Harry Potter had woken in a good mood, for once. No nightmares, and the day was brilliantly blue - that Scottish autumn weather when everything turned crisp and your body itched to stalk, to dance, to hunt.
Harry was down to breakfast quickly, eating as deftly as he could (which while better than Ron, still resulted in crumbs down his robes). Ron and Hermione joined him, with Gin and Neville sitting across. "Anything interesting happen over the weekend?" Neville asked, his knowing eyes flicking up at Potter's face.
Harry simply shrugged, saying "Oh, the usual." And, depressingly, it really was the usual. Conversation turned then to Quiddich, and whether Harry could play (and if not, if Gin could give Malfoy a run for his money - from the bared grin on her face, she seemed reasonably confident of the answer).
Up at the High Table, Snape was eating in his usual morose fashion (not an early bird, Harry had noticed his first year, and that had certainly not improved over the past few years).
The Ravenclaws were discussing something, passing parchment back and forth, heads bent over something.
Zach Smith was trying to command attention, but it didn't seem to be going well. It was almost as if he'd wanted to make a formal pronouncement about something, but the rest of the Hufflepuffs had decided that he was not to be paid attention to. Sort of like a Yellow and Black Percy Weasley.
And, for a change, before Harry had gotten around to staring at the Slytherins, it was time to head down to... Snape's new class. Yes, that sounded better than whatever Snape had decided to call it. Wartime Survival Lessons - well, that was at least pithy. If Harry didn't value his life more than his schooling, he might actually suggest something like that to the infamously prickly Slytherin.
Harry Potter wasn't the first person in the door for class (he never was that early), but he was earlier than most - even Hermione waited for Ron, so they were late showing up. The Slytherins, always early risers, trickled in at around the same time Potter did. Hesitantly, he stood behind them, listening avidly while trying not to look like he was eavesdropping. From the sidealong looks Flint kept shooting him, Potter was doing a miserable job.
Still, granting the idea that they knew they were being observed, it was pleasant - in a strange sort of fashion - to be ignored. To listen to people squabbling, thinking, petty powerplays and reinforcements, without feeling a compulsion to intervene. Harry Potter thought about that a bit - why, and when had it become his problem if the Gryffindors were fighting?
With a sigh, he shoved his hands in his pockets. He just plain didn't like it when people were upset at each other, and so he had a strong tendency to slam skulls until people remembered that they could smile at each other. Blinking, he remembered how Snape had been behaving at Grimmauld Place. With a strong shake of his head, he discarded that as a potential method. No way he was going to get everyone upset at him just to make them make peace with each other. No, that wouldn't fit at all. It'd just leave him miserable. Unlike Snape, Harry actually cared about having friends (and Harry found his mind wandering, again, to how Snape could have managed to have a friend in Gryffindor, particularly as it seemed that the bastard didn't particularly like friends in the first place).
Hermione and Ron showed up, muscling (as much as was needed, the Slytherins parted like water) over to him. "Hey, Harry!" Ron cried, tossing an arm over Harry's shoulder. With this much boisterous noise, the Slytherins (already divided) drifted off, and Harry felt a pang of sadness, as he shifted into... friendly mode. "Whatcha studying, Hermione?" he asked, leaning over her short shoulder to see. Dark and Bright in the Animal Kingdom the title read, and he saw that she was looking at werewolves, of all things.
"I just don't know what he's going to want us to know..." Hermione muttered.
"Well, you could just ask him what textbooks to read," Harry Potter said with a jaunty glimmer in his eye.
Hermione's bright gaze flicked up at him, "I'll do that. Thanks Harry." Before burying her nose back in her reading.
The class was nearly all assembled. Snape wasn't there yet, but that was normal. Harry's gaze swept the attending, finding the other Gryffindor girls looking inattentive, but the Hufflepuffs, in general, looking wary and cautious. There's a lesson there, Harry thought, but why is it from them? What have they seen about Snape that the rest of us haven't?*
Snape strode into the room with a bang, entering from the back (although there was clearly a door near the dais upfront - had that been there last time?), and the students melted away as he strode forward. Harry, alongside Hermione, fought through the slushy students towards the front of the class. Snape hopped lightly onto the foot-high dais, and stared at the class. Harry Potter could feel his hairs stiffening on the back of his neck - Snape looked far from amused.
