A/N: Ridiculously exuberant amount of hugs and thank-you kisses to Rotschopf and Dystopic for betaing this chapter for me. They were so thorough and yet so quick that I wonder how they did it… I cannot help but love them.
26. The Call
It was a heated, passionate moment –just this kind of moment in time which inspires romantic people to say they'll never forget the magic and the moon, but which will still fade to history and memory alone in mere weeks. Luckily enough, neither Harry nor Draco were the romantic type. Neither of them said that the moment would stay with them forever. Instead, Draco told Harry they'd have to do the whole thing again someday soon.
"You know you can ask me anything, and I will cooperate," Harry breathed in his lover's ear. "You're such a pretty fuck."
Draco smirked, and savoured the taste of sweat on his lips with his tongue. "I know."
"Shouldn't you go inside already?"
"I thought I just was."
"Ha ha," Harry stuck his tongue out, which Draco immediately captured between his lips. "Mmmh, seriously Draco… We're having too much sex."
"Ha! It's you who initiates it all!" Draco ruffled Harry's hair.
Harry crossed his arm, quirking his lips in a mock pout.
Draco pulled away and glared reproachfully at the thick, wooden door at some distance in front of them. "You won't accompany me, then?"
Harry smiled, tiredly. "I think I'd rather gather some energy while you're having the talk with the old man. Pick me up from the Gryffindor common room when it's time for the meeting with Zabini."
"Fine."
Lazily, Draco Malfoy stood up and pushed the door ajar. He peered inside, adjusting his half-open tie in a more formal position.
"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"
"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, come in, come in," Dumbledore greeted, eyeing him strangely. "Have a seat –erm –that is if you still can sit down."
Draco trotted to the furthest corner from Dumbledore's desk, to sit in an armchair that was fluffy and comfy enough for his taste –the usual visitors' chair in the middle of the room was too plebeian much for his sophisticated Malfoy arse.
"Not to worry, Potter was the bottom this time."
"I would prefer it if you did not occupy my staircase in such a way."
Draco looked innocent, "And what way would that be, exactly, Headmaster?"
"Mr. Malfoy, do not play games with me. If this occurs again, it will be detention," Dumbledore warned, "for both of you."
"Okay," Draco shrugged, and went straight to the point. "I expect you asked me here because you wanted to talk about something more serious than my relationship with Harry, anyway."
"Well," the Headmaster glared. "Actually your relationship with Harry has quite a lot to do with our talk."
"Oh, really?" Draco sneered.
Dumbledore looked at him with his deep blue eyes. "I wanted you here because I wanted to talk about yesterday's Dementor attack."
"Hmh."
"I am fully aware that it was organized by your father, Lucius Malfoy."
Draco looked bored, "And…?"
"I was hoping that you might be able to clear out to me what its full purpose was. Were they after Mr. Potter?"
"No, they were after the Santa Claus," Draco drawled, sarcastically.
"Mr. Malfoy, you will show me some respect," Dumbledore warned. "This is not an official interrogation. The only reason I am asking you this question is because want is to secure the safety and welfare of this school and its students."
"How very righteous of you, Headmaster."
"Mr. Malfoy… I must ask you if there is something you know about this attack and wish to tell me. Surely, you are aware of the consequences should a similar attack in future work out just as planned. For, I am certain of it," Dumbledore added, sounding really tired, "Many attacks are yet to follow this first one, someday very soon."
"Look, I know where we stand, okay?" Draco sneered to the old wizard. "I know the war is very close. I know Harry is in mortal danger. Who do you think I am, huh? Some oblivious flesh-eating slug in the school cabbage field? I am sure I don't have to remind you, Headmaster, than I am indeed the son of that very person who initiated the yesterday's attack. All my life, I have been taught vigilance and strong mind, been raised to encounter the upcoming war with a clever, cunning mind and a series of deadly hexes, black magic downright burned in my flesh. I see no need to hide these facts from you, for I am sure you have been aware of them for the best part of the past six years –otherwise I would not be here right now, would I? Yes, I am a dark wizard, just like everybody thinks I am. But I am not completely stupid. I know that following the Dark Lord is not necessarily the only viable option in this world anymore. I know there is a certain someone who can offer me so much more, if I allow him."
Dumbledore fidgeted his beard, listening carefully, which annoyed Draco to no extent.
"I know what the situation is," Draco drawled. "But surely you cannot expect me to betray my own family, even if it was for this school and its wellbeing, can you? –Not even if it was for the whole wizarding world and its wellbeing. You cannot expect me to freely give you proof of my own father being a Death Eater?"
Dumbledore leaned backwards in his chair, and examined Draco's face. There was a long silence, while Dumbledore searched Draco's silvery eyes, and Draco glowered defiantly back at the greatest wizard in the world.
