Fuck!

That was not a good idea.

Harry paced the empty classroom, wand in hand, door locked. Light streamed in bands off light through the shuttered windows. It was musty in the room, and he decided it probably hadn't been used for quite a while, guessing by the considerable layer of dust that covered half of the room.

What, was Malfoy testing him or something? Because so far pretty much everything he'd done so far gave him a disturbing sense of déjà vu. He was performing the same way as he had with Harry. But what was the point? Had he caught onto Harry already? It was a pity Dumbledore hadn't thought to change his voice, and by now it was too late to ask him to. He continued to pace the room, running the previous five minutes over and over in his head, trying to work out what had made him snap like that. He wasn't normally that short-tempered.

He jumped as the door swung open behind him and slammed shut.

"Well, well," Malfoy sneered. "This certainly is a turn for events. Gryffindor's new Golden Boy is a Parselmouth. What an interesting revelation," he drawled, moving to sit at the teacher's desk. He cast a Silencing and Locking charm on the door.

"How did you get out of class?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"I asked to go to the Hospital Wing. The werewolf was quite happy to comply. I must say, you caused absolute uproar in that room. I've never seen Weasley looked so shocked."

"What do you want?" Harry said tiredly and moved to stare out of the gap between the shutters. He could see the courtyard down below.

"I want to know what your bloodlines are,"

Harry looked up, surprised.

"I – what – huh?"

"Such eloquence. One would think that you were related to Potter with such astounding displays of vocabulary," Malfoy said languidly. Harry scowled. "What I meant was, I'm interested to know who your ancestors were. The only living Parselmouth is Voldemort, and the only other known Parselmouth in the last half-century was Potter. So, care to explain how you gained this hereditary gift?"

"I don't know," Harry said coldly. "My parents were killed when I was a baby. I never met them."

"It is interesting, though, that you were Sorted into Gryffindor when you quite blatantly were destined for Slytherin. It's literally in your blood."

"I wouldn't know," Harry replied through gritted teeth. "I don't know what my blood is,"

"I'm going to make you an offer, Antares," Malfoy said suddenly.

"You what?" Harry said before he could stop himself.

"Again, your capacity for words longer than two letters is truly amazing. You will tell me how you learnt such extensive terminology, won't you?"

"Malfoy…" Harry growled.

"All right. Here is my proposal. You help me work out your lineage, and I'll help you discover everything there is to know about Hogwarts,"

"You're all right, I probably know more about Hogwarts than you anyway," Harry laughed.

"How?" Malfoy asked quizzically.

"I was given a map of Hogwarts," Harry explained, feeling oddly at ease, revealing this to Malfoy. "But if this is an offering of friendship, I'm willing to take you up on it,"

Malfoy looked shocked that a Gryffindor could be so perceptive.

"Why?"

"The Gryffindors are beginning to annoy me. All they ever talk about is Quidditch. Plus at any passing mention of Harry Potter they all break down and stop talking. However, I'm not going to ostracise them in favour of Slytherin,"

Malfoy looked stunned, much to Harry's confusion.

"Big words, Antares. But don't worry. You needn't 'ostracise' them. But you must promise me something."

"OK…"

Malfoy stood and walked around the desk to lean on the one Harry was sitting at, something in his eyes that Harry had never seen before. It was an odd look that didn't suit Malfoy – a kind of desperate hope shining in the half-light of the old classroom. Harry held his breath as Malfoy leaned forward, his voice tinged with sadness.

"Promise you won't ostracise me," he said earnestly. Harry stared, dumbfounded. It was honestly the last thing he had expected the Slytherin to say. He nodded his head slowly. Malfoy backed up and leant against the teacher's desk, arms crossed over his chest.

"Promise me something, Malfoy," Harry said. Malfoy inclined his head slightly, indicating for him to go on. "Promise that you will reveal the results of the research and any tests to nobody. Not one person. No matter what happens, you must not tell anybody."

Malfoy regarded him for a moment before agreeing. He pushed off the desk and walked back up to Harry. He pulled a penknife out of his pocket and flicked it open.

"Are you willing to seal this agreement?" he asked. Harry stared uncertainly at the blade.

