It was the summer of '96 and they knew the war was coming and they knew the couldn't stop it. Instead, they prepared for it. Each wizarding household received a copy of "How to Protect Your Family When You're About to Die": but that was only the first step. More safety precautions not unlike the ones Hogwart's had once been under when a certain Azkaban escapee had threatened it, were planned to be evoked.
Speaking of Hogwart's, it was not yet common knowledge that since the failure to find a teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts, that class had been cancelled and replaced by another class. But then there was more whispering than speaking. Don't tell them, they'll find out soon enough.
Many eccentric, although unaccredited Warlocks had sat on hard, straight backed chairs and thought up the most fear-inspiring title "Pre-War Training Courses" and everything in the class that came with it. Nevertheless, just because the bone chilling name, some nosey ministry workers regarded it as Defence Against the Dark Arts Renamed; but it was really rather different.
For example, Training Course Ex. R V1 77: The Killing Course.
Unfortunately, because of the brutality of that one, it had been reluctantly cut from the training programme altogether. And despite that, many more "useless schemes" (as they had been branded by the teachers) were still in place. Old Fudge blew up every time the subject was brought up for any other reason than to praise him, so you better not say anything.
He felt that it was his own integrity being questioned, though his assistants assured him they would never do that! (Whilst reminding themselves to shut up, they had families to feed.)
Some of the students already knew, of course. Take Draco Malfoy for example. Surprises were banned; No One should be able to take a Malfoy for surprise! Even his birthday presents had what was inside them written neatly on the label. So naturally his father had informed him at once. A lot of filthy activities he was supposed to endure to see what sort of tactics the mudblood loving side would be using.
He was told to expect shit.
However, at the announcement those kept completely in the dark and marginally, there was quite a lot of them (not in Slytherin, Draco noted) and a shiver of excitement was sent through the room. The blond expected it to be exorcised as the explanation went on but nobody seemed to care there would be three hours a week of physically gruelling tasks with other houses!
Malfoy's eyes strayed towards the tousled haired boy at the Gryffindor table exchanging glances with that insufferable Weasley and Mudblood. He wanted to see Potter's reaction, to see if he had known, and to judge by the way his brow crinkled and his eyes burned with dark realisation, he hadn't.
Draco had never seen that look before, and it gave Potter quite a becoming sinister edge. He tore his eyes away in case any of the drooling Hufflepuff's noticed the direction of his gaze and realised it was more a lustful, more than a I-hope-you-drop-down-dead-right-know-or-something-extremely-heavy-falls-on-you look he was shooting towards the Gryffindor table.
Even the fucking Longbottom boy looks excited!
Draco's mouth curled into a grin. He said silently, Prepare to be disappointed, boys. War is not pretty.
The ceiling of the great hall glinted delightfully and the other Slytherin's eyes shared the same malicious glint that weren't stars reflected from the ceiling, with smiles that didn't quite reach their eyes.
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Tuesday morning, just after Charms, found Harry Potter and Ron Weasley lining up out side their Transfiguration classroom. Their pre-war training was to be conducted by professor McGonagall and, with a sinking felling in Harry's heart, the…
Ron said, looking as annoyed as Harry was uneasy, "Slytherin's."
During the holidays Mr Weasley and Bill had dropped hints to what was in store, just like that summer when Ireland won the Quidditch World Cup. Do you remember? Fred and George made that bet with Bagman and all they got was fools gold. God, it feels so long ago now… Don't you remember?
Except these hints, this time, had lacked the same enthusiasm Percy and everyone had when they dropped them. Mr Weasley and his son were positively worried. And for good reason.
Harry saw Malfoy sauntering arrogantly with his faithful little Slytherin's behind him. He hadn't missed the look the blond had worn during the Welcome Feast. However this time the Slytherin was not allowed to let the pleasurable thought of the whole rooms demise show so freely on his aristocratic features. Instead, as usual, he sneered.