"It would appear that we have a band of miscreants, rapscallions, and scofflaws of all sorts present in Hogwarts." Snape began lowly, his soft, melodious voice ringing out in the sudden silence. Harry idly found himself amused at Snape's vocabulary - and how the bastard seemed to think that most of the students would know the difference between miscreants and scofflaws. "They appear to have decided that this is not a school, where students will be taught, but instead, an anarchic School of Hard Knocks."
Snape spun on the platform, his eyes piercing someone else's skull as his robes continued swishing in the direction of the spin. "Such an attitude is anathema to proper discipline, and its adherents will be dealt with most harshly."
Snape clapped his hands once, and in stepped - what looked strangely like ... shite, Snape was doing THAT?!
Snape continued, "These are trustworthy students, whom I have imbued with the authority to give aid in finding these hoodlums. Should you hear even a scrap of a rumor... I expect to be notified." A dozen Ravenclaws stood there, looking owlish in their robes - and there was Draco Malfoy, smirking like the day he was born.
Potter felt, more than saw, Ron and Hermione stiffen on both sides of him. He grabbed both of their arms and hissed quietly, "Wait." His eyes darted around the room, more than ever aware that Malfoy'd made more enemies than was strictly good for the soul. Or the boy's body, which Harry figured Malfoy'd care more about, with that pretty porcelain skin of his.* Luckily, most of the Gryffindors - by far the most hot-headed - seemed to be looking at him. Harry Potter, who had named Malfoy his sworn enemy at the ickle age of eleven.
Silence had fallen on the entire room, as Snape smirked. Harry Potter spoke up, shaking his head in bafflement, "Why would someone want to - now that you're teaching? Umbridge, it could be said, didn't know how to teach, let alone what to teach... But you?"
"Potter, why don't you tell me? You're the mastermind of most rulebreaking, as I recall. Perhaps you might have some insight..." Snape said, his eyes gleaming, and Harry couldn't tell if that was anger or amusement. Possibly both.
"I haven't the foggiest." Harry Potter said, in a genuine state of confusion, that made the Slytherins (grouped towards the back of the class) giggle. Actually, it was well more than that which was confusing Harry. What/Why had Snape let him and hermione eavesdrop? Was he trying to give them a warning? Was it just to assign them detention? And speaking of detention...
"That will be two detentions for you, Mister Potter." Snape said sternly, "I expect to be addressed as sir, or as Professor Snape."
"That ends the announcements for the day. On to the lesson," Snape said, spinning and looking at another student with those piercing black eyes of his. "Everyone form up by house. I expect you to order yourselves from most talented to least, according to how well you'll do in a simple one-on-one fight." Snape turned to his... claws, and said, sternly, "Join your house."
Harry Potter was quickly at the head of his house, as was Draco Malfoy - leaving Harry plenty of time to drill his green eyes into Draco's silver, eyes burning with mute accusation, demanding answers that were certainly not going to be forthcoming until after class. Surely it would have been simpler just to give up the whole 'secret club' when Snape was forming his Inquisition, rather than wait... What in the world was Draco's game? For that matter, what was Snape's?
With hands curled into fists, Harry continued to glare daggers at Draco Malfoy's positively infuriating smirk - but, truthfully, after about a minute of that, he had to stop and consider just what he was doing. Besides, it was getting boring. And he wasn't really - mostly - Harry thought he was more pissed at Snape than Malfoy, who was just - what was he doing? Taking advantage of the situation?
Still, Malfoy had on his trademark smirk - and, for once, Harry had the good sense to start picking at that point. Because that was about the last thing Harry'd expected Malfoy to be wearing. Arrogance, if he was on about the class, or a sly subtle smugness. This? This was too damn overt, was what it was. Which meant that Malfoy was hiding... which meant that Malfoy had something to hide. From someone, not necessarily Harry.
Harry felt like hitting his head into a wall, or something. Trying to think like a Slytherin was frustrating, and he wasn't terribly good at it besides. Trying to keep up the facade, himself, that he was still in a powerless rage - still not stupid enough to explode during Snape's class. He let his ears wander, and used his eyes' peripheral vision. The Slytherins were scheming - well, most of them. Millicent was gently hugging Tracey, even as she pulled her farther away from Malfoy. Surprisingly, it wasn't Nott or Zambini who were directly behind Malfoy - it was Greengrass, followed by Parkinson. They stood as if murdering or maiming their fellow students was the last thing on their mind.
