covered by the newspaper and being fully clothed.
Harry Potter looked up from his essay for the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, Ms. Hawkens, to watch his friends', Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Neville Longbottom argument grow louder and more persistent. It seemed that Neville had asked Hermione to go to the same Winter Ball that Ron had previously asked her to go to, and she had said yes to both. Hermione seemed to be struggling to explain to Ron why she had said yes to both, and Neville seemed set to prove that Hermione simply wanted to go with him more than with Ron.
Harry decided that it wasn't worth it to pick sides on something he had nothing to do with, and was trying to concentrate on his essay for the strictest Defense against the Dark Arts teacher he had ever had. Hawkens was serious about her job, and was generally harder on the Slytherins than any of the other houses. Harry was finding her classes to be the most interesting of all of his others, and was doing exceptionally well in her class on all parts of it. She didn't seem to favor him like the Slytherins claimed she did, as he received a lecture from her when he failed to turn in one homemork assignment.
Harry was jerked out of his thoughts by the yells which were consuming the Gryffindor Common Room. He realized that he was the only one left in the room besides the three arguers, and, upon checking his watch, he realized that it was 11 at night. He packed up his parchment and tiptoed from the room, hoping he wouldn't be asked to take a side. The yells were still echoing up the stairway to the boys' rooms an hour later when Harry finished his work. Shaking his head, he clicked off his light and lay on his back, hoping that his friends would have sorted things out by the morning.
When went down to breakfast the following day, he found his wishes were not granted. Ron was sitting far away from Neville and Hermione, who were sitting nearer each other and were chatting away happily. When they saw him coming, they gestured for him to join them, which he did giving Ron a hopeful glance. Ron narrowed his eyes and leaned over his food, pretending to concentrate on eating. Harry sighed and looked away.
"So, what happened last night!? Did you guys come to any kind of...agreement about the Ball or something?" Harry decided the question had already been answered by who was sitting with who, but decided it couldn't hurt too much for him to ask.
"Well, I decided that I would rather go with Neville than with Ron because Ron and I argue too much," said Hermione as if her answer was reasonable and fair. Neville smiled and nodded.
"I mean, Harry, haven't you noticed how disagreeable they are together? If they were to have a deeper relationship-"
"Then it wouldn't work out because we'd rip each other's heads off and never speak to one another again," finished Hermione for Neville.
"Well...okay. Whatever you say- I just hope that you and Ron can patch things up, Hermione," said Harry while arching an eyebrow questioningly.
"Oh, yeah, they'll fix things up really easily," Neville assured Harry, who was still doubtful. Something just didn't add up right. Hermione would never pick Neville over Ron, would she?
"Hey! Do you have my-"
"No!," said an exasperated second voice. "I don't! For the last time I don't know where your Potions book is!"
"Ughhh," groaned a disheveled Draco, as he awoke with a start to find the Daily Prophet, crumpled and thrown apart, over his face and spread around his bed. He plucked the front page, which had become stuck to his face, off of himself, and tossed it aside. Ugh. I think I have ink on my face! Gross! Well, maybe no one will notice if I just put my hand over my head and walk to the bathroom like I have a headache...
He extracted himself from his bed and quickly walked out of his dormitory and down the hall to the bathroom. Glancing in the mirror, he was horrified to be able to read an entire article of the Daily Prophet backwards through the mirror looking at his face. Shuddering when he realized how humiliating it would have been for him if he hadn't thought to check himself in the mirror, he splashed some cold water on his face and began to scrub at the ink on his face. Since the ink used by the Daily Prophet is so much stronger than muggle ink, it took him a good twenty minutes to finish getting the ink off.
Draco strutted through the Great Hall with his head held high, and glared at all of the Gyffindors as he passed by their table. Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter were among the many whom returned the glare. He smirked as he settled himself at his usual spot at the Slytherin table, and began to eat more quickly than usual. He had wasted a lot of time rubbing ink from his face that he usually spent loudly gloating so that the Gryffindors could overhear just enough of his conversation to be interested.
As he ate, he glanced over at the Gryffindor table again. He was startled to see that Neville Longbottom, a complete idiot who belonged in Hufflepuff, was not sitting quietly by himself, but was fully engaged in a conversation with Potter and Granger. To his surprise, it was Weasley who was sitting alone looking sullen. Draco studied the group of Gryffindors for the rest of breakfast, and was still struggling to comprehend what was going on. He had managed, however, to loudly point out that Weasley was sitting alone to the rest of the Slytherins.
