Title: Sign, Symbol, Token, Chapter 17 - Plans
By: PepperjackCandy
Rating: PG13 (up to "second base" explicit, beyond that implied)
Disclaimer: All characters in this chapter belong to J.K. Rowling

Warning: This is a slash story (Harry/Draco), though romantically-slashy, rather than erotically-slashy. Hence the PG-13 rating.

A/N: I apologize now to anyone with pro-Death Eater sentiments for Harry's jokes at the end of the chapter.
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The next morning, Harry was leaving the Great Hall after breakfast to go down to the dungeons for Potions when Draco pulled him down a darkened corridor, saying, "Come here."

"Draco, do you really think this is a good idea right now? We do have Potions now, and while Snape's really understanding . . . ."

Harry's protests faded when Snape's voice interrupted. "Potions class has been cancelled today, Mr. Potter. Something more important has come up."

Draco had led Harry into a room across the hall from the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore and Snape were there. Once the four had assembled, Dumbledore led them into the hallway, spoke the password to the gargoyle, and they proceeded upstairs.

"We're meeting because Mr. Malfoy has something to tell us." Dumbledore began once they were all seated.

"Yes." Draco sighed and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Dumbledore and Snape have already seen this." He handed it to Harry.

The Dark Lord has spoken. You must befriend Harry Potter. Let bygones be bygones.

Lull him into a false sense of security.

Harry felt all of the blood drain from his hands as he read this, and the paper fluttered from his numb fingers to the floor.

"Harry? Are you all right?" Draco asked.

"What are you trying to tell me?" Harry responded.

Dumbledore smiled benignly. "I want to assure you that this hasn't all been some kind of plot against you, Harry. That note is new. Just received from Lucius Malfoy today."

"It was?" Hope flaring in his breast, Harry looked from Draco, to Dumbledore, to Snape, who all had similar, reassuring expressions on their faces. Well, that explains why my scar was hurting last night. No sense worrying Dumbledore about that, then.

Harry let out a breath, and took Draco's hand. "So," he asked Dumbledore, "what does this mean?"

"It means that we can start to be civil to each other in public." Draco said cheerfully.

"Well, yes, that is one of the meanings of this note. But the other, more important, meaning is that Voldemort is going to try to move against you through Draco somehow. Or possibly Draco is to somehow make it possible for Voldemort to move against you directly."

"What do we need to do?" Harry asked.

"The two most important things for you to do are to work out a way for Draco to pursue a friendship with you in public."

"It'd be best for Potter to," Snape snickered, "play hard-to-get."

Draco and Harry just looked at the Potions master, who was shaking with laughter by then.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, attempting to keep some of his own dignity intact. "Yes. Well, that *would* be a good plan, because the longer we can drag this process out, the longer we have to figure out what Voldemort's plan could be."

He continued. "The other thing you need to do is to work out a communication system - a type of code - so that if Voldemort uses anything similar to the imperius curse on one of you, there will be signs that the other one can pick up on. But somehow, I don't think that will be a problem for you, either."

That evening, Harry and Draco sat on the windowsill of their room in the Astronomy Tower. Draco was leaning against the jamb; Harry sat in front of him, leaning back against Draco's chest.

"Damn my father!" Draco swore, his grip on Harry tightening.

"You want to talk about him? I'm here to listen."

"Yeah. I think I'd like that."

Harry sat up and turned, leaning back against the other jamb while Draco started.

"My problems with my father started when I was born," Draco said with a wry grin. "And I do mean that literally. Did you ever get around to doing those birth augurs you were talking about? The ones that I kissed you to distract you from?" Draco blushed a little in the moonlight.

Harry nodded. "But I must have done them wrong."

"Let me guess. No matter what algorithm you used, you came up with the same thing - that my downfall would be because of a dragon."

"How did you know?"

"Because that's the only thing *anyone* gets when they do my birth augurs. It's why my father named me Draco.

"As he always said, 'I named you Draco to always remind you that the only one who will be your downfall will be yourself.'"

"That's a good thing, though, isn't it? 'I am the master of my fate,' doesn't the Muggle saying go?" Harry asked.

"No. When I said 'will be' I meant it. He used to harass me about it, about how I'd make some huge mistake sometime that would destroy everything he'd worked for. It was just a matter of time until I blew it."

Harry whistled softly.

"He harassed me constantly. Calling me 'Dragon,' like it was an endearment. Even if I didn't buy into his crap, which I mostly didn't, with that constant reminder of the prediction hanging over my head, is it any wonder I'm afraid of dragons?"

Then Harry sat up a little. "Wait a minute! A dragon really *was* your downfall."

"Huh?"

"Well, if Charlie hadn't come with Norbert, I wouldn't have seen that you were afraid of dragons. And that little glimpse of humanity is why I asked you why you hated me so much. And if *that* hadn't happened, we would never be where we are today."

"That's one way to look at it, I guess." Draco admitted. "Of course, I really don't think of you as anything like a downfall."

