A/N: Thank you to the ever-faithful BrightWatcher for the single review on the last chapter. Thanks also to the new subscribers.
Chapter Thirteen: Negotiating a Truce
"I am disgusted. Three students out of bed in one night! Explain yourselves."
Harry and Ron cast guilty gazes downwards, unable to meet Professor McGonagall's eyes; Filch had brought them straight to her office after catching them at the Astronomy Tower. Needless to say, Gryffindor's Head of House had not been happy to see two of her students out of bed after the Slytherin miscreant she had just dealt with. McGonagall was currently seated at her desk, facing the two nighttime wanderers with fire in her eyes.
When no answer was forthcoming — because really, nothing Harry or Ron could say would be anywhere near an acceptable excuse for creeping around the Astronomy Tower in the dead of night — McGonagall's nostrils flared.
"Very well," she said. "It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, anyway. The two of you —" She pointed at Harry and Ron. "— thought it would be funny to get Draco Malfoy into trouble by breaking curfew, and therefore concocted an utterly ridiculous story about a dragon to entice him out of bed at night. I suppose you laughed yourselves silly while composing that fake letter from Charlie Weasley? You should be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Weasley — using your brother's livelihood to trick unsuspecting students is an egregious breach of familial trust."
Ron knew it was useless to protest, as McGonagall would never believe that Charlie really had written the letter himself — and in any event, he was too terrified to open his mouth.
"Both of you will receive detentions," declared McGonagall, "and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."
Harry gasped, shocked. "Fifty?"
"Each," McGonagall added.
"Fifty points each?" Ron exclaimed in horror. A hundred point loss would put Gryffindor dead last in the running for the House Cup. "Professor, please —"
"We'll do extra detentions…" Harry tried to bargain.
McGonagall was in no way inclined to listen to their pleas. "Believe me, Potter, I've half a mind to give you both detentions till the end of the year, so I suggest you don't push it. It will be fifty points each from both of you, and I shall not take it back. Now, get back to bed."
Meekly and glumly, the two Gryffindors trudged back to their dorm, dreading the reaction from their Housemates when they found out how many points they'd lost.
Lucius Malfoy was a dignified sixth year, a conscientious prefect, a proud scion of House Malfoy — and as such, he did not play pranks, no matter how deserving of one a student (or teacher, in certain cases) may be. Nor could he go about hexing anybody who irritated him, though the idea was sorely tempting; he had a reputation to uphold and an example to set, and a true Slytherin would find other, more subtle ways to convey displeasure.
Nevertheless, Lucius could not deny that it had been supremely satisfying to witness Potter and his troublemaking friends get their comeuppance yesterday. The prank itself had been entirely of the Marauders' making; all Lucius and Lily had done was modify it to victimise the Marauders rather than Severus. Doing so had required employing quite a few alterations on challenging spells like the Invisibility Charm and the Vanishing Spell. Enchanting the shampoo to swap heads whenever it was splashed with large amounts of water had been the trickiest bit; Lucius had had to perform complicated magic combining a regular Switching Spell with a modified Vanishing Spell to create a brand-new spell he had never thought possible before. But despite all that, technically, the only thing Lucius had done was turn the Marauders' prank back on them — something that pleasantly agreed with his Slytherin sensibilities and ensured that his record of never masterminding a prank himself remained clean.
Thus it was that, the day after the Shampoo Prank, Lucius awoke still feeling quite smug and certain that the Marauders would not try anything on Severus for a while.
That conviction lasted all the way until he entered the Great Hall for breakfast, whereupon he discovered that the ridiculous head of bright green hair at the Slytherin table belonged to none other than Severus Snape.
Unless they were naturally early risers or fifth- to seventh-years who needed a maximum number of waking hours a day to keep up with their studies, most students did not wake up too early on a Sunday morning. Quidditch players were the exception; with four House teams competing for practice time on the pitch, each player had to be ready and willing to practice at odd times of the day, including early on weekend mornings.
It just so happened that the Slytherin team was supposed to have practice on Saturday evening this weekend. Given yesterday's stormy conditions, Marcus Flint had cancelled practice with the intent of replacing it today — only, Oliver Wood had beaten him to the prime practice time of nine to eleven o'clock, so Flint had been forced to book the pitch for seven to nine. His players had naturally grumbled about having to wake up at six-thirty (six sharp, if they wanted a good breakfast beforehand) on Sunday morning, but they all understood the necessity. They were due to play Ravenclaw in the middle of February, and they needed a win to make up for their earlier loss to Gryffindor.
Thus it was that the Slytherin Quidditch team were the first to pass by the giant hourglasses that recorded House points after last night's drastic reconfiguration.
