In the Lap of the Gods

(Summary: When the Room of Consequence shows two Hogwarts students their destinies, they both attempt to deny what they've seen. Can they deny fate?

Pairing: Harry/Draco, perhaps others

Author's Notes: Yes, this will be a fic with much Draco angst. *pets him* Blame Trelawney, the blasted woman, for getting the idea in my head. This will also switch from third person limited from Draco to Harry and even to Dumbledore every so often. Remember to review!

~Cinaed)

In the Lap of the Gods

Chapter One: World-losers and world-forsakers, on whom the pale moon gleams

It started out as a pleasant beginning to the school year. The Slytherin had managed to make a cutting remark towards the Gryffindor gaggle, and the Weasley of the trio had turned an intense, splotchy puce and attempted to tackle him, held back by his friends. All in all, a very successful endeavor to get under their skin. Of course, it was all too easy to infuriate Ronald Weasley, but Draco Malfoy consoled himself that he had noticed the ears of his archrival, Harry Potter, slowly turning pink with outrage.

A slight smirk was still curving his full lips as the fifth-year climbed up into the Divination classroom, the perfumed air overwhelming his senses for a moment. Choking back a cough, the blonde waved a mock-careless hand in front of his face and muttered to his two companions, "Crazy old bat. I wonder what 'divining miracles' we're learning this year." Scorn dripped from every syllable as he sauntered over to the nearest pillow, which was used as a seat. His two hulking cronies followed him, mumbling agreement to his words.

During the summer, Draco Malfoy's body had begun the shift from a boy's into a man's. His slender frame had filled out so that while he was still lean, there was muscle on that pale body, giving hints to his outer strength. His visage seemed not so much thin and rat-like as delicate and almost feminine. (It was easy to wager, however, that Draco would hex anyone who even hinted at the idea that the Slytherin looked like a girl.) The Malfoy had let his mane grow so that the strands caressed his shoulders as he walked with a confident waltz to his step.

Even as he settled into the cushion, strands of his mane caught the glow of a nearby candle and shifted from a whitish-yellow to molten silver. When he turned his head to smirk as the Gryffindor students began to arrive, the image of a silver aura around him disappeared.

The Weasley seemed to be still fuming about the Mudblood comment because his freckled face was coated in cherry spots. The splotches did nothing for the redhead's coltish looks, and the Slytherin's sneer widened in cruel delight.

"Crazy old bat, am I?" The unexpected voice beside him made the blonde bite back a yelp and swivel quickly to gaze at the displeased Seer before he regained his composure. Not that Draco believed a word about the woman having any powers in the first place. Still, she was a teacher, and the Malfoy wasn't about to fail because the professor had overheard his negative statement.

So he turned his smirk into a smile for her, and stated in his politest tone that had always worked so well with Snape, "Of course not, Professor. I was simply repeating to Vincent and Gregory here what I overheard some other students saying."

It was obvious that she didn't believe him, for an odd smirk twisted her visage as she murmured, "Of course, boy. We'll just see what you have to 'repeat' after the Room."

"What?"

Pale gray eyes the color of river-smoothened stones watched as the Divination teacher only smiled enigmatically and whisked off to speak with some of her Gryffindor pets. For a moment, the Slytherin felt a twinge of unease, but he brushed it aside after a moment. The woman was just being her typical idiotic self.

He caught sight of the infamous Harry Potter glaring at him, and smirked back, focusing on more important matters. Now, how to get the brunet into detention during the first week of school? Hmm..

Even as Draco mused upon the subject, Professor Trelawney cleared her throat and smiled that pseudo-perceptive smile of hers at the assembled students. "Well," she began in a sing-song voice, "another year has begun, and what a year it will be! I can See so many things, both good and bad, for you all." She spared a sympathetic glance towards Potter, who scowled back, and sighed heavily before continuing. "Still, I don't want you all to discourage just because some of you are doomed to die-"

At this, Draco snorted and muttered to Crabbe and Goyle, "Wouldn't it be lovely if Potter actually died this year?" Both of his cronies nodded their agreement, spiteful grins twisting their faces.

"-so I have gained permission from Dumbledore to use the Room of Consequence," Trelawney finished at the same time the blonde spoke.

Whispers filled the room as the group glanced nervously at each other. What was the Room of Consequence? Perhaps Granger would have known, but the Mudblood was off in another class.

"The Room of Consequence is an ancient, magical object," Trelawney explained, glancing around with her luminous eyes. "To a non-wizard, it seems like only a door that hasn't been added into a building's frame. With a special incantation, however, it will become a portal. Within that portal, you will watch the greatest decision of your life and witness the cost of your choice."

The entire class fell silent at the idea, but Draco smirked. The greatest decision? It didn't sound so ominous. He could already imagine what the Room of Consequence would show him: The image of his assertive frame extending his arm towards the Dark Lord, awaiting the honor to become a Death Eater.

"Um, Professor?" The class turned to gaze curiously at Neville Longbottom, who flushed at his own daring and began to stutter in that idiotic way of his. "W-what if your m-most important decision already, um, h-happened?"

"Then you'll watch that decision and learn nothing of this lesson," stated Trelawney with a sniff, fixing the bumbling Gryffindor with a glare for daring to suggest that the Room of Consequence might be faulty. "I assume, by your interest, boy, that you'd like to go first."

All the color drained from Longbottom's face, and Draco had to fight to keep from snickering from the glares that most of the Gryffindor horde was directing towards Trelawney. Even the professor's favorite students were frowning and casting anxious glances in Longbottom's direction. They were all so protective of the pathetic Squib, weren't they?

"G-Go f-f-first?" Longbottom could barely squeak out the words, and was visibly trembling, his round face glistening with sweat. "B-But-"

Ignoring the stuttering protests, Trelawney drew her wand and mumbled something under her breath. There was a long moment of silence, and then several Gryffindor gasped, for a mahogany structure of a closed door had appeared in the front of the room. The arrival had been soundless and unexpected, catching many students by surprise.

