Standard disclaimers apply. I own nothing, no money being made...all that jazz. Read, enjoy, review.
Draco slumped in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest. If there was one thing that could possibly ruin his day, it was seeing himself looking so chummy with Pansy Parkinson.
"I thought he stopped going out with Pansy," Ginny said conversationally, chewing on a roll.
Turning his head slightly, a sneer on his face, Draco just looked at her with dull eyes. As least someone knows!
"What?"
He shook his head. It would serve him right if she got a hold of him before I finish the potion, he mused. With a heavy sigh, Draco pushed the peas around his plate with his fork. Just the thought of eating made him feel nauseous. He could still see his father's terrified face when he closed his eyes. I wonder what other sorts of things he's seen in these dreams.
"Hi, Harry."
Looking up as Hermoine set her bag on the table beside him, Draco couldn't help but wonder what he did to get on everyone's good sides. "Hi."
"You weren't in classes again."
"Didn't feel like going."
"I saw you outside Snape's class. What were you walking around down there during class for?"
"Got bored. Went for a walk."
"If you don't go to class--"
Glaring at her, Draco snapped, "Do I have the words, 'Lecture me,' written across me face?"
Effectively silenced, Hermoine bit her bottom lip. "No. It's just that you haven't been to class in days and McGonagall is really angry about it. She said to send you up to see her in her office after you finish eating."
Remembering the previous night, Draco's sneer sharpened. "If she wants to see me so badly she can come down here. I'm not chasing after her just so she can feel like I want to see her, because I don't."
Biting her lip once more, Hermoine opened her bag and took out her Potions text. "You missed a very important lesson today with Snape. You can copy my notes if you like."
"No thanks." Picking up his bag, Draco stood up and walked out of the room. He didn't care about Potions, Snape, or anything else at the moment. He just wanted to be alone and the more he was around people, the more he realized it. Making his way down to the dungeon, Draco slumped against the wall of the cove at the end of the hall. Listening to the antidote boiling, he checked his watch.
Half and hour, then the hinky punk hair goes in, he thought, stirring the mixture slowly. Severus always says patience is essential to properly brewing a potion. Hanging over the cauldron isn't helping, he mused. With a sigh, he stood up and peeked around the corner to make sure no one was in the hall. Seeing the coast clear, he strolled up the hall towards the steps.
"Potter."
Dropping his head back on his shoulders, Draco glared at the ceiling. More than not wanting to listen to Snape lecture him, he didn't want to look at him. Part of him knew the cool response he'd gotten about the dream was the man's reaction to Harry, but the other part of him knew that if he was truly working for Dumbledore...Would he care? If I told him Father's dead would he really care, or just pretend? Looking at the man, Draco felt a slight mix of hurt and anger that he wasn't quite sure how to deal with.
Snape smirked at him. "Seems you're the popular miscreant today. Everyone's had their eye out for you."
"If this is about last night, I don't feel like talking about it."
"This isn't about last night, as interesting a moment as discussing that could prove to be. Follow me."
After a moment of thought, Draco followed him down the hall to his office. Whatever it was he wanted, it had better not take too long. Hinky punk hair in... He glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes.
"Sit."
"I'll stand."
Narrowing his eyes at the boy, Snape moved behind his desk. "Whatever you prefer. Professor Dumbledore seems to think I offended you to the point that I should apologize."
"Accepted. Can I go?"
"I'm not finished. Like I said, he seems to feel that way. I think you're just being an arrogant twit." He shifted some papers on his desk. "Just like your father," he added cruelly.
The tone was lost on Draco, however, who merely glared up at him.
"You have one of several choices to make, Potter. Either you can continue to throw your tantrums and act like a spoiled brat, or you can work with us and do what you're suppose to."
"Which means telling you what I saw last night?"
"In part, yes. Also there are the Occlumency lessons you seem disinclined to attending. Let me make myself perfectly clear. I don't like spending an extra second with you, let alone two hours. However, your ability to fend off any sort of mental attack from the Dark Lord could mean my life."
I really shouldn't be hearing this, he thought, glancing hopefully at the door. Wasn't this the part where some random first year was suppose to burst in and save him from hearing anything else he shouldn't?
Straightening, Snape glared at him darkly. "The thought that my life rests with you is not the most settling I've ever had. It is my job to prepare you and I will not put my assignment at risk because you suddenly want to feel sorry for yourself. You aren't the only person to lose something you care about to the Dark Lord and you certainly won't be the last. What I am asking you now is this: can we depend on you, or are you going to start acting like Black?"
That last comment was a stab Draco was sure Harry wouldn't have sat through quietly. Nor was it entirely necessary; however, he was still reeling from having been pulled so deeply into a conversation he didn't need to be a part of that he couldn't answer. He just stared up at Snape.
"Potter."
"Yes, sir. I mean, no. I'll do what's right," he amended. Doesn't he always?
With another glare, Snape said in a cold voice, "Then I expect to see you after dinner. Do not be late."
"Sure thing." Agreeing with him was the fastest way to get out. He looked at his watch. Ten more minutes.
"In a hurry to get somewhere, Potter?" There was an amused glint in the man's eyes.
"Not really."
"Good. Next on our agenda is your missing my class. I meant what I said the first day. Anyone found wanting will not be permitted to stay in my class. You will not skip homework and miss periods and expect to stay. If you get yourself thrown out it will be on you to answer to Professor Dumbledore. I've already told Albus that I won't put up with your usual attitude."
