Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! Glorious freedom is here in the form of spring break, so hopefully I will be able to update two or three more times this week. We are approaching the end of Year 1 now. I might even be able to wrap most of it up this week. (But don't take my word on that.)
WARNINGS: Extreme creepiness, courtesy of the Nott twins.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MAGICAE OBTURAMENTUM
o
Draco had good news and bad news.
The good news was that he'd found the perfect "web" to trap the Hunger in.
The bad news was that he had no idea how to make that web.
"Magicae Obturamentum?" Harry said slowly, reading off the book Draco had handed to him.
"Magic obstructors. They're difficult to create, and I'm not sure how we'd be able to, but the theory is sound. Here, listen."
Draco prepared himself for a long lecture, clearing his throat. "I'll explain how to make one to you, one step at a time. First of all, we need to pick a 'receptacle' to make into that obstructor—a receptacle is basically an object, by the way. Like a quill, or a coin, or something like that."
Harry stared at him. "Why not just call it an object?"
Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head. Harry simply did not understand naming conventions. "Because it's not a normal object. It's a special object. It's a receptacle."
"But—"
"Potter, we're going to call it a receptacle, okay?" Draco gave him a sugary sweet smile that promised murder if Harry said another damn word. "Here's why. Let's say we find a coin—a Knut. We charm that Knut to do something funny, like make anyone who touches it turn blue. That Knut used to be an ordinary object, but now it's a receptacle, because it holds certain magical properties and affects anything that comes into contact with it. Does that make more sense?"
Harry's eyes looked unfocused, but he nodded quickly in response. Draco wasn't convinced, but he went on.
"This is the process of magical artifact creation, except most artifacts do more than just turn someone blue." Draco could barely contain his excitement, and he hopped up and down a bit in his seat as he took the book back from Harry and paged through it feverishly. "This book tells you how to make all sorts of receptacles, with all sorts of different names, and some of them are way more advanced than Magicae Obturamentum."
As a child, Draco had aspired to be an inventor. He and Theo had spent many long afternoons talking about all the different objects they were going to make, and what spells they were going to create. Of course, Lucius had shot down Draco's dream at once, claiming that academics had little power, as well as little sense.
Harry cocked his head at Draco's explanation, looking like a confused dog with his shaggy black hair falling over his eyes. It was adorable, but if Draco voiced that thought out loud, he was sure Harry would kill him.
"So what do Knuts that turn people blue—or receptacles—have to do with magic obstructors?" asked Harry, and Draco groaned.
"Magicae Obturamentum, or magic obstructors," began Draco with a long-suffering sigh, "are receptacles. That's what I just said, a moment ago. While you're touching a basic magic obstructor, you won't able to use your magic. Of course, there are many kinds of obstructors besides that basic one—like if you touch a higher-level obstructor, it'll block your magic for a certain amount of time, and it doesn't deactivate when you stop touching it. But the more dangerous and longer-lasting an obstructor is, the harder it is to make."
Harry's eyes lit up with understanding at last. He scooted his chair sideways, trying to get closer so he could see the book better. "How do we get the Hunger to touch an obstructor then? Like I said before, we don't even know if it has a physical body."
"That's where the web comes in," said Draco, puffing out his chest. "We can make several magic obstructors and give them an 'area-of-effect' property instead of a 'touch' property. Say we have seven of them, and we arrange them in a circle around the spot where the Hunger's going to come up. Anywhere within that circle, within that web, magic won't work. The Hunger won't be able to activate its gravity field, and once we've made it useless, we can get close to it and try to kill it."
"Draco, how exactly do you come up with all this stuff?"
Draco definitely wasn't imagining the admiration in Harry's voice just then.
"Oh, it just happens, you know," said Draco, his preening and smirking not matching his modest words. He liked having Harry's respect. Not enough people seemed to respect Draco anymore, and it was nice to have confirmation that he was brilliant. Of course, Draco knew he was brilliant. It was just nice to know that someone else thought so, especially Harry.
Harry snickered as Draco puffed up even more, but the next thing he said wiped away Draco's smile.
"Before your ego gets so massive that you float up into the sky, have you figured out exactly how we're going to make a magic obstructor? Looking at the diagrams in this book, it seems like it'll take some seriously complicated spellwork. I have no idea how to do any of this stuff—and this is just for the basic type of Magicae Obturamentum, the one that works with touching only. I expect we'll have to make some big modifications to this basic formula if we want the obstructor to have an area of effect."
Draco frowned and stuck out his lip. "I was just getting to the bad news. You couldn't even give me thirty seconds to bask in my glory?"
"Hold on. I want to guess what the bad news is." Harry's voice dripped with fake enthusiasm, and Draco glared at him. "The bad news is that you have no bloody idea how to do any of this."
"No, I don't." Draco slammed the book shut loudly enough to draw Madam Pince's attention. "But it shouldn't be impossible. How hard can following instructions be? We do everything this books says we do—"
"But I just told you," Harry said, through gritted teeth, "that the book only tells us to make the basic type of magic obstructor. Following instructions blindly won't get us anywhere."
Draco sniffed disdainfully. "This book has instructions on how to make a ton of different area-of-effect receptacles. We can modify those instructions to give our magic obstructor an area of effect. It shouldn't be too difficult to combine two types of receptacles. Leave this stuff to me. I'll have everything done by March, I swear."
Harry leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, but he seemed reluctantly impressed. "I don't have a better idea, so if you think you can handle this… well, go ahead."