"Why do we have fifty points less?" Keeper Miles Bletchley stared at the emeralds in Slytherin's hourglass. "How do we have fifty points less?"
"That can't be right," said Terrence Higgs with a frown. "I saw the hourglass just before I went to bed yesterday — everything was normal!"
"Well, obviously something happened last night to lose us fifty points," growled Flint.
"Hey, look at Gryffindor's glass!" Emery Collins, one of the Beaters, said gleefully. "One hundred points lost!"
"You're kidding!" gasped his fellow Beater, Alexander Selwyn. A quick glance confirmed that Gryffindor had, in fact, lost a hundred points during the night. "Blimey! What did they do?"
"Betcha it was those redheaded delinquents," Graham Montague offered. He, like Adrian Pucey, was a third-year, and so had Charms class with the Gryffindors every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, thus becoming more well-acquainted with the Weasley twins than he would have liked.
"Nothing the Weasleys have ever done has resulted in a fifty-point deduction, let alone a hundred," Adrian Pucey disagreed. Unlike Montague, he actually found Fred and George's antics rather amusing. They had an uncanny knack of choosing targets Pucey himself wouldn't mind pranking — such as Montague himself.
"Who the hell cares who did it?" Flint's scowl had morphed into a grin of genuine delight. "A hundred-point loss puts them last in the House competition — they're even lower than the 'Puffs! We've got a chance now!"
"Don't forget we still have fifty points to make up for ourselves," Higgs reminded him.
"Ugh." Selwyn made a face. "We would've been first place if we hadn't lost that. Now we're behind the Ravenclaws."
"Not if we crush them in the game," said Flint with relish.
"We'd have to win by about a hundred points if we want to have a chance at the Quidditch Cup," Pucey observed.
"So we'll win by a hundred points," Collins proclaimed, tapping his Beater's bat enthusiastically.
"Easier said than done," Bletchley noted. "Their Chasers are good."
"So we have to make sure we're better," declared Flint. "To the Quidditch pitch, men!"
Their spirits lifted, the Slytherins marched off with renewed determination. As they made their way to the pitch, Pucey was the only one who pondered further on Slytherin's point loss, and he wondered whether Malfoy, in his ill temper concerning his unknown friend, had had anything to do with it.
"Do I want to know?"
Severus, who had had to put up with questions and sniggers from several classmates already (questions from the Slytherins and sniggers from everyone else…plus some Slytherins), rounded sharply on the person who had asked, fire and humiliation burning in his eyes. The scathing retort on his tongue died when he saw Lucius quirking an eyebrow at him.
"Potter," he spat.
"Obviously," sighed Lucius, "but I was inquiring as to how the prank was accomplished."
Severus ground his teeth together. "If I knew that, I would not currently be sporting this absurd shade."
"Can you prove it was Potter?"
"If only," Severus said bitterly. "But, as usual, he managed to do it without evidence."
"This is probably revenge for yesterday's humiliation," observed Lucius.
Severus glared ferociously at him. "Thank you," he grit out, his tone dripping sarcasm. "I never would have guessed."
Lucius met his flushed, angry stare coolly. "Calm yourself, Severus. Blind rage will not help you defend against Potter and his pets."
"Then what will?" the younger boy demanded sullenly.
Lucius's gaze trailed across the width of the Great Hall to see Lily Evans's red head leaving the breakfast table with her Gryffindor girlfriends. "What, indeed."
Draco awoke that Sunday with an unpleasant mix of emotions: confusion that neither Harry nor the Weasel had shown up with the dragon; resentment that he was in trouble for trying to report somebody breaking school rules while Harry the culprit got off scot free; and trepidation for what Severus would say when McGonagall told him about last night.
Well done, Draco — what a fine mess you've gotten yourself into, he berated himself.
The sole silver lining of this sorry situation was the fact that Severus would probably smell a rat, and find a way to punish Harry as well as Draco. It wasn't much of a consolation when Draco had just lost his House fifty points singlehandedly — fifty! — and was still to receive a detention, and almost certainly a lecture and another detention from Severus, plus whatever punishment his parents would inflict if Severus decided to tell them too.
Draco rolled over and slammed his fist into his pillow in frustration. Nothing about this year was going right.
Lucius spent a long time mulling over Severus's unfortunate situation and the uncontrollable menace of the Marauders. Potter and his friends would keep on trying to make Severus's school years a living hell, it was obvious — and Severus, regrettably, did make himself a rather easy target with his volatile temper and intense reaction to humiliation. Lucius knew very well that bullies' main thrill was the reaction they got from their victims, and Severus apparently couldn't help himself from providing the exact reactions the Marauders were looking for. If things kept going the way they were, the younger Slytherin would be irrevocably oppressed, and a very unhappy snake indeed.
