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Chapter Twenty-Five—Surprising

"Why in the world should we trust her?"

Draco could have smiled. Granger had come right to the heart of the issue.

Of course, since Ventus was the one who called herself his friend, it was incumbent upon him to defend her. He cleared his throat and stood. Granger shifted her sharp gaze to him at once, her chin coming up in the way that Draco suspected she might have liked to raise her wand. Even though they were all gathered in Weasley and Harry's rooms, they were not together in any important way. Draco knew Granger and Weasley had actually objected to him attending this meeting at first, and had relented only because there was no way that Ventus would have given them the map and her knowledge without his presence.

"She said that we could use Veritaserum," Draco said. "And that's what I plan to do. There's no reason for us to trust her without it, that's true. I'm also curious as to how she managed to get that map away from the War Wizards, who guard their treasures with notorious care."

"Where are we going to get Veritaserum?" Granger leaned forwards aggressively. Draco watched her and wondered if he had imagined her sympathy after Harry had first committed his crime of necromancy. Or perhaps what he had thought earlier had been true, and such sympathy had been an overflow of an emotion that always remained faithful to Harry.

"I have some," Draco said.

He might as well have said that he had the Draught of Unending Plague. Both Weasley and Granger sat back in their seats to put as much distance between them as possible, and Granger fumbled for her wand. Draco raised an eyebrow. In some odd way, he was enjoying this confrontation. It showed Weasley and Granger for what they were without requiring that Draco defend himself.

Because of the other person in the room.

Harry hissed in exasperation and jumped to his feet, standing between Draco and his friends' wands. "What the fuck is your problem?" he asked. "How can you put up with the knowledge that I practiced necromancy better than the knowledge that Draco can get us Veritaserum?"

Draco thought that little display worthy of being rewarded with a touch on the back. He reached out and trailed his fingers slowly down Harry's spine. Harry blinked back at him with startled eyes, then blushed and ducked his head.

Weasley snorted. Draco thought his quick eyes had caught that touch, and it was as clear as sunlight that he didn't like it. "You're our friend, Harry. He's not."

"And not worthy of being trusted even if I vouch for him?" Harry shook his head. Draco couldn't see the expression on his face, but he could imagine it, and he mentally winced. Harry's friends would not be having an easy time of it at the moment. "Wait," Harry went on after a moment, his breath violently catching. "Is the only reason you excused the necromancy because I'm your friend, and not because you thought it might have happened for an understandable reason? That's what you told me."

Oh, this is sweet, Draco thought as the two Gryffindors exchanged uneasy glances. Yes, tell him lies and me the truth, and see what happens when we have the ability to bring our minds together.

"It's not like that, Harry," Granger said at last, with a careful accent and a flutter of her eyelashes that made Draco hope she never tried to flirt her way out of trouble. "We just wanted to support you at a time when you were obviously troubled."

"And now I'm not," Harry said, in a tone that could have worn stone away, "so you can tell me the truth."

"We hate that you did Dark magic," Weasley said, with his characteristic bluntness. "But we still want to support you because you're our friend. So that's why we said that."

Harry seemed to struggle for a moment before he nodded acceptance. Draco sighed. He would have liked to stretch this conflict out further, but in the end it would distress Harry, and that was enough pain for him, too, to outweigh the pleasure of tormenting Weasley and Granger further.

Harry sat down again and said, "Let's concentrate on how we're going to make sure that we trust Ventus."

"Veritaserum seems to be the only candidate," Granger said reluctantly, though she turned her head and glared at Draco again. "But I want to make sure that we're all there, so we can hear the questions that Malfoy asks her, and the answers she gives."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Draco lied smoothly, though there were many ways he would have it. He had hoped for a private conversation between just himself, Harry, and Ventus, but Ventus had insisted that they needed Harry's friends for this plan, and she was the one who held the knowledge that would make it happen. Draco smiled a bit as he remembered the look of frustration on Harry's face when he realized that.

Draco could accept the terms of her bargain. He was used to negotiating with Slytherins, and if Ventus had attended Hogwarts at all—which he was not convinced of—he knew she had been in Slytherin.

"Then we only need to set up a time when this is going to happen," Granger said. She still sounded unhappy about it.

"One that acknowledges my convenience and hers as well as yours," Draco said quickly. It would be just like Granger and Weasley to pick a time when they couldn't come, and then throw a fit and confront Harry with this proof of their "treachery" when they didn't appear.

"Of course." Granger gave in with an ill grace. "What about this weekend, in the evening? I know that none of us have classes then."

"That's usually the hour when I study for my essays," Draco said, simply to be difficult.

Granger's eyes could pierce like a unicorn's horn when she wanted them to. "Then I reckon you'll simply have to do the research earlier and write them before Monday morning, won't you?"

