Malfoy walked into Potions the next morning feeling refreshed. Breakfast had gone quickly – it included Pansy randomly turning into an Alsatian, but he presumed the Gryffindors had something to do with that – and he was extremely grateful for Snape's potion the night before. However, he got an even greater shock when who should be sat next to Granger in the dungeon but Harry Potter. Malfoy felt his jaw physically drop, and he wasn't sure how he managed to make it to his seat without collapsing of shock.
"Right, class," Snape began pleasantly. "Today we'll be making death potions. Anybody know how to make them?"
Malfoy nearly fell off his seat in shock when Potter's hand went shooting up into the air. And, next to him, Granger looked as though she hadn't a clue. Snape smiled benignly at Potter, and Malfoy couldn't help but think that the expression wouldn't have looked more out of place on a Bowtruckle. He put his own hand up.
"Sir, isn't it illegal to make death potions at our age?" he asked suspiciously.
"Of course it is," Snape said cheerfully. Malfoy gaped at him, but said nothing. "Now, I want you to get into pairs, and start mixing,"
Malfoy stared dumbly at his teacher, only snapping out of his trance when someone prodded his shoulder. He turned to see Zabini standing beside him. He frowned.
"Zabini? But you're not doing Potions," he said, now completely bewildered. But Zabini just kept on prodding him. Malfoy squirmed, trying to shift out of the way but just backing into something soft and warm. He turned to see what it was and found himself staring at the pillow on his bed. He lay face down for a while before Zabini prodded him again.
"Draco, are you getting up today?" he asked bluntly.
"Not if Pansy's going to turn into a dog at breakfast," he grumbled into the pillow. He pulled himself out of the awkward position and stared up at Zabini's concerned face.
"Are you all right? You sound a bit mad," he said uncertainly.
"I'm fine," Malfoy grimaced. "Just a weird dream,"
He glanced over the room to where someone else was emerging from a bed. He gasped in shock when Potter's head popped out from beneath the blankets.
"Hello Draco!" he said brightly. "You'd better hurry up, we don't want to be late for Charms!"
"I'm still dreaming, aren't I?" he said wearily. Harry nodded happily.
"Go through that door," he said, pointing to a trapdoor Malfoy had never noticed before – then he kicked himself for thinking it, because of course he had never noticed it, it didn't exist. He obeyed, and opened the door.
It appeared to open up onto the deck of a ship. He knelt down beside it, and peered down upon the crew. It seemed to be a Muggle pirate ship, judging by the length and equipment on board the ship. He was leaning in for a closer look when Zabini pushed him in. He toppled down through the sky and landed with a thump on the deck. One of the pirates glanced down at him.
"Hello. New recruit? Excellent," he said blandly, returning to his job. Malfoy stood up and leant over the side. They appeared to be navigating their way through rock, shipwrecks, giant squids, and mermaids with chests so overly-developed they would have been a danger to navigation in themselves. He was about to ask the captain where he was, when the ship disappeared beneath him and he fell into the sea. He sank immediately, and started when his feet hit the bottom sooner than expected. He pushed up hard, and surfaced. Only he wasn't in the sea.
He was in the Prefect's bathroom. Thick white foam surrounded him, and he groaned. This dream seemed never-ending. He hoisted himself out of the bath and suddenly groaned again, though this time out of pure frustration.
He had no clothes.
He stormed out of the bathroom in a rage, his nudity on full display for everyone to see. It was morning, and apparently everyone was just getting up. He flew down into the dungeons in a rage and flung himself down on his bed. Zabini followed him in moments later.
"I'm not going to ask why you're going around buck naked, but you might want to get up. We're going up to breakfast in five minutes, and I'd prefer it if you were clothed this time,"
"Don't try it, Blaise," Malfoy snarled into his pillow.
"Try what?" his housemate asked puzzled.
"I'm still asleep," Malfoy snapped irritably.
"No, you're not,"
"Yes, I am," Malfoy retorted childishly. "Prove that I'm not,"
Zabini shrugged and marched up to him, pinching him hard on his left thigh. Malfoy yelped and twisted over to protect his thigh. He then flushed, realising that he had just practically thrust his manhood at Zabini, and that he was actually awake – which meant everybody saw him running naked through the corridors.