"What do I have to do?"

"We both cut our palms then hold our hands together, and each says what they are agreeing to, and swears by it. We should also swear not to tell anyone of what we're agreeing, just in case anyone asks. They might take us up on it. Once complete, neither of us can go against the seal unless the other permits it. Simple enough really."

Harry eyed the blade dubiously for a while longer before hesitantly offering his hand out.

"You should stand up," Malfoy suggested, and Harry stood, walking around the desk to stand a few feet in front of Malfoy. He offered his right hand again and Malfoy took it and held the knife against the palm of his hand.

"This won't hurt too much," he said, almost apologetically, then sliced down and across. Harry gasped and jerked his hand away. Malfoy raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and cut his own palm open, his left hand. He held it out, waiting for Harry. The other boy grasped his hand and drew in a sharp breath. He could literally feel Malfoy's magic mingling with his own, swirling between their hands and mixing into each other's bloodstreams.

"Do I say it now?" Harry asked. Malfoy nodded. "I will not ostracise Draco Malfoy in any way, regardless of what others say and do. I will also not convey the existence or contents of this agreement with any other person save Malfoy himself, even if questioned, or put under Veritaserum or any other truth serum." he said clearly, and glanced at Malfoy, who was looking pensive. "Malfoy?" he urged. The Slytherin met his gaze sharply.

"I will not reveal to any person or animal or plant or other object, animate or inanimate, the truth concerning the lineage of James Antares, whoever he may be. I will not write it down, speak of it, or in any way communicate his identity. I will also not convey the existence or contents of this agreement with any other person save Antares himself, even if questioned, or put under Veritaserum or any other truth serum." Malfoy pulled out his wand and tapped their joined hands. "Perago," he said, and indicated that Harry should do the same.

"Perago,"

The surge of magic would have sent Harry tumbling had he not been joined to Malfoy. As it was, he simply staggered forward into Malfoy. He expected to be pushed away, but Malfoy wrapped his free arm around Harry, holding him up. Harry pulled himself upright using Malfoy's shoulder and his free hand, and waited for the magic to stop. It rumbled around the room, shaking the very foundations of the school and reverberating around the two students. Malfoy suddenly gripped him tightly and squeezed him against his chest.

This time Harry was knocked off his feet, and dragged Malfoy down with him. Malfoy landed on top of him, and he moulded around Harry as they waited.

It finally stopped, and Malfoy awkwardly stood up, hands still joined, pulling Harry with him. He prised their hands apart as gently as possible, both of them wincing at the pain it brought.

"Thought it wouldn't hurt much," Harry gasped.

"Was talking about the cut," Malfoy grunted in response, and gave in being gentle, ripping their hands apart. Harry yelped as the palm of his hand was revealed, burnt black and looking as though it had been grazed badly. Blood was seeping out of a large hole in the middle of his hand, and he whimpered. With a quick look over at Malfoy, he could see that the same was true of the Slytherin. Malfoy raised his wand and muttered a simple healing charm on Harry's hand. New skin stitched in a faint web over his palm, tenuously holding it together. He repeated it on his own hand.

"It's a magical injury so there's only so much I can do to heal it. With hindsight we should have used our non-writing hands, but no matter."

"So it's done?"

"Yes. We're both bound by the spell,"

"But why?"

"Because we did a sealing spell, you –" Malfoy began, irritated.

"No, I meant why would you do this? From what I've heard form the other Gryffindors, you're an insufferable, arrogant, selfish, egotistical, pathetic, snivelling –"

"I get the point," Malfoy snapped, and Harry was pleased to see that he was a bit flustered. "Do you believe them?"

"Not now I don't."

"Good."

"But why did they say things like that if they weren't true?"

"Well, they are true. I am all those things that you just listed. But only to them. I'm almost nice to my friends. And I'm not nice to them because they're Gryffindors."

"So am I." Harry pointed out.

"Ah, but you're not meant to be, are you? I reckon that the Sorting Hat had a few misgivings about which House to Sort you into. But I shouldn't worry. You're probably just as much Slytherin as Gryffindor."

