Pretty, Pretty Puzzle

Chapter One

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Harry liked both his best friends. After all, Ron and Hermione had been there for him through so many things. And they had stood by him through many things. And so when the two got together, he couldn't help but feel happy for them.

But truthfully, Harry felt lonely. What could he do? He didn't want to intrude on his two best friends who were blissfully happy together. After all, it wasn't as they still didn't do things together, but Harry still felt a bit left out. And it hadn't helped at all that both Ron and Hermione had been made prefects this year.

Which was why Harry was currently sitting alone in the last compartment on the train to Hogwarts. Sighing a bit dejectedly, he turned towards the window.

He missed Sirius something fierce. He still felt guilty about the whole ordeal, despite what everyone kept telling him… He couldn't help it! If only he had thought before he acted, then maybe… Harry shook his head and blinked to keep the tears from spilling from his eyes.

Closing his eyes, Harry took off is glasses and forced himself not to think of those things. He couldn't change the past, not unless he had a Time Turner, but he wouldn't be able to get his hands on one of those. No. The best thing to do was to look ahead and to think of a plan for revenge.

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It felt strange without his two cronies flanking him, but Draco Malfoy didn't mind the least. In fact, he was grateful. It was refreshing not having to deal with such stupid people. Malfoy grimaced inwardly at the remembrance of them.

Instead, at his side, were Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, who were currently chatting gravely about the current situations.

"… so Crabbe and Goyle are gone. Theodore Nott is still here," Pansy whispered.

"But what about all the other Slytherins? There are still a lot of them left. Do we know who belongs to whom?"

"I don't know. It depends on this year's sorting. I know there are a few of them in the younger years. Not many, but a few. With Him back, there have been new followers. Bloody idiots, the lot of them," Pansy muttered darkly.

"What about that friend of yours, Millicent Bulstrode?" Blaise asked.

"I'm not sure. I've only sent a few owls to her during the summer. Father himself hasn't said too much of the Bulstrodes… And I haven't seen her yet. I don't think she's coming back."

"No, she isn't. Her parents have fled to France. I think they've sent her to Beauxbatons. That's what I heard Father say anyway," Draco added in.

"By the way, shouldn't you two be on the train with the rest of the prefects?" Blaise asked, glancing at the prefects badge on Draco and Pansy's shirt.

Draco shook his head. "Dumbledore excused us from having to go. We've already been instructed on what to do, anyway."

Finally arriving at the last compartment on the train – the other ones had been full, Pansy pushed the door open and the trio was surprised to see that the last compartment wasn't empty like they thought. More surprising was the fact that the only occupant in the compartment was a silently sleeping Harry Potter.

"What's he doing all by himself?" Pansy whispered, surprised. The group of three entered the compartment, careful not to disturb the sleeping boy.

"Didn't you know? Granger and the Weasel were made prefects this year. Though why Weasel was made prefect is beyond me. I'm surprised Potter wasn't made one," Draco answered, sneering.

Once upon a time, Draco wouldn't have hesitated to hex the sleeping boy, but times had changed. Loyalties had changed.

During the time that Lucius Malfoy, along with others had been caught back at the Ministry, by none other than the boy in front of Draco, Dumbledore had been force to reveal his cards to the pathetic excuse for a Minister of Magic.

Lucius Malfoy, and the Zabini family and the Parkinsons, were spies for the Order of the Phoenix.

Of course, it hadn't always been like that, quite the contrary. Lucius Malfoy had been loyal to the Dark Lord when he had risen from his fallen glory. It was true that he had promised loyalty to the Dark Lord the night that he had come back. But it was a while later that the Dark Lord had made a grave mistake to lose the loyalty of one of his most loyal supporters.

Despite being the bastard that he was, Lucius Malfoy had two weaknesses – Narcissa Malfoy and Draco Malfoy, both whom he loved dearly, even though it didn't show.

A short while after the return of the Dark Lord, the Dark Lord summoned all his supporters. Those who had wives or husbands were also to join his ranks and to take the mark.

Lucius didn't really like the idea of his wife becoming part of his circle. He liked the thought of his wife staying outside of these matters and being the perfect lady. Ladies did not go on bloody rampages. And ladies didn't sport dark skulls on their arms.