The Ravenclaws, perhaps predictably, were arguing about who went up front. And the Hufflepuffs were being too nice - which meant that Zach Smith was first, even though he really wasn't nearly the dueler as Bones. The issue was the rest of the Hufflepuffs, of course, busy arguing about who was "really better than me" (yes, those exact words).
After five minutes, Snape strode through the classroom, sending a coin spinning sideways like a throwing star at the Hufflepuffs. "Just flip a coin," he snapped irritably.
"Make a decision, Ravenclaws, or you're all going to fail." Snape said cuttingly, "In battle, someone needs to lead. In a classroom, that's my assignment." Harry choked back a snort, firming up his glare at Malfoy - less so that Malfoy would be cowed, or even thinking that Harry was upset, and more to bolster other people's opinions of Harry. Because Harry couldn't just be waiting in class, not when Snape had just dropped Another Inquisition on them.
"We will start with the concept that there are no rules, here, except for non-interference from the rest of you." Snape said coldly, and chanted three spells in quick succession. "The spells I have placed here will hopefully prevent excessive damage from spilling out onto the rest of the class. You should all be prepared to shield, just in case." The Ravenclaws, in particular, murmurred at that, sounding more uneasy than Harry would have been, in their shoes.
Keeping that glare trained on Malfoy, who was just as emphatically smirking back at him, Harry noticed which Ravenclaws had made Snape's Inquisition. More than half of them were the ones Snape had been trying to drive out of his class last week. That meant something, Harry was pretty sure. Not that Harry'd figured out what, exactly.
"Malfoy, Potter, you're up." Snape had that smug look on his face, and Harry Potter wasn't sure if he was being smug because Draco was going to beat Harry, or vice versa. Knowing Snape, he could be smug about something else entirely (the whole Inquisition thing, say... which was a dirty nasty trick).
Harry Potter stepped inside the gold limned ring, timing it for exactly the instant that Malfoy did the same from the opposite side. Harry found himself, almost surprisingly, perfectly calm. So, he did exactly what he'd been planning. Three quick spells - two stunners, and a Aquamenti, the last landing on Malfoy's head. With a fwoosh, washing all Malfoy's perfect hairstyle away.
Malfoy had a nasty smile on his face, and he yelled out, "Serpensortia,"
Oooh, that was a mistake, Harry thought. Did he think that I was mad at him? Still angry?**
Harry Potter wore a manic grin that tiptoed to the edge of madness. "Gemino, Gemino, Gemino," Harry cast, reminding himself to use his wand. Now there was not just one viper heading towards his feet, but eight. Harry folded down, landing on his knees, and hissed, "Greetings, young ones. Attack the other boy within the circle."
The snakes hissed back, "Yes, speaker," as Harry unfolded, pulling himself to his feet in a display of sheer strength. I'm not twelve anymore. I'm not the chosen one, either.
As the snakes squirmed towards Malfoy - their scales twisting one over the next, Malfoy sent Potter an unreadable look, conjuring a shield.
Harry rebalanced, planting his feet as he began to think. It was a shame the stunners hadn't bounced - that would have been an easy kill. Malfoy cast a spell that summoned a hawk, and then released his shield.
As the hawk gained altitude, Harry spat a whip-like spell at Malfoy, who rolled to dodge, his robes flapping like some sort of ungainly bird. Harry Potter sent out a tantallegra curse, sending Malfoy dancing.
Malfoy responded by levitating Harry upwards. Harry, rather than respond, concentrated on transfiguring the floor into rubber. He glared at Malfoy's smirk, and sent a gust of wind, replete with shattered glass, towards Malfoy, who dropped Potter to shield his own pretty face, the shield shattering seconds after the wind died.
Left to his own devices, Potter, quite prepared for this, bounced off the floor, rising and throwing a Balloon Curse at Malfoy (guaranteed to send the participant floating in the air, bloated like a balloon). Of course, that wasn't the point - the Balloon curse happened to have a striking similarity in color to the Avada, and so it made a decent simulation. Malfoy shielded, and the curse bounced - Harry held his breath, heart pounding.
"Win to Potter." Snape said, "We would like to congratulate you on not actually employing Unforgivables in an academic setting. Chang, Bones, you're next." As the two girls shook themselves out of their 'watching a battle' stupor, Snape continued, "As the Avada Kedavra is the only Unforgivable useful in a combat situation, you may simulate it by using the Balloon Curse - or any other spell of a similar color."