"Look, I've been having a really bad week. Can't you cut me a little slack?"
"There you are trying to get special treatment again."
Five minutes. If he didn't get out, and quick, the antidote would be ruined beyond repair and he didn't have any more beetle eyes to start another one. "OK, I get it. Stop whining, kill the Dark Lord, all that. I'll go to class and be a model citizen. Now can I leave?" An uneasy feeling crept into Draco's stomach when Snape's eyes narrowed suspiciously for a second. Did I say something I shouldn't?
He thought for a second, then said, "Go. Eight o' clock. Don't be late." There was a glint in Snape's eyes that unsettled him even more.
Not answering, Draco slipped out of the room as fast as he could then ducked down the cove. There was only two minutes to get the hinky punk hair in the cauldron. Once he had it mixed in, he breathed a sigh of relief. That was close. Now just to let it simmer until tomorrow afternoon, he told himself, standing up. Tomorrow afternoon is a long way away.
With a last look at Pansy, who was eating complacently, Harry stood up.
"Are you going down to see Snape now?"
"Yeah." Walking to the door, he glanced over at Hermione, who was looking more than a little annoyed at she flipped the pages in her text huffily. I'll have to set things right with her tomorrow, he told himself.
As he wound his way towards the dungeon, Harry couldn't help but feel embarrassed. He had to face Snape again. Would there be sympathy in his eyes? Pity? He didn't want to have to see that. Especially not from Snape.
As he turned the corner, he spotted Draco coming up from the dungeons. "What did you do to get me in trouble now?" he hissed, noting the sour look on the other boy's face.
"Nothing new. Just Snape thinking you need an attitude adjustment."
Waving his hand dismissively, Harry replied, "He always thinks that. How's the antidote?"
"Right on schedule for tomorrow." Casting a quick look around to be sure they were still alone in the hall, Draco stepped closer and whispered, "Severus is getting pretty angry about the Occlumency thing. I can't go tonight, but if I don't he'll be on my case all day tomorrow."
Harry sighed. Leave it to Draco to mess up something as simple as getting out of one class! "Just don't go."
"Then he'll be all over me! We can't afford to risk it. There's a only a very small window of time during which we can take the antidote. And I don't know about you, but three days is already too much, forget six. More, because you don't keep up your potions kit," he added accusingly.
"I didn't think I'd have Potions this year--"
Snorting out a short, cynical laugh, Draco said, "Join the club."
"Shut up."
"Potter, there you are."
Harry was more than a little surprised to see not annoyance, but pure anger flash across Draco's face as McGonagall strode down the hall towards them. Is there something going on that I should know about? he wondered, looking at her stern...no, she was angry, too. At him?
What is he doing? I just got back on her good side!
"What?"
"I've been waiting to see you."
Narrowing his eyes, Draco opened his mouth, obviously to say something he probably didn't need to.
"Accidentally" stepping on his foot, Harry gave him a meaningful look, hoping he'd get the picture.
Instead of backing down, Draco shoved him on the arm and snapped, "Watch where you're stepping, Malfoy."
Professor McGonagall glared at Harry. "Shouldn't you be on your way to class?"
"I have to meet with Snape," he answered, still glaring at Draco.
"Then I suggest you go. You have fifteen minutes to get to my class and I warn you I am not in a patient mood today."
"Yes, 'am." With a finally glare, Harry walked down the stairs. He's getting me in trouble with everyone! Not that he hadn't been on several people's bad side anyway, but at least it was his own doing. I'll have to spend a whole week just figuring out all the people he's offended, never mind trying to fix it!
With a huff of annoyance that could have rivaled any Hermione could have managed, Harry walked down the stairs and stopped at Snape's door. Too frustrated to bother being nervous anymore, he pounded in fist on the door. Afterwards he thought that a quiet, polite knock probably would have been a better way to go.
The door opened quickly. "What is it? Oh, Malfoy. Come in." Away from the students and the bustle of the cafeteria, Snape looked tired and slightly more rumpled than Harry had seen him since third year. With an absent wave of his hand, he motioned Harry to the chair by the empty fireplace.
"What is it, sir?"
"I received an owl from your mother this morning. She wanted me to be the one to tell you instead of you having to find out by reading the paper. Your father escaped from Azkaban last--" The man stopped, his wearied features sharpening suddenly. Looking down his nose at Harry, his eyes narrowed and his lips drew together in the same tight expression he used when he was criticizing a student or scrutinizing a particularly poor essay.
Trying not to fidget or break eye contact with Snape, Harry searched his memory for anything that might give him a clue to the sudden silence. "Umm, sir? My father?"
The calculating look left his face, but lingered in his eyes. "Yes. As I said, your father escaped from Azkaban last night. He hasn't been found. There are no leads as to his whereabouts at the present time."
Does he know? Does he know he's dead and he just doesn't want to tell me? Trying his hardest to appear indifferent and yet concerned, Harry only managed to look confused. What should he say to that? "Oh," was all he could manage to get out.
The dark look was still in the man's eyes. Something seemed to resolve itself there as Snape studied the boy.
Harry could feel his cheeks tinge pink and he looked away.
"I suppose you should be off to class."
"Yes, sir," Harry said, a little too quickly, standing.
"There's nothing you'd like to tell me about, is there?"
