Standard disclaimers apply. I own nothing, no money being made...all that jazz. Read, enjoy, review.
Stretching and yawning like he always did when he first woke up, Draco rolled over onto his side, pulling the blankets farther up around his shoulders. It was far too early to get up. He opened his eyes and started. Everything was blurry. That potion must have done something to him. Damn it! he thought. "Vince? Greg?" he called in a thick voice. There was no answer. He was left to stumble out of the dorm, half blind, all on his own.
Figures. This is my luck, he thought bitterly. Swinging his legs out of the bed, he yelped with pain as the side of his foot whacked into something hard. That didn't make any sense. His night table was on the other side of the bed.
Squinting around the room, Draco noticed something else that didn't seem right. There was too much light. The room was never lit this much in the morning because the narrow windows were on the west side of the castle.
"Bed hangings," he muttered. I can't be in the hospital wing. Where could I--
Have either of you swallowed any of this?
"Oh, God, no," he moaned. I can't be...
Feeling around the top of the night table, Draco's fingers knocked several things over and onto the floor. Where does he put his glasses? he thought franticly. If that Solution worked then I have to find them--
A door to his right opened. "You're gonna be late for class," Weasley's deadpan voice came from somewhere in the room.
"I can't find, umm, my glasses," he said.
With an annoyed sigh, Weasley walked over to him. The cool frames were shoved into his hand. "They were right where you always leave them."
"Oh," Draco muttered, putting them on. "Thanks." The world came into focus and his first instinct was to yell at the first person he saw that he must see Severus and that everything was Potter's fault. However, he suddenly realized where he was--deep in the heart of Gryffindor Land. Wouldn't they just be unbearable if they knew a Slytherin was there?
Deciding, for his own safety, that playing along would be best, Draco just nodded a little and stood up. He had to find where Potter kept his clothes... He looked up when he noticed Weasley still staring at him. " What do you want?" he snapped.
"Nothing." With that, the red-head walked out of the room.
After a few seconds of looking, he thought, What do I care if people see the Boy Wonder wandering around the castle in his sleep things? Without bothering to get dressed, Draco opened the door and walked down the stairs. The common room was empty...with one exception. Granger.
Draco tried to scoot out the door, but the annoying Mudblood was on him before he could get half way there.
"Harry--"
"Now isn't a good time," he said, trying to side-step her.
Hermione put her hands on his arms and held him still, looking up into his eyes. "No, Harry, listen. Please." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about the other day. I know you're going through a lot and I shouldn't have mentioned Sirius like that, but it just gets really hard tip-toeing around you so much. You blow up at the slightest thing and I hate seeing you like this." Tears were in her eyes, but they didn't fall. "I meant it when I said I loved you--"
Whoa, Draco thought. That is more than I wanted to hear. Putting his hands up, he said, "Really! Now is not a good--"
"I meant it when I said I loved you," she repeated, raising her voice over his. "I did. You're my best friend and I want to help you if I can. Please don't push me away."
Sighing, completely at loss for words, he just shook his head. What should I do? What would Potter do? He'd probably do something sappy and Gryffindor. "It means a lot to hear you say that, Hermione," he said in what he hoped was a convincing voice. "But can we talk later? I really need to go. I--My scar started hurting really bad and I have to tell Dumbledore."
The girl's eyes darkened. "Shouldn't you get dressed first?"
"No, actually, I have to go right now." He tried to get by her again.
"Was it like that time with Mr. Weasley?"
"Umm, yeah. Just like that," he said, nodding.
"Harry, it could just be Voldemort--"
Draco winced at the name.
"--trying to get you to do something...rash."
"That's why I have to tell Dumbledore. He'll know what to do. Now please, let go of me."
With a sigh of resignation, she stepped aside. "Just be careful."
"Sure," Draco replied over his shoulder. Not looking where he was going, he caught his foot in the edge of the wall and fell forward on his face in the hallway.
"Harry! Are you OK?"
"What the..." They have to climb over part of the wall to get in and out of their common room? How stupid! he thought. "I'm fine." He stood up, his cheeks flushed with annoyance as he backed away from Hermione. "I'm fine," he repeated.
Several students who were walking by to get to classes in the upper halls looked at him, some of them sniggering Slytherins. Bet I'm a right sight, he mused. Famous Harry Potter stumbling around in his PJs like a drunken idiot. At least it's his reputation I'm ruining--
"Oh no!" he yelled suddenly, turning and running for the stairs. He slid a little in his stocking feet, but caught himself on the banister and bolted down the stairs. If I'm here, then Potter's in my body!
Harry sat up a little and tugged the blankets back down to cover his feet. Why were they so cold? After a moment he realized he wasn't wearing any socks. He always wore socks to bed. It was a habit from living in that drafty cupboard. Instead of getting up, he curled his legs up to his chest. When the cool fabric of the silk sleep pants brushed his bare stomach he nearly jumped. He wasn't wearing a shirt either! He never slept without a shirt!
Wrapping the blankets tightly around him, he reached out and pulled the hangings back. The first thing he saw was a large, round, rear end sticking up in the air. "What the..."
"A can't find my other shoe," a slow, dull voice said from the other side of the butt.
"You, you what?" he gasped. The room, it was different. It wasn't his. There was green and silver, and dark mahogany...
Crabbe stood and looked at Harry.
Startled once more, Harry yelled. I'm half dressed in the Slytherin dorm! They drugged me! I've been drugged and--
"Draco, you OK?"
"No! Leave me--What did you say?"
The boy's jaw hung slack and he looked like a stupid gorilla trying to figure out a difficult math problem. He had one shoe on his foot and his tie was lopsided. "I asked if you were OK."
"You called me Draco."
"Umm, yeah?"
Horrified, Harry jumped up, clutching the blankets around him, and waddled to the bathroom across the room as best he could with the folds of slippery fabric bunched at his feet. Oh no, oh no, oh no...
Stopping in front of the mirror, he dropped the blanket in shock. There was his face, but it wasn't him. It was Draco. Draco's wide, petrified, grey eyes were staring back at him. When he lifted his slender hand and ran pale fingers over his pink-tinged cheeks, they were Draco's fingers and Draco's cheeks.
The potion, he thought. But how? I never swallowed any of it! I have to get out of here. Dumbledore will know what to do. I have to tell him what happened. But for now, I'm in the Slytherin dorms. The Boy Who Lived might become the Boy Who Died real fast, Harry mused with a small amount of irony. He had to get out of there without anyone knowing he wasn't Draco.
"Did you find my shoe?" Crabbe called to him.
"N-no. It's not in here." First off, he told himself, Draco wouldn't be clutching his blankets around him. If he normally sleeps like this he must be use to it.
Harry was very much reminded of the advice session he and Ron had exchanged after taking the Polyjuice Potion, trying to get Crabbe and Goyle's actions and mannerisms just right before questioning Draco. But that was a long time ago and it brought back angry memories of the way he'd treated Ron over the summer, so he pushed the thought aside.
With his back straight, Harry walked back out into the room. A shirt. He needed a shirt. "Do you, umm, know where my shirt is?" he asked casually.
"In your dresser?" Crabbe asked.