Drawing her robes around her, the Divination professor sauntered towards the door. Her dark eyes were filled with a cagey intelligence as Longbottom began to tremble all the more violently. "This, boys and girls, is the Room of Consequence."

Draco swept a contemptuous glance at the door, which stood, forlorn, beside the Seer. The mahogany wood was lovely, but the inscriptions seemed to have been carved in by a violent hand, marring the surface. The people who had created the Room of Consequence had not been happy when they made it. Somehow, this magical object wasn't something he expected Dumbledore to approve of. After all, from years of traveling through Knockturn Alley with his father, the blonde recognized the creation of a dark wizard.

"Come forward, boy," he heard Trelawney command, and glanced up just in time to see Longbottom stumble towards the front of the room, his hazel eyes locked on the door. An expression of stricken terror was firmly imprinted in that ashen face as the plump Gryffindor quivered and sweated in front of the Room of Consequence. "Now, raise your wand and say, 'Aperuis,' boy. And don't stutter."

"Aperuis," murmured Longbottom, and though his voice shook, he didn't stammer. His hazel eyes glowed in his face while the grayish hue intensified, and he wobbled on his feet as the door slowly opened to reveal pitch black emptiness. At the movement of the door, a chill wind blew through the room, and everyone, even Draco, shivered.

"Now, enter."

"P-Professor-" There was near anguish in the trembling boy's stutter as he turned beseeching eyes upon Trelawney, and the Slytherin might have snickered if he hadn't been so busy shuddering from the low temperature.

"Go." There was a commanding rumble to the Divination teacher's words, and through his shivering, Draco cast the woman a suspicious glance. Was she on something? She was normally so mysterious and passive.

A low, terrified sound escaped Longbottom before he gasped and lurched forward into the threatening void. His wand was quivering violently in his fist as his plump frame disappeared from view. The door swung shut with a slam behind him, and then there was silence. Unable to help it, Lavender Brown leapt from her seat and peeked around the door to see if Longbottom was there. She stumbled back to her seat, her attractive face pale and showing all that the near-Squib was indeed in the Room of Consequence.

The entire group, even Draco, listened with bated breath for any sounds that might reach them through the door. Sure enough, a muted groan escaped the Room of Consequence. It was a sound of anguish and despair, and for a second the Slytherin felt pity for the Gryffindor. That passing madness quickly fled, however, and he simply listened with a neutral expression on his visage. Another moan, louder than the first, escaped the Room, but this cry was filled with some sort of horrible knowledge that only the Longbottom understood. Then there was a silence that lasted for five minutes, then ten.

"P-Professor? Shouldn't Neville have come out by now?" the Gryffindor called Seamus Finnigan asked, his Irish accent thickening with his worry. The broken hush made everyone twitch, but Trelawney simply smiled and ignored the question.

Another minute dragged on. The ensuing crash as the door was flung open earned a surprised yell from everyone, and they all gazed with widened eyes at the jet-black entryway of the Room. Where was Longbottom? A soft, frightened whimper ghosted out from the Room of Consequence before the darkness shifted and a hand came into view. The limb was shaky and the fingers curled desperately around a familiar wand. A second later, Longbottom came into view, crawling on all fours.

It was obvious at first sight that something had gone horribly wrong. The Gryffindor's visage was filled with fear and bewilderment, and his large hazel eyes were empty save for those two emotions.

"Neville!" At the cry, the boy gave a start, glancing up at the group as if he'd only just noticed them. His pale flesh became ashen once more, and Longbottom trembled in fear.

"Ne-Ne-" There was something seriously wrong, because the Gryffindor couldn't seem to get his tongue around his own name. Longbottom choked and clutched at his wand, his hazel eyes widening with terror. "Ne-"

"Neville! Are you all right?" Finnigan demanded, leaping from his seat and rushing to kneel beside the creeping boy. Blank hazel eyes met concerned grayish-green as Longbottom twisted to blink owlishly at the Irish lad.

"Neh-vuh-" The Gryffindor was laboring over his name, his round face twisting in concentration.

"Yes, yes you're Neville Longbottom." Finnigan's voice had taken on a gentle quality as he reached out a hand to brush a sweat-soaked tress of dirty blond away from Longbottom's eyes. "How about we get you to the infirmary?" Noting the confused look, the Irish boy added soothingly, "That's where we'll make sure you're not sick and help you talk again." It was surprising how quickly the normally idiotic Gryffindor slipped into the role of a serious protector.

The trembling boy didn't acknowledge what he thought of the infirmary idea, but he didn't protest when Finnigan helped him to his feet. The hazel- eyed youth leaned heavily on the Irish lad, his legs wobbling as if he'd forgotten to walk as well as talk. The silent class watched as Finnigan helped Longbottom towards the rungs that would lead them downward, out of the classroom.

"Let me help," Dean Thomas offered when they came to quandary of going down the ladder. Longbottom latched onto Finnigan and watched the dark boy with obvious suspicion as he made his way towards them. "Seamus, you can go down first and be there in case he slips, and I'll stand by the rungs to get him to go down."

"Do you understand that, Neville? I'm going to climb down the ladder, and you'll have to come down after me. Dean will watch to make sure you don't get hurt."

As Longbottom bit his lip and mumbled a garbled message that no one could translate, Draco glanced at Trelawney, wondering what the old bat was thinking. To his surprise, she looked slightly pleased, a small smirk on her visage. Now the Slytherin was sure that something was going on.

Finnigan and Thomas spent the next ten minutes cajoling Longbottom into climbing down the rungs. There was a brief moment of fear through the Gryffindor side of the classroom when Finnigan shouted in surprise, for Longbottom had begun to slip, but just as quickly the Irish Gryffindor assured them with a shout that 'Neville was fine, just a bit shaken.'

