Title: The Quandary's Hope
Author: Intrepid Aarcher
Summary: Harry's Potions skills have been well hidden until an accident occurs involving a deadly concoction. Malfoy has noticed not all seems well with his arch-nemesis, but why does he care? And where does a surly Potions master fit into the equation? HPDM
Disclaimer: I'm not making any money out of this foray into the world of fan fiction. I just like to borrow the characters.
Warnings: eventual Harry/Draco slash. So that's male/male duh. A bit of abuse here and there, and some pretty dark themes.
"Parseltongue"
"normal speech"
Thoughts
CHAPTER SIX
Observations
Draco was sure it was Potter behind that screen like he'd never been sure of anything in his life. Ever since the strange episode on the train, he hadn't taken his eyes off his nemesis, and what he'd observed made him curious. Every little gesture the brunette made or interaction he had with others proved that Potter was not himself. This new Potter was quiet and aloof, restricted in his movements as though he were holding something back. It was such a difference from his usual carefree persona; a Potter Draco was extremely familiar with as he had watched him closely for years in keeping with his father's advice: 'know your enemy.'
He had watched him closely in this morning's Potions class too, something he normally avoided as he usually concentrated for his Godfather's benefit. This morning he witnessed a Potter, who under extremely close observation, appeared to know exactly what he was doing. A Potter who took a subtle glance around the room, and, when he thought no-one was looking threw the wrong ingredient in as though he knew what would happen.
And now he had seen his Godfather drag a body into his chambers. If this wasn't something to do with the unusual pattern forming around Potter, he'd swallow his wand. A lump suddenly formed in Draco's throat. His Godfather was second to his father in the Dark Lord's command. He didn't know if he liked the fact that Severus was orchestrating an attempt on the Golden Boy's life. Pull yourself together. This is not the kind of thinking a promising Death Eater needs. And with that, he straightened his robes and marched up to the stairs to Arithmancy, trying very hard not to dwell on a pair of startling emerald eyes.
At lunch he kept an eye out for Potter, and was surprised at the change in demeanour he saw. The Gryffindor's behaviour –apart from physical movements- had reverted back to his usual self. He chatted amicably with his friends and forced his food down with gumption. In fact he was almost completely fooled, until he saw the corner's of Potter's mouth twitch as he glanced briefly at the staff table. Draco followed the look and watched as Professor Snape's sharp stare never once left the dark-haired boy's form.
Draco was perplexed, and it must have shown, for Blaise nudged his shoulder and raised a razor thin eyebrow.
"And may I ask which pretty thing has caught your attention, Oh He-Of-The-Shiny-Hair?"
"Shut it, Zabini. When your inane babble is required, it shall be called for. Until then, no one wants to hear it." He snapped.
Blaise took no notice of his friend's remark, "Oh but it needed to be said," he warned, "for you wouldn't want one of the rank-climbers to note that you were paying particular attention to a certain green-eyed boy." His tone was somewhat cold.
The blond glared at the Italian boy. "I'm only trying to quell some suspicions I have. He's up to something. I know it." Blaise only smiled eerily and got up to leave for his next class.
Later that evening, the boy that had occupied his thoughts all day once again made an appearance.
As Draco made his way down to the dungeons, he noticed Potter hurrying to the potions classroom. Breathing heavily and favouring one leg over the other, he was clutching several large and ancient looking tomes. Draco melted into the shadows and followed silently when he struggled by. The boy looked nervous. He should, thought Draco; he was over twenty minutes late to a detention with Hogwarts' resident jailor. Eager to see if the confusing events of the day could possibly get any stranger, the Slytherin waited.
Potter reached his destination and paused for a moment as he caught his breath. He raised his free hand to knock – only to have the door ripped open before his knuckles even made contact.
Draco's jaw dropped as the grim professor merely stood there, a foreign emotion that looked oddly like relief passed over his face before his usual expressionless front was resumed.
"Well step inside Potter," he spat, "you are late enough as it is, and there is a bottomless cauldron just begging to be scrubbed."
Draco's jaw plummeted to new depths as the Gryffindor smiled timidly and offered a quiet "yessir" and entered the classroom. He was still standing there some minutes later, trying to sort out the jumble in his head that were his thoughts. This new – development – between his Godfather and his nemesis was most alarming.
Draco knew Severus well. He knew how cunning his Head of House was, how conniving he could be. He had often witnessed the cruel tendencies the shrewd man displayed, bringing the toughest seventh year Slytherin close to tears with malicious taunting when he happened to be displeased. Yet here he was, seeming to harbour no ill will towards the Golden Boy, whom everyone knows he abhors.
It must be some sort of plot. An evil plan devised by the Dark Lord to ensnare the Boy Who Lived, and Snape was a key figure. He must be manipulating Potter somehow, drawing him in until he had a false sense of security, until snap, Snape would betray his trust and hand him over to Voldemort. For some reason, these thoughts did not throw Draco into a fit of glee. Instead, he felt a dead weight settle in the pit of his stomach.