"Yeah, of course." Which dresser is his? He looked around and saw one with a stack of Potions books on top of it. That would be it, he thought. Walking over, he pulled open the drawer and was hardly surprised to see mostly silk boxers. I have to put on Malfoy's underwear, he thought. His stomach flopped over.
Closing his eyes, he chose a pair. But to put them on he would have to see Malfoy naked. And touch his body... "Get a grip," he told himself. Looking up, he noticed Crabbe and Goyle were staring at him. "What are you looking at?" he snapped.
"You were talking to yourself," Goyle said.
"So?" Deciding he didn't want to get dressed in anyone's body with those two gawking at him, he took the boxers and pulled a pair of trousers and a shirt out of the next drawer, walked into the bathroom, and closed the door. Careful not to look into any mirrors as he took the pants off, Harry pulled on the boxer with his head turned up at an uncomfortable angle so he wouldn't see anything he didn't feel right about seeing. From there, he finished dressing quickly, just looping the tie over his shoulders. Malfoy could do up his own damn tie after Dumbledore sorted this out.
That wasn't so hard, he thought, walking back into the room. Not bothering with robes, he opened the door and left Crabbe and Goyle staring. The common room was full of students in various states of dress and conversation.
"Draco, can I talk to you for a minute?"
Oh no, Harry thought for the millionth time as Pansy Parkinson walked towards him. "I can't right now. I have to go see Snape. It's really--"
"I'll only be a minute. He won't mind if you're a few seconds late." She batted long lashes at him.
I have to be Draco. Draco would never pass up a chance to talk to Pansy just to be on time to see Snape, he reasoned. "Umm, ok. But only for a second."
Smiling, Pansy took his hand and led him out of the common room and down the hall, away from the stairs. They went to a small cove where she stood, still holding his hand. "Draco, I was thinking the other night. About you. And me. Us."
Oh no.
"I really hate seeing you so sad. Most of the others don't see it. They think you're just being yourself, but I know you." She rested her hand on his chest and leaned against him, bringing her lips close to Harry's ear. Far too close to Harry's ear... "I know you better than you know yourself. And I know what you need."
"You know, that's really...umm, nice. Thank you," he stammered, knowing he didn't sound anything like Draco's cool, put together self. He tried to move away from her a little, but only managed to bump his head on the wall. "But I really have to go. Whatever I need, could you, umm, save it, and give it to me later, maybe?"
Smiling a little more, Pansy kissed him gently, her full lips working on his. She ran the tip of her tongue along his bottom lip slowly before pulling away slightly, her body still pressed flush with his. The hand she'd been resting on his chest slid down, settling on his hip. She leaned into him again, her lips parting as they met his, her teeth nibbling at his already swollen lips. She took half a step back, her lips, pink from the kiss, curved in a smile. "OK, Draco. I can wait til later. But only if you promise."
That wasn't how Cho or Hermione kissed. His face burning, Harry forced himself to smile. "Yeah, promise," he breathed weakly. His heart was pounding in his chest and he was sure people up in the Astronomy Tower could have heard it.
"You're cute when you blush, Draco." She brushed a quick kiss over his swollen lips and walked away, the skirt of her uniform swishing behind her.
"Oh, my God," he muttered, slumping against the wall.
Draco grabbed the pole of the banister when he got to the bottom of the stairs, sliding around, then took a couple slippery steps before he was off and running down the hall. As late as it was, there were several more students to stare, point, and laugh.
Paying no attention to the people around him, Draco flung himself around the corner, only two flights of stairs left to go, when he ran headlong into someone, making both of them fall heavily on the floor. Looking up, he saw a very angry McGonagall, who had just stepped out of the teacher's lounge.
Her neat bun was slightly askew and her glasses had been knocked crooked. "Potter! You have two seconds to explain your careless actions! And your dress! That is entirely inappropriate!"
Does this get any worse? he thought. Offering to help her up, Draco apologized as quickly as he could. "I just needed to see Professor Snape. It's an emergency. Really. I'm sorry, but I--"
"Nothing is important enough for you to be running around the school at this time of day in those clothes!" Brushing herself off, she seemed to rethink what she'd just said. "Is it anything Professor Dumbledore should be made aware of?"
"No," Draco said, too quickly.
Her lips pursed, she took hold of his shirt sleeve and pulled him up the hall. "Follow me, Mr. Potter."
"No, really, I'm sure if I could just see Se--Snape, it would be fine!"
But she wouldn't hear a word of it. McGonagall brought him down passed several groups of giggling second years.
A shocked Ginny Weasley stared for a moment before calling, "All right, Harry?"
"He's fine, Miss Weasley," McGonagall snapped for him.
Well, Draco reasoned as they walked up the stairs to Dumbledore's office, I'll just tell him what happened and then he'll go to Severus. It accomplishes the ends that need to be accomplished.
"Albus, it's me."
The door opened and Draco nearly yelled when he saw who was having tea with the headmaster. Smiling amiably, Remus Lupin nodded towards Draco with uncertainty in his eyes. "Hi, Harry."
"Is anything the matter?"
"He seemed to think there was something important enough to running through the castle dressed like this," the woman answer curtly. "There had better be something the matter."
"Yes, miss Granger just barely left," Dumbledore said. "She said your scar was hurting you and that you had seen something else."
"Well, about that..." What was he suppose to do now? He couldn't lie. But he couldn't tell the truth. "I just had a bad dream. Threw me off a little. And a headache. Nothing to do with my scar."
"And that's why you were acting like Voldemort himself was chasing you down the hall?"
"I was suppose to meet Professor Snape for, umm, Potions help. The Remedial Potions, and all. I was having a hard time in class yesterday."
This excuse didn't prompt the response he'd expected. Maybe they wouldn't believe him, or maybe they would yell at him and take off point for his conduct. He expected that. The shocked look in Lupin's eyes and the dark concern in Dumbledore's wasn't at all what he thought he would see.
"I'll leave him to you," McGonagall said seriously. "I'll supervise breakfast." She walked briskly from the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
"Is the Occlumency going badly?" Lupin asked.
"The Occ--Yeah," he said, nodding. Where he didn't have any idea what they were talking about, he figured he should just nod and agree. "Really bad. I was, umm, thinking of dropping it."
This, too, prompted a response he hadn't been anticipating.
"Harry, you can't," Lupin said sternly. "I know you don't like Severus, but you need to do this. If last year was any indication of--"
"Remus," Dumbledore said softly, looking at the shabby man with an expression that clearly said he was heading in the wrong direction. Taking over the persuasion, he turned to Draco. "Harry, Severus has come to me with complaints about your lack of practice. You must take this more seriously. I could go into the reasons why, but I believe you know them better than most."
"Yes, sir," was all he could say. Draco, while focusing on the conversation, was still stuck on the Occlumency. So that's what Severus was doing spending so much time with Potter. That made a little more sense than trying to make anyone who knew the moody potions master believe he would take an ignorant, arrogant Gryffindor into his NEWTs class when he needed to be tutored. But if Severus was doing it...Didn't Dumbledore know he was a Death Eater? Letting Severus be alone with Harry in a weakened mental state was not a very smart move. Unless Dumbledore did, indeed, know that Severus was a Death Eater... Draco's head began to spin. He had a feeling he was starting to figure things out that he did not want to know.