As Thomas turned away from the exit and glared accusingly in the teacher's direction, Trelawney smiled benignly. Any trace of a smirk was gone from her face, and she murmured, shaking her head, "It was as I feared. So many of you are doomed."

"We shouldn't be using this if it's that dangerous!" Weasley roared, his entire face crimson with suppressed fury. "We don't even know if Neville's going to be all right!"

"Oh, the affects will wear off," Trelawney assured them, although somehow Draco doubted that, judging from the glitter in her eyes that the Malfoy recognized all too well. It was a look his father often had when he was lying just to get his own gains. Then her shimmering eyes flickered around to land upon the Slytherin, and he felt an odd prickling sensation on his neck. It was as if he should recognize that intense look as something other than what it was. "Well, Malfoy, is this class anything you thought 'a crazy old bat' could come up with?"

Draco managed to smirk, shifting into his arrogant role easily. "Definitely not, Professor. I wouldn't have thought Dumbledore approved of this." After all, there was no way that Trelawney could have gotten this magical object except from Knockturn Alley. The Slytherin was now totally certain of this.

"Well, he did. Now, Malfoy, it's your turn."

A cocky sneer lingered upon the blonde's face as he glanced at the stunned Gryffindor. "Me? Go in after what happened to Longbottom? Dear professor, you must think me mad." The disdainful words lingered in and filled up the space, choking students not already suffocating upon the perfumed air.

A bitter smile twisted Trelawney's lips before she replied to the boy's mocking comment. "No, not insane. Slytherin."

The statement caught Draco off-guard, and he blinked owlishly before a wry look replaced his smirk. "I'm cunning, Professor, and therefore not foolish enough to fall for your trap."

"Ah, but you are a Slytherin, and that means you have pride. Is a Malfoy really so frightened to enter the Room of Consequence?" Condescension thickened the words as they spilled from the woman's thin mouth.

The blonde lifted his head in defiance even as he acknowledged her trick that he had been led like a lamb to. If he backed down, he would be a coward; if he accepted her challenge, he might end up like Longbottom.

"Come on, Malfoy! What's the worst that can happen? We all know that you'll see yourself accepting the Dark Mark from You-Know-Who!" snarled Weasley, and several Gryffindor mumbled agreement.

Draco glanced in Weasley's direction, keeping his porcelain visage controlled. Somehow, it wasn't amusing that the redhead had seemed to picture the same thing he had. Still, a mocking smile flitted across his face before he drawled, "Weasel, that was never a decision. That is my fate." As his haughty words filled the room, he drew his wand and stated, "Aperuis."

The door opened and beckoned the Slytherin forward with icy caresses. Casting a superior gaze around at the assembled students, Draco Malfoy let his mouth twist into a confident smile and sauntered into the Room of Consequence.

* * *

The group of pupils watched as the door slammed shut with an ill- omened boom, and every ear strained during the ensuing silence to hear if Malfoy made any noise. Harry Potter was possibly the most attentive listener. Emerald eyes watched the entry as the hush loitered for two minutes, three minutes, five minutes. Even if the Potter disliked the Slytherin with a passion, the former didn't want him to end up like Neville had. The quietness was finally broken when a soft sound reached Harry's ears. Malfoy had laughed, but to the brunet's surprise it had been a laugh of disbelief, as if the blonde hadn't accepted what he was seeing.

Unaware that he was biting his lower lip, Harry was so intent on listening for more of his archrival's incredulity that he didn't realize that a very furious Minerva McGonagall had scrambled up the ladder until she spoke, her voice harsh.

"Sybil, Mr. Finnigan has informed me that-" The words died her throat as the Transfiguration teacher's stern gaze fell upon the Room of Consequence. "Merlin's beard, Sybil, what have you done?" The horror in her voice made more than a few students shift upon their pillows in gestures of unease. What /had/ the teacher done? "Dumbledore would /never/ allow this cursed thing into Hogwarts!"

Trelawney offered the group a triumphant sneer, her visage contorting into a look that obviously was not her own. "That's quite all right. I've finished with my game. I hope Malfoy enjoys the Room." As soon as the taunting words left her lips, the Seer's eyes rolled and she crumpled towards the floor like a puppet whose strings had been sliced.

It was at that point when Malfoy began to scream.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as the Slytherin shrieked. No longer incredulous, the noise was of comprehension, fury, and misery all fused together into yells of raw emotion. The sounds of the blonde's anguish rang through the room for three minutes, six minutes, nine minutes.

It took that long for Dean to get Dumbledore to the classroom.

The headmaster's eyes blazed so fiercely that everyone's eyes watered from the azure orbs' intensity. Raising his wand, the man shouted a sharp command. Almost grudgingly, the door began to creak open, releasing another burst of cold that made everyone shiver in their seats.

"Mister Malfoy?" Dumbledore's gentle call filled the room as the anxious students watched the doorway, gazing hopefully into the darkness.

Then the dark entrance shifted, and a shadowy frame filled the doorway. There stood Malfoy, a stricken look on his pale face. Sweat trickled down from his forehead, making it seem as if the salty liquid was tears, streaming down his haunted face. Voice hoarse from incessant cries, he nevertheless struggled to speak. "Never." Wide gray eyes flickered wildly around the room while his white-knuckled hands grasped at the doorframe. Fingernails scarred the wood and he clung to the framework, as if he would crumple upon release. "Do you hear me? Never!"

"Mister Malfoy?" The headmaster used the same mild tone as before, and Malfoy quivered violently as his head jerked towards the white-haired wizard. His eyes narrowed to slits, and he stumbled forward, leaving the safety of the doorframe.