"Oh fucking hell…" he moaned. "What the fuck was I doing in the prefect's bathroom at this time in the morning with no clothes?"
"Don't know, don't care. Just get dressed and pretend it was you identical good twin or something," Zabini suggested. "We'll be waiting for you in the common room,"
Malfoy's mouth dropped open as he stepped into the Potions classroom an hour later. He pinched himself, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming, but no – Harry Potter was in his class. He gaped at the black haired boy until someone bumped into him from behind, breaking his gaze. He was about to whirl around in a temper but Snape strode past him and he thought better of it. Trying not to stare at Potter, he sat down in an empty seat, and attempted to focus on the task in hand – Potions.
Snape tapped the blackboard with his wand and white chalk words spread across them, instructing them of the lesson's objectives.
"As you can see, today we will be going over the requirements for NEWT level Potions. I would expect you all to take notes – get out parchment and a quill," he said quietly, and they all obeyed, even Potter. Malfoy bent his head over his parchment and, glad that he had clothes on started to write what Snape was dictating.
Three and a half hours later Malfoy was soaring above the Quidditch pitch, most of his vexations stranded far below him on the ground. How he had managed to get through Charms was beyond him, but he wasn't pleased to find that he shared pretty much every single lesson with Potter. The sixth year had a completely different timetable to the lower years – sessions were an hour and a half long each, except for the one straight after lunch, which was half an hour. For Malfoy, this session was when he had the five extra subjects – Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Divination, Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies. This part of the day was when he didn't always have to see Potter – since he was advanced in Arithmancy and Potter was not, they were in two separate classes. The same applied for Divination, but the opposite way around. Today he had Muggle Studies, and he had a feeling he would fall asleep. The only reason he complied to attending these extra subjects was because they would help in his career as an Auror.
He watched as small first years clumped together nervously on their first day, terrified of their new school. He sneered. Surely he hadn't been that pathetic? No, probably not. They got more pathetic every year.
Resisting the temptation to go over and take House points from them, he turned him broom around and swept upwards. His old Nimbus was having a bit of trouble keeping up these days; Potter's was far better. He would have to get a new one soon.
There were few clouds today and he dodged those that did exist so as to stay dry. He sped up, the wind whipping around his face as he went further up. When satisfied he was high enough, Malfoy pulled level and paused, looking down on the castle.
It was a magnificent place, there was no arguing that, but Malfoy couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding as he stared at the fortress. He wrinkled his face up in confusion, but decided not to dwell on it. Tearing his gaze away from the building, he dropped the handle of his broom downwards. He followed it, speeding down towards the ground, the wind catching him again, stinging his eyes. The ground came closer at an alarming rate, zooming up at him like the Knight Bus. He thought he probably heard a scream, as someone noticed him, but ignored it. He burst into the stadium, still hurtling towards the grass. He waited until he was practically on the ground before acting.
Suddenly he yanked the handle up as hard as he could. The broom struggled to get level, but managed it, his toes just skimming the grass. He grinned to himself and pulled upwards. Flying gave him a sense of freedom he got nowhere else – it was as though he was floating away from all his troubles. He used the momentum gained to complete a lap of the stadium, and was about to begin another when a voice nearly startled him off his broom.
"Oi, Malfoy!" Weasley yelled up at him. He stopped and stared down at the redhead.
"What do you want, Weasel?" he snapped.
"We've got the pitch booked for practice, so get lost!" Weasley shouted.
"Or you'll what?" Malfoy sneered. He was in no mood to be bossed around by a stupidly pathetic Weasley. But he grimaced as the rest of the Gryffindor team trouped out onto the pitch. At the head of them was Potter, and he was carrying the ball box between himself and one of the Beaters – Kirke, he thought his name was. The only one who had left the previous year had been Johnson, and they didn't appear to have replaced her yet.
Potter looked up and noticed Malfoy, his eyes narrowing. Weasley ran up to him and they started whispering urgently. Malfoy shrugged and continued his laps.
Suddenly a blur of red and gold shot past him, nearly knocking him off his broom. He yelped and pulled backwards in an effort to right himself. He heard a faint whoosh behind him to his left, and waited a few seconds before slipping sideways to hang off his broom upside down and directed the broom away from where he had just been. Potter swept past him; a move he knew would have probably knocked him off his broom had he not moved. He pulled himself upright and glared at the Gryffindor Seeker, and new Captain.
