How the Mighty Fall in Love

"It's wonderful to see you again, Draco," Dumbledore said as Draco took his familiar seat. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"Right."

Shit!

Draco completely forgot about the Sisters. He was so caught up with the Tournament, the task for joining the Order must have slipped his mind.

Shit!

This is all Potter's fault. If she weren't constantly in his mind, maybe he would have actually made some progress right now.

"So?" Dumbledore said.

"Er – well, it's…the thing is there isn't much to go off from in the library," Draco said, hoping it would be a good enough excuse. "I – I haven't found much, if I'm honest."

Dumbledore nodded slightly. "You haven't forgotten or anything like that, have you? I assume you're keeping this task as your priority."

He should've just lied. Of course, Dumbledore's going to be suspicious if he finds out that Draco hasn't made any progress. He still probably thinks that he's working with Voldemort.

"No, of course, sir," Draco said reassuringly. "I…just need more time."

"Hogsmeade weekend is tomorrow," Dumbledore said. "Are you going to go?"

No.

"Yep," Draco said. "Yes, I will."

"Very well," he said, getting back to his work. "I suppose there's no point in having our meeting then if you haven't found anything. Good night Draco."

He wasn't sure if this was all a part of Dumbledore's plan to make Draco feel so bad that the only thing he'd want to do was spend the rest of his evening researching about the Sisters. If it was, he did a good job in executing it, considering that was exactly what Draco did. When he left Dumbledore's office, he ran to the Library and settled back to his work. He erased Ila and the Tournament out of his mind for a few hours to find who the Sisters truly were.

Except it didn't entirely work out that way.

He did go to the library, and he was planning on researching…it's just that the moment he started, his attention went someplace else.

A place where he didn't have to worry about the Sisters or Voldemort or joining the Order. His parents wouldn't have lied to him. They wouldn't care if someone was a muggle-born, half-blooded or pureblooded. He would be at the Manor, in the library. He would be busying himself with the Elixir when a pair of hands wrapped around his head.

"Guess who?" the voice would whisper in his ear, ticking his neck. The sweet smell of treacle tart wrapped around him like a blanket.

"Parkinson?"

"Draco!" the voice scolded. He could suddenly see again. He blinked a few times, getting used to the light once again. A girl sat opposite him came into focus. She tried her best to look angry but couldn't help smile when she saw him.

"I'm only kidding," he said reassuringly.

"I thought you were done with her anyway," she would say, trying to sound as casual as possible. Malfoy bit his smile.

"I was never with her in the first place," he says. "I only had my eyes for one."

"Hmmm…and who was that?" she would ask as she got up from her seat and made her way to Draco, but instead of stopping, she went to the bookshelf behind him, searching for a book. Or at least pretending to. Draco stood up and leaned on the table, watching her.

"Someone I've known for her long time…."

"Really? What was she like?"

Draco shrugged even though she wasn't watching him. "I don't know…she was a Gryffindor – surely that should say enough."

She turned around, her brows furrowed as she did her best to be angry with him again. "There is nothing wrong with being a Gryffindor," she replied defensively. "I thought you were over the inter-house hatred."

"I was," he said. "But merlin, the girl I liked – you could just tell she was a Gryffindor from a mile away…she was impulsive, she did things the way she wanted to, she never took no for an answer."

"Oi! I wasn't like that," she snorted. "Sometimes, I'm pretty sure I was the least Gryffindor out of everyone from the house. I'm pretty sure you were more of a Gryffindor than I was…."

His eyes softened. She took a few steps close to him, close enough for him to wrap his arms around her waist. He pulled her close, her hands landing on his chest.

"I don't know about that," he whispered. "You defeated Voldemort…that's a pretty Gryffindor thing to do…."

"I s'pose," she said shyly.

"Besides," Draco said, "you were only a child when you did that. You felt like you were alone; no one was surprised or angry that you were scared."

She hummed in response. Draco pulled her even closer. Their noses were touching. His hold on her waist tightened. His legs encircled hers so that she couldn't leave. Her hands slowly snaked around his neck. She started fixing his hair, pushing the stray pieces down.

