Chapter Eight: Obviously Forced Nonchalance

A/N – Hello everyone! FYI, I went back through the previous chapters and fixed the chapter numbers. I wanted to have the first chapter be the prologue instead of chapter 1, but FF was still titling it Chapter 1, and at the risk of being confusing, I changed all the chapter numbers (and added titles, which I will do from now on). LMK if I uploaded anything wrong lol. Thanks as always for reading and following and reviewing! You guys are awesome! Enjoyy

Draco paced back and forth. Back and forth.

The Room of Requirement was still depressingly empty, and Draco was beginning to think that he could see a large circle on the floor, worn more than the stone around it. He really needed to stop pacing.

Every time he tried to still himself, however, he would think about how Potter wasn't back yet, and his feet would begin their circling once more.

Twenty-five days. It had been twenty-five days since Draco had last seen Potter. Almost a whole month. Twenty-five days since Potter had told Draco about his visions, and then he'd disappeared.

Draco had noticed his absence fairly quickly at breakfast the next day. Then he noticed that there was a significant lack of red hair in the Great Hall as well. Granger was still there, but Potter and the Weasleys had gone.

They still didn't show up before the students went home for the Christmas holidays.

Draco had been forced to return to the Manor without saying goodbye, without knowing whether or not Potter was all right. He'd been forced to endure the company of his father's friends all holiday, never knowing where Potter was or if he was safe.

Granger hadn't been helpful at all when he'd tried to wheedle information out of her about Potter's whereabouts.

...And then there were the rumors.

Someone was attacked at the Ministry. Arthur Weasley. But Father had seemed almost too gleeful about this fact. He and the other minions were getting close to something. They were excited. And their anticipation was an ominous thing.

When Draco finally returned to school, he almost immediately made his way to the Room of Requirement. Normally, he'd be insisting to himself that he wasn't waiting for Potter, that he didn't care. But he couldn't deny his frantic worry this time.

The door opened, and Draco whipped around.

"Malfoy?"

Draco's heart leapt, and he hurriedly closed the space between them. He remembered himself just in time, and he stopped short in front of Potter. He couldn't stop himself from grabbing the other man's shoulders, however, and looking him over frantically.

"Er… Malfoy?"

Draco sighed and let his shoulders sag. He was safe.

He was SAFE.

"Oi!" Potter exclaimed, holding his shoulder where Draco had just hit him, "What the bloody Hell was that for?!"

Draco stepped back and shrugged, "Only a small recompense for my worries."

"Your worries?" Potter asked incredulously.

Draco examined his nails, drawling, "You tell me you experience disturbing flashbacks, and then you disappear for over three and a half weeks with no word. I think a small amount of concern was warranted. I nearly cornered Granger and demanded that she tell me where you'd gone."

Potter merely stared at him, apparently too stunned to speak.

"I… I didn't think you…" he began, but stopped himself, shaking his head slightly before continuing, "I was with the Weasleys. I… Mr. Weasley was attacked."

"Yes, I'm aware," was Draco's only response. Still cool, still reserved. The opposite of how he felt.

Potter raised a dark eyebrow, "...How did you know?"

Draco sighed, "Aside from the papers," he sneered slightly, "My father."

Potter's other eyebrow joined the first one, obviously surprised at Draco's transparent disdain.

"What are you staring at?" the blond asked a bit more defensively than he intended.

Potter held up his hands, "I've just never seen anything other than nauseating admiration on your face when you talk about your father."

Draco's sneer deepened to a scowl.

"Yes, well, I've grown up. I know better now."

"You mean…" Potter cut himself off again, a slight blush showing beneath his dark skin.

"What?" demanded Draco, "What were you about to say, Potter?"

They never actually talked about it: the disappearances, the Death Eaters, The Dark Lord... It was as if these subjects were off-limits for them, like the two of them existed in a small bubble that was outside the reach of the tension, the fear. It seemed, however, that the Dark Lord's reach was too oppressive even for their bubble to remain untouched.