"Are you trying to kill me, Potter?" he said angrily. Potter smirked, which only added to Malfoy's fury – he was the one who smirked when he couldn't think of anything to say.
"No," the Gryffindor replied smoothly. "Just trying to get you off the pitch during our time,"
Malfoy was about to protest when he was reminded of his fatigue. He had planned to go to sleep at lunch, he remembered now, and had completely forgotten about his plan.
"Fine then," he muttered, and turned away, sweeping down in a graceful arc to the ground.
"Thanks!" Potter called from above him. He growled and ignored him, going straight to the changing rooms to have a shower and get changed. Why he had bothered to get into his Quidditch robes was beyond him.
He stepped under one of the showerheads in the changing rooms two minutes later, the cold water running down his naked body. He blushed again, reminded of his antics this morning. Luckily, nobody had commented on it – to his face, at least – but he was still at a loss as to why he had been in the Prefect's bathroom in the early morning with no clothes.
He rolled his neck, wincing as it cracked loudly. The magic water splashed over his face, messing up his hair further. He stepped out from under the shower and grabbed his wand from his robes, stepping back under the showerhead. The water came back on again, and he pointed his wand at himself.
"Scourgify," he murmured. Soapsuds seemingly erupted in random places over his skin, spreading to cover his body in a rich lather. He waited a moment for the water to just wash it away, then left the showers, shaking his head in an attempt to get the worst of the water off. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, and walked around the corner, out of the shower area and into the changing area. He looked up and yelped.
"Shitting hell, Potter, you scared the fuck out of me!" he said without thinking, then grimaced at the ratio of swear words to non-swear words in the sentence. "Couldn't you have waited until I'd finished in the shower before coming in?" he snapped irritably. Potter just shrugged.
"I just came to get my wand. Sorry, I didn't know you were still here," he said calmly. He carried on rummaging in his robes for a while, Malfoy just staring at him. After a while he straightened, frowning at the Slytherin.
"Have you seen my wand?" he asked suspiciously. Malfoy shook his head, and held out his own wand.
"Accio wand," he said clearly. For a few second nothing happened, then suddenly something flew into the changing rooms form outside and thwacked him on the back of the head. He stepped forward, clutching the site of impact. Potter's wand fell to the floor beside him.
"Ouch," he growled.
"Sorry," Potter apologised.
"Next time, actually bring it before deciding to accuse me of stealing it," he seethed. "Idiot,"
"Get lost, Malfoy,"
"I would, if I could get dressed, which you're making practically impossible by being here. Or would you not mind if I presented my naked self before you?" he pointed out. Potter smirked again, and Malfoy felt a stab of annoyance hit his spine.
"No, you're all right. I saw enough this morning,"
With that, Potter stalked out of the room, leaving Malfoy to blush furiously in the changing rooms.
"Muggles have very different methods of communication. They used to write letters – like we do, only they are delivered by something called a 'postman' – but few do nowadays. In the modern day, they all use contraptions called 'telephones'. These send your voice as a digital signal to someone using another telephone, and you can thus have conversations over long distances. Mobile phones work in the same way, but you can move around with them. You can also send things called 'text messages' with mobile phones. These are like letters but are sent as digital signals,"
Malfoy jerked awake as his head started drooping again. He glanced wearily over the class. The way the Muggle Studies classes were divided was absurd – those in the Beginner group were those who had not taken the subject for OWLs. This included those who were Muggle-born or lived with them, so included Potter – who, for some reason, wasn't there. Of course, there were a few purebloods, like himself, who hadn't a clue about the way Muggles lived, and were astounded to find out how they managed without magic. Unfortunately, Malfoy already knew most things about Muggles, so had no need to listen. He growled gently, startling Granger slightly. She stared at him and he smirked back.
"Do me a favour, Granger," he drawled. "And wake me at the end,"
When Malfoy stepped into the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom after Muggle Studies (he had managed to get a good half hour's sleep), his lip immediately curled at the sight of the new teacher. Having got rid of Umbridge the previous year, Malfoy had known there would be another Defence teacher, but hadn't had the common sense to pay attention at the feast to find out who it would be. He found a seat at the back of the room and sat down heavily, still tired, and surveyed this new teacher.
