A quick note to those who have reviewed this for me - this is my VERY FIRST
fanfic and I'm SOOOOOOO glad to know that you are enjoying it! I hope you
like this chapter. The next few chapters may come in a little slower
(because I have jury duty this week and therefore not as much time in front
of a computer) but I promise to try not to take toooo long.
Thank you sooo much!
/blah blah blah/ = parseltoungue ' blah blah blah' = thoughts
Harry walked into the Potions classroom, preparing himself for the worst. He found that Snape and Malfoy were already there, but presumably hadn't been for long.
"Potter," Snape sneered. "As I was just explaining to Mr. Malfoy, the two of you will be spending your detention cleaning up the classroom and organizing the storerooms. There have been a great many incidents of potions boiling over or being spilled. I fully expect those areas will be thoroughly cleaned as well. I'll be in my office." With that, he walked through a door into his adjoining office, leaving the two boys alone in the dungeon classroom.
Harry glanced at Malfoy, then scanned the room. "I'll start out here if you want to start in the storeroom," he offered. Obviously, splitting the job would be best, so they wouldn't have to spend too much time in direct contact with each other.
"Fine," Malfoy said. He turned and went toward the storeroom without further comment. Harry watched him go, curious as to why Malfoy would pass up the opportunity to insult him. After a moment, he gave up and went to the far back corner of the classroom to begin cleaning. Seeing the layers of different potions which had dried and congealed there, he glanced around and realized he was starting in the very corner where Neville Longbottom usually sat.
'Great. Poor Neville,' Harry thought. 'I feel bad for him that he gets in trouble and gets picked on so much, especially in here, but I hate the idea of having to clean all this up.'
He heard clanking from the storeroom. 'I guess it's not any better in there. The student stores are always a mess with everyone spilling things, putting them in the wrong places and everything. He's got it just as bad as I.' "hmmfph, not nearly" he muttered.
"Talk to yourself all the time, Potter?" Harry spun around to see Malfoy's familiar smirk.
"I'm honestly not given much choice at the moment if I want an intelligent conversation," Harry replied. He promptly turned around and went back to scraping the dried potion layers off the stone floor.
As he sat there, scraping endlessly, Harry began to drift into the thoughts that frequently haunted him. Thoughts of right and wrong, thoughts of death and life, thoughts of loss. He'd lost his parents at the early age of one because they were on the side of 'right' and Voldemort didn't like that. He'd grown up with the Dursleys who hated him because his parents were 'weird'. His first year at Hogwarts, Harry had been reminded of his loss by looking into the Mirror of Erised and seeing his parents standing there with him. He'd nearly lost his best friend, Ron during their chess game on the way to the Sorcerer's Stone. Ron never talked about it and would be loathe to admit how badly he was hurt. He'd tried to sacrifice himself, despite the possibilities of how serious it could be. Ron did that for Harry, for the side of 'good' and 'right'. During his second year, the Chamber of Secrets was opened and again, Harry found himself fighting on the side of 'right'. He'd come very close to losing that battle. He and Ron, along with Professor Lockhart, had nearly gotten crushed by the rock avalanche. Hermione was among the students who were petrified by the basilisk, along with Colin Creevy - a first year who wanted nothing more than to be Harry's friend and take his picture - and Percy's girlfriend, to name a couple. Though the Mandrake Roots were matured enough to revive the petrified students, it was a stressful and harrowing experience for them, their families and their friends. The worst of it though was Ginny. Little Ginny Weasely had nearly died because of Tom Riddle. In retrospect, it would seem that Ginny's involvement was all because of Harry. Lucius Malfoy would have found someone else to give that diary too, but it ended up in Ginny's book because of Harry's representation of 'good' and Malfoy's connection with 'bad'.
Simple as that sounded, it was very true (at least in Harry's mind) and it was a realization that sparked an idea in Harry's mind.