Looking back, he should his head. "No, sir. I just..." Suddenly seeing a golden opportunity, Harry looked off, not meeting the man's eyes. "Just, about last night. Can we sort of pretend it never happened?" He hoped he sounded ashamed enough for the way he'd carried on. He felt ashamed enough, at any rate.
There was silence for a moment before Snape said in a terse voice, "I don't know what you're talking about. I was on patrol last night. Now get to class."
"Yes, sir." Relieved, Harry left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. That covered any possibility of Draco ever finding out about the whine session.
Making his way up the hall to Transfiguration, Harry went back to the subject of Occlumency. Draco did have a point. If he couldn't get away from Snape long enough to take the antidote they would both be in very bad positions. However, if he actually went to the lesson Snape would find out anyway. They were as good as caught either way. He couldn't be Draco for another three days.
Harry spent most of Transfiguration thinking about the dilemma with no result other than annoying an already perturbed Professor McGonagall. Guess the talk with Draco went poorly, he mused, too consumed with the more dire problem at hand to wonder too much about what she'd needed to see him for.
Slumping in his seat, Draco rolled his head back on his shoulders. The chairs outside Dumbledore's office were particularly uncomfortable. As the voices behind the door rattled on, he glanced around at the walls, finally bored enough to start counting blocks. When he got to fifty, his mind was pulled out of its stupor by curiosity about Harry's meeting with Snape.
Did he tell him about Father? he wondered. Bet he did something stupid.
Like you did? a small nasty voice that sounded very much like himself sneered.
Reflecting on his meeting with McGonagall he had to admit that it could have gone much better than it did. It started out with her asking about his assignment, to which he replied, firmly, "I didn't feel like doing it ." It only went down hill from there as she started in on him about being responsible and fulfilling commitments and doing what he should. After that came a small mention of his behavior the previous night (which was, "...unprecedented and shameful..." among other things). By that time, Draco had gotten sick of listening to her and told her so in no pleasant way. Several disbelieving gasps later, he found himself being marched to Dumbledore’s office.
"And you'd better hope he has more patience for you today because I am just about at the end of mine," McGonagall had snapped, pushing him into one of the waiting chairs and knocking briskly on the door to the headmaster's office.
Maybe losing my temper with her wasn't the smartest move, Draco mused.
Several minutes later, the door opened and Hagrid walked out. He had an unusually dark expression on his face until he noticed Draco. Smiling broadly, he said, "Hello, Harry. Haven't seen you in a while."
Standing, Draco crossed his arms over his chest. If the great oaf weren't in his way he would have gone into the office without comment, but as he took up the entire hall, Draco was forced to stand there until he moved. He hoped to pacify him with a curt, "I've been busy."
After looking him for a moment, Hagrid nodded slightly and started down the stairs.
Freak, he thought, walking into the office.
Waiting for Draco, his hands folding serenely under his chin, his blue eyes sparkling in the morning light, Dumbledore sat behind his desk with an expression of unending patience fixed on his face. "Good morning, Harry."
"'Morning, Professor," he answered tensely.
There was a few seconds of thoughtful silence. "Did you get a chance to speak with Professor Snape?"
"Yes. He apologized." Not really, but that would end the direction this conversation was going in. Draco didn't want Dumbledore to say anything about Severus. He didn't want to hear anything more than he already had.
"Did he?" he asked, sounding pleasantly surprised, his bushy eyebrow raising. "Really? I doubted he would. So all is well between the two of you?"
"As well as it ever was."
"Ah, well, small steps, I guess."
"Was that all, sir?"
"Not in the least. Professor McGonagall seems under the impression that there is something far more the matter than you're letting on, even now in your very honest statements."
Draco watched him for a minute. He doesn't know, he assured himself. He wouldn't play around if he did. Right now he's just using the friend angle to try and get me to talk to him. Racking his brain for something to say that would get him out of the office the fastest, Draco finally landed on something. The truth. Or some of it. "I've been under a bit of pressure I wasn't quite prepared to deal with. Suddenly having to take Potions when I was completely unready, general stress of starting off a new year, all that Dark Lord stuff to worry about. And then Sirius. Just haven't felt quite right, I think. Not really feeling myself lately, I guess."
"That is understandable, of course. However, open disrespect for a teacher is never something to be excused. You are setting an example for the other students to follow. I have offered to listen if you have anything on your mind."
"I haven't felt much like talking," he replied quietly. Especially not to you.
With a sympathetic smile, the old man said, "Sometimes when you don't feel like talking is the best time to do so."
Got that off a fortune cookie, Draco thought. "I'll keep that in mind."
"What exactly did you see in your dream last night?"
"Why do you care?"
Dumbledore sighed. "It seems to be a soft spot for you. I thought maybe talking about it without an audience would be helpful."
"I told you I don't want to talk about it."
"Some things hurt very deeply, Harry. There is nothing we can do to eliminate that hurt, but we can ease it with understanding and purpose. If you think of why he died, it should give you some comfort."
He died because he's an idiot who doesn't dare think for himself, Draco sneered inwardly.
"He died to protect you. Because he loved you, Harry. Seeing the memory of that death, while sad, should also be a sense of strength for you. Your father was a good man."
Feeling revulsion turn in his stomach, Draco looked at the floor. If he had to listen to any more sappy simpering about God-Potter and his Wonder Dad, he was going to throw up. "Yeah, I know, everyone loves me. Was that all you wanted to say?" he snapped, unable to keep it in any longer.