She was smaller than Malfoy. But then, most people were, since he had had a growth spurt over the summer and was now pushing six-foot. She looked past her prime, and wrinkles were threatening to deepen on her forehead and around her eyes. Her hair was a dodgy brown-blond and hung in lank strands around her square-jawed face. She wore frumpy robes that accentuated her hunched figure, and seemed everything but authoritative. She waited until relative silence had settled upon the class then tapped the blackboard with her wand. The chalk leapt from its place and scrawled 'Professor Maude' over the surface.
"Good afternoon class," she said. Her voice was quite low and boring. "My name is Professor Maude," she indicated to the board. "Today we will be studying -"
She was stopped mid-sentence by the door opening with a bang and Potter standing in the doorway, looking completely uninterested.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, not looking at all repentant.
"Sit down," Maude said impatiently. "As I was saying, today we will studying protection spells. Get out your books, quills and wands."
There was a general murmur of curiosity as the class rummaged in their bags for equipment. They hadn't ever been told to have both writing equipment and wands at the ready before. Potter strode across the room and took a seat opposite Malfoy, sitting down abruptly, looking as bored as hell, and slammed his wand down on the desk. To be frank, he looked exhausted.
"Snape give you hell again?" Malfoy heard Granger ask him sympathetically from where she was sat on the other side of the Gryffindor.
"Yeah. It's getting worse; I just can't seem to block it all out. I am trying, I swear I am, but Snape just makes it seem so easy. I bet he loves seeing me like that, writhing on the floor as he watches it all," Potter said bitterly.
"I'm sure he's doing everything he can to help you Harry," Granger said firmly. "You'll just have to try harder. And if it still doesn't work, maybe you should go see Professor Dumbledore. He needs to know if it's not working,"
"OK. I'm just sick of hearing the screams every time,"
"I know. But Snape's only doing what Voldemort would, and you know that. He's not just doing it to hurt you, he's trying to help you,"
"I hate the way he looks at me. He still thinks I'm not trying. Yeah, right, as if what happened to Sirius wasn't enough, now he's saying I haven't learnt anything…"
"Harry it's just the way he is. He probably thinks it'll make you practise more if you feel guilty,"
"I hate it when he looks into my memories. I hate that he can see all my thought, everything that I don't want him to see. I hate that he can watch my parents as they die,"
Malfoy gasped at this, and had to quickly turn it into a cough as Potter cast him a suspicious glare. Luckily, he was rescued by Maude, who came waddling over.
"Are you ready to begin?" she asked. The three of them nodded. "Good. Then turn to page twenty-three,"
Malfoy scowled at the Gryffindors and opened his textbook to twenty-three – Patronus Charm.
"Now, today we will be looking at Patronus Charms. Now, wands out everybody, and practise the incantation for a few minutes – Expecto Patronum. I'll stop you soon, and we can all see how far you've got. Now, it's a very hard charm, and I doubt many of you will be able to do it, so I won't be expecting much. But for those of you who can manage it, I'll be bringing in a pretend Dementor for you to have a go on, if you feel up to it. Now, you can either work in pairs or by yourself, whichever you prefer,"
Malfoy wondered vaguely what the pretend Dementor would be, but didn't dwell on it. He hardly needed to practise. Instead, he leaned back on his chair, and gazed up at the ceiling until Maude called them to a halt.
"Now, I'm going to ask you to come up one at a time and perform the charm. We'll start with Mr. Weasley,"
Weasley stepped up to the front.
"Expecto Patronum!" he said loudly. A sheep plopped out of the end of his wand and took a few wobbly steps before falling over and disappearing. Malfoy closed his eyes, already bored. He was starting to doze when Maude called Potter's name. He snapped awake, interested in what the Gryffindor might produce.
As he spoke the spell, a bright stag erupted from his wand. It galloped around the room magnificently to come to a halt beside his owner. Maude was astounded.
"Fantastic!"
Potter strode almost angrily back over to his seat, and the stag slowly faded.
"Mr. Malfoy!" Maude called. Malfoy climbed to his feet, his joints cracking as he stood and lazily moved to the front of the room. He held out his wand – twelve inches of ebony and phoenix tail feather – and said the incantation clearly. He didn't bother thinking of 'happy thoughts' – he had no need.