Draco grimaced, but nodded. He had brought that on himself. He could have left well enough alone and it wouldn't have happened.

Later, as they walked back to his rooms from Weasley and Harry's, Harry halted him with a hand on his arm. Draco looked around curiously, wondering if Harry had sensed something or someone lurking in the shadows. The corridors around them were still and silent, which didn't necessarily mean anything.

"I want to thank you for trying."

Draco blinked and faced Harry again. "What do you mean?"

"With Hermione and Ron." Harry rubbed the back of his neck and stared moodily into the distance, as if posing for the official portrait of the Chosen One that the Ministry had wanted to commission. "I know it can't be easy, when they're being difficult and acting in a way that you would despise. I think we all still have parts of Hogwarts in us, and they're looking at you and thinking 'Slytherin.'" He turned back then and raised an eyebrow at Draco. "Just the way you look at them sometimes and think 'Gryffindor.'"

Draco nodded, and even managed to smile wryly at himself. Having Harry acknowledge that he was making more of an effort to get along than he had to meant—much, so much that he didn't want to voice it.

"Do you ever think that I'm a Gryffindor?" Harry's voice was lighter and he wore a grin, but Draco didn't think the question light at all, or unimportant. This was another part of their process of getting to know each other, and Draco desperately wanted to give the right answer.

"Sometimes," Draco said. "Other times, you act Slytherin. And sometimes, you're only Harry Potter. As much as I get exasperated and want to rage at that, I knew that side of you better than any of the rest, and I know I should have chosen a different partner if I wanted to live an untroubled life."

Harry's smile was melting, sweet, and many other things that Draco would not have tried to describe. For the first time since their argument, he leaned in for a kiss before he said farewell.

Draco gave it to him, and watched him walk down the corridor, shaking his head before he stepped into his own rooms and shut the door behind him.

*

"Ask me whatever questions you like." Ventus's voice didn't sound any different when she was under Veritaserum than it did when she was normally speaking, which made Harry glance at the vial he held and wonder if it had worked. Then he dismissed the notion. Draco was a Potions expert, and surely he would have noticed if there was something off about this potion.

Harry leaned back in his chair and nodded to Draco. He thought Draco should go first, since he was the one Ventus's plan most directly affected, and Hermione had reluctantly agreed. Hermione was leaning forwards in her chair, though, hands clasped on her knees, and Harry knew she was ready to add any amplification to Draco's questions that she thought necessary.

"Why do you want to fight so much?" Draco asked. He was draped over his chair, eyes half-lidded, body seemingly relaxed until you looked closely. Harry had seen him explode from such a position into a standing leap when they were in Combat.

The memories caused an unfortunate lack of relaxation in Harry's body. He swallowed and looked away.

"Because that's what I'm good at," Ventus said simply. "When I was a child, I was so much better at offensive magic than defensive magic that my parents thought something was wrong with me. I can barely do simple household cleaning charms. I could manage hexes when I was seven. And I'm good at unarmed Combat. My father's a War Wizard, and he knew people who could train me. I didn't get to fight in the war with You-Know-Who because there was so little actual fighting. I want to now."

Draco's eyebrows crawled up his forehead. Harry felt a private burst of gratitude that nothing he did had ever sent them that high. "Why become an Auror and not a War Wizard, if you have one of those in the family?" He sounded wistful, and Harry reached across the space between them and squeezed his hand. Draco squeezed back without taking his eyes from Ventus.

I almost think he's jealous of anyone who has something he doesn't, Harry thought, whether or not it's something that's reasonable for him to have.

"Because the War Wizards aren't on the battlefield more than once a decade, if that," Ventus said. Her voice sharpened a bit, but Harry thought it was with frustration, rather than because she was struggling against answering the question. He would let Draco make the final determination on that, though. "They spend most of their time training. I've trained all my life. I'd be a freelance duelist if there was any work for them besides teaching other people. Aurors are the closest things in the wizarding world to people who get to fight."

Harry looked at Draco. Draco blinked and rubbed his face. "Incredible as it seems," he murmured, "she's telling the truth. That might be one reason her manner didn't change much when the potion began to affect her. She was telling the truth all along, so what we see is familiar."

It wasn't a question, but Ventus answered it anyway. "Why should I lie? I'm not important. Fighting is important. I would have told you more about me if you asked, but you wouldn't have believed me."

Harry shook his head. He wondered what in the world he should make of this. Ventus sounded almost as eager to fight Nihil as Harry had been to end the threat of Voldemort, but she was doing it for her own selfish reasons instead of to save the world. Was that a good or a bad thing?

Draco hunched forwards in his chair. "What was the reason you approached me to become the leader of your little fighting band instead of Harry? Why not lead yourself?"

