I don't own Harry Potter.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Stubborn Mountains
"Don't let them in, don't let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Conceal, don't feel
Put on a show,
make one wrong move and everyone will know"-For the first time in forever (Elsa's part), Frozen
Draco trudged up the winding rickety staircase swirling around the Owlery, shivering as the snow flitted about his face, sinking through his muffler to his neck. It was morning, too early to be up but he had a letter to send and preferred that no one see him send it. Since it was hardly likely anyone else would be crazy enough to be up this early in the morning in the freezing cold in a draughty Owlery.
Furious with Umbridge, Draco drafted a letter to his father, telling him about the new policies of Umbridge and subtly asking if it was true he was supporting this. Because as much as Draco distrusted and disliked his father, he'd always thought his father had been good at his job. Surely he didn't really agree with the appalling interference with the teaching programme?
He'd received his father's message late last night, assuring him that 'the policies were in the best interest of the school and the student body and he was expected to be supportive of the hard work Professor Umbridge was putting into seeing them carried out' in other words, upon the arrival of the Dark Lord, what was left of his father's self-respect and independence went out the door. Also in the letter was an oh-so-subtle demand to pay close attention to Potter and if possible, his correspondence.
Apparently his father had seen Potter in the company of a big black dog on the platform and was under the impression that it was Sirius Black. Draco had been hoping he wouldn't pick up on that. When Draco himself saw Black wagging his tail on the platform he had cursed the stupidity of Potter for Hermione's sake. If Black died, there is one less person to keep Potter alive and end Voldemort before he began.
He was sending a message assuring his father he would do everything in his power to assist Umbridge and to watch Potter closely. Every step up to the tower felt like he was clapped in irons. He hated this.
Just as he was about to open the door he heard voices from inside. Who the hell would be up here?
Listening closer, Draco caught snippets of the conversation.
"The Tornadoes-hater? Is he any good?" said a female voice. Draco recognised it as Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker; he'd lost a match to her once, damn woman was fast.
"Yeah, I think so. I didn't see his try-out, though, I was in detention." This voice he recognised twice as fast as Potter, just what he needed.
Draco was about to turn away and send his letter another time when something Chang said caught his attention. "That Umbridge woman's foul," she said in a low voice. "Putting you in detention just because you told the truth about how—how—how he died. Everyone heard about it, it was all over the school. You were really brave standing up to her like that."
Potter didn't say anything, but the thought brought Draco back to the classroom. He hated to admit it, but he agreed with her, a little. Potter hadn't said anything wrong in that class, at least nothing Draco himself didn't agree with. If anything, having Potter voice his own thoughts made not saying them and blowing his cover in the process a little easier.
Draco wished things could be simpler, he wished things could be different. What could he do this time around to make things different?
"Out of my way!" suddenly Draco was thrust to the side and had to clutch desperately to the railing of the staircase as Filch tore up the stairs and flung open the door.
"Aha!" said Filch exclaimed at a startled looking Potter and Chang. "I've had a tip-off that you are intending to place a massive order for Dungbombs—"
Potter folded his arms and stared at the caretaker. "Who told you I was ordering Dungbombs?" he glanced at Draco behind him who raised his hands, trying to convey that for once, he had nothing to do with it.
"I have my sources," Filch muttered grimly. "Now hand over whatever it is you're sending."
Potter crossed his arms over his chest, "I can't, it's gone."
"Gone?" said Filch, his face contorting with rage.
"Gone," said Potter calmly.
Filch opened his mouth furiously, mouthed for a few seconds, then raked Potter's robes with his eyes.
"How do I know you haven't got it in your pocket?"
"Because—"
"I saw him send it," said Chang angrily.
Filch rounded on her.
"You saw him—?"
"That's right, I saw him," she said fiercely.
There was a moment's pause in which Filch glared at Chang and Chang glared right back.
Filch turned to him. "And what about you boy, did you see him send it?"
Before he could answer negatively, Potter groaned, he probably thought Draco was going to lie just to get him in trouble, Chang thought so too. "Why are you asking Malfoy, he hates Harry, you can't believe what he says."
"Was he the one who told you I was ordering Dungbombs?" Potter said angrily.