And yet, there was only so much Lucius could do. Yes, he was a Prefect — but he was also a sixth-year with challenging N.E.W.T.-level classes and his own life to live, and he could not guard Severus from Gryffindor attacks every minute of the day.
So, obviously, he needed to enlist someone else's help. Two people would have a better chance of protecting Severus from the Marauders' pranks than one.
And when Lucius thought about it, though he was reluctant to admit it, there was really only one person he could ask.
"What. Did. You. Do."
Draco looked up to see Daphne Greengrass boring holes through him with eyes that were spitting fire. For a brief moment, he contemplated feigning ignorance, but he decided against it. Greengrass was clever and observant, and his previous encounter with her had taught him that she didn't make snap accusations or empty threats.
"I suppose you're talking about Slytherin's 50-point loss?" It had been three days since his indiscretion, and while his Housemates had been angry and indignant, they were considerably cheered by Gryffindor's century deficit. In fact, their glee over their rivals' severe disadvantage precluded them from undertaking any real effort into determining which Slytherin had cost them the points, particularly once they realised that Quidditch was their way to take the lead for the House Cup. At that point most people in Slytherin stopped being angry and started encouraging their House team enthusiastically. Slytherin, after all, had two Quidditch matches left to play, while Gryffindor had only one — and it was harder to recover from losing 100 points than 50. Thus, Greengrass was the first to actually approach Draco about the issue.
"Yes, that's exactly what I'm talking about." She crossed her arms.
"How'd you know it was me?"
"You were already the most likely candidate because of your horrible attitude these past few weeks, and your reaction when you saw the Gryffindor hourglass gave it away."
"My reaction?"
"You were relieved."
Draco couldn't deny that. He knew once he saw Gryffindor's points that there could only be one explanation for the lions losing a century of points in the same night Slytherin had lost fifty: Harry, and probably one of his friends, had been caught (gossip the day after had confirmed his suspicion — Harry and the Weasel had each had fifty points taken by McGonagall). At the time, he'd been thankful for it, because it meant that his attempt to get Harry in trouble hadn't been in vain, and that Slytherin was not out of the running for the House Cup after all — but after seeing the way the Gryffindors had been shunning the two responsible, Draco could only feel sorry. While he'd resented that Harry could easily make friends while he was forced to remain aloof, he hadn't wanted his foster brother to be ostracised by his own House. Moreover, Harry was now keeping his head as low as possible and had not so much as looked at Draco since that night. The entire plan had backfired.
"So," said Greengrass firmly when Draco remained silent, "what did you do?"
Draco sighed. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Greengrass right now. "I tried to get Potter in trouble and only ended up getting myself in trouble. Happy now?"
"No," Greengrass said curtly.
Draco eyed her warily. "Is this the part where you enact revenge for my losing us points?" He still hadn't forgotten her warning the last time they'd talked.
"It should be," she agreed. "You're lucky Potter managed to get himself into trouble without your help, or we'd be so far behind Gryffindor we wouldn't stand a chance of winning the House Cup. As it is, if we beat Ravenclaw well enough in the next Quidditch match, we'll be in the lead. Since you haven't completely destroyed our chances, I'm not going to waste my time trying to get back at you. But," she added warningly, "I really do suggest that you tread carefully."
She pirouetted on her heel and marched away.
Lucius called out to the trio of girls before he could change his mind. "Evans," he said sharply, "I want a word with you."
Lily looked startled, but her friends intervened before she could say anything.
"What's it about?" Marlene McKinnon demanded.
Lucius sneered condescendingly at her. "I hardly think it's any of your business, McKinnon."
"It is if you're just going to find bogus excuses to take points off her because she's Muggle-born," said Alice Fenmoor. She was a year older than the other two, and had had more experience with Lucius.
"I am not —"
"Girls, it's okay," said Lily. "I'll be fine."
"You sure, Lils?" Marlene asked.
"I can handle myself," Lily assured her.
"Okay, but if he gives you any trouble, you let me know," said Alice, eyeing the Slytherin prefect sternly. "I'll tell Frank."
Lucius drew himself up in affront — as if the fifth-year Gryffindor prefect had any authority over him — but Lily didn't give him the chance.
"Thanks, Alice, but I've got it. You two go on ahead — I'll catch up once I find out what Malfoy wants."
Somewhat reluctantly, Marlene and Alice retreated, the latter mouthing tell me as she left.