"Potter isn't self-confident enough to be a good leader," Ventus said. "He wants someone to tell him what to do instead of telling others what to do."

Harry opened his mouth, then shut it again. It was true he wasn't comfortable giving orders. What if people died because of them? He had liked teaching Dumbledore's Army much better, where people could argue with him if they had a better idea and it wasn't a life-or-death situation, so not as much would happen if he was wrong.

"And I don't fight by myself because armies have a better chance of survival," Ventus said.

"Why do you care so much about surviving?" Draco asked, swift as a lion. "I thought fighting was the only important thing."

"Oh, it is," Ventus said. "But if I die, then I can't fight again. And I want to have more than one fight."

Draco snapped his fingers, and Harry realized he didn't know him well enough to say whether that was a gesture he was using to dismiss Ventus's answer or an expression of frustration. "Where did you get the map?"

"My father often trusts me with such things," Ventus said. "And I know good copying spells because I had to copy the books I studied so much when I was a child."

Draco frowned and turned to Harry, lowering his voice. "What do you think? It sounds authentic, and I know the Veritaserum is real and works. It's the same vial I used for you." Harry smiled in spite of himself at the reassurance. "But she also sounds mad," Draco went on in a grave voice. "I don't know if we want her as part of the group after all, if all she cares about is fighting."

"Don't whisper," Hermione said in irritation before Harry could answer, crowding up beside them. "I think we should all discuss what she's saying."

"Yeah," Ron said, a bit belated, arriving behind her, but with his face red with determination. Harry had learned long ago how to distinguish that from his embarrassed flush.

"Draco was saying that Ventus might not be a good person to fight beside, because she's so focused," Harry said. "Why don't we ask her whether she would protect the rest of us in a fight or not?"

Draco gave him a slow, sweet smile of the kind that Harry had missed most, and then leaned across and added a quick kiss. "Let us ask that," Draco said, before Harry could respond, and turned around to look at Ventus again.

"Don't we get a say in this?" Ron demanded. He was glancing back and forth from Hermione, who looked too stunned to speak, to Harry.

"No," Draco said. He asked, "If armies fight better, does that mean that you would stand beside us and try to keep us from falling to Nihil's forces if we ran into an attack?"

"No," Ventus said.

Harry winced; Hermione hissed; Ron pointed an accusing finger and said, "Ah-ha!" Draco stood as if turned to a statue, arms folded and face still.

"I wouldn't do that because I'm pants at defensive magic," Ventus went on. "Like I told you. I would hope that someone else could defend you and then attack the people who attacked you so that they wouldn't be a problem anymore." Her face acquired a dreamy smile. Harry wondered if her daydreams were full of fallen enemies, and shuddered a little.

Draco snickered. Harry thought it might have been at their expressions rather than Ventus's words. "That's acceptable," he said. "Now, we—"

"It's not acceptable!" Hermione said loudly. "How can we go into battle with someone we can't trust to protect our backs?" Her glare swept over Draco as well as Ventus. It was fleeting, but Harry saw it, and reacted without thought.

"What do you mean by that, Hermione?" he hissed, stepping towards her and ignoring the way that Ron stepped up worriedly and Draco stared at him. "I saw who you looked at."

Hermione clasped her hands in front of her and said, "You can't blame me for doubting. It wasn't long ago that you were doubting yourself."

"I know that you're trying to stand up for me, that you really don't think I'll be happy with him," Harry said, and then his voice began to arch upwards in spite of himself. "But I've decided that I will. And you know that he went through questioning under Veritaserum about his connection to Nihil, the same way the rest of us did—"

"Fine, I accept that Malfoy would protect you, and that he's not infected with the grief magic," Hermione snapped. "But would he protect the rest of us? Maybe Ventus, since she plays to his vanity. But Ron and I? Don't pretend that he likes us."

Harry ground his teeth down, although he wanted so badly to say something like, "You're making it really difficult." But he understood their motivations, as he had just said. It was partially his fault that she and Ron were reacting this way, because he had moped around the place when he and Draco were in the midst of their argument, and that argument had been caused by his practicing necromancy in the first place.

That thought gave him an idea.

"Hermione," he said, "do you trust me?"

Hermione blinked. "Of course," she said. "Why wouldn't I? You've been my friend for years."

"But recently, you had good reason to mistrust me," Harry said, lowering his voice impressively. He wouldn't say the word necromancy in front of Ventus, but if Hermione didn't know what he was talking about, then Harry would start thinking she had taken leave of her brains. "How did you decide to take the risk anyway?"

"That was a temporary aberration," Hermione said, and smiled at him as if she thought that he needed the reassurance. "I knew you would recover from it soon enough, and be the same person you always were."