"Damn-damn you, Albus. Where-where were you? We were supposed to attack-" A crazed look had entered those intense gray eyes as the Slytherin shuddered but looked accusingly towards the headmaster. It was obvious his mind thought he was still in the Room of Consequence. "We needed you-needed to be ready- I needed him safe." Hopelessness slipped into the blonde's rambling, and his eyes flickered wildly around once more, as if searching for someone.

Emerald green clashed with stone gray, and Malfoy shuddered, anguish and fury warring for dominance on his wan face. No longer rambling, those eyes hardened with undeniable hatred. "Never," was rasped out. "Never, Potter!"

The defiant name wrenched itself from the boy's raw throat, and then stone gray was hidden from the world as Malfoy swayed on his feet and fell to the floor. The blonde was deathly still as he lost consciousness, and lay like a broken porcelain doll, his silvery-blond tendrils splayed around him, like an otherworldly, sacred halo. Harry couldn't help but stare as the flickering candles illuminated the Slytherin's halo. How could that crumpled figure look so wretched and yet innocent at the same time?

Dumbledore glanced between the forlorn figures of Malfoy and Trelawney, and looked far older than Harry had ever seen him. "Minerva, please take Mister Malfoy to the infirmary. I'll take Sibyl there after I figure out what possessed her so." Azure eyes flickered around the room. "Students, please go to your common rooms and stay there. I will be questioning you all one by one, but I promise to explain everything to the school once I learn exactly what happened."

"Professor Trelawney wasn't acting herself, Headmaster," Lavender Brown offered in a meek tone as the students clambered down the ladder to flee to the safety of their common rooms. The pupils were all too willing to discuss what just took place, but all preferred to do so in the safety of the common room where a warm, soothing fireplace awaited them.

"Thank you, Miss Brown." There was a weary note to the wizard's voice as he turned back towards the Room of Consequence and fixed his blue gaze open it.

Harry was the last one to climb down the ladder, so it was only he who saw the look of total rage that contorted the headmaster's face as Dumbledore snapped a single, powerful word, and it was only he who saw the Room of Consequence slam shut and give a convulsive quiver before bursting into eerie, sky-blue flames.

Feeling a shiver rack his thin frame, the Gryffindor slipped down the rungs, his emerald green eyes empty. Even as Ron tugged him in the direction of the common room, the Boy Who Lived wondered what on earth had just happened.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore felt suddenly extremely old. Every joint in his usually nimble frame ached as he glanced at Minerva, who was watching the flames with a stunned blankness to her eyes. Exhaustion evident in his tone, the headmaster whispered, "Please take Mister Malfoy to the infirmary, Minerva. I'll see what possessed Sibyl."

"She-she said, 'That's quite all right. I've finished with my game. I hope Malfoy enjoys the Room,' right before she fainted, Albus. It wasn't Sibyl who said it though. I suspect Imperius." The astounded Transfiguration teacher waved her wand and began to usher the unconscious Slytherin down the ladder, mentally thanking Merlin that she could use magic instead having to haul Draco Malfoy down the rungs like Finnigan had had to for the unfortunate Mr. Longbottom.

Albus glanced at the motionless form of Sibyl Trelawney until Minerva and her floating charge were a ways away. His eyes studied the relaxed, oblivious face of one of his favorite teachers. After all, her rivalry against Minerva was incredibly amusing. Shifting his wand in his hand and wincing at the arthritis pain that randomly plagued him and had chosen to today of all days, he pointed the wand towards Sibyl and dragged her from the realm of oblivion with a single, soft command.

Her eyelashes fluttered as her expression shifted to one of confusion even while the headmaster murmured a spell that would inform him when she was lying. "Head-Headmaster?" There was a note of bewilderment in her slurred inquiry as her blurred eyes focused on him.

"Do you remember anything, Sibyl?"

Disorientation remained in her eyes as the Divination teacher blinked and attempted to sit up, wincing when her body protested. Then, as fast as lightning, realization struck. Immediately, the Seer panicked, her hands waving wildly in the air as she stumbled over her words. "Oh no! The-the Death Eater, Albus! He forced me- the Imperius- he wanted- the Room of Consequence!" Her luminous eyes filled with tears, and she looked completely beside herself. "I could-oh Albus!-I tried- the Room- Did I use it?"

"Yes, Sibyl. Under the Imperius curse, you were forced to send two students into the Room of Consequence," Albus informed her, his tone grave, as the woman shuddered.

"I'm so sorry-" A look of horror flitted across her face as her scrambled brain managed to connect with the fact that she had been teaching a group of fifth years. "Not Potter?" Although she normally intoned the boy's doom, her colorless face assured him that she didn't actually want the boy dead.

"No." His keen blue eyes locked onto Sibyl's, and the woman found herself spell-bound, caught in his severe gaze. "Did you get a glance at the Death Eater, Sibyl?"

The Seer shook her head, still looking distraught. Her spindly fingers trembled as she fumbled with her mussed robes. "No, no, I didn't. He was wearing a mask. Who did I send in there?"

"Did he say anything unusual?" Albus' inquiry was carefully impassive.

"Albus, please! He said nothing, only forced the Imperius curse upon me! Who did I send into that terrible room?"

"Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy. Now, tell me, Sibyl. You really have no idea why on earth a Death Eater would want to send Lucius Malfoy's only son into that evil place?"

Sibyl shook her head, looking completely distraught. "Why-why would a Death Eater send one of his fellow members' sons into the Room?"

"That," stated Albus in a grim tone, feeling his arthritis pains start up once more, "is precisely what I would like to know."

* * *

"Harry?" Dark brown orbs met the boy's equally dark green eyes as Dean Thomas hovered before him, the dark-skinned lad looking uncertain. "I've just finished my chat with Dumbledore in his office. He says it's your turn."

"My turn?" Harry knew he sounded like a bemused idiot, but he couldn't help it. Malfoy's loathing 'Never, Potter!' kept ringing through his head. What had the Slytherin been rambling about? What had he seen in the Room of Consequence?