It was not until Draco was done with his Herbology class, and was dozing off during History of Magic, that he realized what had been going on between the Gryffindors. Oh, wow. This is going to be great! Draco was now sitting up and grinning broadly, which was earning him wierd looks from the rest of the class. Longbottom and Granger, I never would have guessed that they would hook up! I finally have something new to tease Weasley about! It's quite obvious that he wants to be with Hermione.
As Draco fantasized about his new plans to tease Weasley, Proffesor Binns droned on...and on...and on. When the bell signaling the end of class chimed, Draco was the only student still awake, and so he made it out of the door and into the Great Hall for lunch faster than anyone else.
As Draco began to tell the rest of the Slytherins his findings, Weasley frowned in their direction. To Draco's surprise, he did not look hurt. The look that Weasley was giving Draco and the rest of the Slytherins was a look of worry. Draco brushed it aside and out of his thoughts. What did he care if Weasley was worried? For all Draco knew, he was probably just worried that he would never get to be with Granger.
When lunch ended, Draco grinned. He had some more interesting classes up next, like Potions with the Gryffindors. Unfortunatly, he had Arithmancy before it, which was terribly boring. The only person who paid any sort of attention was the mudblood Granger.
Wait, Granger is in that class! Maybe it won't be so boring after all, if she's there. Well, it's sort of hard to tease her while Professor Vector is watching, and, seeing as Vector hates me, I don't think I should push my luck.
Draco walked into the Arithmancy classroom looking very thoughtful. He scanned the room for anything interesting as he took his usual seat near the back of the room, as far away from Granger as he could get. As Vector began to ramble on about graphing a hyperbola, Draco's mind started to wander again. He was very welcoming of the bell signaling the end of class as Vector had started to look in his direction more often than Draco was comfortable with. He was afraid that she might call on him and realize he wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to anything she was talking about, but not afraid enough to actually pay attention, of course. The threat of being called on wasn't great enough, as Granger answered most of the questions unless she was told specifically not to.
Now was the class Draco had really been looking forward to- Potions. Draco sneered at the Gryffindors already in the Potions room and sat down gracefully, smiling a little at the Professor, Severus Snape. Draco took out some of his materials and listened carefully to Granger, Potter, and Longbottom's conversation across the room. They were talking in hushed tones, so it was difficult to hear. From the snatches of conversation that Draco heard, it seemed that they were talking about Weasley.
Yeah, they're talking about Weasley alright, thought Draco. I definitely heard something about feeling sorry for someone, wanting someone to be "more included," and hoping that someone wasn't too torn up about "it." They act like nobody can hear them! Maybe they want me to hear them! Nah...why would they want me to know about Weasley's problems? That's complete suicide. Well, who cares why they're talking so loudly, it's only hurting them, not me!
Draco shook his head slightly, clearing his muddled thoughts, and focused back on the potion he was making. Draco didn't think that making potions was very difficult, but he was still struggling to understand how to make potions correctly. Snape was not a good teacher, but luckily for Draco, Snape didn't care how well his potions were made. He was always given an A in the class. I'm not exactly sure why Snape's so easy on me. I mean, I know it's just because he wants my father to like him and all, but why? Why would Snape care whether my father likes him or not? I wonder whether Snape's a Death Eater or not...my father seemed to like him at one point, but then he was furious with Snape at the end of my fourth year, and was happy with him again soon after. Something big must have happened. Maybe Snape was a Death Eater, only he's switched sides a lot or something. Father tells me almost everything I ask him, but he is always sensitive about answering questions about who are Death Eaters and who are not. It's very odd. I mean, it would be one thing if he didn't want to break some code of secrecy, but he doesn't usually mind breaking rules-
Draco's thoughts were interrupted when he realized how silent the room had become. He glanced around, narrowing his eyes at all of the Gryffindors, and quickly found the source of the silence. Snape was staring at Longbottom in a way he had never done before. It was not the hateful, angry glare he usually gave Longbottom, but it was closer to confusion. Draco's eyes darted between the two of them for a while, trying to get as much information as possible, but he could not understand.
"What are you all doing staring at me!?" Snape's eyes wildly searched the room for a scapegoat. "Get back to work now. Detention, Longbottom, for disrupting the class."