Harry leaned forward and gave Draco a quick kiss.

Draco continued. "My father was always about keeping up appearances. I could never *admit* that I was afraid, of course. And if you've ever tried to repress a fear, you'll know that only makes it stronger.

"But there were other things. Dumbledore lets people see some sign of what my father would consider weaknesses. Hiring Hagrid on as gamekeeper even though he'd been a suspect in the death of that Mud . . . Muggle-born when he was a student. Hiring a former Death Eater to teach Potions. He gives people second chances. Not a trait my father admires."

"Even though a second chance is something your father relies on."

"How so?"

Harry related what he had seen and heard the night of Voldemort's rising, emphasizing Voldemort's displeasure that Lucius had even so much as given the appearance of having reformed after Voldemort's downfall, and how Lucius had figuratively cringed at his Dark Lord's feet, thanking him for his mercy.

"Tell me that one again!" Draco urged, but Harry just rolled his eyes.

"No. Well, maybe later. I noticed," Harry continued, "that you didn't use the term 'Mudblood.' Have you reconsidered your anti-Muggle-born stand?"

"That's still another thing I hate my father for. He's a hypocrite." Draco squirmed around on the windowsill so that his back was pressed up against Harry's chest. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco comfortingly.

"You know that pure blood I'm so proud of?" Draco asked rhetorically. "Well, didn't you wonder why I blushed when you said that I look like a veela?

"It's because I *am* part veela, Harry. My great-grandmother was one."

Harry let out a genuine gasp of surprise at this.

"My great-grandfather had a mistress. Not that unusual. But his mistress was a veela. His wife was sterile? Infertile? Barren? Whatever. She couldn't have babies. However, his mistress could.

"So, great-granddad made his son by the veela his heir, and that's the deep, dark, Malfoy family secret. Unless you count the whole Death Eater thing, I guess." Draco grinned and Harry kissed the top of his head.

"Oh, so you're part veela." Harry nodded sagely. "That explains this unaccountable attraction I have for you . . ."

"Don't *even* joke about that, Harry."

The seriousness in Draco's tone stopped Harry short. "Sorry." He apologized. "I really was just kidding."

"I know," Draco admitted. "But it feels - wrong -- for you to say that you only love me because I have some kind of supernatural power over you, even in jest."

Harry wondered if he could get Draco to say the word 'love' again. Then again, he considered the very real possibility that it was a slip and that pointing it out would lead to an embarrassed replay of the night of their first kiss, when Draco stammered an apology and then disappeared.

"You know," Draco brought Harry back to reality by speaking. "What you told me about the Dark Lord giving my father a second chance makes this make sense now." He touched the spot on his arm where the Dark Mark lay hidden in his robes.

"Oh? How?"

"My father never told me about this, but he didn't know that I was awake when he and my mother were discussing how I I was a sacrifice."

Harry gasped and pulled Draco closer.

Draco snorted. "Of course, isn't a sacrifice usually something of value? If it is, I wouldn't know why the Dark Lord would want me. My father has never really valued me. Spoiled, yes. Valued, no. Maybe he valued me like he values an antique, or some livestock or something."

Harry sensed that Draco was becoming depressed. He didn't know if he could do anything about it, but he intended to try.

"Draco?"

"Yes."

"Do you feel like you owe the Death Eaters any loyalty?"

He snorted. "No. Of course not."

"All right then, what do you call 5,000 Death Eaters at the bottom of the ocean?"

"I have no idea."

"A good start."

Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry.

He tried another one. "How many Death Eaters does it take to roof a house?"

"Got me."

"Depends on how thin you slice them."

"Harry!" Draco exclaimed in mock outrage.

"If a Death Eater and an MRS agent were both drowning, and you could only save one of them, would you go to lunch or read the paper?"

"I can't believe you!" Draco started laughing despite himself.

"What is brown and black and looks good on a Death Eater?"

"I haven't a clue." Draco was already starting to laugh.

"A doberman."

Draco spluttered and just let himself laugh. "These are terrible! Where did you hear them?"

"The latest owl from Fred and George. Apparently, now that Voldemort's rising is public knowledge, they're all the rage in some circles."

Draco, breathing heavily from laughing, smiled at Harry. "Thanks. I needed the laugh, after today's owl from Father."

"You're very welcome," Harry said, running his hands up in Draco's hair and pulling him gently towards him for a kiss. "You're very, very handsome when you smile."

"Are you implying that I'm not handsome when I don't smile?"

"No, when you don't smile, you're merely very handsome." Harry and Draco kissed again.

Draco sighed. "Well, I guess now we should deal with the question of how I'm going to follow Father's instructions."

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Footnote: I don't think that Draco considers himself a real Death Eater, Dark Mark notwithstanding, but just in case, I'll start on Chapter 18 pronto, so Draco doesn't have time to mull the jokes over and get all morose about how Harry must have meant bad things about him by them. Draco has a tendency toward melancholy that way. And was that just the longest sentence I've ever written? I think it was . . . 8-)