A massive phoenix burst from the end of his wand with a tremendous shriek that caused most of the students to clap their hands over their ears. The room shook with the power within the phoenix Patronus, and there was an odd silvery light pulsating form the phoenix's heart. He allowed his phoenix to hover in the air for a while before calling him back. He disappeared with a quieter shriek, leaving the class and Maude staring at him, aghast.
"Right… well…those who did manage to produce a Patronus, please follow me. The rest of you stay here," Maude said, clearly slightly shaken. Only about half a dozen of them had been able to produce a proper Patronus – most had only managed a silvery wisp – and they strode down the corridor quickly, only stopping when they came to a door near the dungeons.
"Now, in here is an imitation of a Dementor. We'll all go in at once, and then we'll go into the separate room two at a time to see if you can repel the Dementor. I will be on hand at all times if you fail," she said firmly. They all nodded in consent, and she pushed the door open.
It was quite dark, and, Malfoy noticed, quite small. They closed the door behind themselves and Maude pulled Weasley and Granger towards a second door.
"You two first," she said quietly.
The two people stepped into the other room and closed the door behind them. Two minutes later they emerged. Weasley looked a bit white, but they didn't look particularly worse for wear. Next to go in were Parvati Patil and that Hufflepuff Macmillan. They also came out looking a bit ill but otherwise fine.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, if you please. I should think neither of you will have any trouble,"
Potter shot Malfoy a death glare, as if to say 'I don't trust you'. Malfoy ignored him and strode through the door.
It was pitch black as soon as Potter closed the door behind them, and silent.
"Where is it?" whispered Potter, and Malfoy jumped as Potter's voice sounded right behind his ear.
"I don't know. I can't sense it," he whispered back. Suddenly an icy cold feeling spread up his left leg. "It's to our left," he said quickly. But then a similar feeling crept up his right hand.
"Shit, there's more than one!" Potter cried. Malfoy's throat tightened.
"Don't panic, it'll be fine. We can handle them," he said, tried to sound encouraging. But he felt something fall down behind him, followed by a thump, and guessed that Potter must have fainted.
"Lumos," he muttered, and his wand lit up so he could see Potter. But instead of being still, he was writhing upon the floor, looking as if in extreme pain. He was yelling, too.
"Don't kill her, please, leave her alone, let her live, don't kill her!" he cried. Malfoy froze. He could feel the Dementors closing in on him, could hear their rattling breath, but he was transfixed, horrified by Potter's pleas. Suddenly they changed.
"Sirius! No, NO! You can't die, leave him alone you bitch, Sirius I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, it's all my fault, I shouldn't have gone, I killed you…"
A feeling Malfoy wasn't used to was welling up inside him, starting in the bottom of his stomach and working its way up his chest. He was furious at these creatures; angry because they were making Potter feel this way, angry because he could feel them inside his head, making him remember things he'd rather not. Making him remember the pleas he himself had cried out to his father that summer. But Malfoy had more control than that, and he was not going to allow some Dark creature to overcome him. He whirled around, wand outstretched.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he roared. His phoenix exploded from his wand in a dazzling light, and by the illumination Malfoy could see at least twenty Dementors closing in on them. He crouched down beside Potter and lifted him, supporting him with one arm around his waist and Potter's arm over his shoulder. He stumbled over to the door, Potter still twitching against him as he got further away from the Dementors. He left his phoenix to keep the creatures at bay while he struggled with the door. It suddenly came free with a crack and he fell through it, just managing to keep a hold of Potter as they stepped into the other room.
Many gasps came from the others there as they came out, and Malfoy gently laid Potter down on the ground. Weasley and Granger took the Gryffindor off him with more force than necessary. Weasley was shaking with fury. He drew his fist back and slammed it into Malfoy's jaw. The Slytherin grunted and staggered backwards into the wall.
"What did you do to him?" Weasley yelled. He grabbed Malfoy's shoulders and threw him against the wall.
"I did nothing. He's like that because he just suffered a Dementor attack orchestrated by at least twenty Dementors," Malfoy snarled, his faces inches from Weasley's.
"Hardly likely. There was only one in there," Weasley snapped.
