A/N: The ever so long awaited...

Chapter 3

Waiting for Draco the next day, nestled in comfortable couches near the library fire, Harry gave in to curiosity and opened the mysterious letter-that-wasn't-his. The one carried to him in the park, with his Hogwarts letter. Only to discover that the letter was his, after all. Or, more accurately, about him.

It was quite a surprise to discover, instead of personal correspondence unrelated to Harry, a letter full of tear-stained scratchings, depicting one of Hogwarts' employees and his attempts at meeting with Harry Potter. It detailed the tragic demise of the boy hero of the wizarding world, in terms that agreed with what Draco said the Newspapers had printed. Only this story was far more tragic, because the teller felt responsible.

Harry found it odd to hear of his night-time attempt at rescuing the boat second-hand. The event, while it had lead to many interesting things, had been rather unspectacular in itself. At least until he fell. It had been startling, yesterday, to discover the effect Harry's little slip on the rocks'd had on the Wizarding World. Hearing about his own "demise" from someone who felt personally connected was downright shocking. Harry uncomfortably showed the letter to Hermione.

"Hermione, would you take a look at this for a second?"

"Hmmm?" Hermione responded, her nose buried in a book. She shook herself, "What? Oh! I thought you weren't going to open that. You really shouldn't have, you know, as it wasn't… oh, never mind. Here, hand it to me."

It only took a few moments before she responded. "Nothing we really didn't know, I guess. I mean, you knew he came after you, saw you fall. We now know why everyone thinks you're dead, though; he must have told them. No answers there on why Draco says you shouldn't tell anyone."

"He'd better get here soon, then." Harry responded.

With perfect timing, the flames in the huge fireplace flared up, then flared green. With practiced grace, Draco emerged from the fireplace. No clumsy stumbling was evident. Until, that is, he'd taken two steps into the room and had a look around. At which time his composure faltered, he shot Harry a pleading look, and he promptly passed out.

It was fortunate that the carpet was soft, and that nothing with a sharp corner resided in the space where the boy fell. Harry and Hermione were both far too stunned to even move in his direction before his head touched plush rug. Their momentary freeze ended then, however, and they were at the boys' side in the blink of an eye. Hermione had her wand out and began checking for curses immediately; Harry was checking the other boy for more physical damage.

What they found astounded them. The only physical marks were bruises, but there were many of those. Magically, they discovered the remnants of several curses, as well as a series of healing spells. Hermione found, in the process of searching for whatever caused him to faint, a tracking spell. It required both of them to break it; it was strong, but it wasn't particularly complicated. Shortly after, Hermione discovered that the faint had been caused by a potion specifically intended for that purpose. What it could all mean, taken together, they did not know.

Draco, indeed, had a lot to explain.

It was a good thing, then, that the potion wasn't intended to keep a person unconscious for a particularly long period of time. Shortly after Hermione completed her diagnosis, the blond-haired boy was coming to.

"Did you get it off?" Draco asked, looking frantic.

"Did we get what? There had to be…"

"The…" Draco hesitated, but only for an instant. "The tracking spell."

"Yeah, we got that." Harry replied, a tad more curtly than was his wont. "We got a lot of other things, too. And right about now, I'd like to know what this is about."

Draco visibly relaxed. "It's disabled? You're certain? Was I still unconscious?"

"Yes, yes, it's gone; I'm quite certain; you were quite dead to the world at the time; and you're welcome, Draco." Hermione replied.

Draco flushed, a rather obvious occurrence with his pale complexion. "Thank you. You don't know how much I owe you. But I swear I'll repay it. In fact… I, Draconus Lucius Alexia Marcellian Malfoy, swear that-"

Hermione promptly clamped a hand over his mouth. "I don't think you know what you're doing, there. A Wizards' Oath is a very serious thing to be swearing."

Removing her hand from his face, Draco sneered. "I am the heir of a long line of well-respected pure-blooded wizards. I most certainly do know what I'm doing, even if you don't, Mu - er… Muggleb-… Hermione." Draco's condescension had stumbled into awkwardness, and he suddenly refused to look either of them in the eye.