"Yes. And no. I don't just want to say it, I want you to understand it. It is true. And what you are going through, all the trouble and pain, is leading up to something that only you can do."
No pressure, he thought. This poor kid has everyone on his case. Said it before and I'll say it again, I'd die before I trade places with Potter again. His life sucks. "Like I said, I'll keep that in mind."
"Please do. Now to move on to your treatment of professors over the passed couple days. I can understand the animosity you have for Professor Snape. However--"
"That does not excuse my behavior. I know. I'm sorry. But he's not exactly being nice to me, in case no one noticed."
"And we've discussed that. As for Professor McGonagall...well, I'm really not sure what to say. You seem to have found all the buttons." Dumbledore wove his fingers together and watched Draco expectantly.
Narrowing his eyes, Draco said, "You want an apology? All right. Sorry about that. But, as I pointed out, I've been having a bad life, if no one noticed before. She keeps dropping hints that I'm not doing what I should be, like I should have killed the Dark Lord by now, or something."
"She doesn't mean to sound so harsh. It's difficult for you to understand, not having lived through Voldemort's first rise to power. We're all worried."
"And I'm not?"
"You aren't showing it very well," he said tactfully.
Looking down at the floor, Draco asked, "Can I go now?"
"Just one more matter to discuss. Occlumency." Pause. "You know it's important. I don't have to tell you that. I'm not asking you explain why you haven't been going. I'm pretty sure I know the reason."
You have no idea, old man.
"I know you can do it, Harry. I have complete faith in you. We all do. And that's why it's so hard to see you not turning up for lessons. If you just went, you'd do so well. Can I have your word that you'll go from now on?"
The biting annoyance returned. Not so much because he was having to hear this again, but because he still didn't have a clue as to how to get around his session that night. All the Occlumency talk was just reminding him of the predicament he was in. "Yes, I promise."
Dumbledore studied him for a moment before nodding slightly. "Very good. And don't let Severus get to you so much. One of you has to be the mature one."
Draco couldn't help but smirk at the thought of Severus acting immaturely. Well, the low blows about Potter's parents have been pretty bad, he mused. "Yes, sir." Standing to leave, he stopped when Dumbledore said his name. "Yes, sir?"
"Just to warn you, Professor McGonagall takes pride in her Quidditch team. More than their winning, she prides herself on moral behavior and good sportsmanship. You'll be hard pressed to find anyone who sticks to their standards more strictly than she does. One more infraction as serious as today's and I dare say she may be keeping Miss Weasley on as Seeker."
Recalling the pitiful "team" Gryffindor ended the previous year with, Draco snorted involuntarily. "She wouldn't kick h--me off the team! We'd never win another game."
"As I said, Professor McGonagall doesn't judge a good team by how often it wins. Just something to think about." He looked at the small, glass globe full of moving planets that sat on the corner of his desk. "My, I've kept you later than I should have. Off to class with you."
"Yes, sir." As Draco walked down the hall, he could hardly believe his good luck. All he had to do was get mouthy with the old bat once more and Potter would be off the Quidditch team! How many Slytherins would pay anything to have this kind of chance? However, Potter would kill him if that happened. But then Slytherin wouldn't have any competition...
Hard choice, he mused, a smirk curling on his lips. He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and walked down the steps. He figured he should at least make a show at Care of Magical Creatures. Sure, he didn't have any of his books, but Professor Hagrid probably wouldn't even notice.
When he got out to the Hagrid's hut, Draco glanced around at the other students, who stood waiting to find out what their new torment would be. The worst part about being there at the moment was the fact that he couldn't make fun of the big oaf. Not unless he really wanted to draw attention to himself. And that would not be a good thing given his present circumstances.
"All right, everybody. Gather 'round. We'll be learning about gerthies today. Who can tell me what a gerthy is? Hermione, go ahead."
Looking behind him, Draco was only mildly surprised to see that Hermione had stopped at the back of the group without bothering to talk to him. Finally got the message, did she? he thought with a twist of amusement. Not bothering to listen to Hermione as she began her explanation, Draco leaned against the nearest tree and crossed his arms over his chest. His lack of food and sleep was catching up to him very quickly, especially as he stood by himself with nothing of any interest to occupy his mind passed watching Hargid trying to get a box open, the key to which he seemed to have misplaced.
Draco's eyes slid closed slowly. The song of the wind through the trees acted as a lullaby, coaxing him to sleep.
"Mr. Malfoy?"
Looking at Professor Flitwick suddenly, his mind snapped away from thoughts of Occlumency and how dead he was about to be, Harry noticed everyone staring at him. "Yes, sir?"
"We were just reading about the Jumbling Charm and it's uses. Please continue with the next paragraph."
Feeling stupid, he said, "What page?"
Flitwick sighed and shook hi head a little. "Please pay attention, Mr. Malfoy. Thomas, please pick up on paragraph four."
"Yes, sir."
Instead of opening his book or bothering to follow along, Harry tuned out the voices in the classroom and went back to trying to figure out a solution. There had to be something...
An hour later, Harry picked up his unopened book and walked towards the door. He hoped Draco had gone to class. If so, he should be getting to the side door just about the same time Harry was passing that way to get to the dorm.
"Draco, wait for me."
"Pansy, go away," he said with exasperation. He was too frustrated and tired from thinking to muster a glare. All he could manage to do was look at her with annoyed pleading.
