By: PepperjackCandy
Rating: PG13 (up to "second base" explicit, beyond that implied)
Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing Harry, Draco, Snape, and co. from J.K. Rowling, and I'll put them back where I found them when I'm done.
Warning: This will be a slash story (Harry/Draco) eventually, though romantically-slashy, rather than erotically-slashy. Hence the PG-13 rating.
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Draco strutted from the entrance of the Great Hall to the Slytherin table, a smug smile on his face, as if he was enjoying the attention his midday arrival had generated.
"Where were you, Draco?" "Yeah, what's up?" Voices around the seventh-year Slytherin asked.
"People, people," Draco's voice projected dramatically, as if he were a Shakespearean actor, "there is no big mystery here. My father simply kept me home until after my eighteenth birthday." He smiled at them. "Such a big milestone. You know he wouldn't want his only son and heir to celebrate it while away at school."
An approving rumble passed through the students crowded around him, full of mumbles of "happy birthday, Draco!"
Harry sat, watching his nemesis, doing a slow burn. All that worry, and for what? His birthday? He fumed. He noticed Ginny watching him, and rolled his eyes, grinning at her.
She smiled back, only there was something else in her blue eyes - something like worry. "You all right?" She mouthed.
He nodded shortly. "Yeah." He mouthed back.
She gave him a warmer smile this time and nodded.
After lunch, the Gryffindors had Defense Against the Dark Arts class. This year's teacher had been unusually secretive, and apparently had sworn the other classes to secrecy about who the teacher was, for everyone was completely surprised when Mad-Eye Moody walked into the room.
"Some of you might recognize me from the . . . final few days of your fourth year at Hogwarts. My name's Alastor Moody, though you might know me by the nickname of 'Mad-Eye.'" He somehow managed to brandish his magical eye at them without it ever leaving his head.
Moody continued. "Professor Dumbledore has asked me to teach this course this year because it seems there's a disproportionately large number of seventh years who want to become aurors this year.
"Now, Professor Dumbledore has the idea that I can somehow prepare you for what you'd have coming as an auror. There isn't any preparation I can give you. The best I can do is," he took a drink from his hip-flask, "warn you about what you'll have coming if you *do* choose to become aurors.
"Though maybe you'd believe it more coming from one of your own. Longbottom, why don't you tell them what happened to your parents?"
Harry gasped. A murmur ran through the assembled seventh-year Gryffindors, and Harry could hear "Neville's parents?" "I thought he was an orphan." "What is Moody talking about?" and similar questions from his classmates.
Harry briefly thought about trying a diversion. Maybe after he went into convulsions or something, Moody would forget the question he'd asked Neville.
Then, to Harry's amazement, Neville stood. "Professor Moody," he said with an unearthly calm, "I would thank you to never mention my parents again." And with that one sentence, all of the color drained from Neville's round face, and he fell to the floor in a faint.
Harry and Ron rushed to Neville's side and picked the other boy up off of the floor, holding him suspended between them. "'M all right." Neville mumbled groggily, bearing about one-quarter of his weight on his own feet. His eyes never opened.
"Sir?" Harry asked. "May we take him down to the hospital wing? Sometimes he needs some time to recuperate when he's passed out."
"Only one o' ya can take him down." Mad-Eye Moody responded testily. "The other one's gotta stay."
Neville's eyes rolled open briefly. "Harry?" He said inquiringly.
Ron sighed and released Neville's other side, returning reluctantly to his seat.
Harry neatly adjusted his support of Neville to account for Ron's absence and supported his friend as they left the room.
* * *
Once they were down in the hospital wing, Harry helped Neville into a bed and they waited for Madam Pomfrey to come by.
"Neville," she sighed as she pursed her lips, "did you eat lunch today?"
"Yes ma'am." Neville responded.
Harry decided to explain the emotions that made Neville pass out. "You should've seen him, Madam Pomfrey. Mad-Eye Moody was going to . . . say something he shouldn't've, and Neville stood up to him and stopped him. That's when he passed out."
"Did he?" Madam Pomfrey smiled at her new intern. "That's the way, Neville."
She finished her examination and said, "You'll recover, given time, just like always. Just rest here and I'll have some pumpkin juice and snacks sent up. For both of you, since I assume you'll be hanging around for a few minutes, Harry?"
"No, ma'am. I've got to get back to class."
After Madam Pomfrey left to place the order for Neville's snack, Harry stood to leave.
"Harry?" Neville asked.
"Yes?"
"You know about my folks, don't you?"
Harry nodded.
"How'd you find out?"
"Well, remember in fourth year? When . . . Barty Crouch was after me?"
Neville took Harry's mention of Barty Crouch's name surprisingly well. "Yeah."
"Well, I found some information on them while checking the records on Crouch's trial." Harry said, paring down the details to a minimum.
"Oh." Neville nodded. "I suppose I'll have to tell Ron and Hermione about it soon. Ginny already knows." He added with a grin.
"I figured she did." Harry returned the grin. "I'd better get back to class. Mad-Eye Moody's probably going to assign tons of homework tonight." He rolled his eyes.
* * *
Harry was right. When Neville came down to supper, Ron, Hermione and Harry cheerfully informed him how much homework they had in Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
"Great." Neville rolled his eyes. "Just what I needed. To fall so far behind at the beginning of the term."
"Don't worry." Hermione smiled at him. "We'll all pull together, and we'll get through this. Ron always does."