"Be that as it may, Draco, we don't even rightly know what's going on. You can hardly swear to repay us if we don't even know what you're repaying us for."

"And I, for one, would prefer the explanation over the oath." Harry added in.

"I - alright. I suppose I rather should… We should get away from the fireplace. He can't really trace the floo I used, but he might just get a good look at me, sitting here, if he starts looking through the fireplaces."

Harry sighed. "Alright, Malfoy, but when we get where we're going, you're going to give us the full and uninterrupted version of why, exactly, you told me not to tell anyone I was still alive, and then show up beaten and half-dead to our little meeting."

Draco looked Harry straight in the eye, and nodded, solemnly.


They didn't get back to Harry's room for a while, actually. Draco had felt a great deal better, even considering Hermione's meager skills at healing, and had been practically starving. The group had retreated to the inns' kitchen, polished off a decent amount of food, and then Harry'd needed to help with the chores and such. Unwilling to skive off work, even for the sake of their discussion, Harry had put it off until that night after dinner. Draco had assured him, however, that nothing he needed to tell them was really pressing, time-wise.

"At least not anymore." Draco'd added, half under his breath.

So it wasn't until almost nine at night that the three teens met up in Harry's room. Hermione, with little to do for the afternoon, had pestered Draco about his life story for a while, then, realizing it wasn't fair to Harry to hear things before him, dragged Draco with her to make cookies (the moment Draco'd said he'd never eaten, much less made, a chocolate chip cookie, Hermione'd decided that would be their project of the day, and wouldn't hear an argument against it). A full plate of chocolate chips was settled on the floor between them, and the room fell to silence, expectant stares falling on Draco.

Three minutes later, he was still silent. The tension could be cut with a knife.

"I don't really know where to start." He confessed.

"The beginning?" Harry asked.

"That would take entirely too long."

"How about you just tell us what it was that crossed your mind yesterday to bring this about, get around to telling us why Harry ought't let on that he's alive, and finish off with the series of events that brought you to being unconscious on the Library's rug." Hermione suggested.

"Leave it to Hermione to have an outline for someone else's explanation." Harry muttered, and all three laughed, lessening the tension.

"It's a good plan" Draco said. "So… what happened yesterday…"

He sighed, and then began. "When I saw you in the store, yesterday, I… I was honestly impressed and amazed that I was meeting the great boy-who-lived, died, and lived again. And… I knew you'd lived with Muggles, and I had some questions that I'd always wanted answered. And you… you could answer them for me, so that's why I asked what I did." Draco paused.

Harry nodded to show he remembered that part of the conversation.

"Right, well… the thing was, you didn't hate them - Muggles, you know? And you thought they were people, like anyone else. And after hearing everything they'd done to you, if you still didn't hate all Muggles, I didn't figure I had reason to - not really. But there's a problem with that, which is that my family has been against - really against - Muggles and Mudbl - Muggleborns, for generations."

"I don't see what that has to do with anything. So what if you didn't agree with their views?" Hermione declared righteously.

"You're not getting it." Draco said, somewhat angrily. "It's not like I could just disagree, and maybe we'd argue, but that would be it. My father - my father was a Death Eater."

Hermione breathed in so sharply she started coughing. When she could breathe again, she said "Well, that certainly does explain a few things. But I still don't understand exactly what this has to do with Harry or I."

Draco sighed. "I was getting to that. So, yesterday, I realized I had to do something, that I couldn't just keep on the way things had been. I didn't - and don't - want to be a Death Eater. But that's not exactly an easy thing to avoid, in a family like mine. There's only one way, really, that doesn't either result in or involve dying, and it's been practically guaranteed not to happen for the last several generations; it's only happened twice in a hundred years."

"And you need our help to do it." Hermione put in.

"And I need your help to do it." Draco answered.