Draco tried to plaster a cocky grin on his face, but it came out wilted. He looked through the diagrams again, distinctly aware of his stomach churning at the sight of all that complex spellwork. This was probably OWL-level work, if not NEWT-level.
No, there was no way he could handle this.
One week later, Draco had made little progress with the Magicae Obturamentum, and he was getting ready to beat down his pride and ask someone for help.
Dolohov, the Charms and Curses professor, was out of the question, and so were the rest. Draco didn't know how many of the professors knew about the Purge, and the last thing he needed right now was for one of them to start suspecting Harry. He could beg an older Elite to teach him, but most of them would want something in return, and Draco didn't want to be in a stranger's debt.
That left one person to ask.
So, during the first week of February, Draco approached Theo in the Elite common room, scowling up a storm. Theo was sitting with Zabini and Smith, who stiffened at the sight of Draco and nearly upturned the sofa in their haste to leave.
Theo didn't seem to notice their departure. He was too busy staring at Draco like Christmas had come early.
"Draco," he said, a bit out of breath, having probably just realized that this was the first time Draco had spoken to him voluntarily since Halloween. "Did you—did you need something?"
Draco threw himself on the sofa besides Theo and pinned him with a stern look. "Why else would I be coming to talk to you?"
Hurt flashed in Theo's eyes, but it was gone a second later. "What do you want, then?" he said, his voice controlled and careful.
After a good long minute of hesitation—and a few encouraging mental slaps—Draco muttered, "I need your help, Theo."
Why was Draco doing this? Why was he talking to Theo even after he'd sworn he wouldn't ever grace this meddling swine with his presence ever again? He knew Theo was going to ruin everything, like he had tried to do on Halloween.
But at this point, Draco had no choice but to ask him to make the magical obstructors, not if he wanted Harry to survive. There was nobody else to ask, and though Theo had many faults, nobody could deny that he was a born genius. If anybody could splice together two types of advanced receptacles, it was him, NEWT-level be damned.
Draco remembered that Theo—who, like most of the Elites, had gotten his wand around the time he could walk—had been able to create simple receptacles at the age of seven and modify spells at the age of nine. He was a natural inventor—just like he's a natural at everything else, thought Draco bitterly—but his passion had always been the Dark Arts, which his father and brothers had tutored him in from a young age.
Draco thought it was a massive waste. His own intelligence was nothing to scoff at, but he would've killed to have a mind like Theo's, a mind that found connections and solved puzzles in the blink of an eye.
"You need my help?" spluttered Theo, straightening up. "With what?"
Draco took a deep breath. "I… I need you to make a high-level receptacle for me. I know the theory, but it's, well, really difficult to understand some of the steps and—I can't do it, that's the point I'm trying to make."
He uncurled his tense shoulders, glad to have gotten that all out.
Theo chewed on his lip, and Draco could tell his curiosity was getting the better of him. "What's this receptacle, exactly?"
Draco explained, and Theo listened, giving little nods here and there. "Look, I'm not bragging," he said, running a hand through his hair, "but I think I'll be able to come up with a method to make that specific kind of Magicae Obturamentum in no time flat. Actually making it might take a little longer though." He shot Draco a side-eyed glance. "What do you even need it for?"
Draco wavered for a second, his heart skipping a few beats. He'd been preparing himself to tell this lie all week, had even practiced saying it in front of the mirror to make sure he'd be able to give a convincing performance.
But the next words had to be torn from his mouth.
"I need your help in dealing with Potter, Theo. He's magically powerful, you know that much, and I'm a bit worried about what he might to do to me in revenge. I… have a prank of sorts planned for him that involves the Magicae Obturamentum. I want to use it to take him out of commission, in case he tries to come after me once the Second Trial is over."
With great effort, Draco smothered the nasty little voice chattering in the back of his head. Of course he wouldn't hurt me.
And there had to be a way to pass the Second Trial and keep Harry's friendship at the same time, but Draco didn't want to think about the Second Trial right now, so he wouldn't. He had more pressing concerns at the moment.
Theo was nodding with great vigor, barely managing to hide his smile. Draco's plan had worked; the very mention of Draco hurting Harry had softened Theo up, made him more likely to cave and less likely to ask questions about Draco's "prank."
"I totally get it, Draco. But why go to all this trouble to make Magicae Obturamentum? If he does anything, I'll take care of him. Even if you haven't been acting like it, I still consider us friends—"
"I asked for your help, not your soul. You can't be my shield all the time, and I really don't want you to be, even if you could," snapped Draco, irritated by Theo's condescending tone for what felt like the millionth time in his life. "First of all, you're a meddling arse, and you nearly ruined the Second Trial for me on Halloween, and you made my father angry at me—"
"I apologized for all of that!" Theo practically wailed.
Draco shook his head. "You're only sorry because I stopped talking to you, not because you thought you were wrong. You'd do it again."
Theo said nothing in response, and Draco went on, his point proven. "Second of all—"
"That's not true," Theo whispered.
"What's not true?" said Draco, at the end of his patience.
"I did think I was wrong for taking Potter on Halloween, and I'm sorry for doing that. I told you that I wasn't thinking straight. I was just so sure that your plan wasn't going to work, and that you and Potter would become friends for real, and that you'd fail the Second Trial. That's why I sent a letter to your father. I just wanted to make sure that you wouldn't slip up, wanted to remind you what was at stake. You understand why I did it, don't you?"