It took him a moment to realize that Dean had begun speaking once more. "- wants to talk to you about what happened to Neville and Malfoy, I s'pose. Listen, if you see Seamus.." At this point, the football-loving youth faltered and looked uncertain. "Tell him if he needs me, I'll be in the dormitory, resting."

"I will." As the promise flowed from his lips, Harry saw the look of relief that flitted across Dean's face, and wondered at the boy's earlier insecurity. "He's still with Neville then?"

The taller Gryffindor shrugged his slender shoulders, biting down on his lower lip. "Pomfrey won't let any student into the infirmary, but I think Seamus stayed by Neville's side." Deep brown eyes clouded when the Irish lad's best friend considered something, and Harry watched as Dean wandered away, a small frown lingering on the dark youth's handsome visage.

The Potter glanced around at the common room, startled to find that all the other years had come from their classes while he had been lost to his musings, and were now questioning the drained fifth-years. Ron was waving his hands wildly, a scowl on his freckled visage as Fred and George interrogated him. Green eyes sought out Hermione, and found his other best friend huddled in a corner, murmuring something to a white-faced Ginny.

"-I told you, Fred! Dumbledore will tell us what happened!" Ron's exasperated yell made Harry start, and the Potter realized that the headmaster was waiting for him. He wondered if everyone else had been questioned, but brushed the thought aside as he hurried from the common room and into the hallway.

Harry breathed in almost desperately, enjoying the sensation of semi-fresh atmosphere and the sensation of cool air against his heated flesh. It had been far too crammed in the Gryffindor common room.

'Never, Potter!' The Gryffindor fought the shudder that racked his frame as Malfoy's pale, troubled face filled his vision. Would that image and shout haunt him forever? A cold reminder of Cedric's lifeless visage assured him that the memory of Malfoy would fade with time, though others would not.

Perhaps Dumbledore would be able to tell him what the blond Slytherin had seen. The thought quickened his pace, and Harry nearly sprinted the rest of the way to the headmaster's office. He was out of breath when he reached entryway, glancing up at McGonagall as the professor frowned at him.

"Fix your glasses, Potter," she declared, for they had been rattled askew by his jogging. Her following tone was not unkind, and Harry noticed that the Transfiguration teacher looked rather tired. "Dumbledore will see you now."

"Thank you." His voice sounded strained to his own ears, and his fingers trembled as he settled his glasses upon the bridge of his nose. Wanting to bite his lower lip in a nervous gesture like Dean had, the Gryffindor stumbled into Dumbledore's office.

His rapidly pounding heart was calmed somewhat by the sight of Fawkes, who was preening and didn't notice him at first. When the headmaster smiled and motioned for Harry to have a seat, however, the phoenix glanced at the boy. Instantly, a sweet melody soothed him as Fawkes welcomed him into the office.

Dumbledore chuckled, but it was not as cheerful a sound as usual. Even his blue gaze was dimmed somewhat as he stated, "Well, Harry, it seems Fawkes remembers you. He completely ignored all the other students except Seamus, but that was because-" The headmaster cut himself off and motioned for the Gryffindor to sit.

Harry settled into a comfortable purple chair that seemed to swallow him and lull him into a sense of security. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he relaxed into the softness, but he opened his eyes as Dumbledore spoke once more.

"Harry, would you please tell me exactly, in your own eyes, what went on during your Divinations class today?"

So the Potter did. He told Dumbledore about how Trelawney had seemed normal until she had revealed the Room of Consequence, how she had assured everyone that the headmaster had declared the object safe to use, how she had bullied Neville into entering the Room and what had happened to the plump Gryffindor, how she had tricked Malfoy into entering the Room, and finally how she had fainted after McGonagall's arrival. When he finished, Dumbledore looked grave.

Pressing his fingers together, the headmaster rested his azure gaze upon Harry. "So you have no idea what Mr. Malfoy was talking about when he yelled at you, Harry?" A shake of ebon tresses assured Dumbledore that Harry was clueless, and the white-haired man sighed. "Thank you for your time. I have to speak with Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Malfoy before discussing anything with the school, but from my studies of the Room of Consequence.." Dumbledore sighed once more, looking far older than Harry had ever perceived him.

"Is-is Neville going to be all right?" Harry's inquiry was almost timid, and his emerald eyes were focused upon the headmaster's wan face as he waited for an answer.

"I hope so, Harry, but many people have come from the Room of Consequence destroyed because of what they've seen," was Dumbledore's grave response. "Now, I need to speak to Poppy and see if Mr. Longbottom has regained any of his speaking ability and if Mr. Malfoy has awakened."

Numbness swept through him at those frank words. Neville had to be all right. What would the Gryffindor fifth-years do without the round boy's eager expertise in Herbology and the weekly explosions in Potions? He rose from the chair, an image of Neville's terrified, haunted face filling his vision.

Harry didn't know how he managed to wander past McGonagall and end up in front of the Fat Lady, but it took quite a few minutes for the brunet to remember the brand-new password. As he finally fumbled for the correct saying, he fled up to the dormitory to collapse on his own bed. Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice that Dean's breathing was not like a sleeping person's.

* * *

Albus rubbed his forehead as he gazed upon an unconscious Draco Malfoy. He knew shock was keeping the blonde from regaining consciousness, and because of that he had to wait until Draco's body allowed him to rouse. Feeling a headache begin, the headmaster turned in the direction of where Neville Longbottom huddled against Seamus, his dirty blond curls shielding his face from view as the round-faced boy kept his countenance pressed into his Irish companion's shoulder. After a frantic struggle with Poppy as she had attempted to check him for any injuries, Neville had clung to Seamus and refused to move. His bemused wits had become fixated on the idea that being near the Irish Gryffindor meant he was safe, but at least that kept him calm.