Over the course of the next few weeks he continued to watch Potter, and before his eyes he saw the boy's bright personality diminish while his lithe form seemed to waste away. Draco was beginning to wonder why no one else noticed all this; didn't the brat have any friends at all? He knew that the Weasel and the Granger girl had paired up over the summer holidays, but he would not have thought it would prevent them from spending time with their oldest friend.
One day as he sat quietly in the library, Draco grew worried for his own sanity when he considered dropping them an anonymous note to tell them to pay attention. He relaxed somewhat, when he heard bickering voices issuing from the next aisle of books.
"Harry, please tell us what's wrong! We only want to try and help you." That whine sounded suspiciously like the Mudblood.
"Yeah, mate. We're really worried you know." The Weasel was talking now. "You're not eating, you're barely sleeping… I swear if Snape's doing something - "
"You leave him out of it!" A quiet but firm voice snapped. Draco felt an odd burning in his chest at these words, and the familiarity that they implied made him gasp. Snape must have him wrapped around his little finger already. He knew he could never stand in the way of the Dark Lord's plans, and the thought of his professor so blatantly manipulating Ha – Potter to like him made him uneasy. The burning sensation doubled.
A soft sigh slipped through the rows of books. "Look guys, I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused you. I'm just a bit under the weather at the moment, that's all. I must be coming down with a bug or something." Draco's eyes widened in alarm.
"A bug! Where! Come over into the light and I'll get it for you, mate!" Ron urged his friend.
There was a pause for some seconds, and then an outburst of what sounded like suppressed laughter. After several minutes of sniggering and giggling that confused the blonde, Granger's know-it-all tone cut in.
"Oh Ron," she said through her amusement, "never change will you. A bug is a Muggle term for a virus, an illness one can pick up if they're around them for any length of time, and as Harry was at the Dursley's for the entire summer, he could have quite easily caught one."
Harry's laughter stopped altogether and he had gone quiet again at some point in Granger's explanation.
"Yeah, look you two, Hermione and I have got Potions next and I don't want to be responsible for losing another fifty points. Let's go."
The Gryffindor trio made to leave and Draco pressed himself against the shelves to avoid being noticed. He made his way down to the dungeons after them and swept into the classroom with his renowned regal air, sitting so he was able to keep an eye on Potter.
The lesson progressed as usual; the students silent in their various activities of chopping, stirring, slicing and dicing. At least until about half-way through the class.
Draco stared as he saw all colour drain from Potter's face. His knuckles were white as he gripped the desk for support, his upper body swaying as he fought to maintain his balance. The Slytherin froze as he saw a trickle of blood make its way from the delicate corner of his mouth, a deep rose red against the pale skin of his chin. Draco, sure that something was seriously wrong, was about to call out to the professor, when Harry reached out and knocked his cauldron to the floor.
Hearing the noise, Snape's head snapped up from his marking and met Harry's frantic gaze.
"That is it, Potter!" he yelled, marching up to the Gryffindor and grabbing his robes by the back collar. "OUT! I'm taking you to the Headmaster right away! Surely he can't let you get away with another transgression. Malfoy, you're in charge." And with that he glared around at the rest of his charges before pushing the pale boy in front of him towards the door.
"Well you heard the man." Draco said coldly when the student and teacher had left, forcing them all to return to their work. "Granger, clean up your beloved hero's mess." He sneered at the concerned looking girl.
As order was once again established in the classroom, Draco covertly edged towards the door, certain Snape wouldn't have gone far with a boy on the verge of collapse. Making sure everyone was once again absorbed in their work, he peeked his head around the door frame.
What he saw made his heart shudder to a stop.
Snape was on his knees sitting back on his heals, supporting Harry who lay leaning with his back against him. Draco watched as one pale hand lay outstretched on the cool dungeon floor, twitching as the taller man rifled through his robes.
Draco stifled a yell at that, remembering he was meant to be supervising the class. The burning feeling he had experienced earlier returned in force as he saw the Potions Master spare a moment to gently smooth back the messy hair from a fevered forehead, muttering soothing words to the teen.
Snape gave a triumphant grunt as he located something in Harry's front pocket, hurriedly withdrawing his hand which contained a slim vial. From Draco's vantage point, he could smell the vile potion as Snape removed the stopper, and he felt a violent urge to knock the black substance from his Godfather's hand as he lifted the vial to Potter's lips and tipped the contents down.
He just managed to pull his head back into the classroom as Snape - as though sensing someone was there - began to turn around.
Draco slumped heavily against the wall, glad the rest off the students hadn't noticed as he fought to suppress his swirling emotions, confused as to what he'd just seen.
END CHAPTER 6
A/N: Sorry to those who read the note and were left hanging. My Grandad passed away the other day, so everything was a bit hectic for a bit and I didn't really have the time to hop on the computer. Please tell me if you liked this chapter, I have so many ideas for this story that it's hard to know where to put them all. Cheers, Aarcher.