A/N: YAY HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX IS OUT IN LESS THAN ONE WEEK!!!!!!!!!!! YAYNESS!!!! By the way, I'm not going to change this at all if things are different between my ideas and JKs in the new book. I'll just pretend that book five isn't out yet! But if I do decide to do a sequel after this, then I might go back and change a few things – it all depends on what happens in the fifth book! YAY AGAIN!! ~rowanx
(sorry this took so long to put up – fanfiction is being annoying and hasn't let me put it up for AGES!)
Harry walked up to his dormitory, feeling a bit shaken – or maybe it was just a rush of excitement. These days, he couldn't tell the difference between joy and misery. All he knew, was that the boy – or man, he supposed – whom he had loathed for almost seven years, maybe wasn't who he thoughts he was. It was quite frightening.
"Sherbet lemon," said Harry with a slightly crazy smile. What could you do when in a situation (or should I say, lots of bad situations) like Harry was in other than ignore it all away with laughter? He walked into the common room where many of his friends were doing homework, chatting, or playing chess, one of the strangely popular pass times in the wizarding world. Harry walked up to Ron and Seamus playing chess. It looked intense. Ron would win, obviously, but Seamus wasn't going to go down without a fight. "Men," came a disapproving tone from beside Harry. Without looking, he closed his eyes and smiled. "They're so competitive. Why can't they play just for the fun of it?"
Harry opened his eyes and looked at the figure beside him. "Oh, and you're not competitive?" he asked quietly. "Face it Hermione, you hate it when anyone beats you." Hermione went bright red. Harry grinned. "But we love you anyway."
She smiled suggestively. "We?"
"Ok, I love you. So much." He leaned in to kiss her.
"Harry!" Harry's eyes jolted open to face Ron looking up at him from his seat at the table. Harry turned round but no one was standing there. He sighed. Just another dream; just another memory… "How long have you been standing there?" asked Ron.
"Absolutely no idea," said Harry uncaringly.
Lavender came up. "Harry," she said, "what happened at dinner?"
"Yeah, where did you go?" asked Ron. At this point everyone felt intrigued at the conversation and turned round to hear the answer. Harry frowned. He felt claustrophobic. Why did everyone feel the need to eavesdrop on things that obviously had nothing to do with them?
"I didn't go anywhere," Harry said. "Just didn't feel too well, that's all." This didn't quite have the effect Harry was hoping on. Instead of shrugging their shoulders and returning to their much beloved game, everyone looked concerned and worried and even Ron felt compelled to ask him if he was alright. "Look, I'm fine, ok? Absolutely fine. Why wouldn't I be fine? People get headaches and stomach aches all the time. It's nothing to be worried about!"
A few people raised their eyebrows and returned to watch the game, every now and then looking up at them. Lavender was whispering with Parvati and every now and then looked at Harry. He folded his arms huffily. A pair of hands gripped his shoulders and massaged them gently. "They just want to make sure you're ok," came the gentle voice.
"But I'm fine," Harry insisted, letting his arms go loose. "Why do they have to worry all the time?"
He turned around and Hermione smiled. "Maybe because as much as you want to pretend you're normal, you're not. Not with Voldemort..."
Harry gasped. "You said his name!"
Hermione laughed, her whole body shaking with free glee. "After facing him in death, I have nothing more to worry about," she said. Harry smiled and turned back to watch the game. As the hands slid off of his shoulders, he sighed, but didn't bother to turn round, knowing that she would be gone. Why can't I just forget her? "What the fuck is going on?"
As a few people gasped and turned around Harry realised he must have accidentally said some of his thoughts aloud. After trying to look sorry, he just grinned at himself in stupidity. Turning from the group he moved over to the portrait hole. "Harry, are you alright?" asked Ron.
"Yep."
"Where are you going?"
"There's something I need to do."
"Want me to come?"
"No." Harry left Ron feeling shocked at Harry's abruptness and sudden hostility and walked along the corridor, down some stairs, up some stairs, round some corners, and stopped at the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Mumbling the nearly-forgotten password Dumbledore had told him at the prefect meeting (bumble bee), the statue moved aside and Harry walked up the steps. He knocked on the door, heard the distant voice from inside welcome him in, opened the door, and stepped inside.
"Ah Harry," said Dumbledore with a hint of sorrow in his voice. He rose from the seat behind his desk. Harry walked up without saying a word. Dumbledore waved his hand at the empty chair and Harry sat down. "Well now, what is it you wanted to see me about?"