"The way you worded that apology just now made it sound like it wasn't an apology," said Draco with a slight sneer. "And how many times do I need to tell you that I don't need you to mother me? I know perfectly well what's at stake."
Theo narrowed his eyes, and Draco was utterly unprepared for the onslaught of words that followed.
"I'm sorry for 'mothering' you, Draco. I'm sorry. I just—why am I even doing this? Did you even miss me all these months? Did you even think of me once, before you realized that you needed my help? Why're you even talking to me if you're never going to forgive me, if you're going to keep holding my mistakes against me until we're both fifty years old? If you think I'm a meddling fool and don't want to rely on me, tell me why I should even help you!"
Draco wanted to groan. There Theo went, manipulating the conversation to suit his needs, doing what he did best. And he still wasn't sorry about anything.
But two could play the manipulation game, and if there was one thing Draco was better than Theo at, it was manipulation.
"I'll tell you why you should," said Draco with a snarl. "If you help me make these magic obstructors without whining about Potter or the Second Trial, and without interfering or tattling, I'll consider it a full apology for Halloween and the letter. I really want to be your friend again, but I'll need proof that I can trust you not to meddle with my life first."
Theo's lip trembled just a bit, and before he could recover himself, Draco went in for the kill.
"You know that you're in the wrong, Theo. And I've been trying to act like I don't care about you because I'm so tired of your shit." Draco raised his voice here, pouring all of his frustration into it, making sure it shook and broke at the perfect moment. "But no matter how much I try to tell myself I don't need you anymore, I just can't—stop—missing—you. I hate that I can't stop thinking about you. I should hate you after everything you did, but I don't."
Theo's breath hitched, confirming that Draco's performance had been flawless. Draco continued, speaking fast and hard, pushing all the right buttons and relishing in the fact that Theo was nothing but limbless putty in his hands at this moment.
"And you know what? I'm so sick of Potter. I'm sick of having him in my room. I'm sick of acting like his friend, and I'm sick of worrying about what he's going to do me after the Second Trial. I'm sick of all the Elites calling me a traitor, and most of all, I'm sick of you thinking that I'm going to abandon everything and—and run away with him, or something stupid like that. I can't believe that you think so little of me. You've never seen me as your equal. You don't respect me—all you do is look down on me and tattle on me and lecture me."
Draco leaned closer and lowered his voice to a hiss. Theo's dark eyes were fixed on him, and his mouth was open slightly in an expression of shock.
"But I can't stand this anymore. I needed to talk to you. I could've asked a professor to help me with the Magicae Obturamentum, but I think I just wanted an excuse to spend time with you, to work on something with you. In fact, I think making the Magicae Obturamentum is an excuse by itself. So please, say you'll help me. And please say you'll stop meddling from now on, even though you're not sorry about it doing it before. Because I swear, Theo, I'm done with you for good if you pull something like Halloween or the letter again."
Slowly, Draco stood up to leave, holding Theo's dumbstruck gaze. "Well, now that I've said all that, tell me by tomorrow if you've decided to help me so I can figure out who else to ask if you say no."
At once, Theo grabbed his arm, just like Draco had expected him to. "Wait," he mumbled, face bright red. "Merlin, of course I will, Draco. You have no idea how much I missed you—"
"Do you promise that you won't interfere with the Second Trial or go running to my father?" Draco flung the challenge at Theo. "You promise that you'll respect me?"
Theo's gaze burned, and he nodded.
"Say it," breathed Draco, leaning over Theo until they were face to face.
"I promise," said Theo, meeting Draco's eyes without hesitation, his voice steady.
"Good." Draco's smile wasn't quite genuine, and he didn't trust Theo as far as he could throw him, but it was a step forward. "Let's get started. I'll go get my books."
Three days later, Draco flopped down on Theo's bed, groaning. "Is it working yet?"
"Don't mess up my sheets!" snapped Theo, wiping sweat off his forehead. "And no, it's not working yet." He was sprawled out on the floor, a heaps of parchment scattered around him. Every couple seconds he would mutter something under his breath, scratch his neck, and make a note somewhere.
"Is it working now?" Draco asked a few seconds later.
Theo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "No," he said, very calmly, and returned to his scribbling.
"Could you at least tell me what you've figured out? I could help, you know. I'm not here to look pretty."
"This is OWL-level work," said Theo, not looking up from his notes.
"You're only a few months older than me," Draco shot back, crossing his arms.
"In terms of age, maybe," said Theo, a grin spreading across his face. "In terms of maturity, though—hey, don't look at me like that, Draco! I was joking! It was a joke!"
"Good save," said Draco with sniff, straightening up. "Give me one of the Knuts." They had decided they were going to make their prototype receptacle a Knut because Knuts were expendable and plentiful, at least to wealthy heirs like Theo and Draco, while also being too valuable to accidentally throw in the trash.
Theo chucked one at his face. "Thanks," said Draco, catching it and rubbing it between his fingers. All they had done so far was put some preliminary spells on it, to lay the foundation for the spells that would cause the magic-obstructing effect.
But Draco had an idea. He got off the bed to lie on the floor next to Theo, then started to shuffle through the copious notes, causing the other boy to howl in protest.
"I just put those in order!"
"Oh, get over yourself," said Draco, finally finding what he was looking for. It was a particularly detailed diagram of a spell tree that Draco had made a week ago, before he'd joined up with Theo. The spell tree outlined the process of creating a Magicae Obturamentum the way Draco wanted it, modifications and all, and he'd given this diagram to Theo as a sort of starting point. "Did you even look at this?"