"Are your friends always this disinclined to leave you alone?" Lucius inquired.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" demanded Lily. "I thought we were done after yesterday. Truce over. At least, that's the impression you gave me."
Lucius's expression was pained. "Yes, well…you've seen Severus this morning, haven't you?"
Lily huffed in irritation, though whether it was directed at the Marauders or Severus himself was unclear. "Yes, I have. Potter's revenge for yesterday, I'm sure."
"I don't think our lesson took. They are not going to stop."
"Yeah." Lily sighed. "To be honest, I didn't really have much hope they would. But I was sick of them picking on Sev without any retribution."
"That is precisely what I want to discuss with you."
Lily's green eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
Lucius looked like what he was about to say next was about as pleasant as swallowing a lemon. "It occurs to me that you were right when you came to me for help. Out of all the people in this school, we are the only two who have undertaken any real effort to protect Severus in particular from the Marauders."
"Yes, and?"
Though his face was the picture of reluctance, Lucius's next words were said very deliberately. "And…I wondered if you'd be interested in a more…permanent arrangement."
On Friday, Artemis arrived at the breakfast table with a note for Draco in Professor McGonagall's sharp, angular handwriting.
Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch in the Entrance Hall. — Prof. M. McGonagall
Draco grimaced. His detention was with Filch? The cantankerous caretaker had already unintentionally forced him into a room with a three-headed dog this year — Draco hated to imagine what he would come up with when he was completely aware that he had a defenceless student at his mercy.
Another unpleasant surprise was waiting for him when he trudged into the dungeon for his weekly Potions class. Potions was usually his favourite subject, but Draco had been dreading this particular lesson all week. Snape was aware, of course, that some dunderhead in his House had cost Slytherin 50 points, but Draco didn't know whether McGonagall had yet enlightened him as to who that dunderhead was and just how he had lost the points.
A single glance at his godfather's face as he entered was enough to confirm Draco's suspicions: Severus knew everything. The Potions Master's nostrils were flaring uncontrollably, and his black eyes glittered with barely restrained fury as he glared down his hooked nose at Draco.
Across the room, Harry was not spared either — he was the first one to be snapped at, barely two minutes into the lesson, and Snape took care to make his displeasure clear to both boys at every opportunity. He could not be overly hard on Draco because their charade necessitated that he show blatant favouritism to the Malfoy scion, but he nonetheless found a reason to get Draco to stay back after class. Though Draco's Forgetfulness Potion was just a shade lighter than the cherry red it was supposed to be, Snape swooped down on him and proclaimed that the deviance was the result of a minor but persistent mistake he had encountered in all Mr. Malfoy's potions thus far, and would Mr. Malfoy kindly stay back after class to discuss how he could rectify it?
"I want to see you after class as well, Potter," Snape announced after Draco had murmured his acquiescence. "Your work and behaviour today were even more appalling than usual."
"Yes, sir," was all the Gryffindor said, while Ron and Hermione winced in sympathy.
After class, Draco remained seated while his fellow Slytherins filed out. Zabini was the only one to offer him a raised eyebrow and a halfway-sympathetic expression — clearly, he was perceptive enough to realise that Snape wanted to scold Draco in private for something unrelated to his work in class — which was a marked contrast to the way Ron and Hermione were lingering around Harry.
"Weasley, Granger, I hardly think Gryffindor House needs to lose more points, do you?" Snape purred dangerously.
Hermione jumped guiltily. "No, sir," she squeaked. She tugged at Ron's arm, and the two of them hastily left the dungeon.
Once they were out, Snape flicked his wand at the door, saying an incantation Draco had never heard before (he thought it sounded a bit like 'muffle'), and rounded on the two boys. "Explain," he demanded.
Neither Draco nor Harry said anything for a while, though they exchanged glances for what was possibly the first time in weeks. Snape waited, tapping his fingers against his crossed arms impatiently.
"Um…we were caught out after curfew, sir," Harry offered at last.
Snape scowled. "Obviously. The unprecedented loss of points speaks for itself, Potter. However, while I am displeased that the two of you have ignored my instructions to remain discreet in your midnight meetings, I am more concerned about the fact that Professor McGonagall appears to think that a fictitious creature was involved. Is it true, Draco, that you lured her up the Astronomy Tower on the pretence that Potter was intending to smuggle a dragon out of the school?"
Draco gulped. He wanted to deny the accusation, but two things made that impossible: 1) Snape already knew about it from McGonagall and was only looking for confirmation from the culprit; 2) how else was he supposed to explain what on earth he'd been doing?
