A/N: Here's the deal… I get side-tracked. A lot. Sometimes by stuff like moving to new states, finals, job searches, etc… sometimes by stuff like video games and Netflix marathons. Sometimes by other projects. I haven't abandoned anything, but updates will likely be seriously sporadic. Witness the multi-year break between chapter one and chapter two of this fic. That said: thanks to everyone who reviewed, and let's get this going again!
Baneful Brew is a potion that can be made in the old board game "Elixir of Life." Its only purpose is to inflict harm on anyone stupid enough to steal it.
Our Story So Far: James Potter has been waiting fourteen years for a chance to prove he's ready to move on and join Lily in the afterlife. Now that chance is here—but to win it, he must help Draco Malfoy become friends with his son!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me. No money being made here.
Warnings: OOC. I know this. Sometimes it's fun.
Heavenly James
Chapter Two
The first step to making Harry and Draco friends was, clearly, to get them together. It was obvious to James that Draco was only antagonizing Harry to get attention, and if he could just get the two of them alone in a room together they might talk instead of fighting.
Naturally the only thing Prongs would consider was getting Malfoy stuck in detention with Harry. Sure, there are easier routes to go, but the little twerp deserves it. And if I can get Severus to actually take points from Slytherin… James smirked. Really, it was too bad that Snape couldn't see it—it was one of his better smirks, he could tell. Top ten material, for sure.
James slid around and ducked under the desk, then poked his head up into Mini-Lucius' cauldron, making sure he could see Harry. It felt rather odd to have a half-made potion stirred around his hair and eye of newt dropped straight through his nose, but thoughts of the perfect prank he was about to pull carried him through. If only Pads could see me now!
He waited until Snape was standing right over Harry, watching his every move and criticizing every step—as if anyone could brew properly under those conditions!—and struck.
xxxxx
Potions had been going rather well for Draco. He'd managed to earn points for Slytherin—and so what if that's easy to do with Professor Snape?—and annoy Potter, his Baneful Brew was bubbling nicely, a perfect crimson color, Potter's head was floating in his cauldron, grinning madly with crossed eyes and wiggling its ears—
"GAH!" Draco threw himself backwards with enough force to knock his cauldron off-balance. He winced as it tipped, the potion splashing out and drenching Crabbe. Great red blisters instantly formed on the unfortunate boy's skin, and he started howling in pain.
Snape was on them in an instant, demanding an explanation and sending Crabbe off the infirmary with Goyle. It probably would have gone better for Draco if he'd managed to say something beyond "Potter," and "did something."
"Much as I would like to believe you, Draco," Snape said with a sigh, "I was standing right over Potter when you yelped." A pained expression crossed his face. "Five points from Slytherin for an utterly unconvincing story. And detention, for injuring your fellow student."
He leaned closer, so close Draco was scared his hair would catch Snape's greasy condition. "If it had been a less… well-connected student, I would waive the detention. My regards to your father."
Draco spent the remaining time mindlessly replicating his Baneful Brew, all the while wondering how Potter's face had turned up in his potion. But—hold up, it wasn't exactly Potter, was it? There were a few differences. The chin was a bit squarer. It was older. There was no scar on the forehead. And Potter would never make a ridiculous face like that… At least, not at me. He might, to make his friends laugh.
So, it wasn't Potter's face and Potter couldn't have done it. Weasley wouldn't be able to do it; he was right next to Potter anyway. Granger was too much of a teacher's pet to try anything of the sort while in class. I suppose it doesn't matter. It'd be nice to get some revenge for landing me in detention, and Father'll want to know why I've "attracted attention at the most inconvenient time," but it doesn't really matter. Probably just a prank from Pansy, her imagery has always been somewhat… lacking. It would explain the inconsistencies between what he saw and what he should have seen.
His potion complete, Draco ladled a sample carefully into a flask and brought it to the front desk, then set about cleaning his station (and Crabbe's, which might help ease Snape's anger). The fact remained that he would never be close with Potter, never get to share the jokes that Potter enjoyed with his friends, never see the emerald eyes close up unless they were flashing with anger.
He walked out of the classroom in a daze, unaware of the ghost hovering over him as he made his way to the Slytherin common room.
xxxxx
James was congratulating himself on a successful first step, barely registering that Draco's shoulders were slumping in a decidedly un-Malfoyish manner as they entered the Slytherin dorm. James looked around in interest; this was one of the only rooms in Hogwarts he'd never seen.
They were in a small room, with six silver doors in the walls. There were black desks next to five of the doors, each with piles of books or parchment on them. The carpet was deep and green, matching the walls, and silver lamps floated by the ceiling, which was made of glass. Every now and then, a fish or a large tentacle would glide overhead.
Merlin! This is fancy! He shook himself, and followed Draco though the center of the room, into a door with "D. Malfoy" engraved in elegant script. Figures Slytherins would get private rooms. Still, I wouldn't've given up sharing a dorm with Pads and Moony for the world.
The room they entered was elegantly appointed in a Slytherin color scheme. Draco tossed his school robe into the wardrobe and flung himself onto the bed, pulling a silver pillow over his face and screaming into it.
Should probably introduce myself. Can't have Mini-Lucius messing up my plans for him, and he might cooperate. Slytherins are supposed to be cunning, right? Right. This should work.
He floated down, making himself visible. "So, nice place you got here."