"Mr. Finnigan?" Seamus glanced up at his name, his grayish-green eyes revealing his inner anguish as his companion twitched and pressed himself closer. "Do you think you could try to get Neville to speak? It would help me if I knew what he had gone through."

"Of-of course, sir." Even as Albus watched, the Irish lad raised a hand to gently stroke Neville's dirty blond curls and began to murmur soft words of encouragement to the traumatized boy. The headmaster had never seen the jolly Gryffindor so serious as he attempted to convince Neville that it would be a good thing if he spoke.

As Seamus' gentle whispering filled the infirmary, Albus returned his attention to a certain lifeless Slytherin. His keen eyes detected a slight tremor in those ashen cheeks, and the man knew that Draco would soon return to the land of the conscious. Draco's golden lashes were beginning to flutter weakly when the door to the infirmary opened with a loud bang.

An irate Lucius Malfoy and a nervous Narcissa entered the room even as Draco's eyelashes stilled and his delicate features relaxed. His subconscious had ordered a hasty retreat at the threatening sound of the door.

"Dumbledore, what the hell has happened to my son?" Lucius' demand was sharp with fury, and in the ensuing silence, Albus heard Neville's muffled whimper.

The headmaster turned just in time to see Seamus direct a loathing glare in the older Malfoy's direction. Shimmering locks of golden light-brown fell in front of the Irish lad's face as he continued to soothe his fellow Gryffindor.

"Lucius, lower your voice. We have two students who have gone through a painful experience, and your anger is not helping matters," Albus commanded, his words soft but sharp. "The better question would be: Why would a Death Eater trick /your/ son into entering the Room of Consequence?"

Narcissa paled and swayed on the spot, her mouth opening to form a silent motion of surprise. Her husband ignored the swaying blonde as resentment sharpened his features. "Well, he's no use to me as an heir now, no matter who caused this," Lucius snarled, casting an annoyed glare in the direction of his son's bed. "The Room of Consequence will have left him insane. It's St. Mungo's for him."

Seamus' gasp of fear was audible in the oppressive silence that followed the Malfoy's outburst, and Albus narrowed his eyes. "Now, now, Lucius, some people have left the Room of Consequence with their minds intact. Judging from the fact that your son knew how to formulate sentences and that he was able to understand when he was out of the Room, he might be one from that group." His tone was as mild as always, contradicting his inner feelings. Though he couldn't help but wish that the dark creator of the Room had not made it so that the victims' memories couldn't be modified. Then perhaps the blonde would have been more lenient.

Pale gray eyes flickered in the direction of Seamus and Neville, and a nasty sneer formed on Lucius' lips. "Oh, and I suppose /that/ boy will emerge from this experience wonderfully?"

"Mr. Longbottom will be fine." The resolute declaration made an elegant eyebrow raise.

"So that's Frank Longbottom's son?" The spiteful smirk never fled his lips. "I'm certain he won't mind joining his par-"

"Be. Quiet." The sharpness of Albus' words could have slashed through flesh, /would/ have stabbed at the older Malfoy's delicate visage and sent crimson liquid trickling down his porcelain face. "Neville will be fine. I'll make sure of that."

"Draco." The whisper escaped Narcissa's mouth and both men glanced at her, taking in her sallow face and wide, alarmed eyes. The blonde seemed about to faint, still swaying precariously. "Is-will he-"

"Shut up, Narcissa." The cool command made the frightened woman shrink back, her entire posture caving in into a gesture of defeat. For a second, she seemed like a lost, frightened girl before Lucius snapped, "Go back to the Manor. I'll deal with this."

"Yes, Lucius." The meek agreement filled the air as Narcissa Malfoy turned and strode out of the infirmary, her shoulders bowed.

When Lucius turned back towards Albus, he was much his distant, poised self again. He tossed his head before a slight smirk curved his lips. When the blonde spoke, it was brusque and almost uncaring. "Really, Dumbledore, you don't have to be so sweet. My son went into the Room of Consequence. Whatever he saw was horrifying, which means he saw himself not accepting the Mark from the Dark Lord or something to that effect. Why should I even bother to care for my son if that is his fate?" His cold gray eyes didn't bother flickering towards Seamus, for it was obvious Lucius didn't think that the lad was a threat.

"You know as well as I, Lucius, that the Room of Consequence shows the most important decision of a person's life, but at the same time, it's the choice that affects as many people as possible. Draco might have sacrificed himself for Voldemort and then seen Harry Potter defeat him anyway."

Lucius raised an eyebrow once more, looking almost amused. "Very well then, Dumbledore, I'll wait until Draco wakes up, but if he says anything about not joining me by Voldemort's side, /something/ will have to be done." A warning note lingered in the room, and Albus knew what that warning was.

"I will not allow you to take Draco from Hogwarts if you're going to kill him, Lucius, and every student has the right to claim sanctuary within these walls," the headmaster warned. "Draco is no exception."

"Ah, and that sanctuary so saved Cedric Diggory last year." Lucius' mordant reply made anger stir within Albus' breast, and the white-haired man knew his eyes were flashing with reproof.

A low sound interrupted them, and the two men turned to gaze down upon Draco as the blonde began to revive. His refined features contorted for a moment before his golden lashes fluttered open to reveal bewildered gray.

* * *

// It's so cold. So very, very cold. Is Harry safe? Where is Albus? Voldemort is here, and he's going to hurt Harry. Have to stop him, have to- //

"Draco." Lucius' tone was formal, but his son jerked up to a sitting position, his eyes widening. Draco's heart pounded wildly in his chest as his eyesight blurred and then cleared. Befuddled gray clashed with distant gray before the young blonde fell back into mental ramblings.

// -protect Harry. Wait. That voice. Those cold features. Has Voldemort conjured an apparition? I watched my father fall like a forlorn, shattered toy after Harry used the Curse- //

"Father?" The fair boy's response held more than a hint of disbelief. "But you're dead!" His trembling lips formed the words and didn't acknowledge his audacity to call the man of living flesh and bone before him deceased.