"It's about Draco Malfoy."
"Ah yes," said Dumbledore with a small smile, as if he already knew exactly what Harry was there to talk to him about. Harry assumed that either Thystle had spoken to him or that Harry's Head Master was wiser than he could ever know or understand.
"He wants to join us, sir," Harry said. Dumbledore nodded, implying Harry should go on. Harry shifted nervously under the gaze of Dumbledore. "Well, um, that was it really," he said.
"Do you think he would be of a help to us?" asked Dumbledore after a long pause.
Harry waited a moment before answering. "Do you mean do I think we should let him help us?"
"It is not a question of 'let' or 'allow', Harry. If Draco wants to help us, he is already doing so by not helping Voldemort."
"Assuming he's not a spy."
"I do not assume, Harry; I know."
"Ok, so then by your question do you mean do I want him to help us? I mean, obviously he would; his father has great connections and I won't deny that Malfoy is quite good at his subjects." Harry waited for Dumbledore to say something, and when he didn't, Harry continued. "Ok then; no, I don't want Malfoy to help us. I've hated him for seven years and I don't see why all that should change just because you and Thystle, sorry, Professor Thystle, think you know us better than we know ourselves." Harry didn't realise he had stood, but was now looking down at Dumbledore rather than across to him.
Dumbledore sat quite still and calm, not rising to Harry's anger. "Harry, you say you know Malfoy better than we do?"
"Yes I do. He has no friends, and I'm his enemy; I'm the closest thing he has to a human being. He has no friends not just because no one likes him, but because he doesn't like anyone. He hates it when I beat him at Quidditch even though I always do. He's good at all of his subjects especially Potions because the professor likes him so he sucks up. He carries a mirror around because he's so vain about his looks; he happens to think he's the best looking in the school. And the bad-boy. He doesn't care if he gets detention because he can add it to his list to show off to Daddy, but it does waste some of his precious looking-in-the-mirror time which is of course disastrous. I know that Malfoy hates to be wrong. I know he's as stubborn as hell. He always gets his way in the end, and if you do get your way, he makes it look as though it was his way all along. He goes to any lengths to make himself feel good. To make me feel bad. To boost his ego. He plans far in advance for any tricks he plays on me or my Gryffindor friends. He doesn't give a shit about me, about you, about anyone; the only reason he's even willing to help us is because Voldemort killed his mum and he hates his father." Harry breathed in deeply and in a lower voice said, "And I know that if things were to change, he'd turn his back on us in a second."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at Harry, making Harry think that somehow he hadn't quite won this round as he had thought he had. "Well then Harry," said Dumbledore standing. "You've just proven to me what I needed to know. Thank you." Dumbledore sat again and picked up a piece of parchment
Harry stood feeling confused, uncertain whether to sit, stay standing or leave. "Um, sorry sir…" Dumbledore looked up at Harry. "…but, what did you need to know?"
"Whether I should ask Draco for his immediate assistant."
"And…what did I help you to decide?"
Dumbledore smiled. "From what you've just told me I gather that he runs on pure emotions. He does what his heart tells him, whether he realises this or not. He has morals, because he hates his father, which I will not bother to deny that I do have a certain distaste for. You say he doesn't like anyone. I say he doesn't trust anyone. I say we re-build that trust. You say he's stubborn, I say he's determined. He will indeed help us reach our goal. He does have good connections. And I do know he's good at his subjects. I am the one who made him prefect after all," Dumbledore added with a small childish grin that disappeared as soon as it appeared. "Thank you Harry for being so understanding and helping me decide what to do. I'm sure you're choice will be the right one." He smiled at Harry.
Harry frowned. "Um, thank you, sir, I guess…"
"You may alert Mr Malfoy that we are to have a meeting tomorrow evening to discuss Saturday night. Good day, Mr Potter."
Harry left Dumbledore's office feeling more confused than he had when he'd entered it.
It was breakfast. The previous evening Harry had entered the common room and gone straight to bed without anyone noticing. Now he sat one of the few people in the hall with his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes wearily. Not much sleep had been gained the previous night. Harry had been too over-whelmed with thoughts to sleep.
"Good morning oh cheery one." Harry jumped. He saw Ron smile down at him as his best friend sat down and poured some juice.
Harry sighed. "Urgh," he said.
"And what's annoying you today?" asked Ron grinning. "Lack of sleep?"
Harry shook his head and stared at the table. "Reverse Psychology," he mumbled.
Ron frowned. "Uh…why?"