The blond boy on the bed froze, and then slowly lifted the pillow off his face. His eyes widened as he saw James standing in his room. "You… you… you were in my potion today."
James grinned. "Yup."
"I thought you were a prank from… one of the Gryffindors."
"Well… technically, you could say that. But I solemnly swear, my intentions are honorable." James chuckled slightly. If Pads could hear me now…
"You look like Potter."
"That's true. Although, it might be more accurate to say Harry's lucky enough to look like me."
Draco was looking at him with a rather peculiar expression now, a mix between curiosity and exasperation. "Merlin, could you be any vainer? Never mind. Just… who are you?"
"You haven't figured it out yet?"
"In case you didn't notice, Potions didn't go so well for me. Ergo, I am in a bit of a bad mood. If you don't answer my question, or leave and never come back, by the time I count to five, I will hurt you where it counts. One."
James laughed at the threat. Really, what harm could come to a ghost? And while Draco's cooperation would be useful, James had been dead bored for the last fourteen years. Teasing his new charge was a bit of harmless fun. And if he's going to be friends with my son, he's got to have a sense of humor. That's all there is to it.
"Two."
On the other hand, Draco did look rather serious. And I suppose it is my fault he had a bad day in class. Even if it was for his own good. But he probably won't understand that until I explain it to him.
"Three."
But it went against the Marauder's Code of Conduct not to mess with Draco for a bit!
"Four."
Draco's face was turning pink, and he looked somewhat irked. Well, maybe that's enough for now.
"All right, all right, keep your pants on. I am none other than…" He paused for effect. The effect was somewhat ruined by the growl coming from Draco. "The Great and Wonderful Prongs!"
"Prongs? What kind of ridiculous name is Prongs?"
"Gee, Draco, I don't know."
"Well, if you expect me to believe that's your real name, you're dead wrong."
"Wow. You're not far off there." James sighed, feeling serious at the reminder of his non-living status. "Look, who I am isn't important—"
"Like hell it's not!"
"Don't interrupt, kid. I am not important here. You are."
xxxxx
It was really the utter end. As if he wasn't having a bad enough day, he was being haunted by some stupid Potter look-alike, and—
"You're James Potter."
The ghost stopped his lecture—I probably should listen. But I'd rather just get rid of the prat—and stared at Draco.
"Whatever gave you that idea, mini-Lu?"
"You look like him, you're dead," Draco felt a moment's remorse at the ghost's wince, but pressed on, "You're a pain in my—"
"Language, kid."
"Neck, and don't call me… whatever you did. Don't call me anything. Just… can't you go haunt someone else? You could haunt Potter, he'd love to have you!" Draco felt rather proud of that suggestion.
James floated down from the ceiling, settling an inch off the floor. Draco looked him straight in the eye—guess the height's genetic—and waited.
"Can't."
"Can't, or won't?"
"Can't. I've got unfinished business, and you're it, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me. It's not all bad, though."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Exactly how is having my arch-nemesis' dead father hanging around me not all bad?"
"Well, Lu-two—"
"Don't call me that, either."
The ghost waved a dismissive hand. "Don't interrupt. As I was saying, I am here for a very important task. A crucial, vital, and altogether serious task, and it is all about you."
Draco scoffed. "What on earth could you possibly do for me? In case you haven't noticed, we don't have much in common."
James pulled a sorrowful face. His ectoplasm took on a bluish hue. "That is, sadly, true. You are lacking in many of the qualities that make me so very marvelous, and that will make my task much more difficult. However!" He brightened suddenly, returned to the more normal ghostly silver, and started floating higher. "With my incredible skills, it is not impossible! Nay, young Slytherfoy—"
"Honestly, is there a reason you can't just use my name?"
"I am here for one purpose, and I shall accomplish this purpose though Voldemort himself stands in my path!" James stuck a heroic pose, beaming down at Draco from the ceiling. "My dear little Drac…ula?"
"No!"
The ghost heaved a sigh, exhaling an icy blast across the ceiling. "Well, what should I call you then?"
"Nothing! You should call me nothing! Because you should go away and never bother me again!"
"No can do, mon ami."
"Then what's wrong with just using my name?"
"It's boring. Also, you and me, we're going to be friends. And me and my friends always had nicknames. Ergo, you need a nickname." A thoughtful look passed over James' face. "Also, I need a new nickname. No offence, Dracon-bacon, but the nicknames we had were special, and it wouldn't feel right."
"I should call you Pest."
James stuck out his tongue. "There's no affection in that. I'll think of something genius. Always do. Let's worry about it later. But where was I?"
Draco buried his face in his pillow and groaned. Might as well accept my fate. For now. Until I figure out how to Vanish a ghost. He raised his head. "You were telling me all about this cosmic task that somehow involves both of us. And the sooner you finish, the sooner I can tell you to bugger off."
"Ah, yes. My task, which I have accepted most solemnly, is simple. I am here to make sure that your most secret desire is fulfilled!" James beamed at him, clearly excited at the idea.
He can't… there's no way he could know. No one knows! Draco was hyperventilating. "Just what secret desire would that be?" he managed to ask.
"The only one I could possibly help with, of course." James paused. "The one about my son?"
A rushing sound filled his ears and the edges of his vision started to darken. "You want to help me… with my secret desire… about Potter?"
"But of course! You and me, Malf, we're gonna make this the best year ever!"
Potter's dead father is a ghost. And haunting me. And is completely mental! Why me? What did I do to deserve this?