Finally getting through the worst of the spilled potions, Harry got up and began straightening the rest of the room, cleaning off tables, straightening the caldron shelves and such. His mind wandered through third year, the run-ins with Sirius before everyone knew he was innocent, the danger he and his friends put themselves in for what they believed to be 'right'. Fourth year was even worse, his fight for good resulted in Voldemort coming back to power and Cedric Diggory dying. He'd been told that it wasn't his fault. What he'd thought all along and never voiced to anyone is that if he had been selfish, Cedric would have lived. It was only because of his desire to do what's 'right' that he had suggested he and Cedric grab the cup at the same time - the cup that ended up being a portkey and led Cedric to his death.
The past two years since Voldemort's return had been a bit of a blur. Harry supposed he was lucky that he hadn't spent the past two summers with the Dursleys, as much as they hated him. The fact that he had spent those summers, and indeed, his 16th and 17th birthdays in battle, that would never escape him. A virtual prison surrounded by hate - or - a magical battleground surrounded by the dead and injured bodies of his friends, acquaintances, and teachers. Ron had nearly lost his life again, Charlie Weasley had been killed by Petter Pettigrew in an early battle, even Snape had been horribly injured more than once in the bast two years. The toll this war was taking on the people Harry cared for was devastating. He'd often wondered if it would stop if he just gave in and submitted to Voldemort's desires. Would his death keep his loved ones safe? He'd decided he couldn't take anymore tragedy, loss, or trauma - and couldn't stand the idea of his friends living with it either. The reason for this final decision was Hermione. She's been captured by some of Voldemort's supporters and tortured for days on end. She'd been much quieter and more cautious since her return, but refused to talk about it.
/foolish boy..watching you..for master../
Harry looked up quickly. That voice, it sounded vaguely familiar, almost like Voldemort in his first year, before his resurrection. He listened quietly, wondering if maybe he was imagining things.
/my master will know/
"Malfoy, is that you?" Harry asked without thinking. If it wasn't Malfoy, he certainly didn't want to admit that he was hearing things. Malfoy would have too much fun with that information.
"What?" Malfoy said from inside the student storeroom. "Is what me, Potter?"
"Did you say something?"
"No, have you gone daft? Or did you just decided to start talking back to yourself?" Harry watched as Malfoy stepped around the doorway. His hair wasn't as sleek as usual, relaxed, almost tousled. It looked good on him.
'Merlin, what am I thinking?' Harry shook his head in exasperation. Between these tortured memories and his bizarre thoughts of Malfoy he must be going mad. "Funny Malfoy, I just."
"Um, Potter?" Malfoy interrupted. His voice rose a bit, shaking with nerves. Harry looked up, wondering what could make the infamous, cold- blooded Draco Malfoy sound nervous. "Could you, um, could you come over here, slowly, but, um NOW!"
Surprised at Malfoy's visible display of weakness, Harry started across the room, wondering what on Earth could have shaken his stoic enemy like this. As he rounded the last group of desks he realized it - it was a snake.
As Harry stood watching, he saw Malfoy glance up nervously. He was very visibly frightened by the snake. Harry felt the corner of his mouth tugging upward as he thought how ironic that someone he had once suspected as the heir of Slytherin would be afraid of snakes. 'He's got his guard down. He's even nicer looking when he's showing real emotion.' Harry thought back and couldn't remember seeing Malfoy show anything besides hatred, disgust or anger - until now. Now those steely blue-grey eyes showed nothing but fear, with just the tiniest bit of hope. After a few very tense and silent moments, Harry finally realized that hope was Draco Malfoy's silent prayer that he would be protected from the snake by the very Gryffindor he despised.
"Potter, are you just going to stand there? Or did you set this snake on me and your watching the show?"
/master.need protection.shall I?./
Harry looked at the snake, wondering how it got in here, why it was trying to protect him, why it was calling him master. Harry hadn't spoken to a snake since second year. He rarely had the chance to be around them, but made a conscious effort NOT to speak parseltoungue under ANY circumstances. He'd convinced himself it was an evil power and he shouldn't be using it.