Screwing up his courage (just because he wasn't a Gryffindor didn't mean he didn't have any), Draco confessed, "Yes, sir."
"And just why did you decide to do something so absurdly asinine?"
"I —" Draco was at a loss for words.
"It was my idea, Professor," Harry spoke up, causing Snape to turn to stare at him. The Potions Master's expression was terrifying, but Harry stood his ground like the Gryffindor he was. "Draco and I…got into a bit of a fight."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Real or feigned?"
"Real," Harry admitted. "I was mad, so…I thought I'd prank him, as…as revenge. I made up the story about me having a baby dragon — I knew he'd try to report me — but I didn't think he'd take it so far as to get Professor McGonagall to wait on top of the Astronomy Tower."
"Just what were you trying to accomplish with this outlandish tale?" demanded Snape.
"I just thought…it would make Draco look foolish when he tried to convince the teachers about it."
Draco could scarcely believe his ears. He and Harry both knew the dragon had been real, and he also knew Harry knew that this whole mess was the result of Draco trying to be a goody-two-shoes sticking his nose in where it didn't belong. It was very likely that if Draco hadn't insisted on reporting Harry's illicit activities, Harry would have managed to get the dragon away without getting caught. As it was, Draco could only assume that the dragon was gone (given the lack of suspicious growling noises form Hagrid's hut this past week), but they were both in big trouble.
Snape glared disapprovingly at Draco. "And you believed this ridiculous story?"
"Er…" Draco caught Harry's eyes warning him to play along, and he said, "Um…Harry was…very convincing, sir. There was a letter…"
"…supposedly from Charlie Weasley. Yes, I heard." Snape gave Harry a hard gaze. "You were certainly very thorough, weren't you?"
Harry looked at his feet. Draco wondered what was going through his head. Harry was basically taking the fall for the entire fiasco, and while Draco was thankful, he was also puzzled as to the reason why. Harry could be chivalrous, but not that chivalrous — not without good reason.
"Give me one good reason," Snape said, "why I should not tell Lucius and Narcissa about this foolish behaviour."
Harry seemingly shrank; apparently his fibbing ability did not extend that far.
Draco's, however, did. "Severus," he said earnestly, appealing to his godfather rather than his teacher and causing the man to peer at him quizzically. "It's been difficult for us this year. We're not used to…to being enemies, pretend or not — and, well, we got frustrated, we had a fight, and said some things we didn't mean…" Draco caught Harry's gaze and trailed off, momentarily losing his words to the swell of regret that rose in him. The whole issue just looked stupid now, in retrospect. He met his godfather's eyes. "It won't happen again."
"No, it won't," Snape agreed. "There will be no more meetings after curfew for the remainder of the school year. You may think this pretence is extreme, or that it is a game — but it is in place for a reason, and should the wrong person discover the truth, the consequences could be dire. Perhaps not now, but in the future when the Dark Lord returns. This is a long-term protection, and it is imperative that you both start taking it seriously."
Draco and Harry both squirmed under his steely glare. They couldn't deny that while they'd been fulfilling their parts in the play well enough, neither of them was actually truly invested in the act.
"We will leave Lucius and Narcissa out of this," Snape declared then, much to the two boys' relief, "but I hope you aren't under the impression that you're getting out of punishment."
"We already got massive points taken off us, and I've got detention tonight — with Filch, of all people," Harry protested.
"So do I," Draco put in. In his mind, that was punishment enough.
Naturally, Snape was of a different opinion. "That was Professor McGonagall's punishment for catching you out of bed after curfew. You're also to be punished by me for endangering our charade with your reckless midnight wanderings." His eyebrow arched again. "Unless you'd rather I brought this to Lucius's attention after all, and let him deal with you?"
"No, sir," they said hastily.
"Good. You will both serve a week's worth of detentions with me, starting on Tuesday. Report here at seven o'clock in the evening, sharp. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Dismissed."
Draco and Harry gratefully scurried out of the dungeon. They didn't get a chance to say anything to each other, because Crabbe and Goyle were dutifully waiting for Draco, and Ron and Hermione for Harry — but neither had missed the significance of Snape's punishment. Though detention with the Potions Master for a solid week was sure to be onerous, Snape had also given them the opportunity to be with each other, free of fake enmity, for seven straight days.
"What kind of permanent arrangement?" asked Lily.
"I believe the two of us working together would be much more effective at defending Severus from future Marauder attacks," Lucius clarified.
Lily cocked her head. "You're suggesting an alliance?"
Lucius didn't want to admit that that was exactly what he was proposing — after all, it went against his grain to enter into any such pact with a Muggleborn — and since when had he stopped thinking of Evans as a Mudblood, anyway?
