It had only been two more hours ride, before they found the copse of trees Draco intended to use for shelter that night. Still, Harry thought he was going to go mad with boredom. He couldn't even fidget properly. And Malfoy's words - he wants my help? were driving Harry up a wall. True, there was a long list of things that Harry couldn't be persuaded to do under any circumstances. And there was a long list of things Harry would do without a second thought. Harry then paused, amending, well, for a friend. Malfoy certainly had no claim on him. A thought uncurled itself inside Harry's mind - what if it was something gray? something that would look fine until later, upon closer examination, tugging Harry down the path to wrack and ruin.
Malfoy was also alone with his thoughts, and they spun outwards from him, as he methodically chased down each and every one of them. There was something hidden in what Potter had said... or hadn't said, as the case may be. He hadn't asked, not once, if Draco was going to hurt him. No... his priorities had been on other things. That was... unexpected. And, Draco found his thoughts swirling perilously close - what if the Golden Boy wasn't exaggerating? What if the Dark Lord wasn't really dead? And what had his father to do with it all? Draco knew, as the heir to his house, that the Malfoys had been high in the Dark Lord's favor... but that had been a long time ago, and his family had been quite careful to be seen in as good a light as possible. Surely his father wouldn't... couldn't... Shaking his head, he pushed all the grim thoughts away, as he turned again towards Potter, smoothing his face as he really didn't want to be seen smirking at Potter's inability to squirm. Potter's saddlesores would need treatment before morning, squirming or no squirming.
Malfoy pulled them to a stop at the edge of a copse of trees, dismounting with a rattle of tack.
"Draco Malfoy is asking Harry Potter for help?" Potter said, looking askance at the blond boy.
"Indeed." Draco says, continuing to tie the horses up, wanting to be sure that he had the horses hobbled before he let the other boy down.
"You have an awfully funny way of asking for help." Potter said, his words evincing a cleverness borne of hours of thought, as Draco bent one foreleg of Harry's horse, hobbling it.
"I know," Draco says, his eyes sparkling like Dumbledore's as he looks up at his former foe. "Hear me out, at least." His eyes shone brightly in the fading light, as he drew a knife.
Almost instinctively, Harry leaned away from Draco, sending his horse skittering towards the knife. Draco used his free hand to steady the horse, "Shhh... shhh... it's okay. He didn't mean to hurt you, I just surprised him..." Potter muses, Why isn't he using his wand?
With a wry smile, Draco looks up at Potter and says, "Thought you wanted free of those ropes? Hold still." Without really giving Potter a chance to say a word, he started cutting the ropes off him.
"Whats a matter, lost your wand?" Potter says, his voice at once scathing and teasing.
With a snort, Draco cuttingly snarls back, "Like you know where yours is," as his hands finish slicing the ropes. "Swing your right leg over behind you and then bend your left knee." Potter decided to wait until he had both feet on the ground before he asked anything more. As his feet hit the ground, Draco was there at his side to steady him for a moment, before stepping backwards.
As Potter turned toward Draco, he said, "What exactly do you need my help with, Malfoy? After you went to all the trouble to kidnap me, this had better be good..." Potter's eyes sparkled in anticipation as he said it.
"I want out." Malfoy said, in a surprisingly quiet - and calm - tone.
"Of Hogwarts?" Harry startled, before collecting himself, "No, you could just ask your daddy and he'd send you to Durmstrang, I suspect..."
"I want to become a muggle. And you're going to help me do it." Malfoy said, his eyes speaking a grim resolve that sparked quietly against the certitude of his words.
Harry's world spun, as his brain tried to supply answers that his mind wasn't really ready to deal with, "Why should I?"
"Well, you did say you wanted to get back to Hogwarts... you'd stand a better chance with me than without me..."
"And why's that?"
"Well, money's been known to open a lot of doors, and you'll find that I've managed to scrape a good bit of it together...Of course, there's another reason..."
"Oh? You planning on tying me up again if I say no?"
"No, you mentioned it earlier..." Draco said, and Harry shot him a look of puzzlement. "Your wand. It's hidden - where even the Dark Lord couldn't find it."
"Then what makes you think that I could?"
"Simple, it's hidden by arithmetic. And you'll have Granger. I doubt there's a maths problem that would stop her for more than a day."
Potter nodded at this, taking for granted Hermione's mathematical prowess. "Why should I trust you?" he asked confrontationally.
"Never trust a Slytherin" Draco recited, "They're always hiding something." And then he smirked. "What do you suppose I've been hiding, Potter?"
"I'd hardly know, you've been a git and a bastard since the moment I laid eyes on you!"
"Ahh... that's the trick, isn't it? I'm not really a bastard, and you're not really as brave as people think."
"All that cussing, all those insults, just an act?" Potter says, disbelieving and more than a bit hostile.
"Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm only human. And you're just So Easy to rile up, Potter." Draco says with a knowing smile.
"You were picking on Neville Longbottom, and what's he ever done to you?" Potter spits.