Snapping out of his thoughts, he looked at Malfoy again. "What is it you want me to do, Malfoy?" He made sure to spit the name out in hatred as Malfoy had so frequently done to him and his friends. "You want HELP from the FAMOUS Harry Potter? You're not concerned with your reputation being sullied by the story of how you, a Slytherin, had to be SAVED from a snake by The-Boy-Who-Lived?"
Draco Malfoy was taken aback by this behavior. 'I've never heard him refer to himself as The-Boy-Who-Lived,' Draco thought. 'I've never quite seen him so heartless and forceful. I think I li.' Draco closed his eyes a moment, trying to block the image of the swirls of emerald green in Potter's eyes. "Yes, Potter," he forced himself to say. "I want help from you. You can speak to this snake. You can tell it."
/foolish boy.bite him.good riddance.master?/
".well?" Malfoy said.
"What? Well, what?" Harry realized the snake was asking for permission to bite Malfoy, feeling that Harry needed protection from him for some reason. He'd ignored bits of Malfoy's request, listening instead to the voice only he could hear. "Nevermind, Malfoy, hold it a moment, would you?"
/why do I need protection from this boy?/
/he's brought you pain, master.one bite.take the worry from you master/
/you think I'm worried about what he can do to me?/
/master's mind shows truth.this boy haunts you.good riddance.master will be happier/
/no, biting Draco won't make me happier, thank you, though./
/master will remember me if I'm needed?/
/yes, I'll send word./
'I called him Draco. How very odd.' Harry watched as the snake bowed it's head slightly and turned to slither away, slipping through a nearly invisible crack in the corner. He looked up at Malfoy. 'Draco. He offered me friendship once. Told me to watch out for the wrong sort. I wonder.'
Malfoy released a very deep breath as the snake left the dungeon classroom. He looked over at Harry gratefully, then suspiciously as he took notice of the odd expression on Harry Potter's face. Malfoy sneered his best sneer, pulling on the behavior he'd learned from Lucius growing up. "Don't you want to run to all your friends and spread the word now? Let everyone know you've become a hero once again?" Secretly, he wished they could keep it just between the two of them. He couldn't imagine what counter-story he could concoct to defend himself and his reputation. He wondered, not for the first time, what might have been if Potter hadn't turned down his handshake in their first year.
"No, Malfoy, I get pretty sick of being called a hero. I've always just done what's been expected of me as the son of James and Lily Potter. I never asked for this. I never set out to save the wizarding world. Those I did set out to save, ." He paused. He could hardly believe he was saying all this to Draco Malfoy of all people. Thoughts and feelings he couldn't express to his best friends, no matter how hard he tried. Fears he couldn't talk to his own godfather about. Torturous memories that he often wanted to cut out of his brain. All of this seemed to bubble at the surface when faced with the opportunity to talk to Malfoy about it. He replayed that first year conversation in his mind once more, as he had done more than a hundred times in the past six and a half years. Finally he looked at Malfoy. His emerald green eyes darkening to a deep, cloudy forest green. They met and connected with the blue-grey eyes, previously cold and hard as steel, now opening up with curiosity. Un-named emotions passed between the two young men as they stared into each others eyes. Finally, Harry took a step forward.
"I've been thinking, Malfoy. You offered me friendship and a handshake once. Told me that I should learn the wrong sort."
"Yes?"
"Perhaps you were right. I'm thinking it's time I re-evaluate my allegiances." With that surprising statement, Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who- Lived, the one who faced and battled He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the proclaimed Savior of the Wizarding World stepped forward and offered his hand to Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy - a Death Eater and rumored to be Voldemort's right hand man.
Draco looked at his hand, looked into those deep green eyes again and realized that something VERY important and VERY real was going on here. He offered Harry one of his very rare genuine smiles and accepted the handshake.