Potter rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, not making eye contact.

"I just… you don't want to be just like your father, then?"

Draco huffed indignantly, narrowing his eyes.

"I don't want to be a Death Eater, if that's what you mean," he spat. He was rather proud that he managed not to flinch as he said the words aloud.

It hurt him more than he cared to admit that Potter thought he'd actually join that madman. It hurt even worse that there was some truth to it. He had wanted to follow his father's footsteps after all, before… before he fell in love. He swallowed thickly. Still agitated, he turned and stalked further into the room, pretending to be absorbed in a set of Defense books on a shelf.

"Malfoy, I… I'm sorry, I should never have assumed, especially with how-"

"It's fine, Potter. Everyone thinks it of me anyways, why shouldn't you?" He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his tone.

Potter joined him at the bookshelf, eyes running over the spines of the books in such a way that suggested he wasn't actually reading them.

"I should have known better. You've been… different this year."

This time, Draco did flinch. Did Potter know somehow?

Thankfully, the other man was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't seem to notice Draco's reaction.

Potter continued, "You've been… brilliant, actually."

Warmth spread through Draco's chest.

Potter turned to look directly at him, "I never actually thanked you. For that first Defense class, when you stopped me."

Draco silently cursed his pale skin, as Potter undoubtedly saw the flush in his cheeks.

"It was nothing," he said dismissively, "I've always wanted to kick you. It was a great excuse."

Potter laughed. It was a genuine sound that came from deep in his belly, and Draco couldn't help but smirk triumphantly.

"You are all right, though," Draco said after a moment, raising an eyebrow slightly to make the statement into a question.

"Yeah, I'm all right."

Something in his tone was almost uncertain, and his smile began to fade.

Draco, needing to know without a shadow of a doubt that the Scarhead was indeed safe, drawled, "You don't sound too convinced about that."

Potter shrugged, "The holidays got off to a bit of a rocky start, but they ended okay."

His expression darkened, and he added, "Aside from being assigned Occlumency lessons with Snape."

He spit out the professor's name as if it were a particularly nasty bug that had flown in his mouth.

"Occlumency lessons?" Draco asked, surprised, "Why does Professor Snape want to teach you Occlumency?"

Potter scoffed, "Oh, hedoesn't want to teach me. I reckon he's looking forward to this as much as I am. Dumbledore put him up to it."

Draco's pale eyebrows knit together, "And why does Dumbledore want you to have private Occlumency lessons?"

Potter's green eyes flicked to Draco, then landed back on the stone floor.

Finally, he responded, "I had another vision."

"Another vision? When?" Draco asked, interest, and concern, piqued.

"Just before the holidays. The same night I told you about them."

"You saw the - what happened last year again?"

"No." Potter said, twirling a loose thread from his robes between his fingers, "It was… different."

Draco simply waited for him to continue, sensing that pressing him would make him shut down.

After a moment, Potter spoke.

"I've been dreaming about… this corridor. I don't know why. I thought it had to do with how trapped I felt at the Dursleys this summer, since I couldn't get any information from Dumbledore or, well, anyone, about what's been going on."

His voice hardened as he said this last bit, then he went on.

"But I've still been dreaming about it, even here. It's always the same; I'm walking down this long, dark hallway, and I'm looking for something, but I don't know what. I always get so frustrated when I can't find it. But… but the last time, it was different. I was…"

Potter trailed off, glancing up at Draco again, who was careful to keep his face as blank as possible. He needed Potter to continue, needed to know why he'd left without a word.

Something in Draco's face must have convinced Potter that he was trustworthy, because he started again.

"I saw Mr. Weasley sitting at the end of the corridor. I - Voldemort's snake was there, and it attacked Mr. Weasley. And…" he took a deep breath, then said in a rush as if he was trying to get it over with: "And I was the snake."

Draco, having winced at hearing The Dark Lord's name, had recovered in time to give hardly any reaction at all to Potter's confession.

When the dark-skinned wizard peeked out from under his fringe to read Draco's expression, all he saw was a contemplative look.