And of course, Narcissa absolutely agreed with this thought. And the truth was that she, Narcissa Black turned Malfoy was loyal to only her husband, Lucius Malfoy and of course, her son. She loved her sister Bellatrix, but that did not mean that she would follow her sister in any direction she took. But however, a proper lady was supposed to be loyal to her husband and of course, the heir to the family. And if the heir and the patriarch of the family were in discord, well then the mother was to always stick to the heir.

It was tradition. A rather strange tradition that wasn't known to Muggles, but it was tradition nevertheless. And if there was one thing that Narcissa Malfoy and Lucius Malfoy upheld, it would have to be tradition.

So when the Dark Lord decided to add the spouses of his Death Eaters into the ranks of his supporters, Lucius was alright with that. Not pleased, but not so furious as to defy his master. But, the thought of that tattoo on his lovely Narcissa's pale skin did irritate him quite a bit. Nevertheless, it wasn't enough to provoke Malfoy Sr.

Despite knowing Narcissa's distaste for marring the flesh, Lucius Malfoy was still surprised that night, as with other Death Eaters, when Narcissa stepped up to the Dark Lord to receive the Mark. Since she was the wife of the most prominent Death Eater, she had the honour of going first.

But none of the Death Eaters present, alongside with their spouses would've ever thought that Narcissa had the courage to stand up against the Dark Lord's wishes. The moment would last in their minds for all eternity.

"Narcissa Malfoy…" the Dark Lord had hissed with approval at what he saw before him. He saw a very beautiful woman, a Slytherin through and through. He saw a shrewd, cunning mind with selective tastes, refined tastes, to be precise. Yes, Narcissa was quite a lady who knew how to use words and non-physical means to achieve her goals. "Tonight you will be the first of many to be welcomed amongst our ranks…Will you take the Mark and become one of my loyal followers?" It had been more a command than a question.

Narcissa had nodded demurely, bowing her head, not meeting the gaze of the Dark Lord, as that would be improper to do. "Yes my Lord. I shall gladly become one of your loyal followers."

The Dark Lord did not miss the fact she had omitted to taking the Mark. His snakelike eyes darkened. "You will not take the Mark?"

Without missing a beat, Narcissa had replied smoothly. "I would, my Lord, but the mark would look quite terrible in my formal robes. I imagine there will be times when my Lord does not require me to take upon his tasks, and I must spend those times being the socialite. A visible Mark would not do with my formal robes."

Lucius had tensed at that moment, fearing what his Lord would do after hearing his wife's reply. Instead the words of a curse coming out from Lord Voldemort's mouth were a laugh. It was a harsh and cruel laugh, but amusement could be heard throughout it.

Lucius released the breath he had been holding. This was good, so far. It meant at the very least that the Dark Lord was not displeased. He would have to talk to his beloved wife after this. Defying the Dark Lord was not a pleasant thing.

"Very well, Narcissa. There are other ways that you can be marked without it being visible… to the public," Lord Voldemort had said with a slight sneer. It was a blessing that Narcissa was already pale to start with, otherwise the fact that all the blood had left her face would've been quite visible. "You shall stay afterwards the Meeting." And with that dismissal, Lord Voldemort turned his attention towards the other spouses of the Death Eaters.

That night, when the meeting was over, Lucius had returned to his mansion, grateful that Draco wasn't there. He was worried about his wife, and he hadn't liked the look that the Dark Lord had given to Narcissa. He paced agitatedly in his study, waiting for the return of his wife.

And he had waited, and waited, and then waited some more. It wasn't until nearly the approaching dawn that Narcissa had returned to the Malfoy Mansion. The moment she saw her husband, she collapsed in his arms, sobbing in apology for what had happened.

In all the years that he had known Narcissa, never had he seen her lose her composure the way she had. And when he saw the marks over her pale and petite body, he instantly knew what the Dark Lord had done. And he saw red. Blood red.

Oh, those marks would fade over time. But the magic that had been infused during what had happened to create those marks bonded her to the Dark Lord were just as strong as the magic that was used to create the Dark Marks. And then there was the fact that his wife, the person he loved dearly, was violated, not once, not twice but several times in the period of one night was bad enough to drive him over the edge.