Making her way to him, her skirt swishing around her hips seemingly on purpose, Pansy had an unreadable expression on her pretty face. "I was just wondering if you wanted to go for a walk to the lake with me. Get out of the building. A bit of fresh air." She smiled. She smelled like floral perfume. Harry could smell it, even over the distance that separated the middle row of desks from the door.
"No. I have to study."
"You can study later."
"And I can study now." Turning from her, he walked out of the room with long strides. He didn't want to miss Draco. A hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks.
"We really need o talk. Yesterday I thought you wanted to get back together. Then you were mad at me, then you sat with me at breakfast, now you don't want to talk again. What's wrong with you?"
More things than I have time it tell you about, he thought. "Right now, the only problem I have is you. You keep following me around and talking to me, when I don't want you around. We stopped dating a long time ago. For which I'm grateful," he added harshly. Draco had made it clear he wasn't interested in Pansy, so he didn't feel too bad about being so mean. And since she obviously didn't get subtle hints... "Tell you what. You want to help me feel better? Go away. Go away and don't talk to me. You'll be helping more than I could ever say!"
Anger swelled in Pansy's eyes. Her lips tightened, her features narrowed. She was completely silent for several seconds before she snapped, "Fine. And you know, this time your little attitude isn't cute at all."
"It was never suppose to be!" Half yelling, Harry was painfully aware of the small group of first years who'd stopped to look at him. "What?" he snapped, causing them to scurry away quickly.
"I hate you," Pansy said with finality, turning on her heel and storming down the hall.
Laughing a little, Harry called truthfully, "Best news I've had in days!" He, too, turned and stalked towards the door, hoping against odds that he hadn't missed Draco.
"Harry?"
Opening his eyes slowly, Draco looked around, surprised by the sudden cold. Where was he...Oh yeah. Class. And standing before him, Neville Longbottom.
"It's time to go in. Lunch."
Trust Longbottom to know what tome lunch is, Draco thought. "Class is over?"
"Yeah. Hagrid just dismissed everyone." The fat boy shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Do you need to go up to the clinic?"
"No, I'm fine. Why do you people insist on thinking there's something wrong with me?"
"You just aren't acting like yourself. You aren't talking to Hermione or Ron. You usually at least see Dumbledore when something's wrong, but you haven't even done that. And after last year--"
Suddenly struck by a brilliantly obvious idea, Draco's tired eyes lit up. "Never thought I'd hear myself say this, but Neville, you're a genius!" Dumbledore! Of course! That blithering old fool had been trying to get him to talk. Open up about his feelings, for the passed two days. Fine. He wants to talk, after dinner we'll talk. I can think of enough filler whining to carry well passed eight o' clock. If I'm really needy and sick, he told himself, there's no way he'll turn me out! Especially if I feed him a fake "dream" or something.
"Umm, OK. So, are you going to go to lunch now?"
Draco smiled. "Sure. Sounds great."
Deciding to pay Neville back for the good idea, Draco sat beside him at the Gryffindor table. Bet it's not too often that Potter stoops to dine with the commoners. Make him feel special.
"Hi Neville. Harry."
"Hi Ginny. Want to sit with us?"
"Sure." Setting her tatty bag on the table, the red-head sat on the other side of Draco. "Tell you what, Snape is in a right mood today!"
"I'm glad I don't have him any more," Longbottom replied with a slight shutter.
"So are the rest of us," Draco said before he thought of how it would sound.
Instead of getting angry, or looking offended, Longbottom smiled sheepishly and nodded. "I'm just glad I got through the last five years without killing anything bigger than a tubeworm."
Ginny laughed and nodded her agreement. "I do pretty well, but I still don't like it. Can't wait til I'm in sixth year."
"Yeah it's the best. You get to pick all your classes so you don't have to take anything you don't want to, but you haven't hit seventh year so you don't have to worry about university entrance exams. It's probably one of the easiest years."
As the other two chatted about classes and teachers, Draco ate his lunch quickly. He was much more hungry than he thought he was. The short nap eased his fatigue just enough to make his hunger stand out.
"Hey, Harry?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you going to stay with us over holiday?"
"I don't know yet," he answered.
"I hope so. Maybe then you and Ron will make up. Don't get me wrong, I know he can be a jerk, but still, it's weird seeing him without you and Hermione."
"I think I pissed Hermione off enough that she'll be hanging out with him instead of me, if it comes down to it. So don't worry about him being alone too much." In actuality, Draco sort of preferred having Weasley and Granger mad at him. He was sure he liked spending time with Ginny much more than either of them. Not that he liked spending time with the Weasel brat, she was just better than his other options.
The conversation turned towards the previous summer and talk circled around things that didn't happen, but they wished did and things that did happen that they wished didn't. Draco could have shared several interesting pieces about his own vacation in Athens, but that probably wouldn't coincide with Potter's summer very well.
"This summer we're planning on going abroad. Gran's got a few nieces in the United States we might go and see for a week or so. I've never been out of the country before."
"We got to go to Egypt a few years ago. It was really fun." Looking at Draco, Ginny said, "What about you, Harry? Any plans with your relatives, or are you going to be with Remus all summer?"
"Probably Remus, knowing my luck. Work, work, work."
"Just be nicer to everyone, OK?"