"Oh, that won't work," said Theo, waving a hand dismissively.
"What doesn't work about it? I mean, I doubt it's completely right, but I'm sure I got the order of the first few charms correct," said Draco with a frown.
Theo gave him a pitying look. "There's no point in looking at it if it's wrong, is there? Go sit back on my bed. You're messing up my notes and distracting me."
"Could you just tell me what's wrong with it?" asked Draco, raising his voice.
"Why do you even want an area-of-effect Magicae Obturamentum? If you're using it on Potter, wouldn't it be better to have it be timed—"
"Do it as I say, Theo," Draco snarled. "And I said I wanted the receptacle with both timed and area-of-effect properties, and I want to link seven of the Knuts together to create a sort of circle, a web. If you'd looked at my diagrams, you'd know that, but as usual you're taking over the project and not listening to me!"
"Fine! I'll look at them!" Theo seized Draco's notes, scowling furiously, and parsed through them with a thick red quill. "This is the wrong spell. Switch the order of the Lamination Charm with the Clock Charm. Your measurements are wrong, too. You're trying to find the volume of a demi-sphere to figure out how big the area-of-effect should be, aren't you? But here you've calculated the volume of a cone. How do you even get those two formulas mixed up? I swear, Draco, sometimes you amaze me."
He shoved the notes back in Draco's arms. "Happy now? Go salvage that."
"I didn't make that many mistakes," said Draco in a very small voice, looking at the red scribbles all over his work. "You only caught… what, three big ones?"
"I'm sure that if I bothered to waste my time, I'd find many more. Now go away. I'll have the procedure ready by tonight, and then you can help me with the spells. But not right now."
Draco stalked out of Theo's room and slammed the door behind him, fuming. Theo was the world's biggest git. He had always been like this, but Draco had dealt with it for years, mainly because there hadn't really been anyone else.
His friend situation was quite pathetic, Draco realized. There was Theo, the control freak. There were Vince and Greg, the idiots. Then there was Harry, the powerful, slightly unhinged half-blood, who also happened to be Draco's target, who also happened to be incredibly loyal and endearing.
Why, why couldn't Harry have been born as the heir of one the Dark Lord's Death Eaters? Draco's life would've been so much easier. He and Harry could have become Skulls together, then Death Eaters, and Draco wouldn't have felt any guilt for hurting dirty-bloods. Maybe if Harry had been a Pureblood, they would've been friends from childhood, and Draco wouldn't have had to bother with the Notts at all.
Strengthening his resolve, Draco retreated to his room to work on the Magicae Obturamentum. He would show Theo, Harry, and everyone else that he could do this. There were some tests that were important to his father, and then there were some tests that were important to Draco.
When Harry stumbled into Draco's room a few hours later, after a surprisingly painless session sorting papers for Dolohov, Draco was making strange loud noises on his bed and wriggling around.
"Uh—" Harry began, going bright red and looking away, wondering what exactly he had walked into.
But then Draco flipped around on the bed to face Harry, beaming, and Harry found it safe to look at him again. "I did it! I made a magic obstructor! Think fast!"
Harry saw a Knut flash through the air, spinning wildly, and in the next second he was on the ground, gasping as his magic was sucked into his skin and trapped there like a squirming mass of insects. He let out a breathy scream, sure he was going to burst out of his body in a spectacular display of blood and gore.
The sensation dissipated in the next second, and Harry's magic rushed back out of him like a wild creature hungry for destruction, surging through the room in a whoosh of air, extinguishing all the torches and forming little cracks across the floor before Harry was able to gain control of it again.
"Could you not?" Harry spat at him from the floor, once he had his breath back and could feel his limbs properly.
"Sorry about that," said Draco, pursing his lips, not sounding very sorry. "And it didn't last nearly as long as I expected it to. On a scale of one to ten, how painful was it?"
Harry struggled to his feet, impressed even though he was supposed to be angry at Draco for using him as a test subject. "Seven. And a half."
Draco pursed his lips again. "Darn. It should've hurt more."
"I take that back. It was definitely a ten; I just wanted to piss you off, you sadistic wanker." Harry leaned down to grab the coin on the ground, before deciding that was a bad idea and backing away rapidly.
"It's safe to touch right now." Draco slipped off his bed to pick up the Knut, then put it in his pocket. "It has an area-of-effect property on it, but it doesn't work now that it's just been used. It'll take some time to charge up again, and after that it has to be thrown and hit something to activate. I can't believe it only lasted two whole seconds. And I still have no idea how to link several magic obstructors together, and how to make them permanent."
Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again. He dearly wanted to help, but knew he couldn't. Not for the first time, he wished he were smarter. He could handle most spells just fine, thanks to his magical power, but one look at the complicated diagrams in Draco's books sent Harry's head spinning. It was obvious that spell and artifact creation were not for him, and required a kind of creativity he didn't have.
Harry felt another jolt of admiration for Draco. "How did you manage to do all this so quickly? You're almost done already."
"Almost done?" Draco laughed derisively. "This rubbish barely works! And I didn't even manage to do this much by myself—I mean, uh." He stopped talking at once and looked away sheepishly, as if he had revealed something he hadn't meant to.
Harry stared at him. "You had help? Who helped you?"
"Hey, Harry, I'm really sorry for using that obstructor on you. It must've hurt pretty bad, especially because you have a lot of magic. How about I massage your back as an apology?"