"But you helped me out as well…you took down your parents…helped me not feel so scared…helped me not feel so alone anymore…."

"You will never be alone," Draco said, gently placing a hand under her chin, making her look at him. "You have Hermione; you have Ron and his family. You have the Order; you have Remus and Sirius and Dumbledore…you have me…I don't want you to ever feel like that again…I love you, Ila."

"I love you too, Draco," she said, smiling. She moved closer, bridging the gap between the two until he could feel her soft lips against his and –

Draco woke up with a start.

He groaned softly; a sharp pain travelled up his neck. He massaged that area as he looked around to try and remember what he was doing.

Looking at the strewn sheets of paper around him, as well as one sticking on his face, he was trying to look for the Sisters. As he yawned and stretching his arm, making sure his neck didn't hurt any more than it did, he peeled the note off his face. It was the letter that was found at the Manor…beside her body.

Any lingering feelings he had from that dream vanished as he was brought back to reality. What was he even dreaming about again?... He was at the Manor; he was reading something…what was it?...someone interrupted him…it was…

Draco's hands went straight to his mouth as if he had actually said the words he feared out loud. What was wrong with him?

Why was he…how…what…!

He thought those dreams were gone after the summer…why were they coming back now….He groaned once more…Draco ran a hand through his hair, trying to comfort himself as the second part of his reality ran over him.

He was in trouble.

Draco stared at the letter, trying to ignore any feeling he had over the summer that was trying its very best to break through the surface. He read the sentence over and over again, trying to comprehend what was going on, but every time he did so, a pretty smile and big black eyes would cloud his vision, and by the time he realised he wasn't paying attention, he was at the end of the letter. He did this many times, hoping that at least once, it would be different. But every time he did, he saw her again. He saw the gratitude in her eyes, felt the warmth of her body and remembered the way her body fit just right into his. He could feel her breath against his neck when she first came up to him and again when he held her close, so close that they shared the same breath. Something was squirming in his stomach as if there was something that wanted to break free. He wasn't sure if it was real or not. Maybe there is something in his stomach. Maybe he needed to go to Madame Pomfrey.

Draco heard a snort. He looked up to see another him. He leant against the bookshelf.

You don't need Madame Pomfrey to check you out…if you really want to know what's inside of you, it's your feelings…your feelings for –

Draco closed his eyes before the other him could finish. A single bead of sweat slid down the side of his face, landing on his collar. There was another and another until a small puddle had formed in the crevice of his collarbone.

What he needs to do is to start over again, he told himself. He stacked up some of the paper up and placed them on the seat beside him. He took another stack and placed it on the other side of him. Filing the last stack of paper, he noticed something. They were his notes from his Alchemy class. He took it out, and his eyes instantly went to the side of the parchment. There was a small drawing of the side of Potter's face.

"Shit!"

It wasn't true. This wasn't sure. This clearly isn't happening. He is not –

No, think of something else, he reminded himself. He was going to start his research. He shook himself before placing the notes about blood rituals on the pile and placed it on the floor…

He stared at the note that laid on the bare table for a few moments –

Hang on…

Draco slowly bent back down to pick up his notes from that class. Blood rituals…he was sure there was something familiar about this. He remembered writing something down, but what was it…scanning through the page, he read through the dictation of Trewlany's speech until he reached –

"The way the blood is used differs depending on what you are trying to do. One can cut the palm of their hands and allow drops of blood to pour – this would usually be a form of identification or measure a characteristic about yourself, usually magic. You could kill someone and use their blood – this is usually to give it to deity, or you could even drain the blood – which will most likely be used for bringing…people back from…the…dead."

There was a second that took his brain the connection before diving through the stacks of paper he had so carefully piled on the two chairs. Where was it…where was it…Shit! He couldn't find it…he must have binned or something…he got up from his chair and ran through the library. Luckily Madame Pince was busy with another student and couldn't see him jump over the rope that stood in front of the Restricted Section. He bent down to the lower shelf and took out 'A History of Cults and Secret Societies in the UK.' Running back to his table, he dropped the book on the table and opened it. He flicked the pages until he found the chapter belonging to the Sisters.