Lupin moved closer to Draco and put his hands on his shoulders, looking him in the eye. Draco's skin was crawling at the contact and he barely suppressed the urge to shove the disgusting creature away. Werewolves were evil!
"Harry, promise me you'll try harder. Please. I know we ask a lot of you, but this is something you have to do, even if you say no to everything else. Please, Harry."
"O-OK. Can I go now?"
"Harry," he said, his ember eyes burning with intensity as he looked into Draco's, "promise me. Please."
"I promise," he said with convincing sincerity. He was very use to lying and this was probably one of the easiest lies he'd ever had to sell because Lupin wanted to believe him so badly. Draco's lie was rewarded by an encouraging smile.
"I know how it must be. I've had to deal with him, too. If you need to talk, or complain, owl me. Just don't let Severus get to you too much."
"I'll remember that."
"Is there anything else you wanted to talk to me about, Harry?" Dumbledore was looking at him from behind his spectacles, his blue eyes clear and concerned.
"No. Sir. Thank you. Umm, bye." He took a half-step away from Lupin before realizing that Harry would probably give him a hug, or something else equally as stupid. Shoving aside his discomfort, Draco leaned forward and hugged Lupin quickly before turning and fleeing from the room. As he walked down the stairs he wiped his hands on his pant legs furiously. Eww, eww, eww! Wolf germs.
"Hi, Harry. I like your pajamas."
Draco looked up, his lip curling in annoyance. It was that nutty Ravenclaw girl. Of course Potter would be friends with her. "Thanks," he said, walking away. He just hugged a werewolf for the sake of appearances, that didn't mean he had to take part in a psychotic conversation with that loon.
Half way back in the direction of the dungeons, Draco stopped. He couldn't go to Severus. If Severus was working for Dumbledore he'd know that Draco knew and that would be very bad. That would be very, very bad. He'll worry that I'd tell my father. And he wouldn't risk being found out by the Dark Lord for anything. The danger would be too great for Lucius Malfoy's son to know something like this without consequences...What can I do now?
Potter, he thought. I have to find Potter before he tells anyone! Taking off at a dead run once again, Draco headed for the stairs down to the lower halls just as the warning bell rang, signaling that there was only ten minutes until first period started.
"OK, get a grip," Harry muttered, pushing away from the wall, his legs shaky. Now that he was over the fact that Pansy Parkinson had not only kissed him, but licked him, he was ready to go to Dumbledore and face whatever punishment this would bring.
It's not like I did it on purpose, he mused, coming to the bottom of the steps. Just as he began his journey up, his jaw dropped. There he was--well, there his body was, in pajamas, running down the stairs right for him.
"Potter, we have to talk!" Draco grabbed his arm and started to drag him off.
"Oh no! The last time I followed a Slytherin when they said that I got mauled! We're going to Dumbledore- -"
"No! I was just in his office. We can't!"
Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Why not?"
"Look, I'll explain later, but right now--"
"I do hope I'm not interrupting anything too important."
Both boys looked over to see Snape walking towards them. The man eyed Draco's undressed state and smirked. "Bit eager to get to class, Potter?"
"No, sir. I just, umm, I'm not feeling well. I think Draco should walk me to the hospital wing."
"I think not, Potter. Fifteen points for inappropriate uniform and," he turned his gaze on Harry, "Mr. Malfoy, your tie."
"Oh." Harry hastened to do up his tie, but stopped. "You didn't take any points off Slytherin for inappropriate uniform!"
"You aren't running around the halls in your bed clothes."
"I don't even have my work robes on!"
"Then I suggest you go to your room and get them."
The bell to signal the start of class rang. "And that's another ten from Gryffindor for being late, Potter. Draco, hurry up." Without looking at them, Snape swept by and through the class room door, closing it behind him firmly.
"You can't ask him to take points off Slytherin!" Draco yelled, shoving Harry in the arm. "Are you stupid?"
"Quite shoving me, Malfoy! We're going to Dumbledore--"
"We can't!" he said, grabbing Harry's arm once more to hold him in his spot. "Look, just go in there, tell Snape you're sick and you need the day off classes. He'll write you a note. I'll go up and whine to Pomfrey about my scar and get a note off for the day. Then we can meet and have a talk."
"I don't want to talk to you. I don't know how you did this, but it's your fault--"
"Would you shut up!" Draco groaned in exasperation. Harry noticed for the first time how truly messy his hair was, especially when it had obviously not been touched with a brush.
"Do you mind if I ask why you didn't even bother getting dressed? At least I'm not parading your body around the school in your night clothes!"
Taking a deep breath, Draco pushed his glasses farther up on his nose. "Look, Potter. I don't like this any more than you do. Believe me. But I just can't go to Snape. You can't go to Dumbledore. I'll explain, but not here."
"What can't you say it here? It's not like there's anyone to hear us." He crossed his arms over his chest.
"Fine. Like I said, I've already been dragged up to Dumbledore's office by McGonagall. Lupin was there. They were concerned about your Occlumency lessons--"
"Shh!" Harry hissed, looking around to make sure no one could over hear him. What was Draco trying to do?
"I thought you wanted to talk here," Draco smirked.
"Fine, I'll get a note! But don't give the scar excuse. Pomfrey'll just put you in a bed and call Professor Dumbledore. Say I..." Harry thought for a moment. Well, he was in a depressed enough mood to just not have gotten out of bed. But people had already seen him up. But not dressed. "Look, just go back up to the common room. There won't be anyone there right now."
"Why should I say you were out of class?"
"They already think I'm going nutters. If they ask, just say I didn't feel like it."
Draco smirked even more. "The Boy Wonder--"
Shaking his head, annoyed, Harry snapped, "Will you just go?"
"What's the pass word?"
"Retrouver."
"Real original," Draco said, rolling his eyes.
"I'll be up soon."
"All right. Just don't let anyone see me going in the Gryffindor common room. That wouldn't be good for my image, if you know what I mean."
"Like you give a damn about what you're doing to my image."
"Hey, you admit they already think you're going nutters. I'm just keeping in character."
Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was weird enough that he was taking cheek in his current mood, but the fact that he was taking it from himself was nearly the last straw. "Whatever, Malfoy."
"And stop calling me that. I'm Harry Potter remember?"
Shaking his head, Harry opened the class door to meet several questioning stares. For anyone to be late to Snape's class was odd. However, when they saw that it was just Draco Malfoy, everyone went back to what they were doing. Walking to the front of the room, he risked a glance at Hermione. The concern in her eyes as she looked back behind him at the door for signs of Harry was nearly heart-breaking. Well, Harry's body... He shook his head. This was too confusing.
"Umm, sir?"
Looking up from his papers, Snape raised an eyebrow at him and said quietly, "What is it, Draco?"
"I, umm, I..." His nervousness showing through easily, Harry really didn't believe getting Snape to agree to anything could be as simple as asking. "I was wondering if I could miss classes today. I don't feel well."
Snape's eyes darkened. "Did you eat anything this morning?"
"No, sir."
His voice quiet, kept between the two of them, he said, "Go get something to eat and lie down. I expect to see you at lunch. You've been skipping meals too much and I won't make you any more excuses for missing class over something as foolish as self-induced malnourishment. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
Walking back up towards the door, Harry almost couldn't believe it had been that easy. Just as he stretched his hand out for the door knob, Snape's voice carried up the steps, "I do still expect to see you in my office at seven."