Draco's eyes were wide and innocent and hopeful, and it took Harry several long seconds to snap out of it and remind himself that Draco had failed to answer his question.
"Oh, please," Harry snorted, turning a bit pink at the mental image of Draco massaging him. He wasn't sure why the idea was so embarrassing; Draco had patched up his back about a million times. But there was something more intimate about massaging, probably because it did not involve copious amounts of blood and pain. "Like I'm going to fall for that. Out with it, who's helping you? Please tell me it's not Dolohov."
Draco rolled his eyes. "No, it's not," he said, talking a few steps towards Harry. "But keep guessing, if you really want to know."
"Your father," said Harry, grinning.
"Oh boy, you're getting closer. I don't think I can stand the shame if you find out," Draco drawled, taking Harry's arm and yanking him towards the bed.
"Is it a house-elf? No, it has to be—wait for it—the Dark Lord himself! Gah, stop! Stop! Please! DRACO!" Harry yelped as Draco threw him onto the bed and started viciously tickling him.
"Beg for mercy, Potter!" Draco cawed, tickling Harry's neck and waist simultaneously, making Harry squeal like a pig about to be slaughtered.
In between wheezes and pants, Harry grabbed Draco by the collar, and after a short struggle, managed to flip their positions, so now Harry was on top and Draco was laughing underneath him with his shirt untucked and his tie half-off. Meanwhile, Harry's glasses were lopsided, and his foot was throbbing from being smacked against the wall during their tussle.
"Just you wait, you snotty little Pureblood," Harry snarled, jabbing Draco in the stomach and making him shriek and writhe all over the bed, a sight that pleased Harry on several different levels. "I'm going to destroy you, I'm going to make you cry."
Draco's hair, usually neat and slicked back, was sticking up all over the place in little tufts, and his face was all blotchy and red. Harry had never seen anything funnier in his entire life. "I should take a picture of your face right now and send it to your rich Death Eater daddy. That'll show him how proper his son is—"
"Don't you dare!" Draco choked out, then dissolved into a spluttering mess as Harry began a coordinated attack on his waist, slipping his hands underneath Draco's shirt for easier access to his sensitive skin.
The door swung open, the person behind it let out a muted gasp, and Harry tumbled off the bed in his haste to pull his hands out of Draco's shirt.
"Did I interrupt something?" said Theodore Nott in an emotionless voice, leaning against the doorframe. The look in his eyes would've made Harry's blood freeze—if Harry had been scared of him, which he wasn't.
"Yes, you did, actually," Harry spat, straightening his glasses. "Ever heard of knocking, Nott?"
Infuriatingly, Theo ignored him. "Draco, I thought you were supposed to be working on our project, not… whatever this is." He curled his lip in a way that would've made Snape proud.
Huh? What project? Draco and Theo were working on a project together? Since when? Didn't Draco hate Theo?
Draco gingerly got off the bed, adjusting his shirt, which Harry couldn't help but notice had ridden halfway up his stomach. Harry took one quick look, unable to resist, before turning to fixedly stare at the wall.
"Theo, can you leave?" Draco sighed. "I'll come talk to you in a few minutes."
"For what?" Harry whined. "Why do you need to talk to him? Why's he barging into your room anyway?"
"Oh, you're the one in places you don't belong, Potter," said Theo, his eyes shadowed. Harry took a step forward, murderous, but Theo clicked the door shut a moment later.
"Explain," Harry shot at Draco, once he was sure Theo had gone. "I can't believe you're talking to him again, after he literally tried to kill me—"
"If we're being literal," said Draco, walking over to the vanity to inspect his mussed hair, "he didn't try to kill you."
"Let me fix my earlier statement," said Harry, sweetly. "I meant to say that he tried to punish me first, then kill me."
"He's the one who's helping me with the magic obstructors." Draco whirled around, eyes bright and burning. "I don't like it. I don't like him. But there's no other choice. He's a genius—"
"I would rather let the Hunger digest me," said Harry slowly, "than let Theodore fucking Nott make the magic obstructors."
"Then you're a massively stupid idiot," sniffed Draco, applying some sort of gel to his hair.
The sight of Draco calmly arranging his hair made Harry want to scream. "Have you been telling him our secrets, Draco? Did you tell him all about how I'm a Colossus?"
"Who the hell do you think I am?" said Draco, not even bothering to turn around. "I came up with some fancy story. I don't even remember it anymore. Theo didn't ask too many questions."
"That's a load of dragonshit, and you know it."
"For your information, I'm very convincing when I want to be—" Draco began.
"I'll bet you are. Did you tickle Nott to distract him from asking questions, just like you did to me?" Harry sneered. "If he hadn't walked in on us, I wouldn't have found out you two were working together."
Draco slinked forward, smiling dangerously, his hair perfect again. "Look Potter, I'll admit that I tried to distract you from finding out. You know why? Because I knew exactly how you would react, and you've proved me right. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go see what Theo wants."
"I refuse to let him make my magic obstructors," said Harry, shoving himself between Draco and the door, his insides curdling at the thought of Draco talking to Nott. He knew Draco had been friends with him, once upon a time, but Harry didn't like to think about Draco's past, didn't like to think about Draco smiling and laughing with someone who had tried to kill Harry. In fact, he didn't like to think about Draco smiling and laughing and being tickled by anyone but him.