At this point Draco got impatient. "For Merlin's sake," he exclaimed. "Why the bloody hell would I care if you were ordering Dungbombs, in case you haven't noticed, my life doesn't revolve around getting Potter in trouble," and then to prove his point he turned to Filch. "Yes, I saw him send it too, now would you kindly get out of my way so I can send my letter, or you do you think I'm ordering Dungbombs too?" he said, thrusting his letter out since there really wasn't any point in trying to hide he was trying to send one anymore.
Filch glared at them all as Cho looked on suspiciously while Potter's mouth dropped open.
He shoved Draco out of the way again. "If I get so much as a whiff of a Dungbomb—" and vacated the tower.
It was silent; Draco huffed and walked in, calling down his new oriental bay owl, Helios. His last screech owl had been old, it died last year. His father got him this new one although to be honest, its ginormous black eyes, larger than that of regular owls, kinda freaked him out.
When Draco turned to let his owl out, Chang was gone but Potter was still there, looking at him strangely. "What?" he demanded.
"Why did you cover for me?" He asked with Gryffindor straightforwardness. "I thought you hated me?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "As I said before, this may come as a huge surprise to you Potter, but I don't hate you. I think you're enormously annoying and you're a Gryffindor and I'm a Slytherin which means there's obligatory tension between us, but it's not exactly a lifelong dream of mine to see you in detention. Besides," he walked over to the window and raised his arm for Helios to fly. "I think house rivalries are somewhat redundant after last year's events."
Potter frowned in confusion. "You mean the Triwizard tournament?"
Draco turned to him, his eyebrow raised. "Are you really that stupid? You know perfectly well what I'm talking about Potter."
And then he could see from the look of realisation that Potter did know. "You actually believe me?"
"You're a bit of a crack-pot attention seeker, but I don't think even you would make up a lie like that."
Potter frowned, looking down, "it's crazy, how can no one believe me after what happened."
"Face it, Potter, you fell in clutching Diggory's body, screaming about a wizard long dead coming back to life, a wizard everyone would be happier if he was still dead. What's to stop people from continuing to live in ignorance a little longer after such an ambiguous testimony?"
"But not you," Potter said taking a step towards Draco. "You believe me."
"No. Not me. I have my reasons, and ignorance is for fools. I am not a fool. But I'm sure we both agree that if Umbridge continues, everyone else will be."
Potter looked up with an expression of understanding for the first time since Lockhart's heinous Valentine's humiliated them both, they understood each other completely. "She's teaching them to not care, to pretend everything's alright when it's not, and it's not," he said.
"So what are you going to do about it?"
Potter raised his eyebrow. "Why do you care?"
"Contrary to popular belief, Potter, and don't go spreading it around, I don't want a future of doom, gloom and servitude. You-Know-Who tried to take over last time, you know, before you supposedly blasted him dead as a baby, and look what kind of world he brought then. If he comes back, properly, he's only going to do it again. Only this time, it'll be worse. This time, he'll do it right."
Draco trailed off. This was it, this was his chance to make a difference, to change something he saw in his future, because the him in his future hated Potter, never saw him beyond a target, the people in his future were weak. "I don't want that world."
He nodded to Potter and walked away, knowing that not saying anything more was a better hook than trying anything now. Except…
"Oh," he said, stopping by the door. "I hope you got my little hint not to let the dog out so much," he heard Potter tense behind him. "My father saw him on the platform, if you're not careful, he might call animal control," and then he closed the door.
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In all his five years of knowing Draco Malfoy, Harry had never once felt like he could understand him. One minute, he was sneering at him in Madam Makin's shop, next he was defending his new friend on the train and asking for friendship. One minute he was jeering at the petrifaction of Muggleborn students including the same girl Harry thought was his friend, next thing he knew Malfoy was down with him in the Chamber of Secrets, saving his life. For five years, Malfoy was nothing but contradictions, and Harry was so confused.
And now this as Hermione read out from the Daily Prophet. "'The Ministry of Magic has received a tip-off from a reliable source that Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer… blah blah blah… is currently hiding in London!'" in an anguished whisper.
"Lucius Malfoy, I'll bet anything," said Harry in a low, furious voice. "He did recognise Sirius on the platform…"
"What?" said Ron, looking alarmed. "You didn't say—"
Harry didn't answer; he was too caught up in it all, why would Malfoy warn him? How could Malfoy believe him when everyone else thought he was a head-case liar, even most of his own house? He was just Malfoy, wasn't he?