"What, like I could be nice? Kid needs to toughen up a bit, even you have to see that much. One can be helpful without looking like one's helping." Draco says, and Potter's suddenly seeing Snape looming over both of them - the man who had saved his life, and was much more of an enormous arse than Draco ever managed.
Blinking back uncertain feelings, Potter spat, "I suppose you're going to say that you're in love with Hermione now?"
Draco's eyes grew cold, as he turned suddenly away from Potter, "No. I hate her, that's always been true." Draco's hand began to ache, as he flexed it, thinking how much he wanted to punch that understanding look off Potter's face. What did he know about any of it? Not a bloody thing!
As if in unspoken agreement, they laid out the tent, and got a crackling fire going. Food was all cold, of course, but it was filling - and the water they drank was pure, if sparingly given. Neither of them had any clue how long it would take to get off the moor, after all. [a/n: Draco's good and lost. He's never been this far from a floo before. And he didn't bring a map.]
Panting hard, the Grimdog turns right down the coachpath away from the road to Hogsmeade, smelling the scent of horses. He hadn't run this much in years, and his muscles were already starting to feel it.
Hours later, the Grim approaches the copse of trees, smelling fire and horses and boys. In a strange way, it felt safe, reminiscent of home - when home had been the Marauders, that is. Curling up nearby in the darkness, he laid his head down, listening to the crackle of the fire as two boys tried to sleep, far from anything they'd ever known.
Today, Professor Severus Snape was not a happy man, not in the slightest. Those who did not know him well, would have thought he was in something of a snit, but those who knew his sharp gestures well would have easily recognized the spiked annoyance - the icy glare that didn't rest on anything long enough to freeze.
This morning had begun, as mornings often did, with a simple check of the wards around the Slytherin rooms. As he had checked them, Snape had frowned, the red beacon telling him that Draco Malfoy hadn't returned to his room last night. Odd that, Snape thought, setting it aside for further consideration - what mischief or malice was his godson up to now? Or was it a tale of sorrow or woe? He thought smirking to himself - it would be just like the hapless Prince to start his adventures with the fairer sex by turning lovelorn. It was a simple thing to check on his hairclip, and Snape smiled a knowing smile. Malfoy was in the North Tower, a place Snape knew well. A fine place for a sulk, and not a poor place for plotting either. Then the lanky professor had turned to his next bit of trouble - Marcus Flint, his beacon showing orange. Now, what had Marcus done to be out of the House this early?
A rap at the door had signaled the start of Snape's Very Annoying Day, although he of course hadn't known it yet. Marcus Flint stood there, with a shaking Astoria Greengrass. Snape had looked at them for a moment, and then ushered them into the door of his private quarters (the room he allowed his snakes to see, at any rate). As the door closed, Astoria yelped, and then started to squeak, "Snake! There's a snake loose!" Biting down on his notoriously harsh tongue, Snape looked impassively at her.
Marcus, the prefect, said simply, "Breathe. Take a deep breath. It's not here now, and the Professor needs to know what's happened." Snape nodded at Marcus, who nodded slightly back, returning the unspoken thanks in the manner it was given. Snape had chosen Marcus for that reason, after all - he knew how to be quiet, and when to listen to even unsaid things.
Astoria took a deep breath, and said, "I got up today, and I was putting my clothes on, when I heard a rattle - I looked across the room, near where Ellisith was sleeping, and I saw this huge black snake, all curled up and staring at me with those beady eyes! I couldn't help it, I shrieked, and woke up Elly, and then had to think quick to keep her on the bed... She could have been bit! And by the time Ellisith was calm, the snake was gone!"
Snape nodded curtly, "Thank you for explaining. Remain here, your eyes may tell me information your tongue knows not." Turning towards Marcus, he said simply, "Put the first three years to sleep, and keep them there, until I determine how dangerous the situation is. And keep the upperclassmen from wandering out of their rooms. You may tell the other prefects the situation, or any professors that might happen by. If anyone dares to raise a fuss" - Snape's tone leaving little to the imagination as to what he'd do to them - "I'll write the detention slips myself." [a/n: Snape's excusing people from Saturday detentions, because of this incident. Doesn't mean they won't get a different one from him, which is what he's implying].
Snape had whirled, looking at his small shelf of muggle books. "Sit" he said absentmindedly at Astoria, who sat uneasily at the edge of a wooden chair, eschewing the padded Queen Anne. "Herpetology, herpetology..." Snape said, his fingers tracing the books. Snakes were near the top of a prankster's toolbox, when it came to the Slytherins, and the Head of House Slytherin was well practiced in dealing with the common garters. Asps were a lovely choice, for those willing to tip the hat to the muggle Cleopatra - generally a Griffindor or Ravenclaw mired in a lover's quarrel with a Slytherin. Contrary to common woolgathering, Slytherins weren't the only people to get jealous or envious.
"Ah, here it is." Snape says, pulling a rather thick book out, with a picture of a newt on the front. With a ruffle of his robes, he sits abruptly in the Queen Anne with an offended creak. Paging through, he pauses at a picture that compares a pit viper to other snakes. "Astoria" he says, without looking up, trusting her to approach - as she jumps up nervously, skittering towards him. "Do you know which one of these pictures your snake looked like?"