Longbottom looked down at his cauldron, which was bubbling a color differently from everyone else's, as he had managed to get the ingredients wrong yet again. What was that about!? I really shouldn't have been spacing out. Longbottom getting another potion wrong must have been the last straw for Snape. You would think that Snape would realize Longbottom needed help to understand how to make correct potions, but he was just too cold. I'm glad Snape likes my father and that I'm a Slytherin, or else I'd be pretty screwed as I'm only a little better then Longbottom at potions. Draco finished up his potion and looked longingly at the clock, but stopped when he realized that nearly all of the Gryffindors were doing the same thing.
"Done, Draco?" Draco jumped and looked over at Snape, who was leaning over him and inspecting his potion.
"Yeah," Draco said while giving Snape the most innocent look he could manage. Draco considered asking him what was going on with Longbottom, but decided against it as Longbottom could easily overhear their conversation. Snape, however, seemed to understand what Draco wanted.
"Stay after class," Snape said in an undertone. Since Snape had said that as a statement and not a question, Draco chose not to reply and Snape swept away to yell at Potter. Draco took a look at the clock and was pleased to realize that his last class before winter break officially began was going to end in about five minutes. When the bell rang, Draco started to leave, but was grabbed from behind with great force.
"Get off of me," Draco said in an angry tone because he assumed it was one of the Gryffindors. Unfortunately, when he turned around, he was shocked to see Snape standing and frowning at him. Then Draco remembered.
"Oh, yeah. I'm supposed to stay after class..." Snape smirked a bit, but seemed to forgive Draco for his forgetfulness. Snape shifted his weight and glanced around the room, apparently waiting for it to empty. When he was satisfied that no one else was around, he motioned for Draco to take a seat.
"Do you know why I was upset with Longbottom, Draco?" Snape was looking a little worried; it was a look Draco was becoming familiar with.
"No, not really. I thought it might have been something about how Longbottom messed up his potion again, but I guess not," Draco said quietly and honestly, for once. Snape relaxed; it seemed that whatever he was afraid Draco knew, he didn't know.
"You better be going along now Draco, I believe you leave Hogwarts in an hour, right?"
"Yeah...see you later." With that, Draco darted out of the room without a backwards glance. He didn't like Snape much more then anyone else. Right before he closed the door, he could almost hear someone say "Probably sooner then later," but Draco continued on as though he hadn't heard it. It wouldn't be until later that he actually understood why it had been said.
Draco leaned up against the window of the train heading towards King's Cross Station and looked out of the rain splattered window. He squinted over at Crabbe and Goyle, who were busy with some strange muggle game. Draco rolled his eyes; it was so like them to play a muggle game as they didn't have the skills to play anything else.
I wonder what father will say to me when he picks me up? I wonder if he will even bother to pick me up. It wouldn't surprise me if he just got some servant to pick me up for him. Oh well, then everyone will see how much money we have since we can afford servants...that's always nice. I wonder if it's possible to have too much money. ugh. Why am I thinking these things?? Draco sat up quickly and studied the outside scenery, which was a bit hard as it was pouring rain outside. When did the rain start? I didn't fall asleep, did I? What time is it?
Draco checked his watch and decided that he had fallen asleep, and the train would be pulling into the station in a few minutes. Sitting up, he appraised the situation he was in. His father would be waiting for him at the station, he would be taken home, and his father would lecture about how to behave for his first meeting with Voldemort, even though he had already had the same talk many times before.
I suppose it'll be different this time, though. All the other times he's talked to me about him they've just been warnings for if Voldemort makes a sudden appearance and I have to greet him. I wonder whether father is really going to have Voldemort make me a Death Eater? Ugh! I've had this same conversation with myself a thousand times and it always is the same! I need to knock it off and stop worrying as much as the Mudblood Granger worries about homework. This is insane. I've got to stop this circular conversation!
Draco began fumbling around with his bags, rearranging things that really didn't need to be rearranged. The train began slowing, and he zipped up his bags. Crabbe and Goyle were both still sitting. They hadn't yet observed that the train was coming to a stop.
Review please!!! Flames are cool, I don't care! Much more plot development in the second part (and even more in the third- which I've started already). What's with Neville and Hermione? What would Voldemort want with Draco, besides the idea that Draco is Lucius' son? Please put your answers and thoughts in the review box!