'The Sisters have been known to kill specifically men. Not many people know why exactly; many of the things the cult has done have been in secret, and since they had died out thousands of years ago, it remains a secret to this day. But, for some reason, while they kept their intentions a secret, their executions were another thing. Many victims of the Sisters were always on display, hanging in the town's square as everyone saw in horror, not just the dead body of someone that they knew, perhaps a father, husband, or son but the fact that his dead body was always drained of their blood. This was the only consistency found, and this theory was proposed by an Unspeakable in the Ministry. After considerable interest in the Sisters, he found that all their victims were linked with the drainage of their own blood. As well as that, after a day or two, the dead body would vanish. It is assumed that the Sisters took it away.'

Draco took the note in his hand again. He remembered at the time how strange her body had looked. He remembered what her body was like. But now…

It all made sense.

Lauren Dawlish was there – that was probably what the meeting was about with Voldemort. The Sisters were there to help bring Voldemort back to life. They killed Lauren. They used her blood. Her body. They probably had it out for from the start. She was the one that was investigating the Sisters, he thought. That was why it was her. She probably had some information that would shed light on Sisters, something they didn't want to get out. The Sisters killed her, and…brought Voldemort back to life. But how did Lauren find out about the meeting? It must have been hard to find it out herself – someone must have told her.

Someone that she worked with also knew about the meeting. Also knew about the Sisters and Voldemort. He looked down to see the note in his hand had scrunched up. He needed to tell Dumbledore…

"You must leave the library; curfew is in a few minutes," Madame Pince said before moving on to the next student. He couldn't sleep now. He packed up his belongings and headed out of the Library. He walked past the stairs that led him down to the dungeon. He didn't stop until he was outside. He felt the cold breeze wrap around, cooling him after spending hours in the stuffy Library. Before he reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Draco saw a flame emit from the trees. Taking the path that would have to lead him to the middle of the forest, he wondered what was going on.

Was it an attack?

Was it the Sisters? Or maybe Voldemort. Draco stopped in his tracks. He threw his bag and cloak on the floor and grabbed his wand. He couldn't let his belongings drag him down. This time, he took more care when it came to walking through the forest. He mainly looked down, ensuring there were no twigs or branches that could have given him away. He felt a warmth on his face. He was close by. There was a clearing close by. Maybe they were there. He heard a roar getting louder. He stopped once more. Draco's knuckles turned white around his wand. He wiped one of his palms on his trousers before walking once more. He only took a few steps when –

"OI!"

Draco didn't need to lookup. He ducked behind the nearest bush. He counted to ten before looking up to see who was actually there.

"I TOLD YOU BROWN TO DO IT GENTLY! I WANT THESE DRAGONS ALIVE FOR THE FIRST TASK! C'MON!"

Draco stared in awe as wizards who looked like ants in comparison all had their wands pointed at the chained blue and white dragon. It was so tall; it's had to bend its head as if the forest was a badly designed cage. The dragon opened its mouth as its tail whipped side to side. The dragon lifted its head and breathed fire, burning the tops of the trees of the Forest.

"ON MY COUNT!" A red-headed man yelled. He took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves before pointing to the dragon. "THREE! TWO! NOW!"

Jets of red shot at the dragon, who could do nothing. Its eyes rolled to the back of its head and swayed left to the right before it collapsed onto the floor, the wizards running back not to get trapped underneath.

They were going to have to fight dragons, Draco thought. Another worry shot through him as he sat behind the bushes. Ila was going to face dragons.

"She's going to die," Draco whispered to himself.

"I'm dying, Hermione!"

"Stop being dramatic," Hermione said curtly as she drew back the last of Ila's curtains around her bed. Ila hissed at the sunlight, pulling her covers to help block out the light.

"Why don't you want to go, Ila? It'll do you some good to spend some time away from the castle. I haven't seen you go outside unless it's for Herbology or Care for Magical Creatures," Hermione said the morning of their first Hogsmeade Weekend. There were only a few days before the First Task. Had Ila spent her time usefully by practising the Summoning Charm as well as thinking of some backup plans in case they didn't work? No.

