"God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever
believes in him shall not perish, but have eternal life."
John 3:16
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters, situations, etc. This fic is for non-profit uses only. But that does not mean you can use it wherever you want! Post it without permission and I will hunt you down! If you want it, just ask. I'll probably be so grateful you like it that I'll give stories out by the dozen. The stuff about black tourmaline is from various sites on the net. You can search them up on google. Pairings: Draco/Harry, Hermione/Ron hints. Rating: PG Feedback: I couldn't beg enough. Summary: When Voldemort goes back in time to kill Harry, Draco is sent back as well in order to save him. Notes: Told from Draco's POV. Starts when they boys are in 7th year. Also, I've discovered that certain things from Word don't show up properly on fanfiction.net. So just keep in mind that in sections in the previous chapter such as "But there was something.different"; the solitary full stop is supposed to be three dots. Damn, I hate it when this happens... (Let's hope this new attempt at three dots works...)
* * * * *
Potter wasn't at breakfast today. Most likely, it's nothing. Our darling Boy Who Lived has probably slept in or something. But thanks to this lovely little obsession of mine, I've been wondering about his absence all morning, worrying and fussing like a mother hen. Wonderful.
He couldn't have faded away already, could he? Dumbledore told me he still had a few days...
* * * * *
Potions. Well, I'd find out for sure if there was something wrong now, wouldn't I? I sat in my usual seat, sneering at everyone in general for want of something better to do whilst waiting for Professor Snape to arrive. No Potter as yet.
On the second bell, Professor Snape swept into the classroom. Potter was in for it now. Snape jumped at ANY chance to torment him; he was really going to get it for being late. But even after twenty minutes of listening to Snape lecture about Sleeping Potions, there was -still- no sign of Potter. Or his little friends, for that matter. This was not a good sign. The Weasel not being in class was nothing big; he'd miss potions at the drop of a hat. But Granger never missed a class unless she had a good reason to.
"Severus?" Professor Dumbledore stepped into the dungeons. Snape turned to face him.
"Is there something I can do for you, Headmaster?"
"Yes, Severus, there is. I would like to borrow Mr. Malfoy, if I may."
"How long do you need him for?" Snape signaled for me to stand.
"The rest of your lesson, I should think. That is, if it is not a problem."
"Of course not, Headmaster."
Was it just me, or was there a tiny note of sarcasm in Snape's voice? It didn't seem to concern Dumbledore though. If he'd heard it, he was choosing to ignore it.
"Draco." Snape turned to me. "You will catch up on the rest of the lesson for homework."
"Yes, sir."
"Please, come with me, Draco," Dumbledore said, motioning with his hand. Once again ignoring the curious looks of my peers, I wove through the desks and followed the Headmaster out the door.
* * * * *
"It's Potter, isn't it?" I demanded once we were out of the dungeons.
"Yes, Draco, it is about Harry," Dumbledore replied calmly.
"Well? What is it?" All sense of politeness had been overridden by worry.
"I'll explain when we arrive."
I'd never be able to get more out of Dumbledore than he was willing to tell, and I knew it, so I clamped my mouth shut, giving up questions and brooding instead.
Dumbledore stopped outside the hospital wing. I'd been dreading this. We entered, and there was Harry, lying on one of the beds, now semi- transparent. Granger and Weasley looked up from his side.
" What's -he- doing here?" Weasley demanded, rising. Granger put a restraining hand on his arm.
"Now, now, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said. "Draco is here at my request."
The Weasel's face reddened. He sat back down abruptly.
"Poppy," Dumbledore said, turning to Madame Pomfrey. "Has there been any change?"
"No, Headmaster," she replied, twisting her hands in worry. "He hasn't gotten any worse, but he hasn't gotten any better, either."
"It is to be expected." He turned back towards me. "Now, I believe I owe you an explanation."
"You told me yesterday that he had a few days," I said accusingly.
"So I did," Dumbledore replied, nodding his head.
"You told -him-? And before us?" Weasley interrupted, growing steadily redder.
"Please, Mr. Weasley," Madame Pomfrey said reproachfully. He closed his mouth.