Harry Potter faced off against Chang, who had won her round against Bones with a truly interesting bonebreaking curse. Bones was headed to the hospital wing (Potter's still angry face had quirked at the sight of a series of wheels, designed to send her there without assistance. Apparently there was a reason they were taking class on the seventh... floor. Hm. Intentional or not?).
Snape had made marks on the board (that had appeared at a wave of his hand, already pre-labeled with Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Yes, those were the houses in alphabetical order, but it was also the arrangement in the Great Hall), indicating who had won. Potter had four points, Malfoy three, Chang two, and Bones one.
Hermione was up next, and Harry leaned forward, both excited to watch his friend fight, and a bit alarmed - what if her spells didn't work? If you so much as missed one spell in a fight, you were liable to wind up screaming... At least Hermione was up against Abbot - she'd fight fair, wouldn't she? From inside the golden circle, the fight started - quicker and more earnest than Harry's had been - not in the least playing. Then again, Hermione could probably not afford to play right now. Magic was intent, was will - and of all the people he knew, Hermione had the will of a hammer. So plunging forward just was the sensible thing to do. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noted that Draco Malfoy was watching - if anything, looking even more intense. Probably trying to figure out how she's casting.
Hermione fell to a knee, Abbot sending a cutting curse flying at Hermione, who shouted "Protego!" - and nothing happened.
The shield simply wasn't there - leaving Hermione to take the cutting curse on an upflung arm. Instead of shrieking, her hand moved in an intricate motion. "Lumos," she whispered, and Harry was glad he was so close or he'd have missed it. Bright light poured out, searing through his suddenly shut eyelids. Around him, Harry heard screams, shrieks, people stumbling around in terror. Even Malfoy was cursing, low. Snape, who had been watching like a hawk, cursed a spell. His sight was Nearly Normal again, Harry found, as he found Hermione (wearing sunglasses, of course), sitting on Abbot, Hermione's wand to Abbot's throat. "Yield." she said sternly.
"I yield." Hannah said, eyes wide and more than a little scared.
"In the future, Miss Granger, try to contain your attacks towards your opponent, and not the audience. However do you expect anyone to learn if you blind them, permanently?" Snape said snidely.
Hermione Granger paled, and stepped back as the battles continued. Nothing would quite top that battle, not even Hermione facing off against Edgecombe. Harry kept a close watch on the battles - and apparently Hermione was too, as her stockings had changed to green and silver, without her even noticing a thing. Malfoy, Potter thought, and automaticaly glanced over at the silver-eyed youth, who smirked back. Does paying attention to him make things worse? Maybe he'd be that much worse if I wasn't paying attention...
The Gryffindors had started out in the lead, pulling in more than double what Slytherin had in the first four rounds, and the others pulling even less than that.
The last six rounds were won solidly by the Slytherins. While not nearly as competent as Malfoy, or Potter, or even Ron, they were solid, and put down the likes of Parvati and Brown quickly. Even Justin went down with a hard crash.
As the last round ended, Snape looked at the board. Slytherins on top - not for having the best duelists, Harry thought, but for not having any supremely horrible ones.
"Can anyone tell me why Slytherin won?" Snape asked in that crystal cold voice, glinting with malice.
"No, how about my Slytherins?" Snape said, the icicle sharpness nearing the surface.
"That will be one detention for each of you then, for knowingly depriving the rest of the class of your brilliance." Snape said snidely.
"The rest of the class' assignment is to analyze the Slytherins, their order from top to bottom, and explain why they won... and lost." Snape gave a mocking bow, clapped his hands together, and said smartly, "Class dismissed."
Later, Harry growled, safe in the safety of his own mind, I'll deal with you later.
Harry Potter stormed out of class, wanting to do three things simultaneously. Sadly, none of them were even possible, because he had Transfiguration. McGonagall, while generally easy going in a stern fashion, was not any more lenient with her Gryffindors, and she hated people skipping class. That was probably why she had class every single day of the week - "Transfiguration is a process" and all that.
Harry wanted answers, and not the spell-casting variety. He wanted to pin that blond ferret against the wall, and wring the information out of his bloody neck if he had to.
Worse, he wanted to do the same thing to Snape - and even the thought of throwing Snape against a wall made his stomach feel like someone had removed it from his gut. He wanted to do it anyway, fear notwithstanding.
But no, he had to go to class. It wasn't even class with the Slytherins, though at this point his uncertain temper was going to get him in trouble regardless, so maybe he should be happier that he's got Transfiguration with Hufflepuffs. At this rate, even they'd piss him off enough for him to be blatantly hexing people in class.