"Very well," Dumbledore finally said, smiling a bit. "You are dismissed, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco leapt up from his seat, and excited the room.
**
"Harry," a soft female voice asked tentatively behind the black haired Gryffindor, who was looking outside the Gryffindor common room window.
Harry turned, coming face to face with Hermione. Instantly, he shielded his emotions, his eyes blank and his face a mask of indifference.
"Hermione," he said from between gritted teeth.
The girl fingered her curly hair, and looked down. "Don't do that, Harry. Don't shut me out. Please."
"Excuse me, Miss Hermione, but it was you who walked away from me yesterday," Harry said, not entirely capable of blocking the bitterness from his voice.
"I am sorry," Hermione whispered, on the verge of tears.
"Well, that's not exactly my problem, is it?" Harry sneered. "Be sorry, for all that I care."
"Can't you forgive me?" Hermione now raised tear-rimmed eyes at Harry. "I was… I was completely beside me. It was the shock, that's all. I mean… I don't disapprove of you and Malf… you and Draco."
Harry looked bored and turned back to the window, "It doesn't matter. I don't need your approval."
Hermione took a deep, shivering breath and touched Harry's forearm gently. Harry tensed instantly.
"Harry…"
"Hermione," Harry turned and took Hermione's chin between his fingers, turning the girl's head upwards rather harshly. But when he saw how desperate his friend was, Harry's grip turned gentle.
"What happened to us, Harry?" Hermione whispered, the tears now freely running down her cheeks.
"I don't know," Harry sighed, leaning against the wall, feeling suddenly very tired, "I just… I wish… Well, I don't know what I wish."
"Have you seen Ron?"
"Yeah," Harry shook his head, smiling. "We had a fight."
"Figures."
"He knows how to behave now."
"Listen, Harry… I am sorry that I reacted the way I did, yesterday. I cried the whole night, I felt so horrible. I should've been there to support you, but what did I do?" She laughed nervously. "I let my old antagonism and hatred towards Malfoy cloud my mind, and I really did not see how you suffered. I didn't see that you love Malfoy. I did not believe it… And when I finally swallowed my pride and prejudices, and came to find you, to apologise… You were not there. You weren't in your dorm room."
"No, I spent the night in the Slytherin dorms with Draco."
"I guessed as much," Hermione said, walking closer to the window and gazing down at the grass fields through the glass. "But you know, Harry, if you'd been a bit more open… If you'd let Ron and I know about your boyfriend a bit earlier… It wouldn't have come as a shock… We could've prepared ourselves…"
"You had your own problems, and I had mine," Harry said. "But let's not talk about the mistakes and deeds bygone. I forgive you, Hermione. I knew you wouldn't really hate me for this."
"I could never hate you," the girl said, and dashed forwards, embracing Harry with all her might. "I'm glad that all our secrets are out now. I'm glad we're all together again."
"Yeah." Harry returned the hug, and smiled. "Imagine, for a minute here, I thought I wouldn't need you and Ron in my life. I believed I could survive on my own with only Draco by my side. But now… Now I know my life would've been empty without you."
"As long as Malfoy doesn't call me Mudblood, I'm fine with him," Hermione said.
"Sounds fair," Harry let go of the girl and beamed down at her. "But if he does call you that, I won't interfere. You're free to hex him as long as you don't castrate him."
"Harry!" Hermione laughed, and playfully hit him on in the stomach.
Right then, a weird commotion disturbed the peace of the red and gold common room, right in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"Malfoy!" shrieked a third year Gryffindor from her seat by the fire.
"What the hell…?" gasped Colin.
"What's he doing here?" snarled Dennis.
"Glad you're all so happy to see me," Draco sneered at the young Gryffindors. Seeing Harry and Hermione standing by the window, he cockily strolled towards them though a crowd of horrified Gryffindor younger years.
"Hey lover," he greeted Harry, and then nodded to Hermione. "Granger."
Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "How did you get in, Malfoy?"
"He flirted with the Fat Lady," Harry said, accusingly.
Draco confirmed this with a sweet smile, and Harry rolled his eyes.
"I can't help myself," Draco sighed, overly dramatically, "I'm in serious need of quality time."
"Harry, have you been ignoring your boyfriend?" Dean emerged between Hermione and Draco, and crossed his arms, mock-glaring at Harry.
"I most certainly haven't!"
"Yes, he's been ignoring me all day!" Draco whined, batting his lashes at Dean. "He even jumped that Weasel today, and wrestled on the ground with him, but not me! No… I'm cast aside like a cheap toy and left forgotten!"