"Fine, don't believe me. Just ask him when he wakes up," Malfoy said simply. Weasley slowly let go of him and, glaring at him, went over to Potter still lying unconscious on the floor. Malfoy took a few deep breaths before looking down at his wand. It was still grasped in his hand. Suddenly the fury came flying back again, and he launched himself at Maude, wand pressed into her neck.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU WERE PLAYING AT? YOU LET US PRACTISE ON IMAGOES? HOW STUPID DO YOU GET? THEY COULD HAVE KISSED HIM, AND HE WOULD BE AS GOOD AS DEAD! DID YOU CONSIDER WHAT THEY MIGHT DO? YOU SHOULD BE SACKED, AND I HOPE YOU ARE – YOU COULD HAVE KILLED HIM!" he bellowed, his wand pressing even further into her neck. He was about to cast a curse when Granger grabbed his arm
"Don't, Malfoy. You're right, she should be sacked, she doesn't deserve to stay here after that, but don't curse her. You'll just get into trouble. Let the Headmaster deal with this," she said quietly. Malfoy was literally pouring off magic he was so enraged. He glared at Maude for a few more seconds before yanking his wand away and storming out of the room.
He was sat up on the top of one of the top most towers when somebody finally found him. He had flown up there on his broom, and had been sat there for at least three hours before somebody turned up. It was Potter.
"Are you OK? Hermione and Ron said you were going to curse Maude," he asked quietly as he set down on the roof, dismounting from his broom and sitting down beside Malfoy.
"I'm fine, are you?" he asked brusquely. Potter nodded.
"I just wasn't ready. They had a different effect to Dementors – what were they?"
"They were Imagoes. Creatures not dissimilar to Boggarts. They can transform at will to any form they choose, but their powers can be harnessed to an extent. That's what Maude did – she cast a spell to turn them into Dementors. But they would probably been more powerful than Dementors, and retained an element of free will, meaning they could sense when you came in, they could sense your weakness," Malfoy said bluntly. Potter didn't retaliate – he knew Malfoy was right. "They adapted themselves as well as they could within reason, and multiplied. It took a powerful Patronus to get rid of them,"
"How do they affect you?" Potter suddenly whispered.
"I remember my father beating me, I remember being forced to watch as he killed people, I remember meeting the Dark Lord. I remember things I wouldn't," he said shortly, a bit surprised that Potter would ask. "Why?"
"I just wondered if it was anything like what I hear," he said miserably.
"And what do you hear?"
"I hear my mother screaming, begging for mercy as Voldemort kills her,"
"The Imagoes would have made it worse, I bet,"
Potter gazed at Malfoy in amazement. For once, he wasn't being pitied. For once, someone who knew what he was going through was talking to him as an adult.
"Why did you not collapse too?"
"I've learnt to force it down. I've got a Legilimens for a father, and I've had Imperius used on me so many times I don't even need to try to throw it off. I've been learning the Patronus Charm among other protection spells since I was six. It gets to you,"
"I know. I've been learning since the third year, when the Dementors were around school. Lupin was teaching me,"
"I know. You shot one at me, remember?"
"Yes. If I'm right, you were trying to make me fall off my broom,"
"Yes. You're right,"
"Do you know why my Patronus takes the form of a stag?"
"No,"
"It's my father. He used to be an Animagus. His form was a stag. Why does yours become a phoenix?"
"Because when I was six, my father beat me so badly that I was dying. That phoenix of the Headmaster came to the Manor and cried for me," Malfoy laughed, a harsh sound that was not filled with mirth. "How humiliating, that the only person to cry for me would be a bird,"
They sat in silence for a few minutes. The sun was setting, bringing oranges, purples and pinks together to fade as a dark blue on the horizon. Potter lay back to gaze up at the stars.
"Why are you telling me this?" he asked the Slytherin. Malfoy copied him and lay down.
"Why are you asking me this?" he countered. Potter shrugged.
"I hardly expected you to respond in a civil way,"
"You've judged me, Potter. Bad move,"
"Yeah, like I haven't the grounds to suspect you," Potter snapped.
"I never said you didn't. But people change, me included. I'm not the Malfoy you met on the train on the first day of the first year," Potter made a disbelieving noise. "Neither are you the same Potter I confronted. We've both changed, whether we like it or not. We've both matured. You've seen death. I've been through more this last summer than you could know,"
"Are you going to tell me?"