"Malfoy's helping us get Voldemort."
"Oh." The two sat in silence for about a minute before Ron said, "Huh?"
Harry explained to him all about what Malfoy had said, about him knowing, about wanting to help, and all about what Dumbledore said. The only things he left out were his vision, the conversation with Thystle and…Hermione. Harry thought that there were some things which were meant to be a secret.
"Wow," said Ron when Harry had finished. "And you're really ok with Draco helping?"
"Of course not," Harry said. "Dumbledore tricked me into it."
Ron sighed. "That cocky, wise, cool, always-right, always-knows-what-to-do, powerful, helpful bastard," he grumbled before the two of them burst out laughing. They could never hate Dumbledore. He was practically their hero. He was their hero.
They started eating their breakfast. The mail came in. Hedwig swooped down into Harry's lap and Harry read the note that he'd untied from her leg.
Harry –
Sure. I'll be there.
-Draco
Harry grinned despite himself. He loved the abruptness of Draco's letters. The previous night Harry had sent Draco a letter telling him about the meeting tonight that Dumbledore was having.
Harry showed Ron the note. His friend didn't smile as he had done, but he did nod in what was hopefully approval and not too much annoyance and turned back to his delightful breakfast of coco pops.
Harry sat in Dumbledore's office that night with the others, waiting for Malfoy to arrive, with a blur of boring events passing by his eyes covering the day in which he had just spent. First, double potions: Harry glared at Snape – he had shouted at him at least ten times for things Harry was sure were unimportant. Harry supposed Snape was making up for all the hours in which they had to be friends. Next they endured a test in transfiguration, that Harry was sure he'd failed. With all the stress in his life, was he really supposed to care about school work? At least in the afternoon, Harry had a free period to do his homework on "Three interesting facts about Merlin" for a history of magic. At first, Harry had found it hard to believe that anything could be interesting about a history of magic, taught by the most boring professor ever, but Merlin had been quite a fascinating man. He'd had a son called Arthur, but there was no royal history in the family line. But anyway, an interesting session with Merlin was followed by an enormously boring history lesson about the farcical tales of king Arthur which of course never happened, they were "simply made up by Merlin to create a little publicity. In actual fact, he was rather annoyed that Uther Pendragon had stolen his horse…" and so on.
Malfoy entered the office looking as though her thought he were too important too care about anything. He was wearing a casual white shirt (rather odd for him, thought Harry, thinking of his enemy's usual taste for black) with most of the buttons done up and untucked, and a pair of black jeans which covered most of what Harry assumed were Malfoy's usual pair of dragon hide boots. Harry smiled. He did know Malfoy better than he'd thought. He smirked as Malfoy walked over "coolly" to sit in the empty seat next to Harry, but scooting as far to the edge of the large chair as he could. Harry could tell Malfoy was nervous about the meeting, and to hide it, had decided to look as good as he possibly could. Harry wondered how many hours Malfoy had spent in front of his mirror, and then pretended he had simply fallen asleep.
Dumbledore leaned forward onto his desk and clasped his hands together. "Good evening Malfoy. How are you today?"
"Terrible, thanks," said Malfoy smiling. "And yourself?"
Dumbledore had either not heard the words or had simply chosen not to. "Now, Malfoy, I have been assured that Harry has told you everything necessary to know?"
"If you mean everything to do with Cassandra," Malfoy said with a hint of scorn, "then yes, most unfortunately, I know about this stupid plan." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow but stayed silent. "Well come on," said Malfoy, smiling. "Do you really think that Harry can just kill Voldemort by act of surprise? You need more than surprise to defeat the darkest and most powerful lord of our time. Sure, Potter's been ok so far, he's still alive, yeah; but what makes you think he can kill him? Defeat him? Make Voldemort go bye bye?"
Dumbledore glanced at Harry who looked away. He had forgotten to tell Malfoy about his new powers. Or, rather, he had purposely avoided it, not wanting his enemy to have more reasons to tease and hate him. Malfoy looked around at the room. Everyone was suddenly avoiding everyone elses eyes. "What?" asked Malfoy. "Come on, if you guys really want to trust me, then give me a reason to trust you." Harry frowned; he'd never thought about it from Malfoy's point of view before. He supposed Malfoy really didn't have a reason to trust them. Harry had just assumed he would: they were the good guys. They were the ones against Voldemort. "So?" Malfoy pressed. "What's your secret weapon?"
Dumbledore looked at Harry, who sighed, and turned to face a smirking Malfoy. "Oh great," he said scornfully. "You again."