"Harry-" Hermione said, scrambling to keep up with his longer legs.
"Mate, what's wrong?" Weasley said, " 'sNot like you to turn down hexin' Malfoy for being a royal twat."
"Seriously, Harry... what, exactly, is going on?" Hermione asked, her small form planting itself directly in front of him, in a neat move of acceleration followed by dramatic deceleration.
Harry twirled her into Ron's arms, simply to avoid crashing into her and sending them both sprawling - and then had to catch himself, as the reddening look on Ron's face was Absolutely Priceless, and he really ought not to be laughing.
"Harry!" Hermione cried, as Harry bolted into a 'not quite run', letting the distraction serve as his response to her question. "This conversation isn't-"
And the stairs moved, and Harry didn't hear the rest of what she had to say. Just as well, it was predictable.
Harry slid into class, squirming into his chair - entrely unsurprised when four minutes later Hermione and Ron took the seats beside him. They opened their mouths and Harry - instead of speaking, interrupted by squeezing their hands. Looking down at the table (to hide his conversation from McGonagall primarily), "I don't know what's going on, alright?" Harry looked at both his friends, solid determination set in his green eyes. "But I intend to find out."
Ron opened his mouth, and Harry said, "Before you ask - I can't figure out what's going on, if it's already blasted to smithereens. That's why."
In the front of the classroom, Minerva McGonagall had the strangest impression that she'd missed more than two thirds of that conversation - and that, despite missing so much, it was a harbinger of ill times indeed.
The entire Great Hall was in an uproar over lunch, with Malfoy and the twats parading around, looking down their noses at everyone.
Which, Harry supposed, was nearly normal, by now. Malfoy'd been doing it last year too.
That didn't halt Harry's train of thought, of course. How - were- What was going on? Were Malfoy and Snape in cahoots? If so, what the blasted hell was their game? What exactly were they playing at?
Harry refused to think that Malfoy was just trying to get three quarters of the upperclassmen in trouble. Even for a guy who liked to dream big, that was getting a trifle ridiculous (more on the lines of Fred and George, whose maycap mayhem was impish instead of the deviltry that Malfoy liked to wreck).
Malfoy, of course, was looking pompous and grandiose. Snape was merely looking smug, as he ate a light salad for lunch. Snape's Ravenclaws were looking stuffy and officious, as if they'd just been promoted to The Latest Coming of Percy Weasley.
The Gryffindors were looking mutinous, though their grumbles really weren't to the point of anyone actually harrassing Malfoy, let alone throwing a punch. Still, Harry thought, it was with a bit of relief that he saw Malfoy exit the Great Hall. Malfoy was the type of irritation that couldn't stop being irritating. LIke a burr, under a horse's saddle or stuck in your fingertips, it was all ridiculous.
Classtime was boring, as usual. Harry knew he wasn't naturally studious (though he seemed better at picking things up by blind luck than Ron, who seemed perpetually on the edge of failing most subjects), but this was a bit different. His mind swirled with different thoughts, going over patterns and questioning ... well, everything. Any way you wanted to cut it, he was in the middle of a Slytherin scheme. Worse, he wasn't quite sure whether he was ensnared in it or not. And... even if he was caught, was that a good thing? Harry'd spent all of last year trying to do something, after all - here, at least, he was in the middle of something. Productive? Unproductive? At least he was moving. Probably not in circles, either.
It was late in the day, and Harry'd had to use the Marauder's Map to even figure out where Malfoy was. He was up on the seventh floor - somewhere near the room of requirement. Maybe he was trying to figure out how it worked? At any rate, it was certainly a more convenient place for Harry's upcoming interrogation than the library. Or a random broomcloset. That might prove awkward if they were seen... Harry'd had enough of first years going all goggle-eyed at him - when he was a first year himself!
Slipping on his invisibility cloak, Harry considered what to do as he walked. Finally, he nodded to himself. It was a solid plan. Up by the room of requirement, he paced three times, asking wordlessly for what he wanted. He then opened the door into a moonlessly dark expanse, stepping to the side effortlessly and nearly silently.
Malfoy, who had also been walking around, stopped and looked at the newly found open door. He peered in, cautious to a fault, and Harry held his breath. Finally, Malfoy mustered the courage to step inside. Two steps into the inky blackness, and Harry tipped his fingers out, grabbing the door and shutting it. He knew without thinking that the door had locked behind him.