"As if! Listen now, you attention-seeking Drama Queen, we've been having…"
"You've had a fist-fight with Ron?" Hermione interrupted, intentionally, not wanting to hear exactly how many times Harry and Draco had had sex that day.
"Yeah, and you should see Weasel's black eye," Draco grinned, "I bet it's greenish already."
"Harry!" Hermione cried out, crossing her arms.
"Hey, it's only fair," Dean said, "Harry gave him the black eye only because Ron had punched me before. As in revenge, you know."
"So mature," Hermione huffed. "By the way, where is Ron?"
"Don't know, don't care," Draco waved his hand, "Come, Har, we need to run."
"Oh… right," Harry said, remembering the meeting with Blaise Zabini and the Slytherins. "See you later, Herm, Dean, I've got something to do with Draco."
Dean only winked, and sauntered back to Neville and Seamus who were playing Exploding Snap. Hermione rolled her eyes and sat down on the armchair close to the fire. To his delight and before the portrait of the Fat Lady closed, Harry saw Ginny sitting on Hermione's lap, pressing her forehead to her girlfriend's.
So, the peace had finally settled down on earth. If you left Voldemort out of the picture, that is.
**
"What's the time?" Harry asked.
"Twenty-five to six," Draco replied.
"We've got plenty of time, then," Harry frowned. "Why don't we have a snack or something?"
Draco didn't say anything, grabbing Harry by his sleeve to tag him along.
"Draco? Where are you taking me?"
When Draco did not reply, Rune lifted one of its heads from Draco's collar and hissed, "As I said, he's romantic. He's gonna surprise you with something really sweet, I guess."
Harry looked at the serpent incredulously, and hissed back, "I hope he doesn't. I can't stand roses or other flowers, and I really abhor candle-light dinners, too."
Draco looked at his boyfriend, quirking a brow, "What are you saying?"
"Just talking to our insolent snake," Harry shrugged. "Since you don't seem to be in chat-mode."
"No, I've thought of a better use for my mouth," Draco smirked and pushed Harry against the wall. They were now in a rarely used corridor on the third floor. "Pants down."
"W-what?" Harry gasped, as he felt Draco pull his belt open.
"Pants. Down." Draco repeated.
"B--But you… You don't…" Harry protested, but Draco was too quick, opening his fly. "Ohmygod…"
Harry was literally swiped off his feet when he felt Draco's lips encircle his member, his blood rushing to his crotch instantly. The mere thought that Draco Malfoy was giving him head – something he usually did not do, not even to him – made his mouth go dry and his head swirl. And when he looked downwards…
Draco teased his hard flesh with the tip of his tongue, taking the whole length of it into his mouth. Harry whimpered and collapsed limply against the stone wall, ficting his hands into the the blond hair.
Draco's eyes were sparkling with mirth, laughing at him.
"Yesss… Oh, gods, yess…." Harry gasped, when Draco sucked forcefully, his head bobbing rapidly up and down Harry's length. Harry hissed, his hips involuntarily bucking forwards to meet Draco's mouth.
Draco retreated and licked the tip of his cock, "Too much sex, hmm?"
Harry violently shoved Draco's head back against himself, burying his cock in Draco's throat, hard enough to make Draco gag. "Don't tease me," he breathed. "Just suck it… yes…"
Harry's head moved from side to side on its own volition when Draco doubled his efforts. It didn't took Draco long to make Harry come, whimpering, and Draco swallowed everything. Harry sank to the floor, on to his knees, beside Draco, and buried his head in the Slytherin's shoulder, breathing rapidly.
"Damn I love you…"
**
Harry looked around in wonder. The White Chamber, the anteroom of the new, magnificent common room, was bathing eerily in the torchlight, the whiteness of the décor glowing ethereally in the shadows. It was tranquil and peaceful everywhere –only a few Ravenclaws were sitting on the sofas quite close to the entrance, absorbed in some kind of homework.
"Come on, they're here," Draco tugged Harry's sleeve, pulling him towards the darkest corner of the room. "Behind that monster statue."
"Really, what a cheery place to meet," Harry grinned, in a totally funny mood after what he just experienced ten minutes ago.
"Wipe that stupid grin off your face, Har, this is serious."
In the corner, sitting on the cream-colored couches and armchairs, pearly pillows and soft white divans, were at least twelve Slytherins, dressed in the pitch-black. Their sombre forms contrasted elegantly against their fair background, as did their sombre expressions. Harry recognised nearly all of them – Draco's classmates, as well as Montague's friends from the upper year. Harry noticed that Draco's best friend and the leader of the little gathering, Blaise Zabini, was engaged in a conversation with somebody who was bent over the table to examine some sort of parchment.
"Evening, everyone," Draco drawled, casually wandering to sit on a divan closest to Blaise's seat.