But the truth of the matter was, her lack of blood purity notwithstanding, Lily Evans was an extraordinarily capable witch. She was talented, intelligent, and diligent — and, as Lucius had learned while they were working on the shampoo incident, she had a hidden cunning side to her nature. Lily had done most of the research on the spell variations they used for that prank, and it had been her Muggle-influenced perspective — unrestrained by the subconscious boundaries wizards brought up in the magical community had — that enabled the discovery of their innovations. Moreover, the fact that she was a Gryffindor placed her in an excellent position to hear of whatever mischief the Marauders might be planning, be it against Severus or anyone else.
Lucius had taken Severus under his wing, and thus he felt a certain responsibility towards the younger Slytherin. For Severus's sake, and for the sake of the potential he could develop in the future if he weren't perpetually victimised by Potter, Lucius was willing to swallow his pride and work with Lily, particularly considering Severus's own friendship with her.
"An indefinite truce," Lucius conceded.
Lily thought about it for a moment. "Okay, I'm in," she agreed.
Lucius nodded stiffly. He held out his hand for her to shake, but she refrained.
"Not so fast," she said. "If this truce is going to work, there have to be rules."
"Rules?" Lucius repeated incredulously.
"No Dark hexes, no calling me names, no snide remarks about Sev and I being friends…"
"Evans, it's because you're friends with Severus that I'm even suggesting this."
"…no looking at me as if I'm an insect you'd rather crush under your foot, no insulting my Gryffindor friends, no slights about my magical ability."
"Anything else?" Lucius asked dryly. "Would you also like me to wax poetic about the way you dealt with the cockatrice on Halloween?"
Taken aback by his tone — it was sardonic, mocking, but unmistakably teasing — Lily looked at him curiously, before breaking out into a smile.
"You know, I think this will work out just fine." Without warning, she seized Lucius's still-outstretched hand and shook it, thereby sealing their pact.
Draco reached the Entrance Hall at eleven o'clock sharp to see Filch already waiting there. The caretaker gave him a sneer but otherwise said nothing until Harry and Ron arrived, just a minute or so later.
"Follow me," said Filch. He lit a lamp and swung it in front of him as he led them out of the hall. "And don't even think of running off, now, or it'll be worse for you," he warned.
As the three boys followed Filch across the dark grounds, Draco tried to tune out the caretaker's horror stories about the 'old punishments' — punishments that apparently involved medieval torture devices. Draco knew that Hogwarts students of old had suffered some terrible detentions before child abuse laws were implemented, but he was pretty sure that no one had actually ever been stretched out on a rack and starved for three days.
As they continued on their way, Draco realised that he recognised the path, and he began to wonder whether tonight wouldn't be so horrific after all. Sure enough, before long, the lit windows of Hagrid's hut came into view.
"Is that you, Filch?" called the gamekeeper. "Hurry up, I want ter get started."
Draco couldn't help but be slightly cheered. He wasn't fond of Hagrid — and after all the business with the dragon he had his doubts as to the man's sanity — but he was undeniably kinder than Filch. He saw Harry's and Ron's faces brighten and knew they were thinking along the same lines.
"I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf?" Filch jeered. "Well, think again. It's into the Forbidden Forest for you — and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."
Draco's blood chilled. "The Forest?" he said faintly. "But we can't go in there at night! There's all sorts of dangerous creatures in there — werewolves, and even vampires, I've heard — and they all come out at night!"
"Should have thought of that before you got into trouble, shouldn't you? I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" Filch cackled with glee.
Hagrid approached them just then, a quiver of arrows strung over his back and a large crossbow in his hands. Fang trotted happily beside him.
"About time. I bin waiting fer half an hour already. What took yeh so long, Filch?"
"Just making sure they know how serious their punishment is," Filch said coldly.
Hagrid frowned. "'Snot your place ter do that, Filch. Yeh've done yer bit — I'll take it from here."
Filch smirked nastily. "I'll be back at dawn for what's left of them."
The instant Filch left, his lamp bobbing in the darkness, Ron turned to Hagrid. "Are we really going into the Forbidden Forest?"
"Yep," said Hagrid.
"I'm not going into the Forest," Draco protested.
"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," Hagrid said bluntly. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it."
Draco was rather taken aback by the fierceness in the normally gentle giant's tone. Apparently Hagrid was holding a grudge for his role in the dragon situation.
"Right, then," Hagrid continued, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me."
He led them to the edge of the Forest and pointed at a narrow dirt path that wound its way through the woods, branching in two just after the first row of trees. There were splotches of something silvery shining along it.