And it was then that Lucius Malfoy decided that he'd had enough. The Dark Lord had to pay and if it meant turning to that old Muggle lover Dumbledore, well then he would do it.

And so he had.

Though Draco didn't know the whole story behind why his father decided to switch sides, he did guess that it had something to do with his mother. And whatever had happened, Draco was relieved. He didn't want to be a Death Eater. He was a Slytherin and Slytherin bowed down to nobody but themselves. And least of all not an insane half-blood madman waving a wand.

And the Dark Lord was indeed crazy. He had already done so much to piss off quite a few of his strongest and of course, most sane followers. Not that they could leave his services, but these Death Eaters gave their services to the Light, knowing that no matter which side they were, their lives were in danger.

Draco eyed the dark-haired boy in front of him. He took in the features of the sleeping boy. The boy hadn't grown all that much over the years. True, he was taller than before, but he was still a lot smaller than Draco. In fact, the boy looked almost underfed.

His glasses hung precariously on the edge of his nose. Draco took in the way that his mouth was slightly opened, and the way his chest rose in a steady rhythm, and of course the messy, messy hair that was almost a trademark of the Gryffindor. Except before it was an I-don't-know-what-a-comb-is-for type of messy hair, but now it was more of an I-just-got-back-from-the-shag-of-my-life type of hair. And it looked quite appealing on the Gryffindor. Draco supposed that it was the best change in the black-haired boy.

Draco shook his head from thinking about Potter. There was one main reason that Draco didn't want to become a Death Eater. And that reason was that he just had to fancy the bloody Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Die.

Sitting next to Potter, Pansy observed the small motion her friend made and smiled. She knew of Draco's preferences and his attraction to the dark-haired boy. It didn't make her angry in the very least. She had no intention of marrying Draco, especially since she had a thing for a certain dark haired professor. In fact, she never did have a thing for Draco and it had all been a pretense. And she had no intension of becoming a Death Eater either – the whole Mark thing and the robes and mask were terrible fashion sense. Pansy didn't think she could ever serve someone who had such terrible fashion sense. Besides, the Dark Lord had killed her darling older brother in a temporary rage and she and her family couldn't possibly forgive him.

"The poor boy… Look at him! He's all skin and bones," Pansy said, in a mothering tone. Malfoy smirked. Pansy would've made a wonderful mother, despite appearances.

Blaise ignored the two, he knew what Pansy was up to and he didn't want to get mixed up in it. Oh, he was good friends with the two, but he was also smart enough not to get in Pansy's way when she had her sight set on something. And that something was somehow doing the impossible and getting Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter together.

"I don't know how you could possibly fancy him, Drakie darling," the Slytherin girl continued. Draco glared at her.

"Shut up," he said tersely. Pansy simply smiled sweetly.

"Touchy aren't we?"

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When Harry woke up from his slumber, the first thing he noticed, well heard really, were voices that didn't sound anything remarkably like his Gryffindor friends. In fact, these voices sounded familiar.

Slytherins. Feigning sleep, Harry decided to listen in on their conversation.

"Honestly Drakie darling! Just make a stupid move on him –" A move? On who? Me?

"I refuse to. I absolutely refuse to. You know it very well isn't possible for that, for what I want." Did Malfoy sound… almost regretful?

What was going on? Clearly this did not sound like the Malfoy and Slytherins that Harry knew.

"What do you mean it's not possible? Of course it is! And it's not like there's anything to stop you now, since your father's been revealed as a spy as it is." Pansy sounded exasperated.

What? Lucius Malfoy was a spy? Harry was more and more confused now. And the school year hadn't even started yet!

"Come on Blaise… Give me a hand here."

Blaise remained the clever Slytherin and stayed silent. Pansy huffed in irritation. "Stupid boy," she muttered darkly.

Harry sworn Malfoy was smirking. "Watch out Pansy, dear, your retorts are getting so much cleverer."

"Shut up Drakie-poo!" Harry found it hard to keep up his pretense.

"Parkinson, what have I told you about calling me that?"

"But Drakie darling, it annoys you so!" Draco glared.

"Thank God I don't have to marry you," the blond-haired boy muttered.