Harry followed his boyfriend, and nodded his greetings to everyone, as well. To his surprise, he then saw Ronald Weasley's head emerge from behind Blaise's shoulder.
"Ron!" Harry gasped, utterly surprised.
"What's he doing here?" asked Draco, frowning disdainfully in Ron's direction.
"He's here for a reason," Blaise snapped, before anybody could start an argument. "I invited him."
Ron looked a bit uncomfortable under Draco and Harry's scutinising stares. "Zabini said I would be useful."
"Great! Let the whole school know, and we're sure to be victorious!" Draco snarled.
Ron glared at him. "I know how to keep my mouth shut."
"Oh, really?" Millicent Bulstrode cut in. "Tell yourself another one."
"Yes, really!" Ron spat, whirling his head at the Slytherin girl's direction. "I've been loyal to Harry for the best part of the last five and a half years, in which time I've learned to keep secrets, thank you very much! You can't even begin to imagine all the stuff I've been through with Harry and 'Mione!"
"Calm down, Ron." Harry chuckled, and snuggled comfortably in the depths of the fluffy white divan. "For the records, Ron really is reliable if he must."
Draco sulked, crossing his arms and leaning away from Harry, tugging his lower lip out. "What about the fact that he abandoned you and your friendship when he found out about me? Have you forgotten all about that?"
"We settled that this morning," Harry said in a calming tone, "when we fought by the greenhouses."
"So, let's not waste time with this useless chinwag, but let's get started," Blaise huffed. "Ron, shut it. Theodore, sit down. Mary-Ann, don't even think about it. Rodriquez, if you would please tell our guests what this is all about."
Harry and Ron followed closely, and Draco yawned elegantly behind his palm, as Rodriquez Montague stood up and walked to the huge, porcelain table that was standing in the middle of the seats. Montague spread some more parchments on it and cleared his throat.
"Fellow Slytherins, and fell… er… Gryffindor guests, the time to decide what we want from our lives has come, finally. The War is getting closer, and none of us shall stay unaffected by it. Eventually, we will be asked to choose sides. The Light side, or the Dark side, as it is."
Here, Montague exchanged a meaningful look with Blaise, before continuing.
"Harry… and Wease… Ron," he hesitated. "I speak on behalf of every Slytherin in this room. Therefore, I will ask you to listen to me very carefully because what I'm about to say is quite heavy stuff."
"I'm dying of excitement," Draco dully remarked, earning a poke in the ribs from Goyle, who was sitting in an armchair behind him.
Montague addressed Harry and Ron again, ignoring the insolent blonde's comment. "We Slytherins are used to hearing the words 'Slytherin' and 'evil' quite often in the same sentence, uttered especially by you Gryffindorks… er Gryffindors. You think that because we belong to the so called 'Snake House' we're all evil, scheming, ruthless and violent supporters of the Dark Lord." Montague sighed. "However, that is so not true."
"What's this, some kind of yay!-let-us-befriend–speech?" Ron raised a brow, sarcasm dripping from every word.
"No," Montague smirked. "Definitely not anything like that. My intention is solely to point out to you what being a Slytherin really means."
"I'm dying of excitement," Ron said, mimicking Draco's previous outburst, which amused Harry.
Montague, however, was not told off by this. "Might I remind you, Ronald," Montague sneered and Draco snorted, "that instead of the word 'evil', the Sorting Hat has provided you with much more accurate describing words for us Slytherins than the ever-so-boring 'evil'. Does the word 'ambitious' ring any of your bells? And I might add that 'ambitious' is a slightly different adjective than 'evil'. You can check this in your dictionary if you wish. You'll find it amid the words starting with the letter A: Ambition."
Draco chuckled now audibly, and Harry had to slap him gently on the head. However, Harry was simultaneously grinning at the flush that rose to Ron's cheekbones himself, which resulted in the fact that Draco laughed even harder.
"Your point is, Montague?" Ron groused, his arms crossed, trying to speak over Draco's laughter.
"Ambition is what we Slytherins are known for. Ambition is the factor that affects our choices. Ambition –we define ourselves through that word. And our ambition – I mean this very group that has gathered here tonight - our ambition is self-seeking at best. Our year class, and the one below, have adopted a new depth of this word. To us, ambition is surviving. It prevents us from doing things we don't believe in, or things that might lead us to a sticky end. As such, it also prevents us from making the same stupid mistakes our parents once did." Montague paused, and turned his hazel eyes straight at Harry. "Our ambition… It prevents us from following Lord Voldemort."
Suddenly, something very tender began to grow in Harry's chest, which he cursed not to be emotion. Draco noticed this, and protectively pulled Harry closer to his chest, covering the Gryffindor's tear-rimmed eyes by pressing Harry's face against his shoulder.