"Now, Draco," Dumbledore continued. "I have already explained Harry's condition to Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. He is currently unconscious, and will remain so until Voldemort-" Weasley and Madame Pomfrey flinched "- is stopped. Yes, I did tell you that you had a few days to think, but Voldemort has moved faster than any of us expected. I believe the few days of extra thinking time were not needed anyway, am I right?"
I nodded.
"I take it you are prepared to go then?"
I nodded again.
"Excuse me, Professor," Granger interrupted tentatively. "Draco isn't going to be the one sent back, is he?"
"Oh, but he is, Miss Granger." Her eyes widened.
"WHAT?" Weasley yelled.
"Mr. Weasley," Madame Pomfrey said sharply. "Please calm yourself."
"He is the best one for the job, Ron," Dumbledore said gently.
"BOLLOCKS!"
"Ahem." Madame Pomfrey frowned. "There will be no coarse language in my hospital wing, thankyou," she said crisply. "If you wish to swear, please remove yourself to the hallway."
"Surely an adult-someone from the ministry or one of the teachers, perhaps, would be better suited to the task, Professor?" Granger protested. "Or, if it must be a student, either Ron or I, as Harry's best friends-"
"Any one but -him-! He HATES Harry!" Weasley interrupted.
"And I suppose you know all about my feelings towards Harry, do you?" I interjected coolly. "I assure you, Weasley, Granger, I can do a much better job than either of you."
"What-"
"I've no doubt about your baby-sitting abilities, Weasley," I continued smoothly. "But how do you propose to survive in the muggle world?"
"And I suppose you know -all- about living as a muggle, then, Malfoy?" Granger asked sarcastically.
"In fact, I do," I replied, allowing myself a small, smug smile. "I spent all of the summer holidays learning to survive as a muggle. Father thought I should be prepared, in case the need to live as a muggle ever arises."
"And I suppose you would need to hide in the future, being the filthy Death Eater you are," Weasley snapped. "How do we know you're not working for Voldemort and that you won't just kill Harry yourself."
I shoved my sleeve up, baring my forearm. "Do you see a Dark Mark?" I snarled, thrusting my arm into his face. "Do you? And though you may think it a good enough reason, I for one, would not find the need to kill someone just for being a childhood adversary."
"Alright," Granger interjected. "You've made your point about Ron not being able to pass as a muggle, but what about me? What about the teachers? A muggle-born from the ministry? Could you do a better job than them?"
"Well, Granger," I said, turning to her. "How would you get Potter's relatives to hand him over? What would you tell Potter himself? He's not supposed to know he's a wizard until he's eleven, you'll have to withhold all related information. Also, you'll have to find a way to explain why you know so much about him, his likes, dislikes, habits and whatever. I've seen your lying, it's horrible. And every time you lie to Potter, you'll feel guilty, and it will show, in your eyes, in your body language. I, however, have no such scruples. I will be able to lie my way through anything, and nobody will see a trace of it. Moving on, none of the teachers currently employed is muggle-born, and most people at the ministry would either be too much in awe of Potter or too afraid of Voldemort to pull it off. Also, sending anyone from the ministry would require paperwork and the permission of Fudge. Any Death Eater currently employed at the ministry will be able to discover our plan either through the paperwork, or through Fudge. My, my Granger, with your reputation of intelligence, I would've expected you to have figured that out for yourself."
"How do we know you won't just go running to Daddy with this information?" Weasley demanded.
"My father already knows."
"What?" Weasley demanded. "I knew it! You're a dirty little snitch, working for-"
"It was my father who told Dumbledore about the plan in the first place."
"...Oh."
Why do I get the feeling that these two -really- don't want me doing this?
"So," Granger began, white-faced. "Why are you doing this, Malfoy?"
"Why do you want to know?"
" Why would you be willing to risk your life? Are you being paid?"
"Unlike some, I -have- enough money already."
A strangled noise came from Weasley's direction.
"Then why? You hate Harry."
"Why do you think that? I've never told anyone that I hate Harry."
Granger rolled her eyes. "Um, picking fights, name-calling, making every attempt to get him in trouble ring a bell?"
"That doesn't necessarily mean that I hate him."
"Well, it implies that you don't like him."
"Does it?"
"Just answer the question, Malfoy."