Did Ila actually spend all her time panicking and causing her to procrastinate and leave everything to the last minute? Perhaps.

"That's because there isn't anything interesting outside for me," Ila said, pulling the covers to her bed closer to her body. She saw her wand on her bedside table. She turned to the other side. She should have been excited. She was finally able to talk to Sirius's face to face. But all she could think about it is how if she took one step out of her bed, she'd die. "Besides, I don't want to get hurt."

There was a dip on Ila's bed, and she peered over her blanket to see Hermione sitting down. "You won't get hurt. You'll be with me," she said gently. She was making it her mission to get Ila to join her. But if she did, Ila would have thrown up from the first sip of Butterbeer. "If anything happens, I'll just use my Voodoo on other students."

Ila let out a snort. "You'll protect me by giving them good grades?"

Hermione nodded proudly. "Now c'mon on, I could ask Ron-"

Ila groaned, pulling up her covers ever further and turned around, so she wasn't facing Hermione anymore. She heard her sigh before moving to the other side of the bed, so now Ila was forced to see her.

"This is getting stupid-"

"Go and tell him that," Ila said.

"Fine!" Hermione snapped, walking away from Ila's bed. Just as she was about to leave, she quickly pulled Ila's covers away onto the floor.

"Mione!" Ila yelled as she picked up her blankets.

"I'll get you loads of sweets," Hermione called out from the bottom of the stairs.

It had been two hours since that conversation. Ila hadn't left the bed, and Hermione still wasn't back. What was she doing that was so fun…Ila thought. The feeling of boredom overpowered her anxiety. She took her first steps out of her bed, ignoring the dizzying spell and headed downstairs. No one had come back. It was only first and second years as well as a few keen fifth and seventh years. She sighed before going outside. She might as well make some use of her time. She headed to the library, where she had spent most of her time for the past few weeks. Partly because she was hanging out with Hermione now and partly because she thought the towering bookshelves would protect her from the First Task.

It didn't.

All it did was make her feel sleepy.

But she mustn't fall asleep this time. Ila was determined to find the answers. She kind of had to. The First Task was on Tuesday (was it always so hot next to the library doors?), and she needed a plan. As well as mastering the Summoning Spell. But what was the point if she didn't know what to Summon? She opened the doors to the library. She nodded at Madame Pince, who scowled at her wearing slippers in her library before heading to the back. To be honest, she wasn't sure what she was looking for. She just hoped she would get some inspiration…

As she walked past one of the shelves, she saw a flash of blonde. Taking a few steps back, she saw it, Malfoy. Strange. In the past few weeks, she hadn't thought much – a voice snorted.

Since her wand had been weighed, which had been a few good weeks, Malfoy looked rather suspicious.

He's reading a book in a library Ila, how is that suspicious?

But she hushed the rational side of her brain. Maybe she could spare a few minutes to see what was going on.

Ila, as casually as possible, walked up to the bookshelf and searched for a book. Look at her; she was killing two birds with one stone.

"Stalking me, Potter?" Malfoy drawled, not even looking up from his book. "No wonder why people think we're together."

"No one thinks that," Ila said in a quiet voice. She heard Malfoy snort, but when she turned to look at him, his face was composed.

"You don't really believe that do you?" he asked. He turned the page before writing something down. Ila stepped closer to see what he was writing, perhaps ways to sabotage her on the First Task, but noticing her, he brought it closer to him.

"No one really believes that you and me are in a relationship together," she said once more.

"You and I," Malfoy corrected her, lazily turning another page. "Besides, do you know how many second and third years have come up to me confessing their undying love as if that would persuade me to leave you?" He sighed frustratedly, and Ila watched him run a hand through his hair before slamming the book shut down. She read the front cover of the book. The Do's and Don'ts of Wizarding Wars: An In-depth History of What Went Wrong during the Wizarding War.

Catchy.

"What're you doing here anyway?" Ila asked, looking back to the shelves in front of her. That was a strange book. Was Voldemort telling him to read it? Maybe that book might have tactics the Light used. Maybe He's making Malfoy know everything about the Light so He'll know how to defeat them. "I thought you'd be in Hogsmeade terrorising third years."