"You realize, Potter, that this changes everything?"
"Of course, Malfoy. That's my goal."
Thank you sooo much!
/blah blah blah/ = parseltoungue ' blah blah blah' = thoughts
Harry walked into the Potions classroom, preparing himself for the worst. He found that Snape and Malfoy were already there, but presumably hadn't been for long.
"Potter," Snape sneered. "As I was just explaining to Mr. Malfoy, the two of you will be spending your detention cleaning up the classroom and organizing the storerooms. There have been a great many incidents of potions boiling over or being spilled. I fully expect those areas will be thoroughly cleaned as well. I'll be in my office." With that, he walked through a door into his adjoining office, leaving the two boys alone in the dungeon classroom.
Harry glanced at Malfoy, then scanned the room. "I'll start out here if you want to start in the storeroom," he offered. Obviously, splitting the job would be best, so they wouldn't have to spend too much time in direct contact with each other.
"Fine," Malfoy said. He turned and went toward the storeroom without further comment. Harry watched him go, curious as to why Malfoy would pass up the opportunity to insult him. After a moment, he gave up and went to the far back corner of the classroom to begin cleaning. Seeing the layers of different potions which had dried and congealed there, he glanced around and realized he was starting in the very corner where Neville Longbottom usually sat.
'Great. Poor Neville,' Harry thought. 'I feel bad for him that he gets in trouble and gets picked on so much, especially in here, but I hate the idea of having to clean all this up.'
He heard clanking from the storeroom. 'I guess it's not any better in there. The student stores are always a mess with everyone spilling things, putting them in the wrong places and everything. He's got it just as bad as I.' "hmmfph, not nearly" he muttered.
"Talk to yourself all the time, Potter?" Harry spun around to see Malfoy's familiar smirk.
"I'm honestly not given much choice at the moment if I want an intelligent conversation," Harry replied. He promptly turned around and went back to scraping the dried potion layers off the stone floor.
As he sat there, scraping endlessly, Harry began to drift into the thoughts that frequently haunted him. Thoughts of right and wrong, thoughts of death and life, thoughts of loss. He'd lost his parents at the early age of one because they were on the side of 'right' and Voldemort didn't like that. He'd grown up with the Dursleys who hated him because his parents were 'weird'. His first year at Hogwarts, Harry had been reminded of his loss by looking into the Mirror of Erised and seeing his parents standing there with him. He'd nearly lost his best friend, Ron during their chess game on the way to the Sorcerer's Stone. Ron never talked about it and would be loathe to admit how badly he was hurt. He'd tried to sacrifice himself, despite the possibilities of how serious it could be. Ron did that for Harry, for the side of 'good' and 'right'. During his second year, the Chamber of Secrets was opened and again, Harry found himself fighting on the side of 'right'. He'd come very close to losing that battle. He and Ron, along with Professor Lockhart, had nearly gotten crushed by the rock avalanche. Hermione was among the students who were petrified by the basilisk, along with Colin Creevy - a first year who wanted nothing more than to be Harry's friend and take his picture - and Percy's girlfriend, to name a couple. Though the Mandrake Roots were matured enough to revive the petrified students, it was a stressful and harrowing experience for them, their families and their friends. The worst of it though was Ginny. Little Ginny Weasely had nearly died because of Tom Riddle. In retrospect, it would seem that Ginny's involvement was all because of Harry. Lucius Malfoy would have found someone else to give that diary too, but it ended up in Ginny's book because of Harry's representation of 'good' and Malfoy's connection with 'bad'.
Simple as that sounded, it was very true (at least in Harry's mind) and it was a realization that sparked an idea in Harry's mind.