Harry blinked, for a moment, confused as to why Malfoy wasn't saying a word - then abruptly realized that Malfoy was looking for his wand, and didn't want to draw trouble before he had it ready.
Harry tried for a deep voice, "Welcome to the Chamber of Horrors." as he flicked on a light switch.
Draco Malfoy appeared, looking hunched and hunted, whirling nearly instantly as Potter started to speak (mostly spoiling the effect of the room, to boot). And there was a look on Malfoy's face that Potter hadn't expected to see - it was pure relief. Momentarily, Potter tried to make himself not feel guilty for what was coming next.
"Well, Mister Malfoy, what the hell are you on about this year?" Harry Potter spat, his wand in his hand - although, truth be told, he was thrumming with enough energy - and anger - that he could have cast without it.
"What do you want to know?" Draco Malfoy said, in his casual drawl, trying (and nearly succeeding) at mastering his expression.
"First, how the hell did you know that Snape was going to start an Inquisitional Squad? Again?" Harry's hand was trembling with irritation. He hated being behind on everything, and it felt like Snape and Malfoy were dancing circles around him.
Draco Malfoy stretched his arms over his head, going for a languid pose that somehow bespoke much more confidence than him ever going for his wand would have. "By the strength of extended association, of course." Draco's arms landed down again, as he finished stretching, and he languidly leaned against the door. Harry was slightly put out that Malfoy hadn't even tried to leave - I thought I was a bit more initimidating than that, surely?
Harry Potter slotted Draco's statement into what he'd been thinking about. "It just makes sense, doesn't it, Potter?" Malfoy said arrogant as piss, "He's not the type to abide a slight to his authority." Harry nodded slowly, realizing - about five hours too late - that Snape hadn't said a damn thing to Malfoy. Malfoy was just behaving on his own... and Snape had managed to predict the boy's behavior to a T.
"So why didn't you tell anyone?" Potter asked simply, his mind trying to think through exactly how Snape had known that Malfoy would possibly be that tempted by the secret club...
"Who was I supposed to tell, anyway?" Draco Malfoy said snottily, "What - slip a note to a Hufflepuff?" Draco pushed off the wall with his foot, walking over to a bloodied cat of nine tails (glittering with embedded glass), "Like that's not suspicious." Draco's steely eyes met Potter's, and he said, "Good on you for holding Weasel back. I thought I was going to have to deal with twenty stone of Weasel on my throat."
Potter shifted uncomfortably, feeling like he was being a bad friend by even being within spitting distance of Malfoy's praise. "Anytime," Potter said coldly, "Now why the hell wouldn't you sign the damn contract?"
"Because it'll make no difference." Malfoy said, idly starting to crack the whip against a rusty iron maiden. Harry was starting to regret giving Malfoy... toys.
"What's the real reason?" Harry Potter asked, eyes glimmering.
Draco Malfoy again turned towards Potter, and looked him up and down - perhaps reading the enlightened disbelief, or the fitfully suppressed rage. "Someone has to be able to break the contract." Draco said, dropping the whip and lacing his hands behind his head, "Might as well be me."
"What?" Potter asked, feeling like he had slipped a gear somewhere, and that they'd shifted into an entirely different conversation.
"Snape's not as stupid as Umbridge. He's not going to let this secret club go on, you realize? He's got a nose like a bloodhound for trouble." Draco Malfoy said, stepping forward with his last sentence, "You know that."
"So?" Harry Potter said, stepping a hard pace forward, "I've never been afraid of breaking a few rules."
"Neither am I," Draco Malfoy said, giving him a wintry smile, "When it serves my purposes. I'm afraid I won't be able to make all the meetings - you'll convey my regrets, won't you, Potter?" Malfoy finished off this blastedly arrogant statement with such an avuncular, unctuous smile that Harry immediately wanted to hex it off his face.
"Ask someone who cares, Malfoy," Harry said, clicking the light switch off in a move calculated to leave Malfoy scrambling in the dark for his wand. Harry took only a few seconds to gloat, before he opened the door, and left without another word.
Pacing down the corridors, down the stairs, Harry came to a surprising conclusion - if Malfoy and Snape were busy plotting, they weren't plotting together. Which just meant he had two twisty snares to dance around.