"See that?" said Hagrid. "That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing — we might have ter put it out of its misery."
They were going to hunt for an injured unicorn in the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night, when whatever dangerous beast that had hurt the creature in the first place was still at large? Draco was starting to think he might have been better off with Filch. Hagrid's idea of a detention sounded absolutely terrifying.
"What if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" Draco asked, hating the quaver in his voice but unable to suppress it.
"There's nothin' in the Forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," Hagrid said confidently. "Right, so we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions."
"I want Fang," Draco said immediately. The dog was enormous, and his set of long teeth looked very comforting to Draco right now.
"Fine, but I warn yeh, he's a coward."
This just got better and better. Draco looked askance at the boarhound.
"I'll go with Malfoy," Harry volunteered, making Ron look at him as though he were crazy. "Someone's got to keep an eye on him."
"Good idea," said Hagrid. "So, Ron, yer with me. Everyone stick ter the path, and if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks. If yeh run inter any trouble, send up red sparks, and we'll all come an' find yeh. Everyone got that?"
Harry, Draco, and Ron all nodded their heads, trying not to let too much anxiety show on they faces.
"Right, off we go then — be careful, everyone."
After handing Harry a lantern and pointing out the way he and Draco were supposed to go, Hagrid took the other path and left with Ron. The two of them soon vanished from sight, swallowed up by the Forest.
"Do we really have to go in there?" Draco asked plaintively, staring at the trees in trepidation.
"Yes, we do." Harry swung his lantern forwards. If he was scared, he didn't show it. He tread the path with sure footsteps, letting Fang lead the way with his nose. The boarhound seemed to know exactly what they were looking for, which eased Draco's nerves somewhat.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, but Draco could feel the awkward tension pressing down on them even more heavily than the Forest's gloom. This was the first time he and Harry had been alone (except for Fang) since their fight. Draco felt like they should be taking the opportunity to talk, but he had no idea what to say. The fact that he had a growing feeling that he was more at fault for this whole mess than Harry was making it even more difficult to speak. What was he supposed to say after screwing up so badly?
And yet, as the night dragged on, it became clear that Harry wasn't going to speak first. The Boy Who Lived had a stubborn streak, and he was still upset at Draco. If he wanted anything positive to come out of this turmoil, Draco would have to make the first move.
"Why'd you tell Severus you made up the dragon story?"
Harry barely spared a glance behind him. "I didn't want Hagrid to get into trouble."
So he wasn't doing it for me. Draco hadn't expected it to be, but it still hurt knowing the Hogwarts gamekeeper currently ranked above him on Harry's list of priorities.
He tried again. "I take it you managed to get the dragon away before you were caught?"
"Did you see it anywhere?" Harry asked shortly.
Stung again, Draco paused and reconsidered. Clearly he wasn't going to get anywhere by trying to open a conversation.
Swallowing his pride, Draco said quietly, "Harry, I'm sorry."
At that Harry finally turned towards him, swinging the lantern to cast his foster brother's face in full light. "Why'd you do it, Draco?"
"I don't know," Draco replied in frustration. "It seems petty and childish and stupid now, really — but Harry, you promised me. And then you broke your promise. You've never, ever done that before — and this year — and your friends — and the stupid dragon…" He sputtered, unable to find the words to express his vexation.
Harry looked a little bemused. A glance at Fang showed that the dog wasn't moving anywhere and was patiently waiting for them to finish their conversation, so he figured they could pause the search for a few minutes while they sorted out their issues.
"Okay, Draco, start at the beginning."
Draco exhaled deeply and started again. "You know how hard all this pretending has been on me," he said. "Having to act like the Prince of Slytherin makes me feel off-balance all the time, and — I'm sorry — but I just don't think it's entirely necessary. You-Know-Who is gone. People don't come back from the dead."
Privately, Harry wasn't so sure, not after Lucius's many warnings, and especially not after the deadly serious lecture from Snape this morning — but he couldn't fault Draco for thinking that way. It did seem rather far-fetched.
"And you get along so well with everyone, and you have so many friends now," Draco continued, "while I've been stuck on my own…"
"I thought we've already established that we'll always be friends, no matter how many new friends I make?"
"Yes, but then you went and broke your promise about not getting involved with whatever Quirrell's up to! And I thought…if you could break your promise about that…"
"You thought I'd break my promise to stay friends with you?" asked Harry incredulously. "Draco, that's ridiculous!"
"Is it?" Draco said bitterly. "You're surrounded by friends, Harry — good friends, who can openly show they care about you and support you — it'd be easy to forget one solitary Slytherin you can't even talk to."