"Well, if I don't save him, he won't be able to defy Voldemort and save the wizarding world, which includes -me-. There, the reason that I'm doing this for my own selfish gain satisfy you?"
"Is it the truth?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes!"
"Why?"
"Because I care about Harry, and I want to be sure that the person sent to save him is the -right- one!"
"...Fair enough."
"Well?"
"You're wasting time, you know."
"Just answer the question!"
"I already did."
"Truthfully!"
"When have you ever known me to be truthful?"
"Just make it a one off thing, then."
I smiled mirthlessly. "Even if I told you, you wouldn't believe me."
"Try me."
"Alright, then."
"Well? Spill!"
"I love him."
"The -truth- Malfoy, do you know what that is?"
"No."
"Malfoy," she said warningly.
"I told you you wouldn't believe me."
She looked into my eyes. I held her gaze steadily, one eyebrow raised. She gasped.
"You can't be serious," she muttered. She looked to Dumbledore, who was looking extremely amused by everything. "Sir? Is he telling the truth?"
"I believe he is, Miss Granger."
There was a dull thud as Weasley fell off his chair, and the sound something breaking as Madame Pomfrey dropped a drinking glass in shock. Granger's face was chalk-white. Dumbledore was the only one unaffected, which was unsurprising, he never missed anything that went on in this school.
"Well, Draco, now that that's all cleared up, are you ready to leave?" he asked. "The house elves have packed your trunk, it's here beside Mr. Potter's bed." He waved his wand and it slid into view. "And you've been given more than enough money to cover all expenses, including a new wardrobe for young Harry. I believe you have impeccable taste when it comes to these things."
"With all due respect, sir, I -have- money."
"Not muggle money though, unless I'm mistaken. And there's not enough time to go to Gringotts to change anything."
"Yes, sir. Thankyou, sir. But sir, what would I do with the clothes once the week is over?"
"Give them to Harry to take home, of course."
"Wouldn't that interfere with-?"
"No, Draco. I have it from a very good source that there was a time in Harry's life, a time he soon forgot, when he -didn't- have to wear his cousin's cast off clothing, a time when he was very well dressed indeed." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
"Now," he said, holding up what looked like a small hourglass hanging on a cord. "Here is the modified Time Turner, a combination of a Time Turner, a portkey, and various other things. Here." He dropped it into my hand.
I held it up by the black cord and inspected it. There was a small figure of a dragon coiled around the hourglass. It wasn't made of plain metal, as I'd first thought. Both the hourglass -not including the glass, of course- and the figurine stuck to it were made of silver. Very impressive. And in place of sand, there was a fine black powder. I looked up, and Dumbledore smiled.
"Ground black tourmaline. It protects you from, and deflects spells. For that extra little bit of protection," he said, winking. "You are to wear this at all times, no exceptions. If you get separated from it, you won't be able to get back."
"Hold it, just hold it!" Weasley said, recovering from his shock and picking himself up from off the ground. He shook his head to clear it. "I know time is scarce and Harry's life is in danger, and I'm sorry if I'm being a bit slow at processing information, but back to this 'Draco loves Harry' business. How did this happen? -When- did this happen? I still don't understand how this -could- happen. Just yesterday, Malfoy was making snide comments about Harry's Potions mark in the hallway, and now, suddenly he loves him? Did I miss something? Could somebody -please- explain?"
"Of course, Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore replied obligingly. "Would you like to explain, Draco, or shall I?"
"Er...I think you can, sir."
"Right. Well, this is only from a bystander's observation, but this is what most likely happened."
I could see that Granger and Pomfrey had now also recovered from shock and were listening intently.
"As you know, Harry refused Draco's friendship back in first year."
I flinched.
"That," Dumbledore continued, "was probably what started this little rivalry. Draco was obviously hurt, rejection was something he was not used to, and his pride was, of course, wounded, so he expressed his feelings by making life in general difficult for Harry. Am I right?"
"More or less."
"Then he got over it, but pushed along by the fun of it and the way it made life interesting, he continued with his little pet project of tormenting Harry, so to speak. Of course, Harry fighting back did not help things, both of them being sucked into the cycle of getting revenge. Harry obviously thought that he should be the one to end it, Draco being the one who insulted him and his friend first, and Draco in turn thought that -he- should be the one to end it, Harry being the one who hurt him first by refusing his friendship. How is it going, Draco?"