"Yes, sir," he answered, opening the door and stepping out into the safety of the hall. He was free. And by seven, they would be switched back and whatever that had meant he wouldn't even have to concern himself with. Sighing, feeling a little more at ease, Harry strode up the steps, anxious to get this show with Draco over so they could go to Dumbledore and get changed back.
Back up in the dorm, alone, and able to see properly, Draco took the opportunity to look through the items scattered around the room. There were several potted plants on the window sill on one side of the room. There were Muggle pictures on the wall above one bed, and Quidditch posters about another. Potter's bed was free of any sign of person contact with the acceptation of a tipped over glass of water and a soggy box of tissues.
As boring as a dust rag, he thought. Wonder what's in his trunk. Well, it is my trunk, Draco reasoned, walking over and opening the lid. It wasn't even locked. How cute. Trusting Gryffindors.
Pawing through the clothes, Draco found little more than over-sized Muggle rags. There were several spell books, a mirror wrapped carefully in packing paper (oddly vain for the messy-haired boy), several DADA texts that weren't required for the year, and a small stack of letters from various Weasley's, Granger, Lupin, Hagrid, and someone called Snuffles.
Rummaging to the other side of the trunk, he found a couple pairs of holey socks (one with a Sneakoscope shoved in it--which was spinning and humming wildly) and several Quidditch magazines. Nothing dirty though, he mused. Odd for a boy of his age not to have a few editions of Bewitched tucked under his spare underwear. "Truly the Golden Boy of Gryffindor," he muttered.
He moved his search to the dressers that lined the wall. Beginning in the first, he opened the top drawer of each one, looking for anything of interest. He didn't bother with the other drawers--anything worth borrowing, or taking all together, would have been right in the top.
Other than an old copy of Love Potions, a magazine Draco himself had a few copies of tucked under the corner of his mattress, there was nothing to be seen. Too bad I have that one, too, he mused, shoving the book back in the drawer, the half-dressed witch on the front winking at him as he piled socks back on top of her. He'd bet anything this wasn't Harry's dresser.
Just as he closed the drawer and stood back up, Draco heard footsteps climbing the stairs. Preparing to be the "nutters" Harry Potter, he picked up the first book he found--a thick Occlumency volume lying on the floor --and settled himself on the bed.
When Harry opened the door, Draco let out a girlish squeal, "Oh! There's a Slytherin in my bed room! Help me! Help me!"
"Shut up!" Harry snapped, snatching the book away from him and putting it in the top drawer of the dresser to the right of the one with the magazine.
I'm always right, he mused. Always in the top drawer. Draco sat up. "Everything all right?"
"Yeah." Harry sat on the bed beside his and let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for a while. "What did you hear in Dumbledore's office?"
"Nothing too much. Just that you were taking Occlumency lessons with Snape. That would be odd in itself, except for the fact that you're covering them up as Potions tutoring sessions." He raised an eyebrow at the boy, then continued talking, "I mentioned dropping it and Lupin and Dumbledore threw a fit. They asked me something about seeing visions, or something, but I got out of it. That's about it, except for the fact that now I seem to know something I shouldn't and I'm not going to Snape and telling him that, since that something has to do with him."
"What could you have learned about Snape that would make you so afraid of him? He seems to like you a lot."
"You don't know?"
Harry was quiet for a minute.
It was weird watching his own brow crease in a way that he wouldn't normally make it. That sort of thing gave you wrinkles. Draco crinkled up his nose. "Would you stop that? I have sensitive skin."
"Stop what?"
"Wrinkling up my face. You can do it with yours all you like, but don't give me wrinkles."
"Oh, God, this is so screwed up," he moaned, falling back on the bed. After a second he said, "I know a few things about Snape."
When nearly a minute went by in silence, neither one of them wanting to say too much, Draco sighed. "Look, you have things you don't want me to know, and I have things I don't want you to know. Let's just agree not to tell anyone. It will take me maybe two days to put together the antidote, and then we can get things back to normal."
Harry sat up. "No way. There are way too many things you could over hear--"
"Potter, it's not like I work for the Dark Lord!"
"For all you say," he retorted.
"Check my arm. You won't find anything."
His face turning slightly green around the edges, Harry shook his head. There was obviously something very disturbing to him about being in a body marked with Mordesmor. Turning the sleeve up, he muttered, "I would have noticed if it were there." Even so, he still seemed to feel the need to check.
"See? Nothing. If anything, I should be offended at being stuck in this body with the Dark Lord's mark right on my forehead!"
"That's not his mark!" Harry snapped, his gray eyes flashing dangerously.
"Look, we're both in awkward positions. So just agree to keep things quiet and we'll only be like this for a couple days. If not, we'll both have to go through a huge hassle about what we saw or heard. I don't plan on mentioning your lessons with Severus if you don't...Well, mention anything bad you find out about me."
"Like the fact that you have sex with Pansy Parkinson on a regular basis?" he sneered with disgust.
Scowling, Draco said, "Pansy and I haven't been together for over a year." His eyes widening, Draco jumped to his feet. "You better not have had sex with that cow with my body!" he yelled.
"Well, no," Harry said slowly. "She did kiss me. A couple times."
"And you liked it."
"Hardly! Have you ever been licked by a Slyther--Never mind," he mumbled.
After studying him for a moment, Draco burst out laughing. He knew perfectly well how Pansy could be. He'd probably made the mistake of trying to be nice to her, or telling her to go away. The only way to get away from that girl was by not responding at all. She was like a viper. If you so much as twitched, she'd strike.
"It's not funny! I get molested by Pansy Parkison and you're laughing at me!"
"You probably were asking for it. Bet you did like it." Smirking, he said, "Or maybe you didn't. Maybe you would have preferred if someone else with a little more muscle molested you. Maybe someone with a little less chest--"
"I am not gay, Malfoy!" Harry snapped defensively, standing and pacing to the other side of the room.
That sent Draco into more gales of laughter. For all the problems the situation could be, it was turning out to be the best distraction he'd had since the end of the previous year. "I don't have anything against your kind, Potter," he said once he'd stopped laughing, "just leave my body out of it."
"Hahaha," he said flatly. "Now can we talk about the formalities of how we're going to get through the two days you need to make that potion?"
"Simple. You don't do anything too stupid and I'll play down how smart I am."
"I mean, you have something to do with Snape tonight at seven?"
All the humor left the boy's thin face. "My detention." He stood up and started pacing, too. "You can't help him with those potions! You'd end up killing both of you."
"Yeah, genius. And I have Occlumency tomorrow. You can't very well go, unless you're proficient in it. If not, he'll get into your mind and know you're not me!" He thought for a moment. "And if you were profficent in it, that would probably make him more suspicious."
"We have to get out of it. OK, 'you' can have a scar-fit right before your lesson--"
"How many times do I have to tell you? I don't have fits! If I did they would just drag you up to Dumbledore and expect you to start spouting out stuff about how you knew Voldemort's--" He stopped, seeming to realize he was about to say something he shouldn't. "The scar thing won't work."
"Fine. I'll just...refuse to go."
"No you can't."