"So that's it? You reported me to McGonagall because you were jealous?"
"No — yes — I mean, that was part of it, but that wasn't —"
"Then what else is there?" Harry demanded.
There was a trace of desperation in Draco's voice now. "Harry, you're a Gryffindor."
"What the heck does that have to do with anything?"
"You lot don't look before you leap. You run headfirst into danger, never thinking — three-headed dogs and dragons are dangerous, Harry!" Draco exclaimed. "Not to mention whatever's going on with Quirrell and the thing under the trap door — and you've put yourself right in the middle of it! I didn't know what else to do —"
"Draco, what are you talking about?"
"I'm scared, okay?!"
Fang whined, but otherwise there was complete silence after Draco's outburst. Harry blinked, nonplussed.
"Why are you scared?"
Draco scoffed. "Are you joking? Look at everything that's happened this year — we nearly got eaten by a three-headed dog, a troll broke into the castle and almost killed you, Quirrell is evil and after something powerful hidden in the school, you nearly died falling off your broomstick, Hagrid was trying to keep a dragon, and now we're in the middle of the Forbidden Forest at midnight looking for something that's killing unicorns! And you keep getting into any trouble you can find when I'm not there to keep an eye on you! I'm terrified you're really going to get yourself killed!"
Harry's eyebrows drew together. "So, you reported me because…"
"…because I thought that if you got caught by the teachers you'd stop breaking rules and stop getting into trouble." Draco snorted. "I guess I should've known better."
For the first time in weeks, Harry smiled at him. "Probably," he agreed lightly, before turning serious. "Look, Draco, I know I'm not the best at staying out of trouble, but I'm not completely reckless. It's nice to hear that you're trying to look out for me, in your own weird way — but it's not just the two of us at home anymore. I know you don't think much of Ron or Hermione, but I trust them to have my back."
Draco's expression was rueful. "I guess I'm sorry about what I said about the Weasel."
"You guess?"
"Okay, I'm sorry. Happy?"
Harry shook his head, but there was no annoyance. "One day you'll see. They are good friends, Draco — and so are you."
Draco smiled, but it was wan and didn't reach his eyes. "I hope you remember that."
"I couldn't ever forget," Harry assured him. "You were my first friend, Draco — nothing's going to change that."
Draco still looked wary. "I know you feel that way now, Harry — but we've got Merlin knows how many years of pretending ahead of us. You can't possibly promise —"
"Yes, I can," Harry said firmly. "And I never break my promises, Draco."
"But you did," insisted Draco. "You said you wouldn't investigate…"
"I had my fingers crossed," Harry admitted guiltily.
"You what?"
Harry's expression was sheepish and a little regretful. "I'm sorry about that, but you were asking me to do something I knew I wouldn't. So I crossed my fingers behind my back. It wasn't really a promise."
Draco was speechless for a moment, reevaluating everything in the light of this new information.
"That's cheating, Harry," he said finally — but there was a look of relief in his eyes, and Harry knew his trust had been restored.
"Yeah, well — you sicced McGonagall on me. I think that makes us even."
Draco laughed disbelievingly. "Not even close, Harry."
"You're right — you owe me big time."
Draco's laugh was more authentic this time, and Harry joined in with a chuckle of his own. The tension between them evaporated like it had never been there.
Fang shuffled impatiently, and Harry remembered what they were supposed to be doing. "Come on, I think we've put off our detention long enough." He started walking, and Fang bounded forward, glad to be on the way again.
Draco kept pace with Harry. "You're still going to investigate, aren't you?" He sounded resigned.
"Yeah," Harry admitted. "There's something off about this whole thing, it doesn't sit right with me…"
"Nothing ever does." Draco sighed. "I won't get in your way again, just…promise me you'll be careful, all right? And put your fingers where I can see them!" he added sharply.
Harry dutifully held his hands up. "I promise. I'll even keep you updated, how's that?"
"Better."
Harry smirked. "You really do worry too much, Draco," he said lightly. "How exactly am I supposed to get myself killed in a school? Death by homework?"
"Knowing you, you'd find a way," Draco muttered — but there was a genuine lightness in his heart.
They were going to be okay.
A/N: Is it shameless self-admiration to say that the conversations in this chapter - between Lucius and Lily and Draco and Harry - are some of my favourite bits of dialogue in the entire story? Leave a review, let me know if you agree with my assessment - or if you think I could've done better for anything so far.
Coming up next week: There's something dark in the Forbidden Forest (we all know what), the Quirrell conspiracy returns with a vengeance, and Snape's detentions are disgusting.