"And it's a temporary aberration that Draco and I fought," Harry said. "You were starting to get along with him before that. Why are you so determined not to now? Ron is doing a better job than you are." He jerked his thumb at Ron, who blinked as if he didn't know whether he should be pleased or not.

"Because I know he really hurt you," Hermione said, her jaw thrust forwards so that she looked like a bulldog getting ready to attack. "I don't want to see it happen again, and it will, unless someone keeps an eye on him, because you're far too forgiving for your own good." She narrowed her eyes and shook a finger at Harry as if he were a child who insisted on getting into trouble for reasons of his own.

Harry glanced at Draco. Draco was standing still, his arms wrapped around himself in what Harry thought he would be the only one in the room to recognize as a defensive gesture instead of the arrogant one it appeared.

Draco met his gaze and said nothing. His eyes were clear but unreadable. He was leaving it up to Harry to decide how he wanted to deal with this, which was at once helpful and infuriating. Harry took a deep breath and faced his friends again.

"I'll deal with it if it happens again," he said. "This fight was my fault, and if the next one is his, then—well, I'll deal with it," he repeated, knowing that he sounded somewhat lame, and reading Hermione's opinion in the way she raised her eyebrow. "But it might be mine again, and then you ought to support him instead of running around glaring at him and implying that he's a traitor."

"You're our friend," Ron said quietly. "We'll always support you no matter what, Harry."

Harry had to clamp his teeth down again, because he was remembering the way Ron hadn't supported him when he first became friends with Draco, but talking about it now would serve no purpose. And Ventus was still there, absorbing everything with big eyes and ears, though Draco seemed to be the only one besides him who remembered that.

"I know," he said. "I know you want to. I'm grateful to you for it. I l-love you for it." Ron's ears turned red, and Harry knew he would join Harry in trying to make sure there was no necessity for a repeat of those words. "But Draco deserves some support, too. If you both support doing what's right, you'll have to side with him sometimes. You don't have to talk to him in a friendly way or pat his back, I suppose, but you ought to stop suspecting him of doing things that he would never do."

"You don't know that," Hermione started to say, and Harry knew she was going to argue that anyone might become a traitor under the right circumstances, because she had a passion for hypothetical situations and correcting generalizations.

Harry gave her a harsh look, and Hermione's voice faded. She looked down and straightened her robes for a few minutes. Then she glanced up, at Draco and not Harry, and managed a nod that wasn't too choppy.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said. "I hope you can forgive me."

Draco finally unfolded his arms and said, "I most certainly shall." He left Hermione visibly wondering how to take the polite words combined with the freezing tone, and turned to Ventus. "Won't someone come searching for the map you stole?"

Ventus gave him a patient look and started speaking as if they'd never had that interlude. Harry heartily wished they hadn't had to have it, but he couldn't let Draco go undefended. "I told you. My father trusts me, and at this point it's a copy. I restored the original one to its place."

"Have you had any contact with Nihil?" Draco asked.

"No."

"With his associates, Nusquam or Nemo?"

"No."

"Do you think there's a chance that you could be persuaded to turn aside by any plans of his?" Harry asked. "Would you fight us instead of fighting him if he offered you a greater chance to go into battle?"

He felt the light, surprised touch of Draco's eyes, but he kept his head turned away, his gaze fixed on Ventus. Whether Draco was surprised because Harry had the wit to ask such a question or because it was just a question that wouldn't have occurred to him, Harry didn't think he wanted to see it.

Ventus blinked. Then she smiled. "No," she said, with an air of triumph that made Harry wonder if the answer was not as much a surprise to her as to the rest of them. "I need to know that my fighting is for a cause I consider right. Nothing could make me consider Nihil's cause right."

"Why?" Harry asked, determined to push on. "It could be very tempting, if he was to teach you the magic he knows. He probably knows Dark spells that would augment your fighting."

"I want to learn the magic," Ventus said fiercely. "The instructors can teach me about being an Auror. But the spells that become part of my repertoire are all ones that I research on my own."

Harry shot a glance at Draco, wondering if he was thinking the same thing Harry was. Such a tactic would make Ventus a powerful, potentially dangerous, and definitely unpredictable opponent.

"Are you Nihil?" Draco asked. "Or Nusquam or Nemo?"

"No."

"Are you one of his servants?"

"No."

"Have members of your family been recruited into his group, or disappeared mysteriously?"

"No…"

The interrogation went on, with all the answers being satisfactory, and Harry began to hope that they could finally start thinking of the attack they would plan on Nihil in Wiltshire.

More precious than the promise of finally doing something, though, was the way that Draco turned one eye on him from time to time, and studied him with fragile respect and—

And something that might have been trust.