Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the things officially affiliated with Harry Potter. I do own the really awesome shirt I am wearing right now, it's brown and has a skull and crossbones on it and then it has a pink flower in its hair, or at least a pink flower where its hair would be, but skulls don't have hair, so it doesn't.
Silverhikari: Thanks for the review, and here's the next chapter with Bill and Draco talking
Gremlin: What will Bill do, indeed. Well, you can get a faint idea of what Bill is going to do in this chapter, hope you like it
Rachel: Thank you for the compliments, and I'm glad that you liked the last chapter so much
Mask: yes, dear, refrigerators are cold, lol
Kristen: I'm glad that it caught your attention, and here is the next chapter
Meirta: no, I'm sorry, this story is not slash, pure friendship, nothing more
Melanie: I would love to send you chapter two, I'll prolly send it after dinner sometime, so look for it then
And always, thanks to my beta, Ada Achlys, you're amazing!
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Draco woke up sometime Sunday morning, still hazy because of the drugs. Madame Pomfrey bustled over when she saw him awake.
"How are you feeling, Draco?" she asked kindly.
Draco frowned at the use of his first name and the comforting smile on her face and was just pondering her unexpected behavior when he remembered lying on the field, blurting out the fact that his mother was an alcoholic to the nurse and Bill. He groaned and wondered if he said anything else, but couldn't remember.
"Does your leg hurt?" asked Pomfrey in concern. "I can get you some stronger pain medication if you like?"
"No," Draco managed, the word coming out in more of a croak. Ever since the 'incident' with his mother's pleasure potions, he hated anything stronger than the pain potion he had yesterday.
"Are you sure?" Pomfrey asked. "You had surgery yesterday, pretty invasive surgery. At least let me give you a sleeping tonic so you can sleep off the worst of it."
Draco was about to protest and began to sit up a bit, but a sharp pain in his leg and the sudden pounding in his head halted the movement. He fell back on the pillows, feeling nausea rise up and realizing that although the pain in his leg was considerably less than it had been yesterday, now it just called attention to the rest of the bruises on his body. He decided that the sleeping draught sounded rather good.
"Alright," he said. Pomfrey got him the sleeping draught and then gave him a glass of water to wash it down with. Draco lay back on the pillows and closed his eyes, hoping to fall asleep quickly to escape the pain.
He was jerked out of his sleep in the afternoon by soft footsteps and the sound of a chair being pulled close. He was still slightly groggy as the sleeping potion hadn't quite worn off, but his body wasn't used to so much rest and he was a light sleeper. He opened his eyes and was surprised to see none other than Bill Weasley sitting in a chair beside his bed. Before he could wonder what the eldest Weasley was doing there, Bill spoke.
"Bonjour, Draco. Comment etes-vous?" (Hello, Draco. How are you doing?)
"Que faites-vous ici?" (What are you doing here?) Draco asked in confusion, not realizing he had spoken in his native language until Bill gave a slight smile. Draco's brain sent out a warning, and he knew that this conversation could not be good. If he had been able to, he would have run, but he was stuck in bed wearing the white infirmary pajamas with his left leg propped up on pillows and so he was forced to stay.
"A funny thing happened the other day," said Bill in English. He looked down at the floor a moment, then looked Draco square in the eyes. "I looked through your file."
Draco froze, his mind whirling as the full implications hit. He opened his mouth, but no words came out so he closed it again, still staring at Bill.
"So, is E your favorite letter or something?" Bill asked, with a faint smile on his lips.
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Draco, managing to speak again, but the denial fell flat. He was off-balance because of the drugs and his brain couldn't quite keep up with what was happening. In the beginning he had planned on what he was going to do if his grades were ever discovered, but as time wore on, he stopped wondering, confident that no one would ever look. He now cursed himself for his arrogance and tried to mentally slap his brain into awareness.
"So, how smart are you exactly?" asked Bill, cutting to the chase.
"How long have you been spying on the Death Eaters?" Draco retorted, hoping to scare him into silence, or at least, change the subject.
"A few weeks now," said Bill. "Around the time I started putting the code up."
Draco stared again. He had just gone ahead and told him? Not only that, but Bill knew that Draco knew about the code.
"So, how smart are you?" Bill asked again.
Draco then realized what Bill had done. He had given Draco a secret in exchange for his own so that neither of them could betray the other. He was impressed, and decided that since the Weasley figured out that much already, he may as well learn the rest. Besides, maybe this way he could learn more about Bill's spying job as well. He made sure Pomfrey was out of hearing distance before speaking.
"Pretty smart," Draco admitted, feeling surprisingly calm in revealing his life's secret. "Smarter than you."
"Doesn't take much," said Bill.