Pansy laughed. "And that I don't have to marry you either. You may have very nice clothes, but really it just wouldn't suit my purpose."

A lapse in the conversation ensued. Pansy once more glanced at the sleeping boy next to her.

"The poor, poor boy… He's so awfully small. Doesn't he ever eat anything?"

Draco snorted – gracefully, as a Malfoy doesn't do anything that isn't. "Potter eats like a half-starved man. The only person who could possibly be worse than him is that Weasel."

The corners of Pansy's mouth lifted to a smile. Draco probably hadn't realized it, but the way he said Potter's name sounded like a caress.

Harry shivered as tingles ran up his spine. Pansy wasn't the only person who had noticed the way Malfoy had said his name. And Harry was now more confused than ever. He decided that he should probably 'wake up'.

Letting out a soft moan, Harry blinked a few times until his eyes adjusted to the settings around him. The first thing he noticed was a set of stormy blue-grey eyes peering at him. Harry was startled to realize they belonged to Malfoy and even more startled at the fact that they held no hate, no venom in them.

"What are you doing here," Harry asked. He was surprised at the fact he managed to keep his voice emotionless. Apparently, so were the Slytherins.

"I'm sitting here, it's obvious enough, Potter," no hint of the something else this time, "Or were you too stupid to even figure that out for yourself?" Draco drawled. "Poor, poor Potter, without Granger around, you're even worse than Longbottom."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Why are you here," he emphasized on the why.

"It's a free world, Potter. And I'm a Malfoy. I'll go where I please," was the reply.

Harry snorted. "And aren't we sure pompous and arrogant as usual, today." Then with a softer voice, barely audible, he muttered, "… And it's not a free world… Not thirteen years ago and not now."

Pansy and Blaise exchanged worried glances. For the rest of the train ride, Harry was left alone. Not that he minded, of course.

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Severus sighed as he trudged drudgingly along towards the Great Hall. Another school year was about to start and another year of idiotic brats to teach. He could already feel the onslaught of headaches he was about to receive. At the moment, he could already hear the sounds of the carriages approaching; the first years would take a while before they arrived at the castle.

Despite all his complaints and pretenses, Severus Snape enjoyed his job. One could almost say he liked it. He loved making potions, loved the careful steps, the subtleness to it and the precision it took to brew a potion correctly. And his job allowed to him to work with potions constantly. And it wasn't to be denied that Severus Snape was one of the best potion masters out there. And he didn't hate teaching his knowledge to people – he loved to share his love of potions. He just happened to hate teaching idiotic brats who had no patience for it. Of course, once in a while an exception would come along, but that was rare.

Upon reaching the door to the Great Hall, he heard his name being called and turned to see some of his favourite students. He nodded in reply as his eyes scanned over Blaise who looked indifferent, Draco who looked pleased to see his godfather and to Pansy who was happily waving to him.

Pansy. A pretty puzzle for him to solve. She looked so much like her. So much that Severus was haunted by memories every time his eyes landed on his student. On the outside, they were so much alike, yet on the inside, their personalities were so different.

But still… Pansy reminded him so much of her… So much that it hurt sometimes.

Without looking back, Severus Snape stepped into the Great Hall and tried hard to push back the memories that wouldn't be buried deep, deep into his head.

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"We're so sorry for leaving you alone, Harry," Hermione apologized for the umpteenth time so far. Ron nodded with his new girlfriend. Harry just grinned.

"I told you already, it's fine." Still, Hermione still had a slightly guilty expression on her face. Harry suspected the two had been doing something that didn't have a single thing to do with prefect duties. He couldn't help but feel a little sad at that.

As Ron and Hermione chatted on, Harry tuned their voices out and concentrated on his food. For some reason, however, Harry felt like he was being watched. Unconsciously, out of habit, Harry lifted his head up and found himself looking at Malfoy, meeting the blonde's eyes for the merest of seconds before Malfoy turned his head to the side to talk with Parkinson.

But it was long enough for Harry to catch some emotion in the usually emotionless Slytherin. Strange…

Malfoy was confusing this year. Harry didn't think he even recognized the blonde anymore. Such a puzzle… Such a pretty, pretty puzzle.

Harry froze. Where on earth had that thought come from?

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