Draco widened his eyes, and his next words jerked Harry out of his thoughts. "They're not even your magic obstructors, you prat. They're my magic obstructors, considering I'm the one making them."
Harry lost it. "No, they're not, because you're clearly too dumb to make them by yourself. Go come up with some other plan, one that we can work on together, not one that you have to work on with Nott! I thought you could handle this without having to ask the craziest bastard in first year for help. Genius, my arse. If Nott's a genius, then I'm secretly the Heir of Slytherin!"
Draco blinked rapidly, pushed him aside, and stalked out of the room before Harry could even register what had happened. After a second of standing there and gaping, he wondered if he had said something unforgivable.
Draco stormed into Theo's room, coming up with a hundred insults that would make Harry cry. He called me dumb! Me!
Theo was sitting at his desk, writing furiously. "In these past few hours, I've come up with a method to make the magic obstructors, just in the way you wanted them, even though what you wanted doesn't make a lot of sense. I guess you don't trust me enough to tell me what exactly you're planning for Potter, because this seven-point circle is ridiculously complicated for something you intend to be a self-defense prank. Whatever. I promised that I wasn't going to interfere with your plan for the Second Trial, so I'm not going to ask. I'm just pleased you're taking this seriously for once."
"Good." Draco stuck his nose in the air.
"Anyway, it should take a week at most for us to work out the kinks in the formula and make one of the obstructors, and then we'll be able to make the other six pretty quickly after that," Theo continued.
"Thanks for doing this, Theo," said Draco, genuinely. He dug around in his pocket for a second and pulled out the Knut magic obstructor he had tested on Harry. "I made this, by the way, using my own notes."
"Notes that I corrected," Theo added. "And I'm glad you managed to get something done today, even after all that time you spent rolling around with Potter." Theo's fingers tightened around his quill. "I didn't think you were that kind of guy, Draco. How many other boys have you kissed? Or did Potter get you to like him by snogging you? He's not even that good-looking."
"For Merlin's sake, Theo, stop talking before you embarrass yourself." Draco wanted to sink into the floor. Why couldn't Theo have knocked on the door like a polite human being? "We weren't snogging. I already told you that I'm sick of him, didn't I? How many times do I have to tell you that I don't like him? And if you must know, he was tickling me."
Theo looked up, his face still flushed from his rant earlier. His lips were parted in a perfect 'O' of surprise, and Draco barely managed to hold back a snort at the other boy's spectacular loss of composure.
"What the hell?" Theo spluttered at last. "Tickling?"
"It's a long story." Draco shifted his feet.
"Okay, I don't want to hear it," said Theo quickly, standing up. But he didn't seem as angry anymore, and Draco relaxed, relieved to have averted such a stupid argument.
Or not.
"Do you think he's good-looking, though?" asked Theo, out of nowhere.
Pointedly ignoring Theo's question, Draco made his way to the desk to examine Theo's notes. "Can we start on this tonight?"
"Oh. Right. I guess." Theo was quiet for a second, then spoke in a small voice. "Though I kind of wanted to play chess together. I haven't been able to play it for a long time. Not since… you know, you stopped talking to me."
Draco cocked his head in confusion. "Why not? Don't you have other friends?"
Theo sat down on his bed, scowling. "Well, Zacharias and Blaise don't really like me—I mean, they're closer to each other than they are to me. Vincent and Greg are the same way. Millicent pretty much only hangs out with the girls. I could've talked to some of the other Elites, but I didn't really see a point."
"I'm sure someone would play chess with you if you asked," said Draco as Theo took out his fancy jeweled chess set.
"But they're not you," said Theo, and Draco's resistance cracked a bit. Theo was a much better challenge at chess than Harry was, and Draco would have been lying if he'd said he didn't like a good high-stress, high-stakes game. And he had been working hard on the stupid Knut all day. He deserved a bit of a break.
"Please, Draco?"
"Well, you've already taken your set out, so it's not like I can say no," grumbled Draco, without too much venom, sitting down at the foot of the bed. "I get the diamond pieces."
As Theo arranged the pieces on the board, Draco held his crappy Knut magic obstructor up in the air, observing the light of the torches glint off its copper surface. Theo would be the one making the Magicae Obturamentum web, but this one Knut would be Draco's creation alone. He would perfect it until it was a weapon that he could use over and over again, and Harry would never dare to call him dumb again.
Harry had tossed and turned in his bed that night, agonizing over what Theo and Draco had said to each other during their private time together. After Draco had come back from whatever he'd been doing with Nott—Harry's skin crawled just thinking of the bastard—he had refused to speak to Harry all night long.
It was early morning now, and Harry's eyes were bleary. He blamed Draco for his lack of restful sleep.
"Did Nott say something to you about me?" asked Harry, after the two of them had gotten ready for class. "Is that why you're not talking to me now?"
Draco turned to face him, his tie half-knotted, his eyes gleaming crazily. "I can't believe you. I can't believe you don't even know what you did wrong."
Harry's mouth fell open. Draco was being so unfair. "How do you expect me to know what I did wrong if you don't tell me?"
Draco gave him a falsely bright smile and clapped his hands together. "You see, Potter, human beings have this thing we call a brain, which we use to think about what we did wrong. You should get one."
Brain, thought Harry sluggishly. Oh.
"I'm sorry for calling you dumb," he said with a grin, secretly relieved that Draco's irritation with him had nothing to do with Theodore Nott. Harry could fix this easily.