"You're the only one I've had this conversation with," said Draco. "That ought to count for something."
"That's my job, to observe things, find inconsistencies and break codes. Most buried treasures are protected in three different ways, physical booby-traps, some translating to do, and then a riddle. I see most things as a riddle."
"So I'm a riddle?" Draco asked, again trying to sidetrack the Professor.
"A riddle that almost fooled me," said Bill. "And you're changing the subject."
Draco smirked. "You figured that out pretty fast."
"Answer the question, Draco. How smart?"
Draco sighed and shifted a bit. "I brewed Veritaserum when I was twelve. I became an illegal animagus at thirteen. By fourteen, I knew everything there was to be taught at this school. By fifteen, I could graduate with honors from a Muggle high school, and right now I can tell you with 94 confidency every single witch or wizard who is a Death Eater and every single witch or wizard who is in the Order of the Phoenix."
He waited for Bill to deny his statement or to laugh at him, or to go and tell Dumbledore. Bill didn't do anything like that; instead he sent an impressed look at Draco.
"That's absolutely amazing," said Bill.
"That's it?" asked Draco, too stunned to play the aloof Ice Prince. "No disbelief, no incredulity, no tests to hook me up to or interrogations to learn exactly who is a Death Eater?"
Bill immediately sobered up. "You do realize that you would be a great asset to either side of the war. Right now, I could drag you to Headquarters, feed you Veritaserum, and make you spill everything you know."
Draco smiled. "You wouldn't be able to. I'm versed in both the Dark Arts and self-defense. Although," he paused and studied Bill, "you wouldn't really do that. You're too noble."
"Or perhaps the cause I am fighting for would be undermined if I took to kidnapping and interrogating a minor."
"Like I said," said Draco. "Too noble."
Bill shrugged. "Perhaps."
Draco sat up a bit. "How did you know that I deciphered the code?" he asked.
Bill grinned. "You told me," he said, then went on to explain as Draco felt the confusion slip onto his face. "When you were drugged up. You told me that I had a riddle on my board. R is for Riddle. M is for Malfoy. You really are the talkative one on those pain potions."
Draco glared, and steered the conversation in another direction. "How did you get picked to be a spy on the Death Eaters?" he asked.
"I'm just relaying the code," said Bill.
"Liar," said Draco. "You're actually spying on the meetings."
Instead of looking abashed or guilty or denying the statement, Bill smiled. "And how do you come to that conclusion?" he asked.
"You're young, unmarried, and healthy," said Draco shrugging. "You're also perceptive. It would be a waste for you to do anything as menial as merely relaying a code and I doubt the Order has a surplus of such volunteers. And right now you're testing me, aren't you?" he added as Bill gave him an encouraging smile.
"Trying to see if that genius applies to real life scenarios," he said. "Plus I can imagine that you're rarely challenged here."
Well, that was the truth. "So, how do you do it?" Draco asked.
"You tell me," said Bill, settling back in his chair and wearing a challenging grin.
Draco thought for a minute, the fingers in his right hand twitching in that 1-3-2-4 pattern because once again he had no hard surface to drum on.
"The first problem is getting to the meeting," said Draco, making sure that Pomfrey was still in her office with the door shut. "You couldn't use a tracking spell."
"Why not?" asked Bill, not objecting to his statement, but wanting to hear his reasons.
"Too noticeable," said Draco. "The slight light or the pulsing noise is obvious. The Dark Lord may be a lot of things, but he's not stupid. You could use a bond I suppose, but you would need an Occlumens to pull it off, plus most Death Eater meetings are held in remote locations and he's overseas now, so it wouldn't work."
"How do you know he's overseas?" asked Bill.
"I went to a few in France," said Draco, shrugging. He noticed Bill's startled look and sneered. "Oh, come on," he said. "I'm the son of a Death Eater. Don't tell me you think I'm completely innocent."
"I suppose you've met Voldemort then," said Bill, not trying to be casual about his prying. "What do you think of him?"
"The Dark Lord?" reiterated Draco. He shrugged again. "Can't say I don't disagree with what he says about purity in the blood lines, but can't say I totally agree with following a half-blood to do it. Seems to be a bit of a contradiction."
"But what about Muggleborns?" asked Bill.
"They're Mudbloods," said Draco. "Right now I'm still going with my childhood teachings."
"Which are?" Bill prodded.
"Purity of the blood is worth more than money, though money is a close second. I have both, therefore I am above the rich and tainted and the poor and pure."
Bill stared at him. "You really are a right, arrogant snot, aren't you?" he asked incredulous.
Draco stared back. He knew that is what people thought of him, that was how he portrayed himself, but no one had ever told him in that straight, matter-of-fact voice that he was such a bastard. He thought for a moment.