"I suppose you're right,"

"Of course I am. I'm Draco Malfoy." Malfoy replied pompously, earning a wry smile from Harry. "But if you'd excuse me, I have to go to a Muggle Studies class now."

"You're taking Muggle Studies?" Harry asked, surprised. Malfoy nodded.

"It's always a good idea if you're planning on being an Auror. They often have to work under-cover in Muggle environments. What do you want to do when you finish your NEWTs?"

"Um, I wanted to be an Auror too, but I'm not taking Muggle Studies. Just the four base subjects."

"Did you grow up with Muggles?"

"Yes."

"Well then you'll be all right. It's just so I can get an idea of how they work, that's all. Well, see you. I'll meet you in the library at five, so we can get started on your lineage, OK?"

"Yeah, that's fine, but I have to go and see Dumbledore at six. Will that be all right?"

"Probably. I'll see you there then,"

Malfoy picked up his bag from where he'd dropped it on the floor as he came in the door and left. Harry sat down again, now utterly confused.

What had just happened?

He stalked into the library later that day to find Malfoy sat surrounded by books, most open and half with markers stuck in random places. He looked up when Harry walked in, his eyes positively shining.

"I've found loads of stuff, you'll have to have a look at this." He said enthusiastically, and Harry wondered what this person had done with the real Draco Malfoy.

"You're not anything like what the others say. You act differently around me to them,"

"Like I said, they're Gryffindors to the bone. You seem rather like a Slytherin, plus you haven't given me a reason to hate you. Yet." He added ruefully.

"Fair enough." Harry shrugged. "So what are you looking at?"

"Blood magic, of course. Come on, help me get this lot into my bag, we may as well go down into the dungeons. It's easier to work down there,"

Feeling only slightly apprehensive, Harry compliantly helped pack Malfoy's bag, and ended up carrying half of the books down to the dungeons in his arms. They stopped outside the blank stretch of wall Harry remembered from the second year.

"Basilisk!" Malfoy called, and with a crunch and groan the wall slid back, leaving a gap for them to walk through. Harry struggled through with the extra books, and smiled wryly. The common room was exactly as he had remembered. He paused to take in the relaxed, almost friendly atmosphere in the Slytherin's pit, then followed Malfoy through into a separate room.

"What room's this?" he asked. He dumped the books on the large green and silver four-poster and gazed around the room as Malfoy shut the door.

It was about the size of the sixth year Gryffindor dorm. He could see an ornate bathroom off through a door, decorated in silver and marble, which included a large bath. There was a fireplace on the far wall, and bookcases lining the walls. Next to him was a desk with scrolls of parchment laid on it and quills littering the top. Everything was done in silver and green.

"This is my bedroom," Malfoy said, as though talking to an idiot. Harry gaped.

"You have your own bedroom?"

"Yes," Malfoy said slowly. "We have since fifth year,"

"That's not fair! We don't get our own bedroom! We have to sleep in dorms right through, even the prefects." He complained. "I wish I'd been in Slytherin." He muttered as an afterthought. Malfoy laughed.

"Yeah, well McGonagall's obviously not the Head that Snape's managed to become!"

Harry agreed silently. He sighed and picked up a book from the bed, and turned it to read the front.

"Blood Magic: A Guide To Discovery," he read out.

"I've found a good potion that reveals who your parents were. I've got most of the ingredients here, do you want to do it now?"

"How long does it take?" Harry asked nervously.

"Only half an hour to actually make, but then it needs to be left for a few days before you can take a reading," Malfoy said, opening a book and consulting it. "Two days. It should be ready by Wednesday night." he looked up at Harry. "Well?"

"Um… yeah, sure,"

"Great. I'll go get the stuff I don't have from Snape now then. He won't ask what it's for, don't worry. I'll be back in a minute, the other ingredients are in that cupboard there," he pointed to a cabinet behind Harry. "Start getting the equipment ready."

He walked back out of the door, leaving a slightly confused Harry. The Gryffindor peered at the book and began taking out ingredients from the cabinet.