"Sure I can. Why not?"
"You have to go. If not, Remus and everyone else will get on my case!"
"Well, when you pop back into your body you can have a sudden change of heart. But, until then, I'm not going."
Harry glared at him for a moment, then nodded. "All right. And what am I suppose to do about tonight?"
For the first time in the conversation Draco was stumped. "Say you're still sick."
Harry shook his head. "He told me that wasn't a good enough excuse."
"Well, go, just keep him away from the potions."
"Yeah," he sneered sarcastically. (Do I really look like that when I'm being nasty? Draco wondered.) "I'll just dive at his ankles every time he tries to get near the work bench. Nothing suspicious in that!"
Draco bit his lip, thinking hard about the situation. He did know one way to keep Severus's mind off the potions and out of danger, but that would be a huge personal sacrifice. And it would mean letting Harry ham up the "Daddy in prison" routine. Kill Severus, or look childish? Sighing, Draco said, "There is one thing you could do that would save you from killing yourselves. But this is under the same understanding that everything that happens between now and the time we take the antidote is forgotten as soon as we're back to normal. Right?"
Harry nodded.
Nodding, Draco sighed again. "OK. Tell him you want to talk about my father."
"What about him?"
"Say you're upset about Father being locked up and you just need someone to talk to. Give him a line about thinking of him as a second father, or whatever you want. Just keep him talking. He'd leave his work til later if he really thought I needed to talk to him," he finished softly.
After a few minutes of silence, Harry said, "You sure it'll work?"
"Yeah. But if you make me start crying, I swear I will kill you."
"Fine. Miss Daddy, no tears. Got it."
"Don't call him Daddy." Draco thought for a moment. "And try not to sound like you miss him too much. Father and I don't get along very well all the time."
"So why should he believe that you want to talk about missing him, if you don't?"
"Look, you're good at playing up the sympathy. Just do that."
Harry's pale cheeks tinged pink. "I do not--"
"Oh, and call him Severus. If you call him Professor or anything like that when you're alone he'll know something's not right. You know, you should really leave. You'll get the crap kicked out of you if any Gryffindors come back."
He lingered for a moment, obviously wanting to say something more. "What's the Slytherin pass word?"
"Cambius Morteous."
"I don't think I know that one."
"You wouldn't. It's the name of a death potion."
Harry just nodded and walked out of the room.
Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was going to walk in there, and go over to the Slytherin table, sit down, and eat something. If he was going to drag Snape away from his work on purpose (and with a plan that he really didn't think would work) he wanted the man to be as happy with him as possible before hand. And that meant eating. So, he was going to walk in there and go over to the Slytherin table...
Suddenly shoved from behind, Harry turned and glared behind him. "Watch where you're going," he sneered. When he saw it was Ron who'd run into him, his scowl deepened.
"You were the one standing the middle of the doorway, ferret," Ron replied, walking around him and making his way over to the table. He sat between Dean and Neville.
Anger swelled inside him. With a smirk, he remembered that he could be mean. He was Draco Malfoy, after all. The world bowed at his feet. Straightening his shoulders, Harry strode into the room with all the confidence he could muster. Spotting Crabbe and Goyle, he figured that was the most likely spot he would be sitting in. As he walked up the table, Pansy's voice floated to his ears.
"Draco, come sit with me. It's been forever since we've eaten lunch together."
And the flaw shows itself, he thought. With a sigh, he sat on the bench beside her. "Thanks."
"I didn't think you'd want to sit with them. All they talk about anymore is Millie and, as much as I love her, that's a pretty boring subject."
"You said it." The bowl in front of him suddenly filled with a thick stew. He picked up his spoon and started poking at the potatoes.
"What do you have to see Professor Snape about tonight?"
"Just a detention. I got in a fight with Potter the other night and Snape caught us."
"That's too bad."
"Not really. I mean, he never makes my detentions bad, or anything." Because I'm a spoiled git, he added to himself. It took all his will power not to say it out loud.
Smiling, Pansy said, "Yeah, but if you're in detention you can't be with me."
"About that, I rethought what you said and I think it would be better if we weren't so...close. I mean, you're right. I am in a bad mood. I don't want to do anything we'll both regret out of groundless emotion."
Pansy laughed. The sound was like softly tinkling wind chimes on a distant breeze. "Draco, when I said that earlier--" She broke off, looking into his eyes.
Harry fidgeted with his spoon, moving it from one side of his bowl to the other. He thought this would be easier. If Draco didn't want to do anything with her he wouldn't hesitate. He'd just say it. He wouldn't have even sat beside her. I'm a terrible Draco. The realization wasn't the worst he'd had in the passed months.
"We'll have to go for a walk later. We can talk."
"Maybe we can talk in a couple days. Give us both some time to just step back and breath a little bit."
Her good mood fading, she turned to him with narrowed eyes. "You know, you are the strangest boy I have ever met. I never know where I stand with you. It's really annoying." She leaned closer to him and whispered, "But it's also sort of exciting."
A shiver ran down Harry's spine as her lips brushed his earlobe. He pulled away from her. "See, Pansy, that's sort of the point. You aren't suppose to find it exciting. You're suppose to be unattracted to me because of it."
"How could anyone not love you?"
Letting a deep breath out slowly, Harry decided to go as Malfoy as he could. "Look, I'm not interested in you that way. You're fine to talk to every now and then, but that's all I want from you."
"You didn't seem too upset this morning."
"You were too busy playing dementor and sucking my soul out through my mouth to notice if I was upset or not!" he retorted truthfully.
Standing up, she curled her lip at him. "Fine. Have a nice life, Draco." Pansy walked away, her robes swishing behind her.
Thank goodness, he thought, going back to his stew. If Draco didn't want her mad at him, he could patch it up. That would at least keep her off him for the next couple days. She was pretty, but that just wasn't what he cared about. After about two tasteless bit of his stew, Harry stood up and left. He couldn't force down any more and if he tried to he really would end up sick.
On his way out the door, he passed Draco, now fully dressed, on his way in.
All the things that he should have told him ran through his mind. Like the fact that he wasn't speaking to Ron. What if he went over all chummy? That would be a dead give-away that something was wrong. And Draco had mentioned seeing Remus earlier. How did he act towards him?
Two days of this? Between worrying about what he had to do and what Draco had to do, it was going to drive him nuts.
Happy Gryffindor Potter, Draco mused, strolling up to the table and stopping beside Hermione. He'd planned on skipping the entire day and just sleeping off the aggravation he was feeling, but there was a flaw in his plan: he couldn't sleep. Harry's bed was so uncomfortable and the blankets were cotton--Who in their right mind would keep cotton sheets on their bed? They were hot and they tangled.
In his restlessness, he'd gotten dressed. That too, however, came with an annoyance. Cotton underwear. Not only were they cotton, but they were briefs as well. After sitting in the room by himself for a few minutes, all he could think about was the fact that his underwear felt two sizes too small and kept rubbing on the inside of his thigh in a very annoying way. The idea of discarding them all together did come up, until he started thinking about how that would be even more uncomfortable.