"Yes," he said. "I suppose I am."
Bill laughed, and Draco was surprised to note that Bill was not condemning him for his prejudiced beliefs and he wasn't trying to change his beliefs. Draco was beginning to suspect that Bill was not like anyone he had met yet, and he figured that Bill would continue to be surprising.
"So," said Bill. "Tracking spells won't work. How else am I getting there?"
"You could be disguised and pretend to be a Death Eater, but that has too many complications, and somehow I sincerely doubt that the Dark Lord would be that easily fooled."
"So, how does one get to a Death Eater meeting?" asked Bill guiding his thoughts.
"The only way to get to a Death Eater meeting is to be called," said Draco. "Or to Apparate with one who is called, that's how I go, but I can't see you holding anyone's hand which must mean that somehow you transferred a mark, which is supposed to be impossible."
"So I can't go that way?" asked Bill.
Draco shook his head. "It's supposed to be impossible," he said. "That doesn't mean it is."
"Very true," said Bill, and from his smile, Draco knew that was how it worked.
"So you transferred a Mark," he said. "Was it from a dead body?"
Now Bill looked intrigued. "Not a bad idea," he said. "But Voldemort would know when a Death Eater dies, and he would obviously notice if all of a sudden he received a new follower."
"Not all of it," said Draco. "Just a tiny bit of it. Since you didn't get it off of a body, you must have transferred a piece of it from Snape."
"Snape?" asked Bill in surprise. Draco had to hand it to him; Bill was an excellent actor.
"Is a spy," Draco said, finishing his sentence. "I've known for a while now. It's why Dumbledore trusts him and why he doesn't like me."
Bill studied him for a moment. "He worries about you," he finally said.
Draco raised his eyebrow in surprise. "Oh?"
"He's afraid you're going to turn out like your father because of your upbringing."
Draco filed that piece of information away in his head. "So you can go to the meetings because you have a bit of Snape's mark. Can I see it?"
Bill pulled up his left sleeve and showed Draco his unmarked skin. "Invisible," he said.
"The Pater's Ritual?" asked Draco, naming a ritual created by a father who transferred a curse from his son onto himself. The ritual was then named after the self-sacrificing father.
"With a few variations," said Bill. "In the potion we used blood instead of moonstone."
"To create a bond between you two instead of a complete transference of the mark," said Draco, putting the pieces together.
"That's right," said Bill. "And we changed the wording a bit too, but that's the gist of it. Dumbledore was the one who came up with the idea."
"He is a genius," said Draco. "You have an invisibility cloak to spy, don't you?"
"And what else?" asked Bill.
"Scent killing potions for Nagini," said Draco. "And a silencing charm for the Apparation noise."
"No," said Bill. "I don't need the silencing charms."
Draco gazed at him in jealousy. "You're a silent Apparater, aren't you?" he asked. Each wizard or witch had their sound when they Apparated. Narcissa had a soft 'pop', Lucius entered with a snap of a whip, and Draco's sound (he Apparated illegally) was the quiet version of a crack of lightning.
"Yeah," said Bill, grinning at the obvious envy on his face.
"So you go and sit in on the Death Eater's meetings," said Draco. "And then you put the code up and Tonks relays the message to McGonagall or someone else."
Bill frowned. "I'm beginning to think that you are too smart for your own good," he said.
Draco smirked. "So, the bat was the work of a Death Eater then?" he asked.
Bill nodded. "Don't go spreading it around school," he said. "No one's supposed to know."
"How did it get in?" asked Draco.
"Through the forest," said Bill. "The wards at Hogwarts don't prevent animals from getting onto the school grounds and we can only assume that a Death Eater trapped the animal and brought it the forest and then some how guided it here."
Draco shook his head. "Rather clever," he said. "Of course a female bat would have been better. They may be smaller, but they are more vicious and would have caused more damaged. In fact, another animal in general would have been better, though I suspect that the bat was more for show than anything."
"That's what's worrying," said Bill. "Usually the Death Eater's go for more deadly attacks than showy. We think they may be up to something."
"Here's another idea for you," said Draco. "The attack wasn't planned by the Dark Lord. Look at the World Cup two years ago. That was led by Death Eaters and that was definitely for show."
"It is a possibility," said Bill thoughtfully, then turned serious. "You do realize that I'm actually going to look into your suggestions," he said. "If you don't want to help out our side, you should probably stop talking."
That was not surprising, that was downright shocking. Draco expected Bill to continue pressing questions on him or to ask him questions concerning his father's whereabouts at the least, but here he was warning him to shut up if he didn't want the Order to know.
"Why did you warn me?" he asked, being unable to come up with an answer. He hated the feeling of confusion, and it wasn't a feeling he felt often.