Mica… hellebore syrup… hawthorn root… dragon tooth… unicorn milk… cocoa powder?… beetle eyes… fluxweed…

"I'm back!" Malfoy said, slightly breathlessly, bursting in through the door. He had a few jars in shi arms that he deposited on the desk. He frowned at Harry. "You're slow," he said, but without malice. He deftly produced a cauldron and set it to boil over a charmed flame, gathering together the ingredients. He grabbed the book from Harry.

"When do we start?" Harry asked, consulting his watch. It was quarter past five. "And why do we need cocoa powder?"

"Don't know, that's just what it says." Malfoy shrugged. "And we can start now. Grind the beetle eyes to a fine powder then put them in the cauldron and add two daisies." He said without looking up from the book.

Harry picked up a pestle and mortar that had appeared from nowhere and began grinding the beetle eyes.

He was fast asleep in the armchair beside the crackling fire when Malfoy prodded his arm. He grunted and tried to squirm away, not entirely succeeding. He heard a chuckle beside him and cracked an eye open, surprised that Malfoy had the capacity to laugh without sounding mocking.

"You have a nice laugh," he said sleepily, brain still not functioning properly, and realising once he'd said it that it probably wasn't the best idea. Malfoy laughed again and prodded him again.

"Come on, I need some of your blood."

Harry obligingly stuck a hand out. Malfoy took it and gently pricked his finger, then held it over a bowl. Harry allowed the blood to be siphoned off and heard Malfoy mutter a quick Healing charm once enough was collected. He took his hand back and was about to try and go to sleep when Malfoy prodded him again.

"You can't go to sleep, you said you have to see Dumbledore in ten minutes." Malfoy reminded him. Groaning, Harry sat up and stretched, rolling his neck, causing it to crack. He bent backwards and his spine thunked in about five different places.

"Ew." Malfoy said disdainfully, and stood up. Harry grinned. He stood up and stretched again, yawning widely. He raised his right hand and was reminded of the bond. The open wound did not look nice at all, and he knew it would get infected soon.

"Have you got anything for me to sort out my hand?" he asked Malfoy, peering over his shoulder to see into the cauldron. It was white and gently bubbling. Malfoy stood, knocking Harry's chin with his shoulder.

"Oops, sorry," he said, and Harry stared, aware that it was the first time Malfoy had ever apologised to him. He watched as the Slytherin rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a length of black cloth with green and silver trimming. "It's part of one of my old robes. I keep them in case I need stuff to clean up potions mess."

"Can't you just use your wand?" Harry asked, confused, as Malfoy proceeded to wrap his hand up.

"Not for some potions."

"Oh."

Malfoy secured it around his hand with a gentle tap from his wand.

"Sorry, but unless you want to redo it with something in Gryffindor colours, you're going to be clashing for the rest of the week at least. But you don't mind too much, do you?" Malfoy asked Harry shook his head. "Excellent. The look on Weasley's face will be priceless."

"I guess it will," Harry laughed.

"How are they dealing with a new person?"

"All right, I suppose. They can tend to get a bit annoying at times, but that's easy enough to sort out. All I have to do is mention Harry Potter and they all get too depressed to notice me sneaking off."

"Nicely done! You really should have been in Slytherin, that's your cunning coming through. Now get on with you, the old coot's going to be wondering where you are." He shooed Harry away towards the door.

"Malfoy, can you walk me back to the Entrance Hall? Harry asked.

"I thought you said you had a map?"

"Oh yeah!" Harry said brightly, and stuck his hand into his pocket, drawing out the map. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,"

The familiar green lines spread out across the parchment, and Malfoy stared as the words inked across the top.

"Who made this?" he asked, completely in awe. Harry grinned.

"Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and prongs," he said.

"Well obviously, it says that. But who were they?"

"Hogwarts' greatest ever pranksters." Harry said proudly. "I can't tell you who Wormtail and Moony were, but I'll tell you Prongs and Padfoot if you want,"

"Yes!" Malfoy said enthusiastically."

"First, do you know who the Marauders were?"

"These four people, I'm guessing."

"Yes. They happened to be at school the same time as Snape,"

"You're kidding?" Malfoy said, realisation dawning on his face. "Not…?"

"Yes," Harry said proudly. "James Potter and Sirius Black!"