Finally getting through the worst of the spilled potions, Harry got up and began straightening the rest of the room, cleaning off tables, straightening the caldron shelves and such. His mind wandered through third year, the run-ins with Sirius before everyone knew he was innocent, the danger he and his friends put themselves in for what they believed to be 'right'. Fourth year was even worse, his fight for good resulted in Voldemort coming back to power and Cedric Diggory dying. He'd been told that it wasn't his fault. What he'd thought all along and never voiced to anyone is that if he had been selfish, Cedric would have lived. It was only because of his desire to do what's 'right' that he had suggested he and Cedric grab the cup at the same time - the cup that ended up being a portkey and led Cedric to his death.
The past two years since Voldemort's return had been a bit of a blur. Harry supposed he was lucky that he hadn't spent the past two summers with the Dursleys, as much as they hated him. The fact that he had spent those summers, and indeed, his 16th and 17th birthdays in battle, that would never escape him. A virtual prison surrounded by hate - or - a magical battleground surrounded by the dead and injured bodies of his friends, acquaintances, and teachers. Ron had nearly lost his life again, Charlie Weasley had been killed by Petter Pettigrew in an early battle, even Snape had been horribly injured more than once in the bast two years. The toll this war was taking on the people Harry cared for was devastating. He'd often wondered if it would stop if he just gave in and submitted to Voldemort's desires. Would his death keep his loved ones safe? He'd decided he couldn't take anymore tragedy, loss, or trauma - and couldn't stand the idea of his friends living with it either. The reason for this final decision was Hermione. She's been captured by some of Voldemort's supporters and tortured for days on end. She'd been much quieter and more cautious since her return, but refused to talk about it.
/foolish boy..watching you..for master../
Harry looked up quickly. That voice, it sounded vaguely familiar, almost like Voldemort in his first year, before his resurrection. He listened quietly, wondering if maybe he was imagining things.
/my master will know/
"Malfoy, is that you?" Harry asked without thinking. If it wasn't Malfoy, he certainly didn't want to admit that he was hearing things. Malfoy would have too much fun with that information.
"What?" Malfoy said from inside the student storeroom. "Is what me, Potter?"
"Did you say something?"
"No, have you gone daft? Or did you just decided to start talking back to yourself?" Harry watched as Malfoy stepped around the doorway. His hair wasn't as sleek as usual, relaxed, almost tousled. It looked good on him.
'Merlin, what am I thinking?' Harry shook his head in exasperation. Between these tortured memories and his bizarre thoughts of Malfoy he must be going mad. "Funny Malfoy, I just."
"Um, Potter?" Malfoy interrupted. His voice rose a bit, shaking with nerves. Harry looked up, wondering what could make the infamous, cold- blooded Draco Malfoy sound nervous. "Could you, um, could you come over here, slowly, but, um NOW!"
Surprised at Malfoy's visible display of weakness, Harry started across the room, wondering what on Earth could have shaken his stoic enemy like this. As he rounded the last group of desks he realized it - it was a snake.
As Harry stood watching, he saw Malfoy glance up nervously. He was very visibly frightened by the snake. Harry felt the corner of his mouth tugging upward as he thought how ironic that someone he had once suspected as the heir of Slytherin would be afraid of snakes. 'He's got his guard down. He's even nicer looking when he's showing real emotion.' Harry thought back and couldn't remember seeing Malfoy show anything besides hatred, disgust or anger - until now. Now those steely blue-grey eyes showed nothing but fear, with just the tiniest bit of hope. After a few very tense and silent moments, Harry finally realized that hope was Draco Malfoy's silent prayer that he would be protected from the snake by the very Gryffindor he despised.
"Potter, are you just going to stand there? Or did you set this snake on me and your watching the show?"
/master.need protection.shall I?./
Harry looked at the snake, wondering how it got in here, why it was trying to protect him, why it was calling him master. Harry hadn't spoken to a snake since second year. He rarely had the chance to be around them, but made a conscious effort NOT to speak parseltoungue under ANY circumstances. He'd convinced himself it was an evil power and he shouldn't be using it.