Bill was silent for a moment and then he leaned forward a bit. "You're confused," he said. "You don't know if you agree with Voldemort and you don't know if you want to be a Death Eater, however you think that doing so may be your only option."
Draco blinked as Bill's intense gaze bored into his. He wanted to object, to say that he wasn't confused. He was a genius for Merlin's sake; he wasn't supposed to get confused, but he couldn't speak.
"Choosing sides is a hard thing to do," Bill continued, "and it is a decision only you can make. If I influence you in any way, the decision won't be yours and that is how spies are made. They get pressured into one side and then they decide that they don't agree with that faction, like Snape. Fortunately, he's on our side. If he wasn't, who knows what damage he could do? If you joined and then realized it wasn't your decision, you could bring down the entire Order, because you are that smart. I'm not going to risk that. Plus, you're still a kid."
"What?" Draco protested, sitting up. "I'm smarter than you and McGonagall combined, I'm not just some kid!"
"You are though," said Bill. "A very smart one, but still a kid. A very lonely kid at that. My guess is that you could use a friend who isn't watching and analyzing your every move."
"Friends?" asked Draco, raising an eyebrow. "You want to be friends?" Somehow it seemed laughable.
"Sure," said Bill. "'Professors are your pals', you know. And speaking of Professors, Pomfrey says you should be up by Tuesday afternoon and when you come to class, I want you to fail your test."
Draco stared at him, trying to comprehend the complete and total subject change. "Why?" he asked, narrowing his gaze.
"Just trust me," said Bill. "I'm not spilling your secret, so I think I warrant a bit of trust. I promise, it will be worth it. Think about it, and try to get some rest until then. That fall of yours really was spectacular."
He stood up and walked out the infirmary, leaving a very confused Draco Malfoy staring after him. Draco decided he had better get used to the feeling; he figured Bill Weasley would always be that way.
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Bill left the infirmary shaking his head in wonderment. Here was possibly the smartest child since Dumbledore was a kid, and no one knew but him - well, and Draco. He shook his head again; that kid was really something else. He had figured out that Bill was a spy, and figured out how Bill was getting there. He resisted the urge to laugh in sheer amazement. It was unbelievable, simply unbelievable.
He was so wrapped up in his musings that he didn't even notice the Headmaster falling in step beside him until Dumbledore spoke.
"A face that troubled often means there is trouble."
Bill jerked at the sound, his hand going for his wand and then stopping as he recognized the voice.
"Headmaster," he said, giving the old man a sheepish smile. "I'm afraid I was lost in my thoughts."
"A very easy place to get lost when one does not have a map," said Dumbledore. "What seems to be the trouble?"
Bill opened his mouth to say nothing, but then stopped and thought for a moment. Did Dumbledore deserve to know? Could he honestly keep something like this hidden?
"Nothing as of now," he said slowly. "Was there something you needed?"
"Actually yes," said Dumbledore. "Did you see Harry fall yesterday?"
"I saw Draco holding on to him," said Bill. "And I saw Draco reaching down to grab his other hand, but no, I didn't see the exact fall. May I ask why you want to know?"
Dumbledore was silent for a moment. "I believe I saw Mr. Malfoy catch Mr. Potter," he said after a while. "But I can't be sure."
Bill carefully composed his face. "Why would Draco do that?" he asked, though he was inwardly celebrating the fact that Draco wasn't as far gone in his prejudiced beliefs as Bill feared he might be.
"Why indeed," said the Headmaster. "I spoke to Minerva about it, showed her my Pensieve of the event in fact, but she seems to think that I want to believe that it happened that way."
"Could that be possible?" asked Bill, playing devil's advocate and enjoying it far too much.
"She could be right," allowed Dumbledore. "My most dangerous failing is that I may sometimes see the good in a person far after that goodness has been discarded."
"What did Severus say?" asked Bill.
"I haven't showed him," said Dumbledore. "If Tom somehow broke through Severus' mind and saw that image, even if it wasn't true, the consequences would not be pretty for Mr. Malfoy. But you are younger, and you call him Draco, something that no one here does. Perhaps you could keep an eye on him for me?"
"Of course, Headmaster," said Bill.
"Thank you, William," said Dumbledore. "But don't overexert yourself. We need you in good health, but it's just that I believe there is something about that boy…," Dumbledore trailed off.
Bill hid a Malfoy-like smirk. If only you knew, Headmaster, he thought. If only you knew.
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So, why does Bill want Draco to fail the test? Who exactly in the school sent that bat? Will more danger come…well, yes, but not right now. So, please leave a review, and let me know what you think of the confrontation, good, bad, boring, stupid? All of the above? Review if you want to know.