"Black was Potter's godfather, you know," Malfoy said.

"Yes. I know. But he died over the summer. Dumbledore told me."

"Speaking of Dumbledore, where's his office?" Malfoy asked, peering at the map. Harry pointed.

"He's pacing his study. He does that a lot."

"Look, it's us!" Malfoy laughed, and pointed to two dots in the corner. "Hang on…" he said, and Harry looked to where his finger was pointing. He froze, and stopped breathing.

The two dots read 'Draco Malfoy' and 'Harry Potter'.

"There's something wrong with this map, Antares." Malfoy said. "Harry Potter's dead."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's probably just because he was the last one to own it," he lied. Malfoy shot him a sharp look.

"You got this from Potter?"

"Yes. Dumbledore got all his possessions, and decided to give me this map."

"Fine then. I'll see you tomorrow in Potions. Do you want to work with me?"

"What?"

"I said, do you want to work with me? Snape told me that he's going to be putting us in pairs to stay in for the year. I might as well work with you, since I know you and like you. It that all right with you?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Oh and one more thing. My name's Draco, not Malfoy."

"In that case, my name is James," Harry said with a grin, which Malfoy returned.

"Fair enough. See you tomorrow,"

"Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore smiled indulgently. "How are you?"

"It's more difficult that I thought," Harry said heavily, and sank into the armchair Dumbledore had conjured for him. He buried his face in his hands. "I slipped up more times today than is acceptable. Hermione's going to have it figured out by the end of the week, and then the whole plan will be ruined." He said tiredly. "Ron recognised my flying style, I let slip some stuff that James Antares shouldn't know, and I accidentally spoke Parseltongue. It's not been the best of days,"

"Alas. Unfortunately, there is not much I can do to help you there. It is up to you to convince them that you are indeed James Antares."

"But it's hard!" Harry complained, well aware that he sounded like a petulant five-year-old.

"What have you done to your hand?" Dumbledore asked, sounding concerned. Harry glanced at it.

"Burn it." He said bluntly.

Dumbledore twinkled at him.

"It is good to see that James has not the same prejudices as Harry," he said belligerently. Harry gave him a blank look. "Sherbet lemon?"

Harry took one of the sweets and popped it into his mouth.

"I was wondering, do you have all my old stuff somewhere?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. Are you needing something?"

"Not at the moment. I was just wondering if I could give Ron my old Firebolt for his birthday. He could use a good broom, and I've got a new one anyway."

"I should think so. When is Mr. Weasley's birthday?"

"Start of November. Hermione's is in October, but I haven't a clue what to get her," he said huffily, then was struck by a brainwave. "No, I know exactly what to get her!" he said happily, then sank back into his seat. "When's the first Hogsmeade weekend?" he asked hopefully.

"This weekend. We decided to get going early this year."

Harry grinned.

"Is there anything else you would like to tell me?" Dumbledore asked, a knowing tone to his voice. Harry tilted his head and considered his answer.

"I've made friends with Draco Malfoy." He answered.

"That's good to hear." Dumbledore paused. "Anything else?"

"No."

"Very well" Dumbledore, said, sounding slightly disappointed. Harry felt guilty, even though he knew he couldn't tell anyone. "I shall allow you to retire to your common room,"

"I do have a question," Harry said suddenly.

"Yes?"

"What if the portraits tell people? You've been calling me Harry and they will have heard."

"Oh no, I cast a Silencing charm on the room to exclude the portraits. Nobody knows but you and I. And I trust you not to tell anyone." He added sternly. "I will be disappointed if I find that you have without consulting me first."

"Yes sir," Harry said humbly.

"You may go," Dumbledore said, offering him another sherbet lemon. He took it and pocketed it.

"Thank you sir."

"I would like to see you again at the end of the week, if at all possible. After your last lesson on Friday, please,"

"Yes sir. Goodnight, sir,"

"Goodnight, James."

I'm tired... please, please, please, PLEASE! Review! I'm getting pitiful numbers of reviews for ALL my fics on here, I would lvoe you forever if you just took the time to tell me what you think. It's greatly appreciated.

smokey ... is tired.