"Oooh! The big ugly evil Slytherins wanna follow you," Draco cooed in Harry's ear.
Now, Harry could not help bursting out crying. The relief was so enormous. All the fears he had bottled up inside during the weeks. Fears that he might lose Draco to Voldemort . Things he had not wanted to even think about. Things he had denied himself. Fears. Everything… They all now seemed to fade into non-existence quicker than Neville's memory.
"I've never seen Potter cry," remarked Carlos Warrington, smoking a lemon cigarette on the other side of the table. "Hmh."
"Neither have I, but I think this is kind of cute." Mary-Ann grinned lopsidedly, staring eagerly at the hero boy that was curled tightly in Draco's arms, sobbing.
"He's just moved," announced Draco, his voice affectionate. "Montague's such a good sucker. See?" He gestured at Harry's shaking shoulders. "Rod, did you have to play Shakespeare once again?"
Everybody chuckled with amusement – even Ron.
"So… what you're trying to tell us is that… you'll be on our side when the War comes here?" Ron asked. "You won't follow the Dark Lord?"
"Yes. But actually, we had something way more productive in mind," Blaise said, now taking the lead. "We Slytherins don't do anything half way, you see. In for a sickle, in for a galleon."
Ron gave Blaise the look he usually gave Hermione when they were disagreeing on something. "No, I do not see, Zabini. But perhaps you could show me."
"Yeah." Montague smiled. "Let's show the Weasel…er Ron, and Harry what exactly we have in mind."
"Our idea is this." Blaise started to walk around the table, picking up an apple from a basket that lay on top of it, and tossing the fruit from one hand to another. "We want Harry and Draco to kill the Dark Lord next weekend. And you are going to help them out, Ronald Weasley."
"W-w-what?" Ron sputtered, leaning forwards in his chair.
"Er… come again?" Harry's head snapped up and collided with Draco's jaw.
"Ouch! Watch it, Potterbird!" Draco hissed, along with Rune, who was yet again curled around Draco's neck.
"Shut up, whiner," Harry placed a hand impatiently over Draco's mouth, sealing it. "You were saying, Blaise, Rodriquez?"
But before either of the so-called leaders could answer, another voice joined in.
"We. Want. You. To. Kill. Voldie!" Pansy beamed from her spot on the floor, where she was sitting on the pillows with Millicent. "Isn't that lovely!"
Millicent squealed with excitement, rubbing her hands together in glee.
"You're all rampant nuts," Ron said weakly, searching for support from Harry. "Totally barking rampant fucking mad bonkers."
"Don't try to be clever, Weasley," yawned Tracey Davies. "It doesn't suit you."
"And how exactly are we going to kill the Dark Lord, again?" Harry sat straighter on the white sofa and interrupted Ron's retort. "Are we just going to owl him and ask him for a duel?"
"Of course not, you twat," Millicent huffed, and then smirked, which didn't look very good on her. "We have it all planned out here, so pay attention."
Both Ron and Harry raised their brows, and even Draco was starting to feel real interest, having not listened too closely before.
"So, the letter you made me send to Lucius was not just a momentary whim, Blaise?"
"Indeed, it was not." The girl smiled. "It was an invitation."
"Invitation? What letter?" Harry asked Draco.
"Blaise made me write a letter to my father where I requested the Dark Lord's presence at the Manor on Saturday."
"What? Wait! This is going to take place in Malfoy's house?" Ron gagged. "No way Harry and I are entering that place!"
"Shut it, Ron," Harry growled, and then turned to Draco. "At the Manor? Are you nuts, baby? Asking Voldemort to visit your home? What about your family?"
Draco looked fixedly in Harry's eyes, and finally realised that the final scene was indeed about to happen under the roof of Malfoy Manor. He also realised that the final scene hardly would be an appropriate show for a two-year-old girl, taken that all such events throughout history thus far had been rather gory and violent.
"Blaise," he said hoarsely, "I think it's too dangerous. Hailie's at home. I don't want her to get hurt."
Everybody was silent, clearly pondering this issue in their minds. They all knew Hailie, of course –the little monstrous addition to the Malfoy family. Draco turned his eyes at his friends, locking his silvery gaze with each of them in turn.
"Guys, I know this is our only chance to defeat the Dark Lord – now that we have the element of surprise on our side. But I'd like you to know - this will lead to the destruction of my family."
"Oh, isn't ickle daddykins going to be happy with his darling son anymore?" Ron asked, sneering.
"Shut the fuck up, Weasel. You know nothing." Draco's stare was dark and crushing.
"Well, what are you saying, then?" Ron gulped, and tried another sneer; he was too proud to be scared of a Malfoy.