"I could ask you the same," Malfoy said, looking at her and leaning forward. "Aren't you supposed to be saving people's lives?"

"I'm a bit busy trying to save my own life," Ila muttered. There weren't any relevant books here. Not that she knew what relevant books there would be, considering she didn't know what was going to the First Task.

"You're looking in the wrong section, Potter," he said, causing Ila to look at him in confusion. "I suggest you look into defence against creatures which is further back from here."

"Why would I look into creatures?"

Malfoy scoffed before getting up and walking over to Ila. He stopped just before the table and leaned on it, his arms crossed. "You really have no clue in what you're in for."

"For what?"

"The Tournament," he said obviously. "Maybe I should've expected this for you…though, I would've thought Granger would have put more effort in. You are a champion after all."

Ila rolled her eyes just as she was about to repeat what would have been her catchphrase at this point. "Yeah, but it's like I wanted to be. I didn't put-"

"You're name in the Goblet, yes, yes, we've all heard it…" he sighed. Ila's confusion increased but sensing this, he carried on, "It makes sense…anyone can see that yes you may be a reckless Gryffindor, but it's not like you enjoy the attention…plus what kind of girl would want to enter the Tournament?"

Ila shoved the book back into the shelf so hard, she heard a distanced 'Shh!' echo.

"What do you mean what kind of girl would want to enter the Tournament? Just as many girls entered the competition as boys. What about Fleur Delacour? She's a girl too!"

"She's different," Malfoy replied calmly. "Winning a tournament where eternal glory is the prize means a lot more to a Veela than to an ordinary girl."

"Of course, you would think that you're like all of them," Ila muttered furiously.

"Like who?"

"All those stupid white men who doubts anyone who isn't a stupid white man!" Ila said hotly. "I mean, you're a Slytherin who believes in pureblood supremacy. I should've expected it."

Malfoy remained silent as Ila continued her search for books to help her with the Tournament. Although she was still annoyed, she found herself following Malfoy's advice. She walked over to the Magical Creatures section after coming up with no other books - which made her even more annoyed.

She was sat on the floor, reading Magical Creatures and Where to Find Them, when she heard footsteps walk towards her and stop just before her. She didn't need to look up to see not many people wear Oxford shoes on the weekend.

"What?" Ila asked, mimicking Malfoy and lazily flicking the page to the next creature, centaurs.

"I'm not like that," he said stiffly.

"Like what?"

"Those 'stupid white men' you seem to have a vendetta against."

She snapped her book shut and looked up at him. "I have a good reason not to like the same men who don't believe that I should have the right to exist. And you're exactly like them."

"I'm not," he replied defensively.

Ila stood up, leaving her book on the floor. Although she had to look up to talk to his face rather than his chest, she remained determined. "Of course you are…I don't know how you don't know…It's like you've completely forgotten about the last three years. I don't care how many times you think I'm repeating myself. You're selfish, arrogant, you think anyone who doesn't believe in your harmful and prejudiced ideologies is inferior, you bully…basically, anyone who isn't you for no reason whatsoever, do you want me to go no?" she didn't wait for him to say something before she carried on. "You keep saying that you want change…If you truly want to - merlin knows why - I suggest you take a really good look at yourself and ask if you can actually change?"

She stopped talking, catching her breath. She hadn't realised how angry she truly was nor how close she was to Malfoy.

Throughout it, Malfoy didn't do anything. He remained quiet, not even throwing one insult her way, and when she stepped closer, he didn't move back. He stayed rooted in his spot. And now, he watched Ila closely, processing the information before he gave a small curt nod.

"What?" she snapped.

"In past Tournaments, the first Task was always done with animals," he spoke in a low voice. "They're usually there as a guard, so the Champion has to defeat them to get something. You should look into defensive creatures and how to defeat them. Dragons are territorial. The Tournament hasn't used them yet, so…I suppose you should look into that."

Ila stared at him, unable to find words, though he didn't leave her much choice to say anything if she did find them as he quickly left. He grabbed his bag and exited the library.