"Wonderfully," I drawled. "Just what I always wanted, to have someone bare my soul to the people who hate me most."
Dumbledore smiled and went on. "Of course, that was when Draco reached the age when it was too early for an interest in girls-or boys, for that matter. So, having no one to impress, no other enemies, and nothing else to do in his spare time, he focused all his attentions-unwelcome though they may have been-on Harry. This is probably when the obsession developed."
Weasley looked thoroughly disturbed.
I cleared my throat. "Perhaps 'obsession' is too strong a word, Headmaster."
"Is it?"
"Isn't it?" I asked in return, not answering his question either. I was an expert at these games.
Dumbledore merely smile again and continued his narrative. "You know how these things are. Draco noticed everything about Harry; being bent on finding a weakness-any weakness-to play on, and one day found himself noticing too much. He started picking on Harry even more, dwelling on his bad points to try and snap himself out of this disturbing state, and, well, didn't succeed."
"Well, that's one way to put it," I muttered.
"Then, he picked on Harry to get his attention, but found that Harry probably had more important things to think about. He gave himself up for being hopelessly in unrequited love-and yes, the feelings had deepened to love by now. Resigned to his fate, he still made half-hearted attempts at enmity, for the sake of consistency and habit, just to keep up the pretense."
"An here ends the story of Draco Malfoy's pathetic love life," I interrupted before Dumbledore could give any more damning information. "If you would like to find out more, the books are available at most wizarding bookstores."
Dumbledore smiled. "Ever with the ready wit, Draco."
"I try, Headmaster."
"Okay, okay, I can handle this," Weasley was telling himself. He looked up and swallowed. "Well, I guess if you can love Harry, you must not be as bad a person as I thought," he said to me, smiling weakly.
"Hey, wait," he said suddenly, frowning. "What am I -saying-?" He raised his hands up in front of him, looking panicked. "Just forget I even opened my mouth! I didn't say anything!" he added frantically. "Nothing can or will be used against me!"
I smirked slightly. "Funny," I commented softly.
He gave me a small smile. "You think?"
Dumbledore gave a benign smile. "I'm glad that after all these year, you two are finally getting along. In this time, the need to strengthen inter- house relationships is especially great. This is a good start, I hope you two will continue to become friends."
Well, I guess after seven years, hating each other was getting boring anyway. Might as well try being at least civil. I looked at Weasley-Ron-and raised an eyebrow. He smiled ruefully.
"What do you think? Should we give it a try?"
"Why not?" I replied. "The whole enemy thing was getting old, anyway. Trying to be friends should be interesting, we'll be able to scare a good number of students with it, anyway."
He smirked. "That should be fun, at least."
"Indeed it should be."
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "As loathe as I am to break this up, you have to be going, Draco. You will be sent back eight days before that when Voldemort will attack Harry, and you will stay for two more days after. Try to find an already furnished apartment. After you've dropped Harry off, touch the Time Turner and it will bring you back here. You will arrive tomorrow morning. Also, there is a small vial containing a cloudy liquid in your trunk. You will give it to Harry on the day you return him to his relatives. Slip it into his drink, or something. It will cause him to gradually forget you and his time with you, leaving only some vague memories. But the potion does not erase memories, it only suppresses them. Who knows? They may come floating to the surface when you least expect them." His eyes twinkled again.
Granger stepped forward and put her hand on my shoulder. "Take good care of Harry," she told me, then paused, taking a deep breath. "And of yourself."
Well, that was unexpected. "Thanks, Granger."
"Hermione," she corrected.
"...Hermione."
She smiled and stepped back, at the same time nudging Weasley-Ron forward. He grasped my hand.
"Good luck, mate."
"I don't need luck," I replied, trying to sound arrogant, but failing, my smile giving me away.
"Good luck, mate," Ron repeated cheekily, smiling.
"Thanks...mate."
"Be prepared, Draco, anything might happen," Dumbledore said. "And two turns should do it."
I took the handle of my trunk in one hand, slipped the Time Turner over my head with the other, and turned it twice. There was a tugging sensation behind my navel. The room swirled around me...I was off.
To Be Continued...
* * * * *
Well, want to find out what happens next? You know the drill. Review!