"No. But I'll show you,"
He sat up and put his hand on his left forearm.
"Are you sure you want to see?" he asked. Potter had a terrible sense of foreboding, but nodded. Malfoy rolled up his sleeve and Potter paled.
It was obvious where the Dark Mark had been branded onto the skin. However, it looked as though Malfoy had taken a knife to his arm and cut it out. The skin was mangled and bloody, and didn't seem to fit in the space it had. It was a mess.
"When did that happen?" Potter asked, horrified.
"Over the summer. I didn't want it. I refused to co-operate, so my father used Crucio on me until I hadn't the strength left to defy him. Then the Dark Lord came, and branded me as his own. As soon as I had the opportunity I cut it out. I've been disowned, I've brought shame upon the Malfoy name. I stayed in Diagon Alley for the last week of the holidays,"
"I didn't see you,"
"How do you mean?"
"I spent most of the holidays in Diagon Alley too. As soon as I turned sixteen I left the Dursleys. In the Muggle world you can leave home without consent once you're sixteen – I don't know if it's the same for wizards,"
"No, you probably didn't see me. I had a disguise on. A very powerful one, so my father wouldn't be able to find me. I didn't see you either, but that was probably just coincidence,"
"Actually, no," Potter said shiftily, suddenly looking very embarrassed. "Dumbledore put a spell on me before I left the school last year. It stops any Death Eater recognising me or even seeing me. You must have been included in the spell because of your arm," he said sheepishly. Malfoy frowned.
"But I can see you now," he said, confused.
"Yeah, probably because we're within Hogwarts, and the spell isn't needed any more. Dumbledore hasn't said he's taken it off, but it wouldn't surprise me if he had,"
Malfoy let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes. Potter glanced at his still form.
"Thanks, Malfoy," he said quietly. Malfoy opened his eyes in confusion.
"For what?"
"You saved my life,"
"Coincidence. I happened to be saving my own at the same time," he replied, closing his eyes again. Potter smiled.
"Sorry about earlier. You know, on the Quidditch pitch,"
"Why are you sorry?" Malfoy murmured. He was falling asleep.
"Because I could have hurt you. I could have knocked you off your broom,"
"Yeah, but you didn't," Malfoy mumbled. "Drop it,"
He rolled over onto his side. Potter gazed up at the stars again.
"Where do you reckon he is now?"
Silence.
"Malfoy?"
He was asleep.
Potter groaned. He prodded Malfoy's shoulder, but he didn't wake. It suddenly occurred to him that the Slytherin hadn't been getting much sleep, and contemplated the best way of getting him down. He decided to levitate Malfoy through the air whilst slowly descending on his broom, Malfoy's own in his hand. This worked to an extent, and he managed to set down outside the Entrance Hall, but he now had the problem of getting Malfoy to the Slytherin dorms. He deposited his Firebolt in the corner and began making his way to the dungeons.
To his chagrin, he didn't meet a single person the whole way. Luckily though, he had quite a good memory, and his trip here in the second year was still imbedded into his mind. He came to a dead end, and hoped it was the correct stretch of wall. He cleared his throat nervously and spoke to the wall.
"I have brought Draco Malfoy. He's asleep and I didn't want to wake him,"
Immediately the wall flew open. Potter gave a small yelp and leapt backwards. Snape was standing in the doorway, looking nothing less than furious.
"What the hell have you been doing with him, Potter!" he shouted. Potter cringed and stepped away from the Potions Master. Snape whipped out his own wand and transferred the spell.
"We were just talking, sir," Potter said quietly. Snape sneered.
"I shall be confirming that tale with Mr. Malfoy once he wakes up," he turned and levitated his student in front of him, walking across the Slytherin common room. "Oh, and fifty points from Gryffindor for being out after curfew," he said as he crossed the room, not even looking back, the wall closing in Potter's fuming face.
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OK... I can see on my stats that after twelve hours of being posted, I already had 58 hits for these first two chapters, but only one review. I can't understand why people can be bothered to read stuff than are too lazy to review it. Please, just takea minute or two to review and tell me what's good/bad. It really helps and would mean the world to me.
smokey2307
aka Lloyd the amoeba