"So?" Hermione questioned. "What is it? Is it legal?"

"Er… sort of." Malfoy ducked.

Hermione simply glared at him.

"It's not like you think. You see, the only way out is to… to… well, to… become a Ravenclaw."

Harry and Hermione both burst out laughing. "Because, you know, that's just the hardest thing imaginable to do." Harry got out between laughs. They fell silent, though, when Draco didn't laugh with them.

"It is for me. You see, there's a charm, and every father of every Malfoy ever, or at least, in the last four hundred years, has performed it; it doesn't exactly guarantee that we get into Slytherin, it's more like… an amplification. It makes sure that the sorting hat -" here Draco paused, raising an eyebrow in question, to make certain both the others already knew that particular tidbit. They nodded. "-sees our Slytherin characteristics first and foremost. The only way you get a different house is if Slytherin is absolutely wrong for you, or if you can manage to break the spell. The thing is, no first year is really powerful enough to remove it on his own. But you -" he locked gazes with Harry "are not just any first year student. And now that you've broken my father's tracking charm, I'm absolutely certain you can manage it."

"So, that's all you want us to do? Remove a spell, a most likely illegal or at least underhanded spell, mind, that really shouldn't be there to begin with, prior to the sorting?" Hermione asked.

"Well, yes, that is… mostly… it." Draco said, rather more quietly.

"Mostly, Malfoy?" Harry asked, not feeling at all comforted that the blond wasn't telling them something.

"You see, even if we suppress the Slytherin side, it doesn't exactly guarantee that I'd get in to a certain house other than Slytherin."

"Yeah, so?" Harry asked.

"So… if I get into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, I wind up… well, dead - or at least disowned. And if I do get in to Slytherin, well, I'll be expected to follow in the family footsteps."

"Why exactly does it matter, though, if you're a Ravenclaw? Why would that keep them from forcing you to be a death eater? What would happen, exactly?" Hermione asked.

Draco paused a moment, obviously trying to find the best way to explain. "Like everything else in my family, the sorting includes certain traditions. The only way someone can be a primary heir to the Malfoy fortune is if they're, firstly, male, and, secondly, become a Slytherin. It's such that, on the first Christmas home after Sorting, they're sort of… officially signed in to their inheritance. Malfoys that come home "disgraced" - were sorted into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff - are dealt with at that time. Malfoys that are sorted into Ravenclaw are signed into a nice bit of wealth, plans are often made at that time for their education beyond Hogwarts, whether University or a Mastery or both, but they are not granted the inheritance of a true Heir."

Hermione seemed confused. "So… how do the pureblooded families survive, then, if they've only one child and that child isn't allowed to be the heir -"

"No, no, you're not-" Draco sighed "I'm not explaining well enough. Firstly, this is something only we Malfoys do. None of the other families know the spell, or at least they don't use it. Secondly, Malfoys are the only ones that only have one child, and take potions to ensure a male. Most pureblood families prefer two or even three children."

"What does that matter?" Harry asked.

"Well, when you've more than one child, there's the chance of a contest for becoming heir to the family name. Malfoys only have additional offspring if the first child is found unsuitable."

"And the only way to be "unsuitable" without being disgraceful is to get sorted into Ravenclaw." Hermione finished for him.

"Exactly."

"But won't your family… I dunno, like you less, or something, for being a Ravenclaw?" Harry asked.

"No, actually. To be so exceptionally smart that you even surpass the potion is really considered an honor to the family, and such. In fact, if they could allow Malfoys to become Ravenclaws with the charm and still keep anyone from being sorted to Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, my family would be perfectly happy to do so."

"I still don't get it." Harry said. "Why would two heirs be a bad thing, except if the first one's a Ravenclaw?"

"Wellll… you see, Ravenclaws, also known in our family as "Secondary Heirs", are the ones that get us the family fortune to begin with, because, well, developments run any society. But they usually don't care to spend their lives looking after the money - they'd much rather use it to fund research than investments. On the other hand, there's almost no chance of them wanting to be the heir at all, thus no power struggle between siblings. But the whole point of it is, they're respectable, but not power-hungry enough to be heir to the Malfoy family."