"Excuse me?" The older Malfoy's tone was cold, but the cerebral tangents had begun again, softer but still intense.

// -to send Lucius falling, broken forever, upon the green grass, months ago. Where is Albus? He promised to be here hours ago. The battle's raging. Everywhere, screams and shouts of the Unforgivable Curses as countless lives are ended. Where's Albus? //

Dawning comprehension filled his mind as the mumbles wavered and finally ceased in his dazed mind, and Draco felt himself blanch. He was out of the Room, safe in a world that was real, and his father was gazing at him with unsympathetic eyes. "I-I mean, in the Room. It can't be true, Father- I won't let it be true!" Panic tinged his words despite his struggles to regain his composure. However, his self-control had been stolen by the Room, and he had lost any semblance of poise. "I won't let you die!"

"What exactly did you see, Draco?" Compared to his father's remote tone in regards to his son, Dumbledore's voice would normally have been unbearably kind to a prideful soul such as Draco Malfoy.

* * *

At the moment, however, the blonde didn't seem to care about the tones of the men as a stricken look fixated itself on his countenance. An uneasy glance towards his father assured Albus that what Draco had seen would not please Lucius in the slightest. "I-I saw Potter's defeat of the V-of the Dark Lord." There was an edgy quaver to the Slytherin's words, so unlike his standard, self-assured manner.

"And that is why you glared at Harry and said, 'Never, Potter!' before you fainted?" Albus persisted in his questioning, keeping a wary eye on the older Malfoy.

Again, troubled gray eyes flickered towards his father before Draco mumbled, "Er, yes, that's why. Stupid Potter will /never/ kill the Dark Lord!" There wasn't any conviction to his words, however, and a sheen of sweat had broken out on the boy's forehead.

He should have waited for a few more hours to question the Malfoy this thoroughly in front of his father, Albus realized. It was too much of a strain for him, and Draco was already so jittery that he couldn't lie to save his life. That, incidentally, was what he was attempting to do.

"Don't lie, boy." The Slytherin's father loomed over him, his eyes cold as ice. His facial expression shifted to one of contempt. "The Room showed that you never took the Mark."

"Please, Father, it won't happen. The Room was wrong. I'll be a Death Eater, I swear it!" Sweat trickled down the blonde's face as his tone became frantic and almost pitiful. Shaking hands grasped desperately at his bedspread, and Draco looked about to faint once more.

"The Room of Consequence is never wrong, boy."

"Father, please!"

"You're no son of mine, Draco. You're not even fit to be a Malfoy, much less my heir." As the cruel declaration filled the air, Lucius gathered his robes about himself and turned to stalk out of the infirmary and away from the son he had just disowned.

"I won't let Harry kill you!" The hysterical yell seemed to echo through the infirmary as the older Malfoy's footsteps faltered.

"/Harry/, boy?" The question was unemotional, hiding the emotions that the Death Eater might have been feeling. Lucius stood still, his back to his son as Albus watched Draco's thin face contort.

The delicate features of the blonde shifted into harsh lines of weariness and despair as the fifth-year fumbled for something, anything to say to his father. His impassive mannerisms had been stolen by the Room as a despondent expression filled his face. "I mean, Potter. Not Harry, never Harry. Why would I fall in-" The words halted on his lips, and Draco looked horrified.

"Why would you fall in what, boy?"

"Fall in-fall into Potter's trap!" The lie faltered on Draco's lips, and the silence that resulted was filled with an eerie impression that someone, somewhere, was mocking the young Slytherin's pitiful attempts to tell an untruth. "He won't trick me now that I know what he did!" Wide gray eyes remained fixed upon his father's back, and the blonde swallowed desperately before plunging forward. "I won't do it, Father! I swear! Please, Mother will believe me! Where is she?"

"Running to your mother for help, boy?" came Lucius' cool response. "She always coddled you. I should have sent you to Durmstrang and ignored her concerns. Maybe then you wouldn't be such a disappointment."

Draco reacted as if he had been slapped, crumpling back against the white pillows. His thin face drained of all color so that he nearly seemed camouflaged against the pale sheets. "Please, Father." The broken whisper was almost imploring.

"A Malfoy doesn't beg. It seems you never quite learned that, boy. You were forever begging me for attention." With a dismissive note to his final words, Lucius added, "I shall have the house-elves send your belongings to Hogwarts." Without another word, the Death Eater swept from the room, leaving two Gryffindor, a Slytherin, and a very weary headmaster alone in the infirmary.

* * *

Draco closed his eyes in a gesture of defeat as the Room's dark thoughts crowded into his mind again. A shiver racked his frame as the icy chill swept his body once more, but this time the Slytherin didn't bother to protest. After all, a Malfoy doesn't beg. So he fell against the soft pillows and let the whispers engulf him.

// Voldemort is somewhere in this chaotic mass of dying witches and wizards. He's after Harry. I have to get to Harry and protect him. Where is Albus? Why hasn't the damned old fool come? Harry! Harry, you can't die, not today! Not now! We have to fight the Dark Lord together. We have to kill the bastard so this can all end. Where is Albus? //

Everything was growing darker. Even the faint light against his closed eyelids had become dim. All was spiraling into darkness, and Draco Malfoy was going to die years earlier than he was supposed to, choking on his own scream of misery.

Perspiration stung his flesh as the droplets of sweat seemed to turn to frost upon his freezing body. Shudders racked his frame, and he couldn't breathe, couldn't think of anything but what had happened.