In an attempt to get his mind off Harry's uncomfortable underwear, he'd considered going to the library to get the potion instructions for the Switching Solution antidote. Just one problem: he was suppose to be acting like a reclusive, angry Harry Potter. On his best days, Harry wasn't known to go to the library. Finally, his uncomfortable, cotton underwear and restriction from the library had led him to the Great Hall. He may be reclusive, but he was starting to get hungry. He wasn't sure if it was his own hunger, or if Potter had been neglecting food as severely as he himself was, but his stomach wouldn't stop rumbling.
"Hi, Hermione," he said, sitting beside her.
"Harry! There you are! I was so worried about you when you didn't come to class. I figured Professor Dumbledore excused you, though."
"Yeah," Draco replied, ladling stew into the bowl in front of him. "I'm off classes for the morning."
"Will you be in afternoon classes?"
"I doubt it." Draco shifted his weight, trying to get somewhere close to comfortable. Harry's pants were tighter around his middle than he liked, too. Someone has to take him out clothes shopping, he thought, tasting the stew. It was perfect.
Hermione was studying him for a few minutes. "Were you OK this morning?"
"Yeah, fine. I just didn't feel like talking."
"That's good. I didn't get to finish what I wanted to say to you this morning."
Uh-oh. "It can't wait?"
"I know you don't seem mad right now, but I really want to say this, so please just be quiet and listen. I didn't mean to make it sound like I was blaming you for Sirius dying. I wasn't. I would never think it was your fault. I was just trying to get across the importance of everything, you know?"
Nodding, he said, "I understand completely." The only thing to remember about girls, he mused, was to agree with them. As long as you only had to deal with them short-term, it was the easiest way to get out of any situation.
Hermione smiled and seemed to relax. "So, are you going down to see Snape tomorrow?"
"No."
"But I thought you had Occlumency."
"I do, but I'm not going," he stated matter of factly.
"What!? Harry, you just said you understood how import--Never mind!" she snapped. She stood up quickly, knocking her cup over. She started to clean it up with a napkin, but just dropped it and threw her hands up in the air as if to say, "Why bother?"
Not having expected that sort of reaction, Draco glared at her. "You don't need to start throwing things around just because I don't feel like dealing with Snape."
"That's not it and you know it! I swear you're doing this on purpose!" she declared, swinging her bag up on her shoulder and storming out of the Hall.
"Mood swings much?" Draco muttered. He went back to eating his stew. Sure, Harry probably would have gone after her and tried to talk to her, but he was hungry. It was only one in the afternoon and he was already sick of playing Gryffindor-kiss-up to Granger.
At least Weasley's leaving me alone. Hmm, I wonder if him and Potter may not be on the best of terms. He seemed to be in a right mood the other day. Looking down the table, he watched Ron eating in silence, the group of boys around him laughing and chatting loudly.
Weasley looked up, caught his eye, and glared.
Freak, Draco thought, glaring back until the other boy looked away.
One of the things Harry Potter always hated was how busy his life was with pleasing other people. It was odd to feel freed from that. He didn't have to go to Occlumency. He didn't have to go see Dumbledore. There was no worry that he'd get a letter over the next couple days saying he needed to go Grimwauld over holiday. No one seemed to need him for anything.
Harry was lying on Draco's bed, looking at the pattern in the stone ceiling. He'd spent the passed few months just lying in bed. Over the summer he could have counted the number of times he actually got properly dressed on one hand. Now that there was a space in the frenzy of his life, all he could think to do was lie down.
He smiled to himself at the irony of it. He was free from being the Boy Who Lived and what was he doing? Enjoying the ambiguity he'd always wanted? Nope. He was in bed, lying down, staring at the ceiling. Just what he'd be doing if he were still Harry potter.
"This is getting old," he mused. Classes would be out in a half hour, so it wouldn't matter if he were up and around. Swinging his legs off the bed without thinking, he let out an annoyed growl when he kicked the bedside table once more.
It was only a few minutes before he was out of the common room and walking up the hall. He wasn't sure where he was going, but it felt nice not to be stared at as he went. He opened the side door, stepping out into the sunshine. The Pitch, he thought. That's the perfect place to go.
As he headed down the sloping grounds, Harry was increasingly aware of the fact that there were people staring at him. There was a small group of seventh year Ravenclaw girls sitting on a bench along the walk who looked over when he passed.
A little annoyed, he glanced over his shoulder at them. Most of them had already turned back to their conversation, but one was still watching him. When their eyes locked, she smiled shyly, a light blush spreading across her cheeks.
Not sure what to do, Harry just kept walking. He was use to being stared at, but not like that. She likes him, he mused. It was an odd thought that anyone could like Draco Malfoy, but here it was, right in front of him. It wasn't as if Draco was unattractive, but his personality was terrible! He was like a rabid animal with poisonous fangs.
Safely away from ogling girls, Harry climbed the stairs to the top seats in the stadium. He dropped onto one of the benches with a sigh. It was nice being away from everything that had been bothering him. By himself, away from any existence that might bother him, he just enjoyed the warm breeze that ruffled his hair. There was a hint of fall in the air, but, leaning back, his hands braced on the bench behind him, looking up into the sky, time seemed to stop for him. Harry smiled a little. The sky was so huge... A sudden twinge of loneliness brought him back to the real world. Looking down, he sighed heavily. Sirius would never have been just sitting around on a day like this. He'd have something fun and adventurous to do.
Shoving the thoughts away, Harry shook his head. This was not something he needed to be thinking about right now. What he should have been thinking about was exactly how he was going to approach his detention with Snape. In just a few hours it would be his job to keep from having to touch a cauldron.
Tell him you want to talk about my father. Say you're upset about Father being locked up and you just need someone to talk to. Give him a line about thinking of him as a second father, or whatever you want.
Snape? A second father? Harry sighed. He was such a terrible liar.
With the looming evening, Harry couldn't help but wonder if this was what Snape felt like when he knew he had to go in for a Death Eater meeting. Did he get flustered about having to lie to the powerful sorcerer? Of course not, he thought. Snape was never flustered. Or nervous. He always knew exactly what to do, even if he was wrong.
Like the previous year when he'd gone to check on Sirius. (Harry went through many hours trying to blame Snape for everything, but it just didn't work after Dumbledore's argument.) And then the year before that, when, unflinchingly, he'd agreed to go back to spying. And the year before that, when he'd "saved" Harry and his friends from Sirius and Remus. (Granted they had never been in real danger, but he'd risked a lot, personally, to crawl down that passage that undoubtedly reminded him of his own near-death experience.)
As Harry wound his way around the events of the previous years, he found it easier to push his mind into a place that could more easily accept the idea of Snape as a father figure. It was a hazy place, but he'd gotten there.
Feeling more fit to take on the challenge at hand, he stood up and walked down the stairs. Loneliness gave way to confusion as he pondered how he'd approach the situation. What would he do when he was actually faced with the slimy Potions Master? It was easy to think of him as not being all bad in the light of the afternoon, but when the evening came and he was locked down in the dark dungeons with the man...that was something else all together.
Humming to himself, Draco pawed through Harry's school bag. There was a Charms text, a few loose papers, a Transfiguration paper with someone's loopy hand writing all over it--it certainly wasn't Harry's.
The whole second paragraph was circled and the loopy hand writing stood out clearly, "Not a convincing argument. Try looking up Moltinborough."