"So… what, exactly, do you get, if it isn't the family fortune? I mean, you don't exactly seem to be upset, yourself, with the whole idea of ending up poor." Hermione said.

"The Secondary heirs hardly "end up poor". If I didn't decide to lift a finger after school, the "little" bit of money I'd be given is enough to support a half dozen people, with expensive but reasonable taste to the end of a wizards' days. Almost three hundred years, if you didn't know; even the Mudb- Muggleborns usually live to two hundred. Not to mention that I'd be given the manor traditionally passed on between the Ravenclaws in the family, and a full staff that will be paid from the family account."

"And if you earn any money of your own?" Harry asked.

"It's entirely mine to do with as I please, though traditionally Secondary heirs donate at least a quarter of what they earn to the family accounts. Often, it's a great deal more, considering they tend to make far more than they can use."

"Traditionally meaning you have to." It sounded somewhat like a question, but Hermione wasn't really asking.

"Of course. Unless I don't do particularly well for myself, but that's unlikely." Draco said, rather haughtily.

"I see." Said Harry. He paused a moment, thinking that there wasn't really any reason not to help Draco out. However, he couldn't really find a reason to help out, either. And what they'd be doing would be illegal. No, Harry needed more reason than "being nice" to someone he didn't really even know, who was as likely as not to ditch him the moment he had what he wanted. He didn't know why, but he sort of got the feeling that Draco might do exactly that, or that he, Harry, simply shouldn't help him, or… something. "So… what's in it for us?"

"Harry, we certainly don't need -" Hermone began, but Harry held up a hand, and she fell silent (though she didn't look a bit happy about it).

Draco looked startled for a moment, the unaccustomed expression making him look young and vulnerable. "I… I thought…" he cleared his throat.

Draco studied Harry for just a moment, cocking his head to the side, almost as though he hadn't really seen him before. "I don't know what I could offer you that you don't already have. Power, wealth, fame… these things are already very much yours, though if that is what you seek I will find a way to aid you. But I will offer you my hand in friendship." Determinedly, but with the slightest air of uncertainty, Draco extended his hand.

Harry had a flash, like the one in the floo, of Draco, dressed in Hogwarts robes, looking very superior and extending his hand; a flash of anger and something almost like hurt seemed to accompany it. It was over in an instant, however; all that was before him was Draco, looking more awkward by the moment. But there was still… something… holding him back.

He chose his words carefully, and spoke softly, but felt he had to say it. "And if I demanded that Wizards' Oath, after all?"

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked.

"I would swear it." Draco responded, without hesitation. "Or rather, I will swear it, whether you demand it or not. I would swear the Oath of Friendship right alongside it, if you wanted. I mean to be your friend, and not like the friends I usually keep. Not just for my own gain." He blushed again, but held his hand in place, reaching, and still waiting.

Shoving the odd sensation to the back of his mind, Harry took it. "Agreed."

The room went silent, and they shared in a moment of companionship.

Hermione broke in. "When do you need to be home?"

"I don't, actually. My father thinks I've hidden myself in this, er, a place I sometimes hide at when I'm upset with him. It's been passed down through generations of Malfoy children, and no-one Hogwarts age or older can get in unless invited by someone who is. It's… necessary, in our family." He stopped for a moment, looking contemplative. "I can leave, though, if you want. I haven't really got a place to stay, here, and I don't wish to impose any more than I already am."

"Wait. Not yet. We've gotten past the first bit, but we still don't know why we're not supposed to tell anyone that Harry's alive, and you still haven't told us why you ended up on the carpet, bruised and cursed, and needing us to heal you." Hermione proclaimed.

Draco looked to Harry.

"I've got questions, too, but it is getting late. You're welcome to stay." Harry said. "Besides, it's only fair I tell you my story, now that I know yours."