John 3:16
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters, situations, etc. This fic is for non-profit uses only. But that does not mean you can use it wherever you want! Post it without permission and I will hunt you down! If you want it, just ask. I'll probably be so grateful you like it that I'll give stories out by the dozen. The stuff about black tourmaline is from various sites on the net. You can search them up on google. Pairings: Draco/Harry, Hermione/Ron hints. Rating: PG Feedback: I couldn't beg enough. Summary: When Voldemort goes back in time to kill Harry, Draco is sent back as well in order to save him. Notes: Told from Draco's POV. Starts when they boys are in 7th year. Also, I've discovered that certain things from Word don't show up properly on fanfiction.net. So just keep in mind that in sections in the previous chapter such as "But there was something.different"; the solitary full stop is supposed to be three dots. Damn, I hate it when this happens... (Let's hope this new attempt at three dots works...)
* * * * *
Potter wasn't at breakfast today. Most likely, it's nothing. Our darling Boy Who Lived has probably slept in or something. But thanks to this lovely little obsession of mine, I've been wondering about his absence all morning, worrying and fussing like a mother hen. Wonderful.
He couldn't have faded away already, could he? Dumbledore told me he still had a few days...
* * * * *
Potions. Well, I'd find out for sure if there was something wrong now, wouldn't I? I sat in my usual seat, sneering at everyone in general for want of something better to do whilst waiting for Professor Snape to arrive. No Potter as yet.
On the second bell, Professor Snape swept into the classroom. Potter was in for it now. Snape jumped at ANY chance to torment him; he was really going to get it for being late. But even after twenty minutes of listening to Snape lecture about Sleeping Potions, there was -still- no sign of Potter. Or his little friends, for that matter. This was not a good sign. The Weasel not being in class was nothing big; he'd miss potions at the drop of a hat. But Granger never missed a class unless she had a good reason to.
"Severus?" Professor Dumbledore stepped into the dungeons. Snape turned to face him.
"Is there something I can do for you, Headmaster?"
"Yes, Severus, there is. I would like to borrow Mr. Malfoy, if I may."
"How long do you need him for?" Snape signaled for me to stand.
"The rest of your lesson, I should think. That is, if it is not a problem."
"Of course not, Headmaster."
Was it just me, or was there a tiny note of sarcasm in Snape's voice? It didn't seem to concern Dumbledore though. If he'd heard it, he was choosing to ignore it.
"Draco." Snape turned to me. "You will catch up on the rest of the lesson for homework."
"Yes, sir."
"Please, come with me, Draco," Dumbledore said, motioning with his hand. Once again ignoring the curious looks of my peers, I wove through the desks and followed the Headmaster out the door.
* * * * *
"It's Potter, isn't it?" I demanded once we were out of the dungeons.
"Yes, Draco, it is about Harry," Dumbledore replied calmly.
"Well? What is it?" All sense of politeness had been overridden by worry.
"I'll explain when we arrive."
I'd never be able to get more out of Dumbledore than he was willing to tell, and I knew it, so I clamped my mouth shut, giving up questions and brooding instead.
Dumbledore stopped outside the hospital wing. I'd been dreading this. We entered, and there was Harry, lying on one of the beds, now semi- transparent. Granger and Weasley looked up from his side.
" What's -he- doing here?" Weasley demanded, rising. Granger put a restraining hand on his arm.
"Now, now, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said. "Draco is here at my request."
The Weasel's face reddened. He sat back down abruptly.
"Poppy," Dumbledore said, turning to Madame Pomfrey. "Has there been any change?"
"No, Headmaster," she replied, twisting her hands in worry. "He hasn't gotten any worse, but he hasn't gotten any better, either."
"It is to be expected." He turned back towards me. "Now, I believe I owe you an explanation."
"You told me yesterday that he had a few days," I said accusingly.
"So I did," Dumbledore replied, nodding his head.
"You told -him-? And before us?" Weasley interrupted, growing steadily redder.
"Please, Mr. Weasley," Madame Pomfrey said reproachfully. He closed his mouth.