"I'm saying that there will be no 'ickle daddykins' to say what he thinks about me after this. My father. And my mother. They are both going to die."
"What?" The fine hairs on Harry's neck stood on end as he looked at Draco. "They're going to… what?"
"I… I've seen it… Actually, I've seen it twice. In Trelawney's crystal ball." Draco swallowed a thick lump down his throat, which he hoped nobody noticed.
"Trelawney… She did say that you are a Diviner, during our last lesson," Harry remembered.
"So it's really true," Ron marvelled, looking at Draco along his freckled nose.
"Do you know how rare that gift is?" shrieked Pansy, again, looking as if Christmas and her birthday were on the same day. "Did you hear it, everyone? Our Draco is a diviner!"
Anguish was shining from Draco's beautiful, grey eyes. "Yes, I am sure everybody heard that I'm a bloody diviner. And I have just bloody foreboded my family's destruction. Anyone who wants to have a share?"
"Calm down, Draco." Harry tried to embrace the slightly shuddering blonde, but frowned when he was pushed away. Harry had never seen Draco so unsettled.
"My father will kill my mother when my mother is trying to protect me from my father," Draco continued, glaring straight at Pansy.
After an almost embarassing silence, Tracey lifted her brows. "Why would your mother feel the need to protect you from your father?" she asked. "I thought you and your father were at rather good terms with each other. Are you sure those weren't just Trelawney's perfumes meddling with your brain?"
"No, it was real, I know it." Draco massaged his temples. "And my father will try to kill me."
"Will he succeed?" whispered Mary-Ann, making the atmosphere almost spooky with her wide-eyed expression and quiet voice.
"I… I do not think so… But I'm not sure. It went rather blurry after that."
"Or maybe he's trying to kill Potter," Montague suggested. "It's a possiblitiy, if we're going to use the Polyjuice."
"Polyjuice?" Harry asked, but everybody ignored him.
"Well that's even worse!" Draco shouted, reacting to Montague's remark. "Hmm, but it would explain why I was crying in the vision."
"As if you'd never cry, Malfoy," Ron mocked.
"Actually, he doesn't," Harry offered. "Malfoys don't cry. Don't you remember what Lucius said to Draco's little sister? That day when they were visiting the castle?"
Dumbly, Ron nodded and looked elsewhere, not interested in dwelling on the subject any longer. What a stupid rule! Malfoys were all vain and stupid bloody ponces.
"Actually, I did cry once," Draco whispered to Harry, so that no-one else heard. "When I had heard you'd cheated on me. After the party last Friday."
Harry looked straight into Draco's eyes, those pools of mercury that had so often made him feel both hatred and passion. He was just about to say something really sappy when Montague interrupted him.
"Tell us about your visions, Draco," the Slytherin seventh year said. "We might be able to prepare ourselves better if we new what to expect."
Draco straightened up, and took the cigarette offered to him. Goyle lit it, and Draco found out it tasted like cream liqueur. He inhaled the smoke deeply, savouring the soft taste on top of his tongue before starting to describe what he had seen in the crystal ball.
"I'm in my bedroom. I'm looking around, satisfied, when somebody knocks on the door. And I get all insecure and frightened – which, I might add, is nothing like me. Anyway…" Draco took another pull, "The entrant is my father. He comes closer, looking very fond and proud of me. But when he touches my shoulder, I flinch away, as if his touch was burning, and then, he gets suspicious. His mouth is still curled in a smile, but I can see in his eyes that he is very, very suspicious…"
Everybody was listening silently, the only voice, soft and low, coming from Draco. Mary-Ann looked even freakier than before, shivering with excitement.
"He grabs my wrist and smoothes my left inner arm. His fingers are scorchingly cold, and again, I flinch away. He looks at me, oddly… He tells me it's time to receive the Dark Mark. And I… I hiss at him, as if I was scared of him."
Draco glanced over at Harry, pondering Montague's words in his mind. Was his vision really about himself, or was it about Potter? Harry returned Draco's glance, his green eyes shining in the gentle darkness. Draco felt cold.
"And then… My mother enters the room," he forced himself to continue. "She looks very nervous, which is very weird, since my mother is never nervous. I turn to my father again and say something to him… I don't know what… but then things start getting very dirty. My father is furious and hits me in the face. Several times. And I start to cry. Which, I might mention, disturbs me very much, taken that my father's been hitting me hundreds of times before and I've never before cried. Hmh, anyway…"
Harry looked horrified, but could not say anything since Draco had already continued.