"You were the snake… Has anything like this happened before?" There was no trace of judgment or fear or shock in his voice.

"Not exactly, that's the only dream I've ever had like that. There've been other things, like my scar hurting. Dumbledore reckons that happens whenever Voldemort is really angry, but recently I've been getting these weird impressions. Like I can feel what he's feeling. And not just when he's angry; when he's pleased, too."

Draco suppressed a shiver with difficulty, simply nodding his head instead as if he heard about this kind of thing all the time.

"So, what did you do about the dream?" he asked, needing to navigate the conversation towards more familiar ground. The knowledge that the man he feared most and the man he loved most were somehow linked was... No. He would carefully sort through it all later, when he was alone and wouldn't risk alienating Potter.

"Went straight to Dumbledore, who was able to get help to Mr. Weasley just in time."

"So, this vision showed you something that was actually happening at that moment, and because of it, you saved a man's life."

"I… well, yeah, I suppose…"

Draco nodded, then continued, "But Dumbledore obviously thinks the visions - impressions - whatever, are bad, so he assigned you a private Occlumency tutor."

"Yeah," Potter affirmed glumly.

"Well, I should think you'd be glad for the lessons," he said, "Occlumency would help with the memories, too."

Draco emphasized the word, getting his point across without further explanation.

Potter looked down again, dark eyebrows pulled together. Hesitant. Hiding something.

It was almost as if he didn't want to be rid of the memories - at least, not entirely. Why would that be? What could possibly be worth reliving torture and death and being somehow connected to the darkest wizard of the century? Was he some kind of masochist? No, that didn't fit. There was yet another secret Potter was hiding. Again, Draco waited to see if he would continue.

But he said nothing.

Finally, Draco prompted, "There's something else about the memories, isn't there?"

Potter locked his eyes on Draco's grey ones, searching, and slightly afraid.

Yes, he was definitely hiding something - something big, according to how anxious he was. It only made Draco more eager to find out. To understand what made him tick. To know him.

Finally, Potter answered, "They're just memories from last year. Nothing more."

Draco held his gaze, then nodded and looked away.

The man was an abysmal liar at times.

It hurt a bit that he hadn't trusted Draco with the truth. He'd trusted him with everything else - even things he hadn't told his little sidekicks. Why not this?

Then, maybe Draco was expecting too much. After all, it was only a few months ago that they'd been at each other's throats. He supposed he'd just have to give Potter more time.

"So, Professor Snape will be in charge of your Occlumency training, then? You're really fortunate; I happen to know that he's a master Occlumens."

"Fortunate?" Potter repeated incredulously, apparently latching on to any piece of conversation, "I don't think my luck could be any worse if I was cursed by a Leprechaun!"

Draco managed an amused snort.

"Professor Snape actually started teaching me Occlumency last year. He's quite good - as am I, needless to say."

"Why has Snape been giving you private lessons?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "Honestly, Potter. I'm his godson, why wouldn't he teach me such an invaluable skill?"

Potter looked utterly horrified.

"Snape is your godfather?!"

The vehemence of his reaction actually startled a laugh out of the blond.

"He taught me everything I know. Even gave Mother a few lessons, though she'd had training before. It's not that bad, really."

Potter merely gaped.

"Not that bad? You see what he's like in class; the greasy bat hates me! It'll be torture!"

Draco laughed again.

"It's not funny, Malfoy."

Draco turned his head to the side while keeping his rather mischievous eyes on Potter.

"It is a bit though."

"Oi!" Potter looked indignant, "I thought you were supposed to be on my side! Where's all that concern you had for me a few minutes ago?"

Drago shrugged, "Old habits die hard, I suppose."

Whack!

Draco stared.

"...Potter… Did you just hit me in the head with a cushion?"

The Scarhead had the nerve to shrug with obviously forced nonchalance.

"Old habits and all."

Draco grinned wickedly.

"Oh, you are so going to regret that."

And with that, he grabbed the fallen cushion and charged.