Scanning the paragraph Draco had to sneer. Potter was terrible! Everyone knew Jack Ingus was the second founder of the live organism transfer. Moltinborough was the first. Ingus just got the credit because his paper work only had to travel across the country whereas the other man's had to fly from the North Pole, where Moltinborough had been staying to complete some research that involved hupdy dinks.
Digging a little deeper, he found the other boy's summer reports for Charms. Eighty-percent. That's it? Sad, he mused, stuffing the paper aside. It was the last thing of interest; there were only quills and a half -empty ink bottle at the bottom of the bag.
Just as Draco was putting the books back, the dorm door opened and Weasley walked in.
"Thought I'd find you here."
"I thought you were mad at me," was Draco's reply.
Narrowing his eyes, Weasley said, "I'm not forgiving you for what you said to my mum. Hermione just asked me to talk to you and tell you what a git you're being about Snape. Well," he amended after thinking for a second, "she didn't say git. That was my throw-in."
Potter insulted Weasley's mother? That's low. Glaring back, he said, "What? Just because I don't want to go to Occlumency she's whining to you? Why should I care what you think?"
Weasley shrugged. "Yeah, that's sort of what I said to her, but she thought I could help. I tried. It didn't work. Have a nice life." With that, he turned to walk out of the room.
"I will. And about what I said to your mother," Draco added, "I meant it."
Eyes that had lit a bit at the beginning of what seemed to be an apology darkened. "Bugger off," he snapped, stomping out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Draco smirked. Wonder what Potter said. Probably nothing too big.
Looking at the piles of crumpled papers, Draco's lip curled. He is so messy. He needs a folder or two. I couldn't get by if I were this disorganized. Straightening the pages as best he could, he put everything away. Hopefully he'll be at dinner, Draco thought, tossing the bag by his bed and standing up. I need to get his schedule if I'm going to go to class tomorrow.
"I really shouldn't. I should take the day to work on the--" His hand, raising towards the door knob, stopped. The potion. All his books were in his room, as were his potions ingredients and his cauldron. And where, exactly, was he going to make it? Usually when he did personal potions it was with Snape's permission in the dungeon.
Groaning and kicking the door as hard as he could, Draco turned around and leaned against the wall. Was life ever easy? Well, whining won't help. He needed to go to the library and check Harry's potion kit. He couldn't get to his things, so he'd use--
"Harry! I can't open the door!"
Standing up, he turned the knob. Longbottom, his arms full of books, hobbled in, dumping his things right on Harry's bed. "Thanks. I thought I was going to drop everything. I nearly fell back down the stairs."
"You don't say," he mused, hiding a sneer.
After moving the messy stacks to the bed under the window with all the plants, he looked over. "Why weren't you in class today?"
"Didn't feel like going."
"Oh. McGonagall wasn't happy."
And I'm supposed to care?
At his silence, the boy went back to sorting out his papers. "I lost my Charms work. Professor Flitwick said I could turn it in tomorrow, but no later. You haven't seen it anywhere, have you?"
"No." Draco started to leave the room, but stopped when Longbottom called his name.
"Just to let you know, Hermione's in the common room and she seems pretty mad again. Just letting you know so you don't get blind sided when you go down."
Her again? What does she do? Camp out down there, waiting to jump on him every time he leaves his room? Psychotic Gryffindors! "What is she? My mother?" he sneered.
"She's worried about you--"
Tired of hearing that people were worried about their perfect little savior, Draco lost his temper. "I'm about sick of people worrying about me," he snapped. "Did any of you ever think that I don't need to be worried over?" Geez, no wonder Potter's been in a whiny mood lately! These people are ridiculous!
Taken aback, the boy just turned back to his mess of papers, sifting through the heaping pile.
Walking through the door and down the stairs, Draco shook his head. If these people didn't stop bothering him, he might just do something very un-Potter before the end of the two days. Hmm, he mused, remembering Weasley's words. Seems he's been acting very un-Potter anyway. Seems I'm not the only one who gets annoyed by this. And he gets it every day of his life...No wonder he gets so mad when I tease him about being famous. He probably hates it.
As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs, Hermione was marching towards him, her eyes set. "Harry, I need to--"
"Not now. I have work to do," he cut her off, not stopping on his way to the door.
"Harry!"
Her exasperated cry drew the stares of most of the people in the common room. Draco whirled around, facing her with a savage glint in his eye. His next statement drew the stares of the rest of them. "Leave me alone, Granger. I just want to spend one fucking day without you following me around. Is that too much to ask?"
"I'm--"
"Just worried," he mocked nastily. "I know. You used that line already. Try something new."
Hermione stood in front of him, trying to form some coherent reply, but failing miserably.
When he'd glared at her as darkly as he could for a few tense, dead-silent seconds, Draco said, "I don't need you or anyone else worrying about me. Mind your own life and let me mind mine." Without waiting for the noise in the common room to resume, he walked out into the hall, making a point to remember to step over the lip in the wall.
Draco walked down the hall with every intention of going straight to the library to get the potions book he needed. If he had to wait for Potter to get the right book, they'd be stuck like this for the rest of the year. And he wasn't sure how Harry was doing, but he was about sick of it. Life as Harry Potter sucked.
Any thoughts of going to the library, however, were gone the moment he turned the corner and came face to face with McGonagall. She was scowling down at him, her arms crossed over her chest. "Is there a reason you weren't in class today?"
Though they'd agreed he'd say he just didn't feel like going, that didn't seem like the answer that would get the old bat out of his way the fastest. Instead, he said, "I was still feeling a little out of it so when I went back up to bed I just lied down."
Studying him, she thought for a moment. Finally, in a kinder voice, she said, "I won't accept any excuses tomorrow. And I want that paper by dinner or it won't be graded."
"Paper?"
"The organic transfer essay I assigned the day before yesterday. That was due today."
"Oh, yeah. Forgot. I'll have that to you as soon as I get back from the library. Just popping up to check on something for Charms."
"Get to it then, Potter." With that, McGonagall walked away, her step quick and stern.
Does she ever relax? Draco wondered.
Despite the fact that she seemed up tight about everything, Draco couldn't help but notice that she was the only one who wasn't treating him--or rather, Harry--as if he were about to break. She was reasonable about the whole affair. She was acting normal, like herself. And yet, she'd shown definite concern for him earlier when she brought him to Dumbledore. McGonagall was probably the only person who hadn't gotten on Potter's nerves. She was about the only person who hadn't gotten on Draco's.
The library was nearly empty with the acceptation of several fifth years and a couple seventh years, who were obviously already being put to it by their professors.
Going to the potions section, which he knew very well, Draco scanned the old books, running his finger along their spines. He suddenly made a disgusted face when he saw his finger nails. No, Potter's finger nails. He would never bite his finger nails. That was so gross!
Hendler's Essential Antidotes, he thought. It was one of his favorite books and had, actually, been a gift from Severus when he'd gotten his letter from Hogwarts.
"To put you on decent paths," Severus had said, his dark eyes emotionless as always.
More than happy to have a gift from the man, Draco had just flipped through the pages, looking at the fully illustrated lists and the results pages. The antidotes in the book were mostly for common mistakes made in household potions. Such as if one had put bat twig in a cleaner instead of bahweg, which was a mistake often made by people making potions from others' verbal instructions. The result would be a brew that periodically spouted small, flying bats at odd intervals. A little sprinkle of ground pixie wings and the potion would sort itself into a harmless solution resembling water.