He spared Harry a glance and that was it. The boy couldn't tell much from a glance. All except Malfoy had not loss any sleep over the brewing war since it was announced the previous year, and had, if possible, become more egotistical. Kindly, or unkindly, McGonagall saved him from any further scrutinising.
"Inside, inside!"
Harry and Ron sat near the front, since the Slytherin's had taken the back. Truth be told, the class had been split up by gender and there were less that a handful of Slytherin's there. Still, the Gryffindor boys preferred to sit as far away as possible.
During the first forty minutes professor McGonagall managed to explain they would have one partner, and one partner only--unless they were in a three of course, as there was an uneven number of people, and during these exercises they had to put their trust in that person. Harry played with the stray thread off the hems of his robes. He should get new robes…
She'd said severely, "One person."
But she managed to explain that in a amazingly long length of time.
And during her forty minute explanation she unnerved Harry by staring straight at him which brought him to the conclusion she must have some horrible, ghastly fate in store for him. One could say, she probably did.
This was why, instead of an hour, her very well planned out explanation only lasted forty minutes. Minerva McGonagall made the fatal mistake of reading out the pairs more than a minute before the bell.
"I have partnered you up alphabetically," she'd said, "except for Zabini, who was the odd one out." She looked down her nose at the neatly written list. "Pair One: Crabbe, Finnegan. Pair two: Zabini, Goyle and Longbottom." No one heard Neville whimper. Seamus licked his lips. He knew where this was going; the whole room knew where this was going, and McGonagall spoke a little hesitantly because of the palpable anticipation in there air. "Malfoy and… Potter."
"HA!"
"MR FINNEGAN!" Minerva hissed in white lipped outrage. She shot up straight from her perch against the desk and glared at the boy. Far from withering under her glare, Seamus continued his interruptions. And Ron joined in.
"Professor, Malfoy will kill Harry!"
Seamus agreed. "Yeah professor! Do you want Harry to die? Malfoy will eat him alive!"
"I am here you know!"
Seamus continued, "Professor, Harry will be killed!"
It was about time Malfoy joined in, Harry thought irritably. Why was he just sitting watching them insult him? Oh, yeah. He probably doesn't want to work with me, either. Harry blushed slightly at his dimwittedness.
Malfoy said to the onslaught of slander without even rising from his chair, "I'm sure the fucking Boy Who Lived can hold his own."
Ron and Seamus fell silent, and so did the class putting bets on who would try and attack the precious little Slytherin first, but only because they were expecting McGonagall to curse Malfoy into oblivion for swearing so freely. However, she did nothing. And Harry had never fallen quiet in the first place.
"Don't call me that!"
"That's who you are."
"You don't know me!"
There's always that feeling where hostility is almost tangible when you're around those two. Draco's face was starting to show feelings through his mask--albeit anger but still feelings all the same and Harry's eyes were burning through him. Draco willed him to look away.
"I know enough, Potter."
The Slytherin rose gracefully, strode towards Harry, never braking eye contact and Harry walked to meet him. A battle of the wills, five years of hatred, and actions that said everything and words that carved them deeper. They stopped just before they touched each other, face to face, so close but never making contact. Electricity crackled and the class did all the could do by just holding their breaths like the bystanders they were brought up to be. Harry tilted his head up only slightly to meet Draco's eyes, he could make out every eyelash.
He'd never stood so intimately with someone and to do it with Draco Malfoy… Well.
The room never moved, nobody breathed or they might have tasted another feeling in the air along with hate that nobody could recognise unless you could look straight into Harry Potter's or Draco Malfoy's eyes. Slowly, Draco drew his wand and pointed it at Harry's throat.
He leant only a bit forwards, his breath warming Harry's neck and the stray hair around his ear flutting, but only a bit. The tip of the wand grazed Harry's neck. Malfoy could do anything. If he chose to kill him he could do so quite easily. Still, Harry made no inclination he was backing down but briefly wondering why, when they wanted the same thing, did their wills always clash? And Draco spoke, his words low but sure and measured.
"Potter," drawled the Slytherin Prince, "do you trust me?"
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. . .? Be nice. :)