"Now, Draco," Dumbledore continued. "I have already explained Harry's condition to Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. He is currently unconscious, and will remain so until Voldemort-" Weasley and Madame Pomfrey flinched "- is stopped. Yes, I did tell you that you had a few days to think, but Voldemort has moved faster than any of us expected. I believe the few days of extra thinking time were not needed anyway, am I right?"
I nodded.
"I take it you are prepared to go then?"
I nodded again.
"Excuse me, Professor," Granger interrupted tentatively. "Draco isn't going to be the one sent back, is he?"
"Oh, but he is, Miss Granger." Her eyes widened.
"WHAT?" Weasley yelled.
"Mr. Weasley," Madame Pomfrey said sharply. "Please calm yourself."
"He is the best one for the job, Ron," Dumbledore said gently.
"BOLLOCKS!"
"Ahem." Madame Pomfrey frowned. "There will be no coarse language in my hospital wing, thankyou," she said crisply. "If you wish to swear, please remove yourself to the hallway."
"Surely an adult-someone from the ministry or one of the teachers, perhaps, would be better suited to the task, Professor?" Granger protested. "Or, if it must be a student, either Ron or I, as Harry's best friends-"
"Any one but -him-! He HATES Harry!" Weasley interrupted.
"And I suppose you know all about my feelings towards Harry, do you?" I interjected coolly. "I assure you, Weasley, Granger, I can do a much better job than either of you."
"What-"
"I've no doubt about your baby-sitting abilities, Weasley," I continued smoothly. "But how do you propose to survive in the muggle world?"
"And I suppose you know -all- about living as a muggle, then, Malfoy?" Granger asked sarcastically.
"In fact, I do," I replied, allowing myself a small, smug smile. "I spent all of the summer holidays learning to survive as a muggle. Father thought I should be prepared, in case the need to live as a muggle ever arises."
"And I suppose you would need to hide in the future, being the filthy Death Eater you are," Weasley snapped. "How do we know you're not working for Voldemort and that you won't just kill Harry yourself."
I shoved my sleeve up, baring my forearm. "Do you see a Dark Mark?" I snarled, thrusting my arm into his face. "Do you? And though you may think it a good enough reason, I for one, would not find the need to kill someone just for being a childhood adversary."
"Alright," Granger interjected. "You've made your point about Ron not being able to pass as a muggle, but what about me? What about the teachers? A muggle-born from the ministry? Could you do a better job than them?"
"Well, Granger," I said, turning to her. "How would you get Potter's relatives to hand him over? What would you tell Potter himself? He's not supposed to know he's a wizard until he's eleven, you'll have to withhold all related information. Also, you'll have to find a way to explain why you know so much about him, his likes, dislikes, habits and whatever. I've seen your lying, it's horrible. And every time you lie to Potter, you'll feel guilty, and it will show, in your eyes, in your body language. I, however, have no such scruples. I will be able to lie my way through anything, and nobody will see a trace of it. Moving on, none of the teachers currently employed is muggle-born, and most people at the ministry would either be too much in awe of Potter or too afraid of Voldemort to pull it off. Also, sending anyone from the ministry would require paperwork and the permission of Fudge. Any Death Eater currently employed at the ministry will be able to discover our plan either through the paperwork, or through Fudge. My, my Granger, with your reputation of intelligence, I would've expected you to have figured that out for yourself."
"How do we know you won't just go running to Daddy with this information?" Weasley demanded.
"My father already knows."
"What?" Weasley demanded. "I knew it! You're a dirty little snitch, working for-"
"It was my father who told Dumbledore about the plan in the first place."
"...Oh."
Why do I get the feeling that these two -really- don't want me doing this?
"So," Granger began, white-faced. "Why are you doing this, Malfoy?"
"Why do you want to know?"
" Why would you be willing to risk your life? Are you being paid?"
"Unlike some, I -have- enough money already."
A strangled noise came from Weasley's direction.
"Then why? You hate Harry."
"Why do you think that? I've never told anyone that I hate Harry."
Granger rolled her eyes. "Um, picking fights, name-calling, making every attempt to get him in trouble ring a bell?"
"That doesn't necessarily mean that I hate him."
"Well, it implies that you don't like him."
"Does it?"
"Just answer the question, Malfoy."
"Well, if I don't save him, he won't be able to defy Voldemort and save the wizarding world, which includes -me-. There, the reason that I'm doing this for my own selfish gain satisfy you?"