Still, this meant that Harry was actually a step ahead of Malfoy - after all, Harry knew that Snape was only pretending to chase them with the Squad... That was a strange feeling, like an effervescent elixir in his veins. It felt a little like power. Before Harry headed up to his Common Room, he scheduled a detention for the next day with Snape, glad beyond words that Hermione hadn't done the same.
Skidding back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry Potter was still riding the high of knowing more than Draco Malfoy did. Oh, for sure, not that the git was all knowing, but he liked to pretend he was - and Harry'd fallen for it, to the sinker really, in second year.
So, it was more than just I know more than you do. It felt a lot like triumph, actually. Harry spoke the password to the Fat Lady, and the Gryffindor Common Room sprawled out in front of him. He was in before he realized -
Realized what looks people were giving him. He stopped dead, blinking behind his glasses. Those were glares, hostile and prickly. People didn't seem to want to say anything to him, not really - just as soon as he caught someone looking, they'd go back to whispering. And it was all whispers, all of a sudden. As if they'd just been waiting on him coming in to gossip.
"Harry!" Hermione said in a sternly loud voice, "Where've you been?" Did Hermione always ask questions like that? Harry thought, wondering suddenly if this was a neatly unplanned punishment for ignoring his friends earlier. If so, he undoubtedly deserved it.
"Yeah, Mate, we thought you might've been kidnapped." Ron Weasley responded, looking a lot more languid about Harry's 'suspicious disappearance' than Hermione ever would. Maybe that was just because Ron figured Harry could outfight most anyone he knew.
"Nah," Harry said, plonking himself down between them. "Bit 'o the other way around." He said softly, in a your ears only tone.
"What?" Ron yelped, and Hermione started to make shushing motions.
"Fill you in later. Where there's fewer..." Harry gestured around him.
Hermione put her hands on her hips, saying sternly, "Don't you trust Gryffindors anymore?"
"As much as I ever trusted Peter Pettigrew," Harry said, his grin turning acidic.
"Later, in the library." Ron said quickly. Harry made to relax with his friends, Hermione with her book and Ron idly twirling a knight as he stared at the chess piece. After a full day spent scrambling to pick up the pieces of what he'd thought he understood - at least a little - and discovering himself still so far from the ring that he couldn't even jump for it? Best time to just relax into some brain-numbing discussion of Quiddich tactics that he'd had memorized since second year. He was pretty good at learning things, if he cared enough, after all. Sadly, it was not to be.
Lavender sashayed over, in that 'she thinks this is hypnotic' swaying of her hips strut. "Where Have you been, Harry?" Lavender asked, her tone more pointed and uncaring than the others. "Have you been... consorting with snakes?" The mocking smile on her face told Harry a lot about her, suddenly. And it raised questions that he'd rather not find the answers to, thanks kindly.
"N...ope," Harry said to her, leaning back against the couch to take comfort from his friends. "My hair always looks like this, honestly." Behind him, he could hear Gin Weasley giggling at the bald truthfulness of the statement.
Lavender sashayed closer, pointing her finger into his chest, "Then why is it that I heard that you asked for Malfoy to join Dumbledore's Army?"
"Oh, that's an easy one," Harry Potter said lightly, "You're hard of hearing, that's all. Haven't I seen you drooling over Ron's Quiddich pictures, despite the fact that he hasn't looked at you once, in five long years of Hogwarts?" Shit, what was he saying? Striking up a catfight with Lavender Brown wasn't a good idea... and bringing up her crush on Ron was a low blow, even for a catfight.
Oh, yes, and of course, Harry's words had just neatly proved Harry wrong, as Ron Weasley was now - five years late - ogling the brunette with her hands on her hips. Which just made Hermione go stiff with suppressed fury.
Shite, Harry thought, I've really screwed the pooch today, haven't i?
"You and Malfoy seem awfully close, don't you?" Lavender Brown said, "Two little pricks who can't tell how to treat a lady."
Harry shifted, pretending indignation, "Hey! Just because I grew up in a barn, doesn't mean I don't know how to treat a lady right." Harry turned a quick smile on Lavender, "Suppose I'll just need to find a proper lady first, right?"
Lavender's face transformed from growing anger into sudden realization, a transfiguration that made Harry's heart sink in dread. "You're in love with Pugface! You are!" Lavender clapped her hands, and Harry balled his fists. He was not going to respond. He was not going to say a word. Talking, when a girl looked like that - so far in love with her idea that nothing could change it.