The spoilt Slytherin who's always making his life difficult just because he could. There was no way he could believe that he of all people, with his father being waist-deep in Voldemort's business; didn't want a world where purebloods ran supreme?
And yet, when they both looked at each other, that night on the tournament, Harry saw something, something that rarely, but had happened before. Where the two of them had reached a point where they understood each other completely. Did that even make sense, Harry didn't know.
Later that day at Quidditch, Malfoy proved Harry's point that he was nutters yet again when his earlier attitude took a complete turnaround as he sat in the bleachers jeering at Ron on his first job as the keeper.
"What's that Weasley's riding?" Malfoy called in his sneering drawl. "Why would anyone put a flying charm on a mouldy old log like that?"
Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson guffawed and shrieked with laughter. Ron mounted his broom and kicked off from the ground and Harry followed him, watching his ears turn red from behind.
"Ignore them," he said, accelerating to catch up with Ron, "we'll see who's laughing after we play them…"
They played their best, then Alicia got a nosebleed and Malfoy and his Slytherin posse broke out into a chant of "Gryffindors are losers, Gryffindors are losers, Gryffindors are losers."
It all went downhill from there as Alicia's nosebleed got worse and Ron's distracted playing caused Angela to yell at him more often than she gave any Quidditch orders.
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Draco stood before a bare wall to find the doors of the Room of Requirement, trying to think of what to say or do to make it work.
It opened for those in great need, but what more did the door want from him; he was already in the greatest need.
'Ask for the truth.'
He stopped in the middle of his pacing. Did he just…hear a voice…in his head? No, it couldn't be.
Draco stopped in front of the wall. 'Maybe I'm asking the wrong questions,' he thought.
"I need to find out the truth. Who am I, what am I and why?" he said quietly, feeling rather stupid. He paced the corridor three times, repeating the phrase under his breath.
But then, the wall rippled and two oak doors with golden handles appeared before his eyes. "Ok, we're making progress," he said to himself. "Let's see where you go," and he opened the door.
The room was a short hallway, leading to another door. Draco's steps echoed down the hall as he went. When he arrived at the door, he found it had no handle. He pushed against it with his shoulder, it was locked. "Great".
Above the door were golden letters, as Draco squinted, he read. "I'm easy to give yet few will take, I'm shared with a bride and can be seen at a wake, I have a monopoly on the young, and at times, it's true, I may have stung. A riddle?" he looked up at the handle-less door. "You want me to solve a riddle; I hate riddles I'm horrible at them!"
He turned around; the hall seemed to materialize other doors, all with their own riddles. In total, there were five doors, five riddles. "Which one?" he asked himself.
Draco stood there for what felt like hours, trying to think and come up with the answer, but nothing. Eventually, he knew it was getting late - he was expected and had no choice but to leave. Before going, he scribbled down the riddles on a spare piece of parchment.
He found Theo at dinner, looking morose. Hermione had already left.
"God news and bad news," he said, not bothering to sit down, Theo looked up and sighed. "Can I at least finish my meal first?"
At Draco's shake of head, Theo sighed again. "Brilliant, you better have a good reason for this."
He got up and followed Draco down the hall to their usual place behind the gargoyle statue. "Ok, good news is, I got the room to open for me," Theo sarcastically applauded. "Good for you, now can I eat?"
"Hold on, there's more. Bad news is this," he held out the parchment which Theo frowned over.
"The bad news is a riddle? Ok, I'm confused."
"The bad news is another locked door, and this one won't let me through till I answer a riddle," Draco said.
"Have you tried alohamora?" Theo asked.
"Wouldn't work even if I did, there's no lock, no handle, just big wooden door with five riddles."
Theo held up his hands. "Don't look at me, I hate riddles, give me a practical problem that can be solved with something on the black market and we're good. Riddles, not so much, there's a reason I wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw, knowledge for knowledge's sake, not my thing."
"Well I can't solve it, but I can't go any further until it's solved," he said.
"So what now?" Theo asked.
Draco had one though, but he really didn't like it.
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"A riddle?" Hermione asked, looking curiously at Draco who was looking anywhere other than her.
Earlier he'd sent a note to her in potions asking for them to meet; she was to pick the place. Hermione picked the library.