"Is it the truth?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes!"
"Why?"
"Because I care about Harry, and I want to be sure that the person sent to save him is the -right- one!"
"...Fair enough."
"Well?"
"You're wasting time, you know."
"Just answer the question!"
"I already did."
"Truthfully!"
"When have you ever known me to be truthful?"
"Just make it a one off thing, then."
I smiled mirthlessly. "Even if I told you, you wouldn't believe me."
"Try me."
"Alright, then."
"Well? Spill!"
"I love him."
"The -truth- Malfoy, do you know what that is?"
"No."
"Malfoy," she said warningly.
"I told you you wouldn't believe me."
She looked into my eyes. I held her gaze steadily, one eyebrow raised. She gasped.
"You can't be serious," she muttered. She looked to Dumbledore, who was looking extremely amused by everything. "Sir? Is he telling the truth?"
"I believe he is, Miss Granger."
There was a dull thud as Weasley fell off his chair, and the sound something breaking as Madame Pomfrey dropped a drinking glass in shock. Granger's face was chalk-white. Dumbledore was the only one unaffected, which was unsurprising, he never missed anything that went on in this school.
"Well, Draco, now that that's all cleared up, are you ready to leave?" he asked. "The house elves have packed your trunk, it's here beside Mr. Potter's bed." He waved his wand and it slid into view. "And you've been given more than enough money to cover all expenses, including a new wardrobe for young Harry. I believe you have impeccable taste when it comes to these things."
"With all due respect, sir, I -have- money."
"Not muggle money though, unless I'm mistaken. And there's not enough time to go to Gringotts to change anything."
"Yes, sir. Thankyou, sir. But sir, what would I do with the clothes once the week is over?"
"Give them to Harry to take home, of course."
"Wouldn't that interfere with-?"
"No, Draco. I have it from a very good source that there was a time in Harry's life, a time he soon forgot, when he -didn't- have to wear his cousin's cast off clothing, a time when he was very well dressed indeed." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
"Now," he said, holding up what looked like a small hourglass hanging on a cord. "Here is the modified Time Turner, a combination of a Time Turner, a portkey, and various other things. Here." He dropped it into my hand.
I held it up by the black cord and inspected it. There was a small figure of a dragon coiled around the hourglass. It wasn't made of plain metal, as I'd first thought. Both the hourglass -not including the glass, of course- and the figurine stuck to it were made of silver. Very impressive. And in place of sand, there was a fine black powder. I looked up, and Dumbledore smiled.
"Ground black tourmaline. It protects you from, and deflects spells. For that extra little bit of protection," he said, winking. "You are to wear this at all times, no exceptions. If you get separated from it, you won't be able to get back."
"Hold it, just hold it!" Weasley said, recovering from his shock and picking himself up from off the ground. He shook his head to clear it. "I know time is scarce and Harry's life is in danger, and I'm sorry if I'm being a bit slow at processing information, but back to this 'Draco loves Harry' business. How did this happen? -When- did this happen? I still don't understand how this -could- happen. Just yesterday, Malfoy was making snide comments about Harry's Potions mark in the hallway, and now, suddenly he loves him? Did I miss something? Could somebody -please- explain?"
"Of course, Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore replied obligingly. "Would you like to explain, Draco, or shall I?"
"Er...I think you can, sir."
"Right. Well, this is only from a bystander's observation, but this is what most likely happened."
I could see that Granger and Pomfrey had now also recovered from shock and were listening intently.
"As you know, Harry refused Draco's friendship back in first year."
I flinched.
"That," Dumbledore continued, "was probably what started this little rivalry. Draco was obviously hurt, rejection was something he was not used to, and his pride was, of course, wounded, so he expressed his feelings by making life in general difficult for Harry. Am I right?"
"More or less."
"Then he got over it, but pushed along by the fun of it and the way it made life interesting, he continued with his little pet project of tormenting Harry, so to speak. Of course, Harry fighting back did not help things, both of them being sucked into the cycle of getting revenge. Harry obviously thought that he should be the one to end it, Draco being the one who insulted him and his friend first, and Draco in turn thought that -he- should be the one to end it, Harry being the one who hurt him first by refusing his friendship. How is it going, Draco?"