These antidotes, however, were not the ones Draco had focused on. It was the ones in the Common Accidents in the Home Lab section towards the back that had all the interesting ones. A reversal for several shrinking potions, an all-purpose ghost repellant for those times when one accidentally summoned dead relatives (an every-day occurrence, claimed the book), and a fool-proof Switching Solution Antidote, complete with suggested tasters to add so the flavor wasn't so offensive.
Hendler's Ess-- "Ah! Here we are," Draco said triumphantly when he found the book. He pulled it off the shelf and brought it to the front desk. "I'd like to check this out."
Pince glared down at him as if he were the most unwelcome person in her library.
What did he do to get on her bad side? Every time Draco went in there she was as pleasant as any librarian could be expected to be, even venturing a smile when he brought his selection up to check out.
"Check out numbers?" she asked stiffly.
"Oh, umm, I forgot them."
"Potter, right?" she snapped.
"Yes, ma'am."
Snatching the book out of his hand, she flipped through a small file catalogue until she found what she was looking for. Scribbling something on the card, she shoved the book back at him roughly. "One week and it has to be back." Without further conversation, she turned and started dusting a pile of books that obviously didn't need to be dusted.
Draco sighed. Some people are just impossible to like and Potter was just one of them, he mused, making his way back down the winding stairs to the Gryffindor common room. He needed to check Harry's potion kit and then get that paper to McGonagall. Ignoring the silent stares he was getting as he walked through the room and up the stairs, Draco opened the dorm door and strode in, setting the book on his bed. He knelt beside Harry's trunk, lifting it.
Before he got far in his search, he heard someone clear their throat loudly from the other side of the room. Looking up, Draco was only mildly surprised to see Longbottom, whom he'd missed upon entering.
"After you left I was thinking and I don't think it was fair of you to yell at me. Ron's told me how you've been to everyone and--"
"Shut up," he said, more annoyed at being distracted when he was trying to look for some thing than actually angry.
"No! You're the one who told me I should stand up for myself, so I am! It was really mean of you, yelling at me when I was just trying to help!"
Deciding that arguing wouldn't deter the boy, Draco put his hands up and said, "Gee, you know, you're right. I've seen the error of my ways. Golden light, angelic music. All that. Now leave me alone. Please."
Longbottom's face was still slightly red, but he seemed to think he'd said all he needed to because he went back to looking for his paper.
He still hasn't found it? Draco mused. Poor idiot. A smile lit his face when his hands fell on the black carrying case that Harry kept his potions kit in. It was a nice case made of dragon hide with silver clasps. It actually looked quite a bit like his own, except his was personalized, his name on the side in silver letters. So he's got taste in one aspect of his life, Draco thought. He probably didn't even buy it himself. Bet it was a gift.
Popping the top open, he surveyed the kit's contents. There were several empty jars and a few empty places where cutting and mixing tools should have been. Someone's not been keeping up with their school supplies. I think he's got everything I need though...No. No beetle eyes. I'll need to get some of those. And he's missing snipe grass roots. That's essential! How does he think he's going to get through the year in Potions without snipe grass roots?
"Hey, Neville," he called, flipping the book open to the antidote.
Papers stopped moving. "Umm, yeah?" he asked nervously.
"Do you have any beetle eyes or anything? I'm all out."
"No, but I think there's some in the students' store cupboard."
"That's closed until tomorrow. I need it tonight."
"Hermione's in Potions. Or you could ask one of the fifth years. They'd have some, I'm sure." He thought for a few second then said, "Ginny might. I don't know if you're talking to her or not."
Standing up, Draco thought, I hope he is, or we'll be like this for three days instead of two and that will go over into pre-season Quidditch practice. "Thanks anyway, Neville. And I really meant that earlier. I am sorry."
"It's OK. I know you and Sirius were close. I remember what it was like when my parents were..." Longbottom trailed off and looked out the window. "Well, I know how it feels. I mean, they aren't dead, but if they weren't sick I wouldn't have to stay with my gran. And that's sort of the same situation you're in."
Draco wasn't sure what to say. He knew about the Longbottom's, of course, but it was odd to hear the boy talk about it. In Slytherin, no one really talked to each other, so the open display of trust was new also.
"But you'll get to stay with Professor Lupin now, right?"
"I'm not sure," was all he said. "I haven't heard anything for sure about it." Wanting out of the room more than he'd ever wanted anything else in his life, Draco closed the potion kit and set it, with the book, in Harry's trunk, then left. Staying any longer would have just been too weird. The emotion seemed to crackle in the air. The determination that Neville had when he mentioned his own parents...
Shaking off the odd feeling, Draco was glad when Granger was nowhere to be seen as he entered the room. Looking around, Draco spotted Ginny talking with a short, mousy boy. He walked over to her, cautious. She had spoken to him on his way to see Dumbledore, so maybe Potter hadn't gotten around to offending her yet.
"Hey, Ginny."
Looking up, she glared at him. "That was really mean, Harry."
"Yeah, I know, and I'm sorry--"
"Don't tell me. Tell Hermione."
"I'm going to," he assured her, fighting the urge to yell at her too. Who was she to scold him like a child? "I just wanted to give her time to cool off some. I was way out of line, I know, and I have no good reason. I've just been really stressed with starting NEWTs Potions and all. Then tonight I realized I never got my potions kit refilled and I need beetle eyes for class or I'm going to be in serious trouble. It's just been a lot of small things stacking up really."
After a moment more of glaring, the girl's eyes softened. "Believe me, I know what it's like to have weird things going on that your in the middle of. I know what you must being feeling like."
He smiled at her.
"I have some extra beetle eyes you could borrow, but not many."
"I could replace them. I'll send an owl first thing tomorrow."
"You don't have to."
Like your family could afford one extra eye, he thought. "No, trust me, I don't mind. I need to send for some other things as well anyway."
Ginny smiled up at him. "Thanks."
"I should be saying thanks. You're the one saving me from death by Snape." How true, Draco mused.
"Do you want to walk to dinner with me?"
"Sure. We could get the eyes after that?"
"Yeah."
As they made their way down to the Great Hall, Draco was struck with how normal Ginny seemed. Wasn't she the one who loved Potter or something? But no, no weird, obsessive rambling. They talked quietly about things like classes and Quidditch.
"Are you going try out this year? I'm sure it won't be a real tryout, but we can make a show of it."
"Me?" Draco asked, a little surprised. Oh yeah...that's right. "Well, I might. I don't know. I've been really busy and I still don't know if more stuff will come up."
She nodded darkly. "Yeah." Obviously trying to lighten the mood, she said, "You know, I don't know exactly what you said to Ron, but he'd been puffed up and defensive ever since. It was funny watching him earlier. He looked like a giant, red bullfrog."
Draco thought for a second, getting the most amusing mental picture. He started laughing.
As they approached the Gryffindor table, Draco couldn't help but wonder how much Harry was actually involved in the fight with the Dark Lord. He was taking Occlumency lessons and being dragged to the headmaster at the mention of a scar twinge. There must be more than meets the eye.
TBC