"No problem." Draco looked around the Great Hall, hoping to see Harry. He wanted to pull him aside and ask if there was anything in particular that would get Dumbledore into a long, uninterruptible conversation. There was no sign of him. There was, however, a very angry looking Pansy whispering furiously to Millicent, who was looking scandalized as Crabbe and Goyle (both close at hand) gasped and nodded at what they were assuming to be the right times.
"Bet that's one great conversation over there," he muttered.
Following his gaze, Ginny and Longbottom both nodded a little.
"A real meeting of the minds," Ginny agreed.
"And here comes Malfoy to join the party," Longbottom said lightly. "I haven't seen him around very much. I think he's been missing as many classes as you."
"Go figure," Draco said absently, watching Harry walk passed the huddled group, receiving a few pointed glares as he did so.
Glaring back at them, Harry sat by himself at the end of the table. Instead of getting right to lunch, he looked up and scanned the Gryffindor table until he met Draco's eye.
"What's looking over here for?"
"You know what a nit he is," Ginny commented. "Just ignore him."
Draco nodded a little and took his time finishing his vegetables to give Harry some time to eat a believable lunch before standing up. "Well, I should be going. I have to send out the order for my potions kit refills."
"You still haven't done that?"
"I've been a bit busy. See you guys later." As he left, Draco kept looking over his shoulder, trying to catch Harry's eye. When he finally did, he gave him a meaningful look then walked through the door. Walking as slow as he could without looking too obvious, Draco waited for Harry to catch up. He was nearly to the corner at the end of the hall when he heard hurried footsteps behind him.
"What is it?" Harry asked when he caught up to him.
"I had an idea to get out of Occlumency and it won't even make you look bad. I'll just do the same thing you did with Snape yesterday."
"Umm, great idea, Malfoy, but I don't think Snape cares if I'm upset or want to talk about anything."
"Not him. Dumbledore. He's been on me to talk to him since yesterday morning. I'll just go in there around seven and say I need to talk to him. Give him a few sad lines about how I feel so bad about the way I've been acting, toss out a fake scar-dream, or something, and keep him talking. He won't interrupt me to send me to Occlumency if I'm finally opening up to him."
Harry thought for a moment. "That could work, but watch what you say with your whole scar thing," he cautioned. "Don't be too detailed about anything--"
"Don't worry. I'm just going to tell him about the really dream I had, only make it sound like I saw your dad die instead of mine. Easy. I already sort of let that slip, so all I have to do is act upset about it. Post traumatic stress syndrome and all that. It works on a delay. I'm just now feeling the full emotional effect of that dream."
Shaking his head, he said, "You just sound too smooth when you say things like that. You really are good at lying."
Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm a Malfoy and a Slytherin. It's what I do."
"Yeah. Just keep it believable."
"I will." Double checking that the hall was still empty, Draco said, "About tomorrow, meet me down in the hall at twelve-thirty. The potion won't be ready until one, but we'll need debriefing time. Just to catch up on what's been going on so there are no real shocks when we get back to our own lives. All right?"
"Good idea. I was actually thinking we could do memory charms on each other afterwards. You know, then neither of us will remember the things we heard that we shouldn't have."
"Good idea, except the person to get it done first won't remember that they were suppose to do it to the other. No offense, Potter, but if I just had my memory altered and you were the one standing in front of me with your wand, I wouldn't be thinking I needed to do you the same favor."
"True. So we just have to go on each other's words?"
"Sounds like it. McGonagall is coming."
"This is the second time I've found you two bickering the halls today. It's unacceptable."
"We weren't bickering," Draco said. "I was asking about Potion's work."
"You couldn't have gotten that from Miss Granger?" she inquired skeptically, narrowing her eyes at him.
"She's sort of not talking to me."
Whatever expression crossed the woman's face, it wasn't surprise. If anything, it was an understanding and kinship with Granger. "Get your work, Potter. But if you two do start in on each other it'll be house points and detention for the both of you. Am I clear?"
"Crystal," Harry chimed.
With a final glare at them, McGonagall walked away with brisk steps, her shoes clicking and tapping on the flag stone.
"You'd think she didn't trust us."
Smirking, Harry replied, "She doesn't."
Remembering Dumbledore's warning, Draco said, "Oh yeah, and Potter? Right now your Quidditch eligibility is on the line. Seems McGonagall got pretty angry at me this morning. So when we switch back you better watch your step until the season starts."
His pale face burning pink around the edges, Harry sputtered, "Wh-wat did you do?!"
"Don't yell too loud. The old bat might hear you and think we're bickering. Then I'd be in trouble and you'd be off the team." Draco grinned. "I'd be real nice to me for the next twenty-four hours if I were you."
"And you better be real nice to everyone for the next twenty-four hours or you just might regret it. Keep in mind I do still have your body," he threatened.
"All right, all right. Geez, can't take a joke."
Obviously unamused, Harry only glared at him.
Talk about boring, Draco thought, rolling his eyes. "Is there anything specific I should or shouldn't mention when I'm with Dumbledore?"
With the subject changed, Harry seemed to calm down, but he was still a little on edge as he glanced around.
"Problem?"
"Just making sure McGonagall isn't going to come back and get mad at us. As far as Dumbledore, don't mention my relatives. At all."
"OK."
"And if you have to mention Voldemort, call him Voldemort. If you say 'Dark Lord' it'll sound weird."
Thinking back on the last conversations he'd had with Snape and Dumbledore, Draco was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that he'd said the Dark Lord in both conversations. "So that V--Dark Lord thing is pretty big, huh?"