"My father's yelling at me as I'm on my knees on the floor, covered in my own blood. I see my mother, and she is crying as well. And I tell you, she cries even more rarely than I do. Fucking weird. And then… My father raises his wand. I don't know for sure what he's about to cast on me, but my guess would be cruciatus. Or the killing curse. Wait… I think it cleared out to be cruciatus."
Draco looked contemplative, his cigarette having burnt halfway to ashes by itself. Goyle reached for an ashtray and helped Draco shake off the grey powder. Draco took no notice.
"Yes… Father tries to cast cruciatus on me… but then my mother interferes. She snatches the wand from my father's fingers, taking the full blow of the curse on her own abdomen… and she throws the wand away with her last energy. Oh… My father is furious. He takes a dagger from his pocket and stabs my mother between her shoulder blades and calls my mother a bitch or something. And my mother dies."
Draco lowered his gaze, his long black lashes shadowing his eyes. He felt how Harry was staring at him, hell, everybody was, but Harry's stare was plain burning.
"How horrible," Pansy said with trembling voice, breaking the silence.
"There's more," Draco said determinately, not wanting all the girls in the room to burst out crying. "The second part confuses me even more. Just hear it out and say what you think of it."
"You don't have to tell us if it's too difficult," Millicent said. Draco noticed she was holding hands with both Pansy and Tracey.
"Don't be silly, woman," Draco snapped, haughtily raising his chin. "This is not difficult, just confusing. And, as you know, I hate to be confused."
"So tell us," Montague encouraged, and started to examine his sleeve. He knew that ignoring Draco was the best way to keep him talking this kind of things.
"The second part includes me and Potter," Draco started. "Here, I have come to realise that Hailie is also in the room, hiding under my four-poster. I see her clearly from my spot on the floor where I am huddled in a heap, helpless, my wounds bleeding heavily. But then the confusion starts. Suddenly, it is not blood that I am covered with, it is something else… Indefinable… And my father raises his blade as to kill me there and then. And I cry again – which I don't admit will happen in reality, though. And yes, then there's suddenly another person in the room. Harry. He's hovering over my crumpled form, protecting me from my father's hatred. I don't hear what they are saying to each other, but then Potter raises his wand and says the unforgivable words… Avada Kedavra… and my father is dead."
"I would never…" Harry started, but Draco shut his mouth with an angry glare.
"Then Harry kneels down beside me, and takes me into his arms. And I feel relieved. I'm not even mad at him that he killed my father. It is all so unclear…"
Draco's voice died down and he conjured a glass of red wine for himself.
"S-so both your father and mother will… die," Blaise finally said, unsure about her words.
"Yes," Draco said, meeting her eyes. "They will die."
"And… are you okay with this?" Montague asked, casually.
"Are you fucking mad?" Ron shouted. "How can you even ask something like that? Merlin, how could Malfoy possibly be okay with this?"
"I'm okay with this," Draco stated, his voice hard enough to cut through diamond.
Complete silence fell over the chamber. The girls indeed started weeping soundless tears, and the boys tried not to cough too audibly.
"Si pudiera ser tu heroe, Si pudiera ser tu Dios, que salvarte a ti mil veces, puede ser mi salvacion..." Montague started to hum silently.
"Shut it, Rodriquez," Draco rolled his eyes, yet giving a short laugh. "I don't believe in fear. I don't believe in fate, either. I don't believe in anything I can't break. And I hate Muggle music."
"Draco, are you sure that you…?" Harry began, but Draco again shut him with a burning stare. Harry just nodded and sighed.
"Okay, Blazing flame, let us hear the rest of your plan," Draco sipped his wine.
Blaise smirked, and picked up one of the stray parchments that were sprawled on the table. "Harry, you may not have heard, but Vin and Greg here suggested the other day that we could use the Banishing Charm against the Dark Lord."
Harry raised his brows, but did not say anything, so Blaise continued. "Thus, we were wondering what would be the best place to banish Voldie. Subsequently, we realised that Hell would be a good place, but as it is, we do not know the runic address of it."
"I bet Hermione would know that," Ron put in.
"We should keep this to ourselves," Pansy scowled. "The less people know about our plans, the better."
"Wouldn't the runic address to Argus Filch's bedroom be close enough?" Mary-Ann wanted to lighten the atmosphere with a bad joke. "Come on, I am sure, if we can accept Ronald Weasley into our group we can accept Granger, too."
"But she's a Mudblood!" said Tracey, disgusted.
"Shut it, Davies," Harry growled. "Unless any of us can find the address, I am ready to accept Hermione among us."
"Alright, fine." Blaise spread her arms in frustration. "Shall we go on? Now… Millicent suggested this morning that we should take benefit of the Polyjuice potion we are currently brewing in our Potions class. Meaning, we're changing you two into each other." She pointed her finger at Harry and Draco.