"Wonderfully," I drawled. "Just what I always wanted, to have someone bare my soul to the people who hate me most."
Dumbledore smiled and went on. "Of course, that was when Draco reached the age when it was too early for an interest in girls-or boys, for that matter. So, having no one to impress, no other enemies, and nothing else to do in his spare time, he focused all his attentions-unwelcome though they may have been-on Harry. This is probably when the obsession developed."
Weasley looked thoroughly disturbed.
I cleared my throat. "Perhaps 'obsession' is too strong a word, Headmaster."
"Is it?"
"Isn't it?" I asked in return, not answering his question either. I was an expert at these games.
Dumbledore merely smile again and continued his narrative. "You know how these things are. Draco noticed everything about Harry; being bent on finding a weakness-any weakness-to play on, and one day found himself noticing too much. He started picking on Harry even more, dwelling on his bad points to try and snap himself out of this disturbing state, and, well, didn't succeed."
"Well, that's one way to put it," I muttered.
"Then, he picked on Harry to get his attention, but found that Harry probably had more important things to think about. He gave himself up for being hopelessly in unrequited love-and yes, the feelings had deepened to love by now. Resigned to his fate, he still made half-hearted attempts at enmity, for the sake of consistency and habit, just to keep up the pretense."
"An here ends the story of Draco Malfoy's pathetic love life," I interrupted before Dumbledore could give any more damning information. "If you would like to find out more, the books are available at most wizarding bookstores."
Dumbledore smiled. "Ever with the ready wit, Draco."
"I try, Headmaster."
"Okay, okay, I can handle this," Weasley was telling himself. He looked up and swallowed. "Well, I guess if you can love Harry, you must not be as bad a person as I thought," he said to me, smiling weakly.
"Hey, wait," he said suddenly, frowning. "What am I -saying-?" He raised his hands up in front of him, looking panicked. "Just forget I even opened my mouth! I didn't say anything!" he added frantically. "Nothing can or will be used against me!"
I smirked slightly. "Funny," I commented softly.
He gave me a small smile. "You think?"
Dumbledore gave a benign smile. "I'm glad that after all these year, you two are finally getting along. In this time, the need to strengthen inter- house relationships is especially great. This is a good start, I hope you two will continue to become friends."
Well, I guess after seven years, hating each other was getting boring anyway. Might as well try being at least civil. I looked at Weasley-Ron-and raised an eyebrow. He smiled ruefully.
"What do you think? Should we give it a try?"
"Why not?" I replied. "The whole enemy thing was getting old, anyway. Trying to be friends should be interesting, we'll be able to scare a good number of students with it, anyway."
He smirked. "That should be fun, at least."
"Indeed it should be."
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "As loathe as I am to break this up, you have to be going, Draco. You will be sent back eight days before that when Voldemort will attack Harry, and you will stay for two more days after. Try to find an already furnished apartment. After you've dropped Harry off, touch the Time Turner and it will bring you back here. You will arrive tomorrow morning. Also, there is a small vial containing a cloudy liquid in your trunk. You will give it to Harry on the day you return him to his relatives. Slip it into his drink, or something. It will cause him to gradually forget you and his time with you, leaving only some vague memories. But the potion does not erase memories, it only suppresses them. Who knows? They may come floating to the surface when you least expect them." His eyes twinkled again.
Granger stepped forward and put her hand on my shoulder. "Take good care of Harry," she told me, then paused, taking a deep breath. "And of yourself."
Well, that was unexpected. "Thanks, Granger."
"Hermione," she corrected.
"...Hermione."
She smiled and stepped back, at the same time nudging Weasley-Ron forward. He grasped my hand.
"Good luck, mate."
"I don't need luck," I replied, trying to sound arrogant, but failing, my smile giving me away.
"Good luck, mate," Ron repeated cheekily, smiling.
"Thanks...mate."
"Be prepared, Draco, anything might happen," Dumbledore said. "And two turns should do it."
I took the handle of my trunk in one hand, slipped the Time Turner over my head with the other, and turned it twice. There was a tugging sensation behind my navel. The room swirled around me...I was off.
To Be Continued...
* * * * *
Well, want to find out what happens next? You know the drill. Review!