It suddenly felt like she stepped out of a bubble. She realised she was still standing where she was, watching the door. She didn't know what to think.

This is Malfoy…Draco Malfoy!

The same boy who bullied her and her friends and practically anyone for the last three years, and here he was getting offended when Ila told him the truth.

For what felt like the thousandth time.

It didn't seem like a sabotage plan from the Slytherins. There weren't any Slytherins around, so what would be the point?

Ila sat back down, grabbing her book and flicked to the sections about Dragons. But the words had no meaning to her as she read them twice, three, four times. All her mind could think about was Malfoy. The more she thought about him, the more it seemed that the plan for the Slytherin's sabotaging her made less and less sense.

The first thing was that he acted strangely before the year even started, and unless he were friends with Seer, he wouldn't have known that she would be a Champion.

Secondly, it seemed like he didn't even hang out with his friends anymore. Every time Ila saw them, she would always see Parkinson and her friends, but Malfoy was nowhere to be seen or even if he was, Malfoy was always in the background.

Thirdly, he helped her too many times, for it seemed like it was sabotage.

Ila didn't think much of it at the time, mainly because she was busy with other things, but only now, sitting in the middle of the silent library, did she really understand what that meant.

Draco Malfoy didn't hate her.

Even with his father being an ex-Death Eater, his mother was one of the biggest and oldest pure-blooded families. Both were pure-blooded supremacists, yet their son admitted he didn't hate their worst enemy.

The floor wavered beneath her, and she had to grip the bookshelves so tight that her knuckles turned white to maintain her balance.

Ila didn't know why she felt like that. Like it felt hard to breathe, and suddenly the bookshelves that towered over her was going to collapse anytime, like how the mere thought of Malfoy deciding that he didn't hate her made her want to throw up. She stumbled to her feet before running out of the library, not even caring that Madame Pince was shouting at her for running too loudly. It was like taking the first breath after coming to the surface when Ila ran out of the library. She didn't stop running. She saw the different paintings flash by her, wondering if they could get any gossip. Students were beginning to come back from Hogwarts, so she dodged past a few. She didn't stop until she reached the Fat Lady, and through deep breaths, she said the password, barely over a whisper. She had to repeat it twice before the door swung open and shakily stepped inside.

Hermione was by the fireplace, talking to Ron, and she thought everything was back to normal for a second. She was going to go over to them, ask them how their trip was. Beg Ron to give some of his sweets, and when he wouldn't budge, Hermione would give her some because she knew that would happen. Ila would then tell them everything that happened in the library. The two would start laughing until they saw Ila's face remain serious. Ila could see Hermione's eyes bulge out of the sockets and Ron choking on one of his sweets. Ila would tell them to help her and-

"Ila!" Hermione called out, waving her over to the couch. Ron was gone. The sudden coldness rushed over her made her feel dizzy yet again, but she powered through it, mainly because the small hope of sitting down again was on her mind.

"Hello," Ila said as casually as possible. "H-how was Hogsmeade?"

"It was…" Ila could see Hermione stopping herself, feeling bad for Ila.

"It was my decision, Hermione; you don't have to feel bad."

"I got you some sweets," she said, dropping a huge pile from Honey-dukes onto her lap. "You didn't miss out on much…Only that Ron and Seamus got into this huge fight with one of the villagers because they were too drunk and a fanged frisbee ended up biting the man's arse, and he was running around the whole village!"

"Sounds like…fun…." Ila said through clenched teeth.

"What did you do then?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing much," Ila said, "took a walk…" she hesitated to say the next part, "I looked into the creatures and how to attack them."

"Why would you do that?"

"I was looking into what kind of tasks previous Tournaments have done, and almost all of them made the Champions fight against one creature to get something."

"That's clever…why didn't I figure that out?" Hermione muttered to herself. "We should go back to the library then and find some books about - "

"I have to meet with Sirius," Ila whispered. "I can't make it."

"Right…that's fine. I s'pose you need a break to relax…let's get back to it tomorrow," Hermione said reassuringly, but nothing she saw made Ila calm. In fact, she felt like she was going to throw up.