Astoria meets the professor's dark brown eyes, nodding slightly, before saying "The wedge shape."
At that, Snape fought the sudden urge to clap the book closed. "My dear, who have you been irritating lately? What schemes have you been hatching, that someone would try to kill you."
With the strange position of being slightly taller than the professor (who was still sitting, the book arresting his normal pacing), Astoria shook her head saying, "Mandy doesn't like me very much, and Draco's always - sorry Professor - a bit prickly, but I haven't done anything to anyone recently, except learn a charm faster than Elly! And the snake was nearer her than me, anyways..."
"Has Elly seemed different lately? A bit more nervous, a bit prouder, perhaps?" Snape asked, chewing on his words like bubblegum, before slowly stretching them out into the dungeon chill.
"Nothing. Maybe a little more... lighthearted? I mean, she laughed at a Gryfindor's joke...? But I don't think Erica even meant for her to hear..." Astoria said, her voice changing from sheer certitude to a more questioning tone as she searched her memory for any changes whatsoever.
Snape nodded, resuming looking through the book. A poisonous snake, a pit viper... this wasn't the work of a harmless prankster. No Griffindor or Hufflepuff could possibly even think to jest with death. Oh, a Slytherin might, but these were just second years. His hand paused, as his relentless skimming slowed to a snakelike slither across the page. Yes, this was a rattle - a rattle-snake, oh, how clever. And quite deadly. Cocking his head upward at Astoria, he asked impatiently, "Is this what you saw?"
Astoria examined the page slowly, shaking her head, "It was all black, professor, or maybe a dark brown... but it looked similar."
Snape flipped a few pages, "Like this?" to which Astoria simply nodded. "You may leave, but do not return to your dormitory." Snape said, his eyes devouring the words on the page. A timber rattlesnake black as Voldemort's heart, reported to be shy - and clever enough to warn predators - or mindless children of where it was standing. How utterly fascinating - or it would be, were it not in my House, ready to murder a student if provoked - his unseen eyes flashing a cold, humorless fire.
He had nodded earlier at the hemotoxicity of the poison, and sent the infirmary a short missive - run up by Astoria, who hadn't left the dungeons quite yet, and was looking like she was quite at loose ends otherwise, as it wasn't even time for breakfast. The note had read "for snakebites today, consider the same treatment as a blood freezing charm would take." Snape was confident that the healer would understand what he wasn't saying.
And this was why Snape was having such a bad day. Now, he paged through piles of books, sheaves of loose parchment, frowning, and wondering what had possessed any student of his (surely it wasn't a teacher, not even Hagrid!) to set a snake from halfway across the world loose in his dormitory. He was having a rather lot of trouble even finding an antivenin recipe. Frowning, and tossing yet another book on the heap of "not useful" he began to consider a trip to the London Zoo. There was a rather generic trick to making antivenin, if one was able to come by a sample of the poison. It would certainly take longer to brew, and besides, he didn't need to explain a trip to Muggle London to anyone rightabouts now. Still, he wasn't about to let anyone loose in a dorm with that snake about.
Standing, and setting aside the parchment he had been holding, Snape brushes his robes clean of the dust - a rather mindless habit that he rather detested, and would be cross if he ever realized he still did it in times of stress. With steps quick and sure, Snape headed toward the Headmaster's office, to give his excuses for breakfast.
Sprout stood outside the great hall, and though Snape surely didn't need a reason to avoid her, he was hell-bound if he would let her see him willfully dodging her. "Yes?" he asked frostily, not for the first time wishing that the Hufflepuff matron would show some Slytherin subtlety and actually understand that he was in a hurry. [a/n: sev, you're always like that, of course she's not going to get the hint. What hint?]
Unruffled, Sprout huffed, "Is there some reason that all of House Slytherin is as late as the Griffindors to Saturday Breakfast? It is the most important meal of the day after all."
Snape responded with a mild glare, "Yes, it would appear that your overabundance of peeper frogs in the greenhouses has attracted a rather poisonous snake to the dungeons." Sprout was about to explode with feathers everywhere at the sheer improbability of her outside greenhouses affecting the fauna of the dungeons. Cutting her off brusquely, Snape continued, "Of course, appearances can be deceiving." As Sprout deflated, her agitation draining out, Snape gave her a perfectly proper bow, and said "Adieu", leaving her to muse on his strange and rather inexplicable sense of humor. Watching Snape's robes billow after him, Sprout considered a few thoughts on exactly how he had managed to get all his sneaky snakes to stay in their dorms. They were each graphic and none complimentary.
"Headmaster" Snape said, "I find I must be taking a short jaunt to Muggle London today."
Dumbledore looked up, his eyes sparkling, "This wouldn't have anything to do with spells and prefects sealing all your dormitory, would it?"
Snape smirked, following it up with a sneer, "Honestly, I don't know why I bother telling you anything. If you see any Slytherins out of my House, save Astoria and the prefects, feel free to deduct points. I won't have their deaths on my head." Today at least, his morose attitude surfacing despite the headmaster's attempts at good cheer.