"Yeah, sort of. Snape gets mad at me every time I say his name. Guess I can understand why, but still..."
Severus's sudden change in dementor suddenly made perfect sense. That means he already suspects something. If he's suspicious anyway, how am I going to get out of Occlumency without him putting two and two together? Annoyed with having to deal with Potter's little quirks, Draco narrowed his eyes at the other boy in a dark glare. "You are probably the only person comfortable with saying that name," Draco informed him. "Which just happens to kill half my brilliant idea."
"It's just a name!" Placing his hands on his hips, his annoyance visible, Harry glared back at him.
"To you. To some people it's more than that."
"So you're going to ruin this because you can't say one simple thing?"
"No, I'm not ruining anything. I just want to make sure you know what I'm having to go through for this."
"Yeah, well, you had me telling Snape I think of him as a second father. Think that was the easiest thing I've ever had to do?"
Draco put his hands up in defeat. This wasn't helping. "OK, OK. I get it. What else? Umm, parents?"
"Maybe. If you get stuck for anything else."
"All right. Friends?"
"I guess you could talk about the Weasley's...No. You can't talk about anything that might get him to say anything you shouldn't know." There were a few seconds of silence between them.
"Potter, that's not going to happen. It would be easier facing Snape than trying to get through a two hour conversation with Dumbledore as you and not bring up something that you don't want me to know about." Another pause. "How in-depth did your conversation with Severus get the other night?"
"Not too deep. We just sort of sat there, mostly. He didn't say anything, I didn't say anything..."
Yep, that's Severus for you. "What about Black? Still bent out of shape about that?"
That earned him another glare. "Yeah, I'm still bent out of shape about that," he snapped.
"Any problems with other professors? Students?"
"You could tell him what a twit Draco Malfoy is. I could go on for hours about that."
"We're talking solid, important conversation, Potter. Not whining."
Harry sighed and looked down the hall. Still no one.
"Lunch will be over soon. So recap: Sirius, yes. Parents, maybe. Dark Lord, only if necessary. Friends, at a stretch. That about it?"
"Yeah, I think so."
With a sly smile, he added, "Should I, uh, mention the Granger romance as a high point of my life? I can play the confused virgin sacrifice if you wa--"
"There is nothing between us!" Harry's face wasn't just pink, it was bright red.
"You should tell Granger that, then. She's showing all the signs of a classic, love-sick schoolgirl."
"Shut up, Malfoy. All you need to know about that is it's none of your business, or Dumbledore's."
Draco opened his mouth to comment when the doors to the Great Hall opened and several students trickled out. "Later, Malfoy," he said. "Remember, twelve-thirty. Don't be late."
"You just get through tonight."
"No sweat," he assured him with a lopsided smile as he turned and walked down the hall.
Sitting in class, Harry tapped his quill on the desk as he looked out the window. Only two hours until dinner, he thought. Then two hours til Occlumency. What if he can't pull it off? Professor Dumbledore will know something's off, if he doesn't already. He know everything that goes on.
Well, not necessarily, he amended. He never knew about Sirius and Dad. But they never had to do anything this dangerous. Sure, if they were found out they'd be in a ton of trouble, but this is Azkaban stuff, I bet. Letting Draco Malfoy in on some of the biggest secrets.
Harry's nerves were so on edge by the time the bell rang to let out class that he jumped at the sound, earning odd looks from several students and the teacher. Grabbing his things as fast as he could, he bolted from the room. He had to find Draco and call off this Dumbledore thing. It was too dangerous. There was no way they could make it through this without tipping someone off by accident.
Jogging down the hall towards his last class, Harry just prayed that he'd be able to get Draco alone long enough to call it off and work out something before dinner.
"Mr. Malfoy, stop running in the halls."
Though he slowed his pace a little, it did nothing to prevent him from barreling headlong into someone as he whipped around the last corner. With a thud and a crack, he landed on the floor, pain shooting up his arm.
"Mr. Malfoy, what is the meaning of this?" If she didn't look so angry, McGonagall's state of disarray would have been almost comical. Her glasses were dangling from one ear, her usually neat, tight bun, pulled to one side. Climbing to her feet and gathering her fallen papers, she glared down at him.
"Sorry, I was in a hurry." Trying to stand up, Harry leaned on his sore arm and let out a cry of pain.
"Let me see," she said, pulling at his arm mercilessly. More pain coursed through him. "Looks like a sprain. You had better get up to the infirmary and have Madame Pomfrey take care of that before it swells too much." Hauling him to his feet with a yank on the collar of his robes, McGonagall shook her head at him. "And five points from Slytherin for your conduct."
Holding his wrist to his stomach, Harry didn't have time to be too happy about the point loss. He had to find Dr-- The classroom was empty of all but Professor Milton.
"Can I help you, Malfoy?" he asked pleasantly.
"No, sir" Harry answered dejectedly.
Looking at his wrist with concern, the man asked, "Are you all right? Looks like a nasty sprain."
Having had more encounters with mixing sprains and defense professors than he cared to repeat, Harry just nodded a little and backed out of the room. "Yeah. I was just on my way to see Pomfrey."
Professor Milton smiled encouragingly. "Good thought. She'll fix that right up for you."
"Yes, sir," he repeated, turning towards the stairs. The whole way to the infirmary, Harry looked down every corridor he passed and up every hall, hoping against all odds that he'd see Draco. There was no sign of him.