// Damn! Everything's going wrong! Harry, Harry, where are you? Please, Harry! You promised! We'll fight Voldemort together! Harry! Merlin damn you, you stubborn fool, you promised! Where's Albus? Severus! Severus, where the hell is Albus? //

"/Draco/!" The sensations of hands grabbing his quivering shoulders pulled him somewhat from the Room's reality, and he blinked and stared into familiar blue eyes. Anger seized him, and his freezing visage twisted into a look of frustration.

"Albus! Where the hell were you! We need to-we need to stop Harry-" Two realities warred for dominance, and for a moment, Draco could simply shiver as the coldness nipped at his marrow.

"Draco, that was the Room of Consequence. You're fifteen years old and in the infirmary at Hogwarts. Please, calm down and let me talk to you."

"Talk to you?" the blonde bit out, his throat closing tight in misery and choking him as the Room won the skirmish once more. What had Voldemort done to make Albus say such insane things? "Talk to you! Albus, what kind of game are you playing? Harry, we have to protect Harry! Voldemort, he'll- "

Those hands shook him again, and the familiar blue eyes flashed. "Draco Malfoy, that's not happening! I told you, Voldemort is nowhere near the infirmary, and Harry Potter is perfectly safe! Don't let the Room of Consequence destroy you."

In the back of his mind, Draco felt the murmur begin that perhaps Albus was telling the truth. Perhaps he wasn't on the battlefield, smelling the scent of death, hearing the far-off cries as wizards fell to the Killing Curse. His hands groped out blindly and seized soft cloth. "Albus?" His voice wavered, and the Slytherin fought the urge to scowl. He hated being seen as weak, even in front of Harry, and Albus was no exception.

"Please, Draco, you're safe. Harry's safe. Calm down and come back to reality." Albus' voice was insufferably compassionate, and the blonde's pride rankled.

"Don't use that tone with me, Albus. I'm fine! I-" The memories that had crowded his head since he had staggered from the Room dissolved into a dizzying jumble of thoughts and sounds, and vertigo struck him. For a long moment, everything whirled around him and he was the center of a dizzying universe.

When the vertigo finally slowed and stopped, Draco's vision cleared to see Dumbledore watching him anxiously. The sounds and scents of the infirmary washed over him, and his shivering frame eased its trembles somewhat as his mind finally connected with what the headmaster had been saying all along. Then he remembered his father. "Father-Father left?"

"I'm afraid so, Draco." Dumbledore's eyes were filled with something akin to relief, and Draco assumed it was because he had finally dragged himself from the grip of the cursed Room.

"Where-where will I go on holidays?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled to some extent. "You can stay here."

* * *

The sour look the teen directed his way lightened the headmaster's spirits, and he chuckled, glad to see that the young Malfoy had returned to reality. "Please, Draco, it won't be that horrible. Severus has offered you his spare room so you won't be in the Slytherin Tower alone."

The sour look faded slightly and instead Draco simply sneered, looking much himself again. "Well, that's better than nothing, I suppose." Even the drawling note was back into his voice as the blonde managed to regain most of his composure.

"Can you tell me what you saw?"

Gray eyes surveyed the headmaster, and a faint smirk curved his lips, though his eyes were oddly empty. "What do you want me to say? I refused the Death Mark and fled like a kicked puppy to your side and became 'friends' with Potter. In the Final Battle, I sacrificed my life for that sorry excuse of a Boy Who Lived."

"You died?"

A grim smile flickered across that ashen face. "Precisely, Headmaster. Would you care for me to go into details?" Sarcasm filled his words at the question, and the dour grin remained. Then suddenly the look was gone, replaced by total rage.

Caught off-guard by the hate-filled expression, Dumbledore glanced over his shoulder to see what the boy was staring at, and finally remembered the two Gryffindor. Seamus had a staggered look on his face, while Neville peeked in Draco's direction and looked uncomprehending at the blonde's hatred.

"What are you two looking at?" Draco snarled, his thin face flushed as his eyes glittered in a dangerous way. It was clear that he was not pleased with the thought that the two Gryffindor had seen him at a moment of weakness.

His harsh tone caught Neville by surprise, for the plump boy mumbled something apologetic and buried his face in the Irish boy's neck once more. Meanwhile, Seamus shook his head slowly, an odd expression on his features. "I don't know, Malfoy. I honestly don't know," was his puzzled answer before he began to calm Neville down.

* * *

It was at that point when the door flew open for a second time, and the infirmary flooded with anxious people who could be none other than Neville's assorted relatives. Seamus gazed around at the varying wizards and witches, and attempted to ignore Malfoy's smirk as an old woman wearing a hideous hat turned her beady eyes upon the Irish lad and marched towards him.

"What are you doing with my grandson?" she fairly screeched, her thin face puce with anger. A cane narrowly missed breaking Seamus' nose as the old woman waved it at him in a threatening gesture. The Irish boy flinched away, but couldn't move, held down by his fellow Gryffindor.

"Mrs. Longbottom-" Dumbledore began, and the old woman whirled to face the white-haired man.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, would you care to explain /what/ exactly has happened to my grandson?" Her tone was imperious, and vaguely Seamus remembered his parents discussing the old wizarding families and the fact that the Longbottom lineage was quite famous. Apparently, that meant she thought she could order Dumbledore around.

The Irish boy noticed the headmaster looking slightly amused at the order before the glittering blue orbs became serious once more. "I'm afraid young Neville was tricked into entering the Room of Consequence."

Instantly, the room burst into pandemonium, and as Neville squeaked and pressed even closer to him, Seamus Finnigan began to develop a migraine.

(Author's Notes: The title of the chapter was inspired by an excerpt from a poem by A. W. E. O'Shaughnessy. It was about poets, but I figured it fit the story adequately. *grins* I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. One other note: Some people might consider Draco slightly out of character, but because of happened, he really wasn't. He and Neville are both going to be affected by their experiences in the Room of Consequence, and that point Draco couldn't keep his mask of confidence on. Please, any questions, suggestions, criticisms, are welcome! ~Cinaed)