Draco shot him a supremely unimpressed sneer, picked up his schoolbag, and stomped out of the room.
Well, maybe not so easily.
Harry hurried after him. "I didn't mean it, Draco, okay? You're not even close to dumb, and you know that. Is your self-esteem really this fragile? How many times do you want me to apologize and take it back?"
Draco stopped walking, so abruptly that Harry almost crashed into him. He turned around, lips thin and eyes hard. "You would've been dead a hundred times if it weren't for me, Potter. And I'm trying to save your sorry life again, and you act like an ungrateful brat because Theo is working with us? Are you serious?"
"I don't trust him!" said Harry, waving his hands around in agitation. "Can you blame me? He'll probably do something to mess with the Magicae Obturamentum and I'll end up with my head blown off."
"Has anyone told you that your imagination is out of control?" said Draco dryly. "I'll tell you what's wrong with your little theory. First of all, Theo doesn't know this project is going to be used to help you, so he has no reason to sabotage it. Second of all, why do you think I exist? To be wallpaper? I'm going to be helping and watching him, and I'll have access to all his notes. And I'm keeping the Knuts in my room while we're not working on them so that he can't do anything to them while I'm not there. There's no risk with this, Harry. Just let it go."
"To help him, you'll have to spend a lot of time with him." Harry was aware of how shrill his voice sounded, but he didn't care. "Next thing I know, you'll be beating up Neville Longbottom and hiding his broken body behind the greenhouses."
"What does this have to do with anything? And I am a Skull Initiate, you know." Draco sounded exhausted.
Harry grinned nastily. "That's where you're wrong, Draco. I'm your target, but you haven't really been targeting me, or anyone else, have you? How're you going to pass Initiation? Why're you even bothering with all of this, if you don't even want to do any of it?"
"Shut up!" Draco chest rose and fell as he panted, the rage radiating out of him almost tangible. Harry had to take a few steps back. "Don't mention the Skulls to me ever again, or I swear I'll stop talking to you."
With that, he sped up and sprinted all the way to the Dark Arts. Harry went after him at a languid pace, grimly satisfied with himself.
By the first week of March, Theo and Draco had finished all seven of the Magicae Obturamentum, and Draco had perfected his own private one. It could now disable a wizard's magical capabilities for fifteen minutes, and Draco had used a spell on it that aligned it with his magical signature. This would allow him alone to be immune to the magic obstructor's effects, even if he was within its area of effect.
Everything was going well, except for Harry, who was still being impossible.
"I doubt this stupid web even is going to work," Harry sneered as he and Draco made their way to the center of the Forbidden Forest under the Invisibility Cloak. Draco intended to set up the Magicae Obturamentum web as soon as possible, before the forest started getting rowdy again.
"You'd better pray it works," snapped Draco, "or you're dead on Beltane."
"Not necessarily." Harry's voice was annoyingly smug. "You can just use the bond to save me again."
"If you keep talking, I'll let you die," Draco threatened, throwing off the cloak as they reached the little treeless hollow where the Hunger rested. Most of the spider's webs had long since disintegrated, though their tattered remains fluttered in the cool spring breeze.
Draco walked along the edge of the clearing, placing the seven Knuts he and Theo had made into Magicae Obturamentum on the ground at even intervals. A few minutes later, he straightened up, a bit out of breath. He took the hand of a scowling Harry and led him into the center of the clearing in order to force him to inspect Draco's handiwork.
"Incipio!" said Draco, activating the magic obstructors. The clearing hummed and crackled with energy as the seven Knuts connected in a flash, and the air around the two boys shimmered and rippled like water. Harry shut up, temporarily distracted from his latest rant on Theo's lack of intelligence and sanity.
"Wow," Harry murmured, blind to everything but the spectacular display of magic.
Draco snickered at the dumbstruck expression on his face. "Impressed?"
Harry shook his head a bit as if shaking off fleas, and a second later his scowl was back. "Why isn't it working on us? We're standing in the web, aren't we?"
"I've already used a spell on the Knuts that aligns them to our magical signatures. We won't get caught in the web even if we're standing in it," said Draco, puffing up his chest. "So while we're fighting the Hunger in this clearing, we won't have to worry about our magic being blocked."
He fingered the secret eighth Knut in his pocket, smiling. Theo didn't know about the magical signature alignment spell—that had been Draco's brilliance alone.
Harry gawked at him for at least a whole minute, and Draco couldn't stop himself from preening a bit. "I guess I'd better apologize for being stupid this past month, shouldn't I?"
Draco bowed like a servant directing his master into the house. "Please, go ahead and apologize."
"Sorry," said Harry. He paused as if nervous, and Draco almost thought he was going to say something sweet and nice. Instead he said, "Are you still going to be meeting with Nott, then?"
Draco groaned, put the Invisibility Cloak back on, and dashed away, leaving Harry squawking and spluttering in his wake.
"That's it, Potter. That's the last straw. You're dead to me. You'll never see me again!" shouted Draco, keeping just out of Harry's reach while Harry ran around in a frantic attempt to catch him.
"Draco!" wailed Harry as Draco stuck out an invisible leg, causing Harry to stumble face-first into a puddle of mud and slush. "This isn't funny, damn it!"
After dinner, while Harry made his way to the kitchens to get tea for Dolohov, Draco returned to the Elite common room grinning like a fool, still in a terrific mood from taunting Harry earlier.
His good mood evaporated at once.
Four Bronze Skulls, Sebastian and Nathaniel Nott among them, stood by the fireplace.