But she didn't pick the library just because of the books, Hermione had another reason entirely. She'd had enough of giving Draco his space. He was always running away.
He may have verbally decided to go out with her, to accept his feelings for her, but it was all pretend and Hermione was fed up of the constant space between them every time they talked, every time he held her, every time they kissed.
Hermione realised that if the mountain wasn't coming to her, she would have to go to the stubborn blond mountain herself, so to speak.
"So why'd you pick this place?" he said, shuffling from place to place, he was twitchy and eager to leave, as always, "why, bored of my company already?" she asked sardonically.
His eyes widened. "No, that's not it, it, it's just…"
Hermione sighed, she knew. It was probably something to do with his multiple problems that he refused to tell her about.
"Well then, even if you're anxious to go; you're going to stay right here."
Draco looked up to her, surprised patterned across his face, Hermione inwardly grinned. He was probably so used to her turning a blind eye to his stupidity, but she wasn't a Slytherin and she'd had enough of running. Hermione hadn't been put in Gryffindor for nothing.
"Not until I've figured out these riddles at least," she said smiling, but just to be on the safe side, best to keep him guessing, after all, he hadn't been put in Slytherin without good reason either.
"Oh…ok, I'll just come back then," he tuned to leave but Hermione caught his by the robe. "Uh Mr Malfoy, you're staying right here or nothing's doing," she said.
"What!"
"You heard me, even though I abhor labels, last time I checked I was your girlfriend as well as your friend. Unless that's changed without my knowing so."
He shook his head, dumbstruck. She really should be assertive with him more often.
"Really, in that case I think we're way overdue for some quality time, now park yourself right here," she sat down and patted the space next to her.
Draco sat, still somewhat in shock, it had been a long time since she'd bossed him around like this and he really didn't know what to say.
Hermione began to skim over the riddles. After a while of puzzling over them she began to feel as if someone was watching her. Glancing up, she noticed Draco staring at her, not exactly sure what to do. She tilted her head and smiled, he was so cute.
"Don't you have some homework to be doing?" she asked, fixing her expression with one of confusion as she looked up. He blinked, "Uh…not really. I didn't think I'd be…staying."
She huffed. "Well, I suggest you get to work on this one," she handed him one of the five riddles, this one reading 'Not my sister, nor my brother. But still a child of my mother and father.'
"What, I'm horrible at these," he exclaimed. "That's why I need your help."
"Really Draco, it wouldn't hurt to exercise your brain and try, now would it?" she said smiling now. He took the riddle and began reading over, but Hermione was sure, before he turned his head, that she saw the hint of a smile and perhaps, a peep of the old Draco.
Half an hour later, Hermione felt like she'd figured out two of them. It hadn't taken long, but she'd wanted to give Draco time with his.
"Any luck?" he asked, after some time.
"Some," she replied. "This one, Marking mortal privation, when firmly in place. An enduring summation, inscribed in my face. I think it means a tombstone, or a grave."
"A grave?" he bent over, resting his chin on her shoulder to see better. "Ah, I think I see it. And enduring summation, it's like a eulogy, what you put on a tombstone. And the other one?"
"You must keep this thing; its loss will affect your brothers. For once yours is lost, it will soon be lost by others. This sounds weird," Hermione read. "But I think it means anger. Think about it, keep your temper, or it will affect the people you love and you're really not yourself when you're angry."
"That's great," Draco smiled. "So if we figure out all the riddles, then I'll be able to get through the door?"
At that moment, the bell rang for the end of lunch; Hermione sighed and stood, stretching the bookshelf indent from her back. "Well, for now I think we should just figure out all of them, then we'll decide what needs to be done or even what can be done. We can meet up the day after tomorrow, and work on the rest together."
"What about this one," Draco said, holding out the one she had given him.
She grinned. "I told you, that's your one. You can't expect me to do all the work, can you?" His irritated expression confirmed her suspicions and she laughed, typical Draco. "Tell me when you're done," she said and reached up to peck him on the lips. "See you."
She turned to leave, her heart pounding. Because her back was turned, she missed his cheeks flushing dark red at her in unexpected surprise.
New chapter. I am so psyched to see the new movie Frozen! I love cartoons. I've listened to the song Let it Go seven times so far and I will probably listen to it another seven times after this chapter is posted.
Please review.