And then Harry caught the best idea he'd had all day. He stood up, quietly, and walked towards Lavender Brown, his killing-curse green eyes intent on only her - as if the whole gossiping room had been sent to Gehenna, leaving only the two of them standing. "Don't say a word." He whispered to Lavender, before climbing the stairs to his dorm.
Below, he could hear Lavender laughing along with Parvati - probably gossiping about me, Harry thought.
It took his friends a while to stalk up to corner him in his dorm. Harry thought this was probably a combination of Ron's essential laziness and Hermione's nearly inhuman curiosity, and not merely a reaction to seeing Harry's temper. At least, he hoped they weren't hiding downstairs, "letting him cool off." He did not want to be in the least like his Uncle Vernon, and even Aunt Petunia had stepped lightly when he was in a temper.
Ron came upstairs, sitting on his own bed (Harry was in his own, having picked up a book at the sound of Ron - he'd actually been working on spelling without wand or word), and saying, "Well, mate... if you're going to study, why not do it in the Library?" Ron smiled that goofy grin of his, and Harry mentally nodded - that wasn't the look of someone at all afraid of him.
"Yeah, that sounds about right. Anymore studying in bed and I'll just nod off to sleep." Harry said with a smile, gathering a few books, "Charms tommorrow, I suppose." Ron nodded, and before Harry had the time to think of it, they were out and down at the library itself.
They ambled in, trying to do their best to not look like they had secret information. They had a lot of practice at this guise, after all. Ever since first year, they had nearly always known something that everyone else didn't. So they continued through the library, trying to ignore the studied distraction of the Ravenclaws - who were so defiantly NotLooking at the Gryffindors that it screamed totally eavesdropping.
Harry Potter sat at a back table with a sigh, enjoying being out of sight of most of the other students, even if that made it potentially easier for them to eavesdrop. He hadn't seen a Slytherin in the library, so he assumed they were having some sort of meeting.
"So, what's going on?" Hermione asked, her chocolate eyes bubbling with curiosity. No wonder she was so good at potions.
"Well, I'm still not really sure..." Harry began, knitting his hands in his lap.
"Why'd you stop me from smashing a good one in that git's smug, smarmy face?" Ron asked, his voice brimming with anger.
"It wouldn't have done you any good, you know," Harry said with a sigh, "Snape was watching, and we'd all have lost points."
Ron grinned, "Sure, but I'd have felt better."
"That's not the point, Ron -" Harry said, feeling obscurely like Hermione, "The question is why he hasn't turned us in already..."
Hermione bounced in her seat - "That's actually a good point! We know Snape and Malfoy are thicker than thieves, so why hasn't he gotten you in trouble yet?"
Harry sighed, "Well, for one thing, Malfoy wasn't asked by me to join, you know... and Smith has been running the day-to-day..." Harry started, before looking at the truly worshipful faces his friends were turning towards him.
"Yeah but you -" Hermione said, as Ron said simultaneously, "He can't really think..."
Harry shrugged, saying, "Honestly, I'm not sure I care. He's keeping the study group a secret."
"How can you not care?" Hermione nearly hissed, her "it's a library" manners keeping the sound from being a shriek. "he could turn us in at literally any time!"
"Well, yeah, he could, but then he'd have to answer how he found out..." Harry Potter said with a cruel smile. "And there's plenty of people who'll tell Snape that Draco was at the original meeting."
"But- but- they can't tell! That's in the contract!" Hermione said, just a bit aghast at the thought of someone breaking their word.
"Only if they signed," Harry said with a bit of a smile, "And we make sure that the littlest didn't get a chance, now didn't we?"
"Damn straight," Ron said, unaware of how much he sounded like a gunslinger, "They'd just get themselves hurt."
"I don't trust Malfoy farther than I can throw him," Harry said.
Hermione interrupted, "Which isn't that far, he's still bigger than you." Ron snorted a laugh, and Harry colored red.
"Whatever's really going on," Harry said softly, "I don't understand it yet. And I don't want to touch it until I figure it out."
"Because you don't want to break it?" Hermione asked, just as softly.
"Because, when I break it, I want to break it right." Harry Potter said, finding Malfoy's words walking straight out of his own mouth. Still, they were true enough, in this time and place. He was still bewildered about what exactly was going on.
Tomorrow. Answers.
*No, Snape has not been rescuing Hufflepuffs in his spare time.
**Harry's completely misreading Malfoy.
[a/n: Reviews get you more folios. Otherwise, I need to finish writing the story!]