"Yes," said Harry. "Me again." He chewed over his thoughts for a moment, and then said, "Over the summer I realised I didn't need a wand to do magic."
Malfoy blinked for a moment, paused, blinked some more, then said, "Come again?"
Harry frowned. "I don't need a wand. I could probably put the imperius curse on you from over here without having to even move."
"Really?"
"Well, maybe not the imperius curse, but I can light a fire, make things fly to my hand, and, apparently, kill very strong hermits with a crap spell…" Malfoy raised an eyebrow. Harry brushed it aside. "The point is, Voldemort doesn't know I can do this. We can catch him by surprise. Make him gasp, make him hesitate. And then kill him."
Various members of the room nodded. Malfoy looked around at them, and chuckled, shaking his head and looking down at his lap. "And what do you find funny, Mr Malfoy?" asked Dumbledore.
"Well, I'm sure going in to kill a muggle murderer, the element of surprise and a gift you think you are certain the murderer doesn't have would work; but this is Voldemort we're talking about. What makes you think he doesn't have this power himself? Unusable until he is fully back to power which, ladies and gentlemen, in case you forgot, he is. Voldemort knows something is coming. Potter told me about that mirror you found. He's had plenty of time to plan, just as long as you've had, and longer. You think just because you've planned your shit, it means you're more prepared than he is. Highly doubtful. I've lived with Lucius Malfoy for seventeen years, I know what he's like, and, most unfortunately, I know what Voldemort is like. He doesn't slip up, he doesn't make mistakes, and he makes sure he's ready for anything." Malfoy leaned forward in his chair. "How can you place all your energy on one plan that you're not even sure is going to work?"
Harry turned to Dumbledore. "You ask me how I can be so sure, Mr Malfoy? I am so sure because it's the only thing that can work." Malfoy slowly leaned back in his chair. "If this doesn't succeed, then I doubt anything will," Dumbledore said wearily. "So we have to believe that it will."
Malfoy shook his head. After a few moments, he said, "Fine."
Dumbledore nodded, satisfied with this short reply. "Good." He turned to Harry. Harry gulped. Now that the business with Malfoy was over, the meeting was going to be focused on him. Surprisingly, Harry really hated getting loads of attention. "Now, Harry, Arabella and Mundgus have been doing some fine work for the pat couple of weeks." He turned to them. Arabella smiled, obviously pleased with herself.
It was Mundungus though who said, "We think we know where Voldemort is." Harry's first thought was that Mundungus had called Voldemort by his name. The fear was beginning to fade. His second thought, which he said out loud, was, of course, "How?"
"With some intensive research and absolutely no sleep," Mundungus complained heartedly. "But the point is, we know, or, think we know, where he is."
"Well?" said Harry after a while. "Where?"
Mundungus looked at Arabella, who, purposely avoiding both Harry and Malfoy's eyes, said, "Malfoy Manor." No one else was quite as shocked or surprised as Harry and Draco were. Harry assumed they had already been told.
The two boys looked at each other at exactly the same time. Harry raised an eyebrow, and Malfoy shrugged. "Bit obvious really, if you think about it. Father and Voldemort are best best friends. They have tea parties and go shopping and everything." Malfoy looked away and mumbled, "Pissed off I didn't know."
Dumbledore, ignoring the comment, said, "Draco, I know I may be asking a lot here, but this is serious business. Are you sure you are willing…"
"Yes." Draco looked set and determined, and Dumbledore nodded in understanding then carried on with plans and ideas. Harry frowned at this inaudible passing of understanding between the two that he didn't quite get, unsure what the two were talking about, but decided it was none of his business, and that he didn't really care. Whatever Draco Malfoy was about had nothing to do with him.
A/N: so….how are you my few but lovely readers? I hope you are well, and enjoying this story. I am getting into it again, you'll be glad to know. Before it was like a chore, having to rip out each chapter from my mind and not liking it but then putting it up on fanfiction anyway, because I know I can't write it any better – but the past two chapters were like, YAY I ENJOY WRITING AGAIN! :D REVIEW PLEEEEASE ~rowanx
By the way, I might not write anything else for a while. To this or to "acerbitas", my other fic. I just read a harry potter fic that was so great it would feel insulting if I tried to write one myself. I can't write anything to do with draco or harry, because they're portrayal in the story im reading is too amazing to fuck with. When I say a while, I promise it won't be too long. Just long enough so that I can forget about this other story. Thanks. ~rowanx