Draco's heart stuttered to a halt.
The twins swiveled towards him, locking eyes with him the moment he walked in. Theo was sitting on the sofa with the other Initiates, face carefully blank, but Draco wasn't fooled by the façade. Theo's gaze kept flicking between Draco and his brothers, and his fingers were clenching and unclenching behind his back.
"The princess is here," said Millicent grumpily from her spot next to Greg. "Can we start now?"
Draco wanted to ask "Start what?" but his voice utterly failed him. He sat down next to Theo, working on keeping his breathing steady and his eyes firmly fixed on the ground. He could pretend the twins didn't exist if they weren't in his line of sight. That seemed like a good idea.
Sebastian's Skull Mask rippled around his distorted features, and he spoke in that same low, smooth voice that plunged Draco right back into the darkest corners of Nott Manor.
"Draco," crooned Sebastian, and Draco froze. "Will you come up here for a moment?"
"Maybe not right now, Nott," warned one of the other Skulls.
"Now, Draco," Sebastian hissed. To the other Skull, he said, "Relax, Fawley. I just want him to read the invitation to the Third Trial for us. His voice is quite lovely, don't you think?"
Draco still hadn't moved, nor had he registered anything Sebastian had said. Theo elbowed him discreetly in the side, and Draco struggled to his feet. Slowly, achingly, he walked to where Sebastian stood and halted in front of him.
Draco kept his gaze focused on the fireplace, staring so intently at its flickering flames that its brightness imprinted afterimages in his vision.
"Look at me, Draco," said Sebastian tersely, digging his fingers into Draco's chin and tilting his face up. Draco made a small noise that sounded like a squeak, and Sebastian's mask contorted again as his lips twisted into a shoddy replica of a smile.
"Isn't he so cute, Seb, trembling like that?" murmured Nathaniel, inching closer to his brother, his eyes boring into Draco's.
Sebastian stroked Draco's cheek with the calloused fingers of his other hand, then leaned so close that Draco could feel his hot breath waft over his cheek. Leisurely, Sebastian trailed his fingers down Draco's neck, rubbing into the tender skin at the hollow of Draco's throat.
The firelight glinted off the older boy's mask, and both the room and Draco's stomach seemed to lurch at the same time.
Then the moment passed, and Sebastian moved his fingers back up and threaded them through Draco's hair with a rough sigh. "He is. Too bad we don't have time to play with him right now," he said, reluctantly releasing Draco's jaw.
He left his other hand in Draco's hair, then turned him to face the other twenty or so Initiates, all of whom were regarding Draco with pity and Sebastian with terror. Theo's face was still blank, however.
The floor beneath Draco seemed to be tilting and shaking violently, or maybe that was just his legs.
Fawley, the other Skull, cleared his throat and handed Draco a glittering golden piece of parchment. Draco stared at it for a moment before he realized that he was supposed to be reading off it.
"Gold. Silver. Bronze. United in control, united in power," Draco began, amazed by how steady he could keep his voice while Sebastian was lazily playing with the strands of his hair. "Chosen Initiates, the Skull Masks invite you to Dungeon Two on April thirtieth, Walpurgis Night, where you will complete both the Second and Third Trials."
The last day of April. Walpurgis Night. The night before Beltane.
If Sebastian hadn't been holding onto his hair, Draco would have sunk to the ground.
A Skull stepped forward, gesturing for Draco to go sit back down. Sebastian made a discontented noise in the back of his throat, but disentangled his fingers from Draco's hair. Draco shakily made his way back to the sofa, not daring to look at any of the other Initiates, furious shame at being seen in such a vulnerable position making his face go a mottled red.
"The instructions for the finale of the Second Trial and the Third Trial are as follows," the Skull began. "You are tasked with capturing your target and bringing them to Dungeon Two by eleven-thirty on Walpurgis Night. This action concludes the year-long Second Trial."
Several of the Initiates murmured amongst themselves, confused. The Skull snapped his fingers, irritated, and everybody fell silent.
"To pass the Third Trial, you will be putting your target under the Cruciatus Curse, so get practicing. It's a difficult spell to perform." The Skull's last words were nearly drowned out by the sudden excited clamor from the Initiates just then.
"Dungeon Two is also called the Room of Judgement, which means your target will be judged on his or her crimes, and you will be judged on your performance as an Initiate. You will be the one presenting their crimes to them, and summarizing exactly how you have punished them throughout the year. The magic in the Room of Judgement will assist you with this. Any questions?"
Everybody was clearly bursting to ask questions, but nobody did. The Skull's voice sounded garbled to Draco, and the room seemed strangely devoid of color.
"Get on with it, Fawley," said Sebastian, his eyes still on Draco—or more specifically, Draco's throat. "Let's do the anthem already and leave. I have a little problem I need taking care of."
The Initiates immediately jerked into movement and stood up, Draco scrambling to keep up with them. His lips moved to form the words of the anthem, but he was barely able to hear his own voice over the blood roaring in his ears.
"In gold, silver, bronze, we stand united, devoted weapons of the Dark Lord."
Harry, laughing as he tickled Draco into the bed.
"We strive to prove ourselves, our control, and our power."
Harry, bleeding and broken after a session with Dolohov.
"To challenge those who are impure, traitorous, and unworthy."
Harry, telling Draco that his father and the Dark Lord deserved justice.
"To break, shatter, and destroy those who defy us and our Lord."