Snapping out of his thoughts, he looked at Malfoy again. "What is it you want me to do, Malfoy?" He made sure to spit the name out in hatred as Malfoy had so frequently done to him and his friends. "You want HELP from the FAMOUS Harry Potter? You're not concerned with your reputation being sullied by the story of how you, a Slytherin, had to be SAVED from a snake by The-Boy-Who-Lived?"
Draco Malfoy was taken aback by this behavior. 'I've never heard him refer to himself as The-Boy-Who-Lived,' Draco thought. 'I've never quite seen him so heartless and forceful. I think I li.' Draco closed his eyes a moment, trying to block the image of the swirls of emerald green in Potter's eyes. "Yes, Potter," he forced himself to say. "I want help from you. You can speak to this snake. You can tell it."
/foolish boy.bite him.good riddance.master?/
".well?" Malfoy said.
"What? Well, what?" Harry realized the snake was asking for permission to bite Malfoy, feeling that Harry needed protection from him for some reason. He'd ignored bits of Malfoy's request, listening instead to the voice only he could hear. "Nevermind, Malfoy, hold it a moment, would you?"
/why do I need protection from this boy?/
/he's brought you pain, master.one bite.take the worry from you master/
/you think I'm worried about what he can do to me?/
/master's mind shows truth.this boy haunts you.good riddance.master will be happier/
/no, biting Draco won't make me happier, thank you, though./
/master will remember me if I'm needed?/
/yes, I'll send word./
'I called him Draco. How very odd.' Harry watched as the snake bowed it's head slightly and turned to slither away, slipping through a nearly invisible crack in the corner. He looked up at Malfoy. 'Draco. He offered me friendship once. Told me to watch out for the wrong sort. I wonder.'
Malfoy released a very deep breath as the snake left the dungeon classroom. He looked over at Harry gratefully, then suspiciously as he took notice of the odd expression on Harry Potter's face. Malfoy sneered his best sneer, pulling on the behavior he'd learned from Lucius growing up. "Don't you want to run to all your friends and spread the word now? Let everyone know you've become a hero once again?" Secretly, he wished they could keep it just between the two of them. He couldn't imagine what counter-story he could concoct to defend himself and his reputation. He wondered, not for the first time, what might have been if Potter hadn't turned down his handshake in their first year.
"No, Malfoy, I get pretty sick of being called a hero. I've always just done what's been expected of me as the son of James and Lily Potter. I never asked for this. I never set out to save the wizarding world. Those I did set out to save, ." He paused. He could hardly believe he was saying all this to Draco Malfoy of all people. Thoughts and feelings he couldn't express to his best friends, no matter how hard he tried. Fears he couldn't talk to his own godfather about. Torturous memories that he often wanted to cut out of his brain. All of this seemed to bubble at the surface when faced with the opportunity to talk to Malfoy about it. He replayed that first year conversation in his mind once more, as he had done more than a hundred times in the past six and a half years. Finally he looked at Malfoy. His emerald green eyes darkening to a deep, cloudy forest green. They met and connected with the blue-grey eyes, previously cold and hard as steel, now opening up with curiosity. Un-named emotions passed between the two young men as they stared into each others eyes. Finally, Harry took a step forward.
"I've been thinking, Malfoy. You offered me friendship and a handshake once. Told me that I should learn the wrong sort."
"Yes?"
"Perhaps you were right. I'm thinking it's time I re-evaluate my allegiances." With that surprising statement, Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who- Lived, the one who faced and battled He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the proclaimed Savior of the Wizarding World stepped forward and offered his hand to Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy - a Death Eater and rumored to be Voldemort's right hand man.
Draco looked at his hand, looked into those deep green eyes again and realized that something VERY important and VERY real was going on here. He offered Harry one of his very rare genuine smiles and accepted the handshake.
"You realize, Potter, that this changes everything?"
"Of course, Malfoy. That's my goal."