"Me?" Ron responded, affronted.
"Yes, you." Hermione responded, removing the sting from her words with a kiss.
"Well, all right, then." Ron said, kissing Hermione again.
Once again, the room subsided into silence and the Gryffindors turned to look as Draco came into the room with the air of a king surveying his subjects. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes.
After Draco had taken his place at the Slytherin table, normal activity resumed in the room.
"Speaking of Slytherins," Ron grinned at Neville. "You ready to take on the Slytherins and Ravenclaws in Herbology tomorrow?"
"Don't remind me." Neville groused, his face blanching.
Hermione smiled. "Don't worry, Neville. I'm sure you'll do just fine . . ."
While his friends continued in this vein, Harry's eyes moved back towards Draco, who was laughing at something Pansy said, only the smile pasted onto his mouth didn't go any farther. There was something even more guarded than usual in Draco's silver eyes.
Draco turned to face Harry, animosity glittering in his eyes. Nothing new there, Harry thought as he wrenched his attention away from Draco.
"Here's a pleasant thought." He grinned at Neville. "Just think about tomorrow morning, when Snape finds out that you got the Whomping Willow sap that you need."
Neville laughed. "You're right. I can't wait!"
Harry wondered why he'd brought Snape up, if he was trying to get his mind off of Snape's favorite student. His eyes drifted back to Draco. What is going on in your head? Harry wondered, as Draco laughed maliciously at something either Crabbe or Goyle had said. And why can't I shake the feeling that more went on yesterday than just celebrating your birthday?
* * *
That evening, as Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Harry sat in the common room working on their homework, Neville said, "Guys, I've got to talk to you about something."
"What is it?" Hermione asked, hearing the seriousness in Neville's tone.
"Well, it's something that they don't talk about much, and so not many people know about me. About my parents, really." Neville reached over and took Ginny's hand for support. "You know that I was raised by my grandmother."
"Yeah." Ron responded.
"Well, I'm not an orphan." He seemed to think this wasn't enough, so he restated the same thought. "My parents are still alive."
Neville glanced over at Harry for additional reassurance, and continued. "They're in St. Mungo's. You-Know-Who's Death-Eaters drove them insane."
Hermione gasped, but other than that, no one said anything for a while.
"But now you're learning medicine. That's good, right? Maybe someday you can help them get better." Hermione's eyes were bright with unshed tears.
"Yeah." Neville said in a considering tone. "I guess maybe I can."
* * *
The next morning, the Slytherins and Gryffindors gathered for Potions, and this time, the scornful tones of Draco's voice came from the table he shared with Pansy, as he shared tales of all that his father had done to make Draco's eighteenth birthday a success. "A real proper wizard's birthday. Not at all like some of these paupers, Mudbloods and squibs have." He projected clearly so that Harry and his friends could hear.
Ron sighed heavily. "Good to see that Malfoy didn't outgrow his snobbishness over the summer."
"Or since his eighteenth birthday," Hermione said, mimicking Draco's tone. "Like he's the only person who's ever turned eighteen."
Snape came into the room then, and immediately launched into another lecture on universal solvents - this time, it he covered more of the dangers, and the rules the wizarding world imposed on the use of similar potions. Harry took ample notes on Snape's lecture, but he noticed that Snape's eyes kept resting on Draco, not with approval for once, but with concern.
Following the lecture, Snape wrote the ingredients for the second part of the potion on the board. "Of course, some of you," he looked at Neville and Hermione, "have some catching up to do from Monday's classes."
"Actually," Hermione informed him smugly, "we're all caught up."
"What? You can't be!" Snape walked over to Neville and Hermione's table and looked at their potion. Sure enough, it matched the other students' exactly. "How on earth did you manage that?"
"Just resourceful I guess."
"Potter helped you, didn't he? He has . . . a talent for getting around obstacles." Harry could hear the bitterness in Snape's voice.
"Yes, he does, doesn't he?"
Snape snapped his mouth shut at this. "Get to work, Granger." He said shortly.
The laboratory portion of their class went smoothly, all things considered, the only casualty being the sleeve of Neville's robe, which got dunked in their potion and was now a pure, almost silvery, white. "Hmm." Hermione smiled. "My Mum would just love to get her hands on this potion. She's always complaining that she can never get the kitchen curtains white enough."
As the class let out, Neville whispered to his friends, "Wish me luck." And then he followed a group of Slytherins down to Herbology.
As Harry left the room, he heard Snape say, "Mr. Malfoy, will you please stay after class. We need to discuss something."
This piqued Harry's interest. He had been watching Snape's face all class, and as the class progressed, had seen more worry than he thought Snape was capable of.
"I'll see you guys later," he whispered to Ron and Hermione as he hung back to eavesdrop on Snape and Draco's conversation.
Unfortunately, the only safe place he could find allowed him to hear, but not to see what was going on.
"I hear that the day before yesterday was your eighteenth birthday." Snape said icily. "Many happy returns."
"Thank you, sir." Draco responded in a faltering tone.
"I remember *my* eighteenth birthday."
"Do you, sir?"
"Yes. I remember it well. And I got more than I bargained for on that day."
"Really?" Draco's voice cracked.
"Yes." Snape paused. "Show me your arm."
"What?"
"You heard me. Show. Me. Your. Arm."
Harry heard the rustle of robe fabric, and Snape's sharp intake of breath.
Then Harry heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and, fearing being caught, he turned and ran.