"Ah, so that is what you were talking about earlier." Harry understood. "You think it could be me who Lucius's trying to kill in Draco's visions because I've taken Polyjuice to change my appearance to resemble that of Draco's."
"Well, yes," Montague muttered. "We all think that it's the most important thing to keep you safe, Potter. You are the one who will have to bring the Dark Lord down, and therefore, we should make every effort in our reach to keep you safe. And what could be safer than to enter Malfoy Manor as Draco, the new pet of the Dark Lord?"
Nobody could say anything in the contrary, so, Blaise continued.
"Hear now… The particular runic pattern for banishing that we are talking about tonight, should always be attached to an item. A floor stone, a candlestick or Professor Snape's best cauldron. And yesterday, Pansy came up with the idea that this item could be Draco's dandy sabre."
"Hmph," Draco sounded sceptical, "But how can we trick Voldemort into touching it? And besides, I'm not even sure I want that ugly beast touching it. It is a family heirloom."
"This is where it gets complicated." Blaise frowned. "Basically, it will have to happen amidst a sword fight. The weapon must be thrown to Voldie so that he's tricked into catching it, and… Well… As we have already decided that it will activate upon his touch, he will be sent away directly after he has caught the sabre."
"And which one of us is to fight against him?" Harry asked.
"Why, /you/, of course." Blaise raised her brows.
"But if I look like Draco, how can that possibly be reasonable?"
"Well, duh, of course you have to look like Draco – then the Dark Lord won't suspect anything!"
"Well, of course he's going to suspect something the very second Draco Malfoy starts a sword fight with him!" Harry retorted.
"Well, whatever!" Blaise yelled. "If you have a better plan, then do tell us!"
After a few seconds of silence, Harry picked up Rune from Draco's shoulder and started to pet it, mindlessly. "I don't know," he finally said, biting his lip. "It is a good plan you've got here. But still, I'm sure there's something we're missing. There must be something we haven't taken into consideration. Why don't we go through this again, trying to find some logic this time?"
**
That night, Draco woke up to a cold breeze that waved his bed curtains wildly. He jumped up from the bed, instincts strained, and noticed that the only window of the room was shattered on the floor, broken in to thousands of little pieces.
"Malum? Is it you?" he asked the shadowy chamber, looking for his father's eagle owl.
But it certainly was not the eagle who suddenly sat on his shoulder. No. This was something exceptionally heavy and smelling very much like sulphur. Sharp, ice cold claws penetrated his skin through the silken pyjama top, and ashy vapour landed to dance in the air in front of his eyes from the nostrils of the beast that was perching on his shoulders.
Slowly, Draco turned his eyes at the creature, meeting a pair of gleaming, fire-yellow reptile eyes, looking back at him from a face that was blacker than any starless night. The weight of the creature had already started to hurt Draco's shoulder, and he felt the need to sit down – yet he did not do such a thing, being a proud Malfoy.
"Are you Draco Malfoy?" the beast asked, with a strange language that Draco, however, knew well.
"Well, obviously," Draco snarled back, twisting his tongue to the new language. "Would you please get your fucking claws off me? You're breaking my shirt."
With a loud hiss, the black creature slid down from Draco's shoulder and onto Draco's desk. Now that Draco was able to see the intruder properly, he noticed it was a beautiful black dragon wyrmling, a freshly hatched nestling of a Hungarian Horntail. Shining, sharp spikes were forming a dangerous ridge over its backbone, and it spread its huge, bat-like wings as if it was showing off. A small puff of ash and fire escaped its nostrils again, and it looked at Draco calculatingly.
"Viekas hän on, oikea Luihuinen, vaan sinuako haen, sitä tiedä en. Sanovat, on katseesi terässä tikarin, hopeinen, kaikista pistävin. Aurasi tiedän, se on kaikkivaltius, lumihankien hopea, tähtien kimallus. Löytänytkö sinut olen, sinut, joka otat komennon, pimeyden herran, haastajan lapselle auringon?"
"Very pretty," Draco said, leaning against his bed's pillar, propping his other foot back against the wood and crossing his arms. "Who has given you that description of me?"
"The centaursss of the Forbidden Foressst ," the dragon said. "They've sssensed that you are a diviner."
"Oh, yeah?" Draco snorted sarcastically.
"Yesss. And our Lord has heard them. Our Lord sssent me to collect you tonight. It is time."
Draco's eyes sharpened abruptly. "Time for what?"
"Your Call." The black creature breathed fire. "Your Call is tonight."
"But… I thought it wouldn't be until next Saturday," Draco swallowed.
"No…" the dragon sounded as if it were laughing, "Our Lord wantssss you… And he wantsss you… tonight…"
…TBC….