"What is it, Malfoy?" Madame Pomfrey's usual, businesslike manner was firmly in place and with the number of younger looking students lining the walls, it was easy to understand why.
Looking around, Harry estimated at least a dozen first- or second-years, each with skin colored various shades of purple. One boy looked particularly miserable, his face so violet that it was almost black.
"I hurt my wrist," he said, looking back at her from the students.
"Have a seat and I'll be with you in a moment. Don't move it." She conjured a cold pack and handed it to him. "Keep this on it for the time being." Bustling back to the farthest bed where the line of purple children began, she said sharply, "All right, who was closest to the cauldron when it exploded?"
The most purple boy raised his hand sheepishly.
"Very well, Gibbins. Over here"
With a sigh of exasperation, Harry sat in one of the chairs against the wall by the door, the cold pack resting on his wrist. He had a feeling his hopes of getting out in time to find Draco before dinner were in vain.
Half an hour later, the dozen students were all treated and comfortably put to bed. They were already starting to return to their normal color by the time Pomfrey walked over to Harry.
"Where does it hurt?"
"Right at my wrist."
"Flying accident?" she asked briskly, feeling around the bones.
Wincing, Harry shook his head. "I fell in the hall."
"Quite the nasty fall." When she was content that everything was as it should be and there was no damage to nerves or arteries, Madame Pomfrey took her wand out and cast a simple healing spell. "That's going to swell up a bit as it heals. Keep that ice on it for the next couple hours and mind you don't lift anything heavy until tomorrow morning. If it gets irritated or starts to hurt again, come see me immediately." She wrapped a bandage around his wrist to keep him from moving it too much with a skillful ease.
"I will. Thank you." Now seeing the simplicity of the remedy, Harry felt another turn of revulsion as he remembered his run in with Lockhart on the Quidditch field the day he broke his arm. The taste of the Skele-Grow and the tingling pain of regenerating bone returned to him strongly.
Glancing at the nearest clock, he noted, with doom, that dinner was just starting. Resolving himself to whatever fate Draco worked out for them, Harry trudged to the Great Hall. Finding a place by himself, Harry poked at his meatloaf half heartedly.
"Hi, Draco."
Looking up at Goyle's (or Crabbe’s) thick voice, he could barely conceal the surprise he felt. "Hi. Umm, what are you doing here?"
The other of the two gorillas walked over to them with shuffling steps. "Hi, Draco. Are you still mad at us?"
"I thought you were mad at me by the way you were ignoring me," he commented with a slight glare.
"Naw. We just wanted to, you know, spend some time with Millicent."
"Yeah," the other agreed hollowly.
"So why aren't you over there now, talking to Millicent?" Harry was more than a little annoyed at how slow they were about explaining themselves. Also the fact that they were just standing beside him, hovering, was starting to get on his nerves.
They both began shuffling their feet, looking down at the floor. "She sort of told us she likes someone else."
"Yeah."
Remembering the way Millicent Bullstrode had looked at him earlier, Harry felt his appetite disappear. "Oh. Sorry," he said insincerely.
"Can we sit with you again?"
Not really wanting them to, but figuring Draco would have, he nodded slightly. "Go ahead."
The two sat heavily on the bench and starting eating, talking back and forth about Divination. "She knows a lot, doesn't she?"
"Yeah. She even told me yesterday that I was going to forget my book."
"And you still forgot it?" Harry asked unbelievingly, unable to keep the comment to himself. Why does Draco bother with these two? They're as numb as rocks with half the brains.
"Uh, yeah."
"Whoa. Trelawney really is a Seer."
Not even bothering to hide his distain, Harry rolled his eyes and went back to picking at his dinner. Sure, he knew Trelawney could make real predictions, but Crabbe's (or Goyle's) forgotten book was hardly a secret hidden in the foggy future, discernable by no one save only the truest of Seers. A tea cozy probably could have made a good guess of it and figured that he wasn't the brightest kid in the school.
As he ate, Harry looked around the Great Hall, hoping for a glimpse of Draco. There was very little chance that they'd get to talk before he went to Dumbledore's office, but still, any small hope was something to cling to.
There was always the option of going to Dumbledore himself. He could tell him about the switch and then the terrible conversation would never have to take place. However, Snape would be the one asked to brew the potion to put them right again, and he would figure out just from their behavior and the incident in his office exactly how long they'd been switched. Which would be bad, for both of them.
"I can't wait until Quidditch starts. Can you, Draco?"
Looking at them, Harry asked flatly, "Why do you always say my name? Every time you have some to say to me, you say 'Draco' afterwards. Do you think I'm stupid and I can't figure out you're talking to me by the fact that you're looking at me?"
The two didn't say anything for a moment, just exchanged questioning glances.
Harry sighed. "Never mind. Just stop it, OK?"
"Uh, sure, Draco."
Suppressing a groan, Harry went back to scanning the room. Draco was still no where to be seen. Snape, however, in all his foul-mooded glory, was quite visible. He was peering over the gathered students darkly as if he were a large, ugly bird of prey perched in a tree surveying a field of little chipmunks, just taking his time deciding which one he wanted to swoop down upon first. Beside him, Professor Milton was conversing amiably with McGonagall.
"Draco, look."
Not bothering to suppress his groan this time, Harry decided he definitely liked it better when Crabbe and Goyle were drooling after Millicent.
TBC