DaOneInDaCorner: Alright, so counter to what you readers may believe, I'm in fact not the normal author you all know and love. I'm the constantly mentioned 'DaOneInDaCorner', co-writer for this story. Well, this is mostly my chapter, writing style and all, so I'm rather nervous on what you all may think of it, seeing as I've been out've the writing game for some time now. As opposed to giving you all an elaborate and lengthy note, I'll keep it short by saying that the chapter is something of a test for me, so it's going to be the shortest of all, and anything written by myself or Hplover4ever3 will be up to the regular standards of size. So yeah, next chapter won't be nearly as long to get out, so apologies for this rather late update, I procrastinated a bit on this one.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling. Thanks


CHAPTER 23: ONCE A SNAKE...

Draco had realized that sooner or later Severus would find his backbone again, but he'd never before expected it to occur in such a . . . dramatic fashion. So, seeing the Slytherin players repeating some of the recent maneuvers he'd taught Snape earlier that week, struck him with a confusing mixture of unimaginable fury, and admittedly a small dose of pride. Currently, the rage seemed to be winning out on the priority of his emotions.

That one shouldn't even exist yet! Draco thought manically, hands gripping wildly at his hair as he watched Crouch execute a perfect Dionysus Drive, leaping from his broom to smack his Quaffle into the goalpost, a smug and arrogant grin plastered across his face as he gave a bow in response to the roaring applause from the bleachers.

The cheers had proven to be almost infectious at this point, with new plays and tricks performed by the Slytherin team every other minute, showcasing things that shouldn't be introduced until the next century at the very least. By this point, the Gryffindors hardly even cared that their opposing team was the shining glory of the hour. They too, were so caught up in the game that they cheered at every new ploy which their rivals flaunted. Draco could hardly control the flush of rage that coursed through his body at this point, teeth threatening to grind themselves to nubs if he continued upon this current method of releasing his tension.

As Slytherin scored another set of points, Draco's hand went flying and smacked the closest cheering person right at the back of the head.

"Owww! The hell's wrong with you, man?" shrieked the rather short and stumpy boy, turning to Draco with eyes that spoke of surprise and a tinge of worry as he recognized whom he had been struck by.

Without a moment being lost, Draco carried the momentum that the student's hesitation allowed him and struck for the jugular . . . metaphorically of course.

"Wrong with me?" Draco mimed back in a voice that spoke of the true, icy cold ferocity that was rushing through him. "How about what the fuck's wrong with you?! That's Slytherin, out there winning, not Gryffindor! You and all these other idiots here are cheering despite how badly they're kicking our arses!"

Draco's accusation wasn't contained, yet the Gryffindors all around his seat remained glued to the match that went on overhead.

With a gulp, the tubby boy shrunk in on himself, seeming to wish that he could apparate himself within a wall at the soonest chance. Tough luck, Draco thought vindictively to himself.

"B-but . . . that last shot was so cool!"

At the weak defense, the kid immediately realized his mistake, retreating under Draco's arm, noting how the blond terror's left hand was twitching unconsciously towards the currently sheathed wand within his robe.

With a shriek of panic, the boy fled with flailing arms, completely ignored by all but those whom he tumbled into on his retreat, whom let out loud remarks of shock. Draco watched the boy finish his scram by catching sight of one of the near Slytherin players executing a wild spin that turned into a joint maneuver with another chaser that allowed them to slickly dupe the approaching Gryffindor flyers, leading to yet another attempt to score as the Quaffle made its way into the hands of another member.

Jarine Atrenus managed a counter to the new sight, as a beater he'd signaled managed to scatter the two with a terrifying ball of mass being hurdled in their direction. As the third year chaser turned the impossible score into a decent recovery for Gryffindor, Draco couldn't help the surge of pride that went through him. At least they were still managing to save face in spite of a humiliating start to a long-awaited match.

Feeling like his continued presence would most likely endanger those around him, Draco turned back from the field and slowly started making his way down from the stands. Sure, Gryffindor didn't look too bad up there, but there was still no way they'd manage to win the match. Though they were just over forty minutes into the game, it was already clear to everyone at the stadium that Slytherin had won fifteen minutes in. The score boards were currently at a profound gap of two-hundred and seventy points for Slytherin, against the miniscule sixty pointes for Gryffindor House. Even a miraculous catch of the snitch wouldn't save the game for his team now, especially without a single solid defense for the golden maneuvers made by the Slytherin team. Draco could hardly recall his reasoning for wanting to teach treacherous little Severus such moves, but it mattered not at all by this point; Severus was going to get what karma had in store for him now. Draco would see to it.

And to think, Draco had been so enthusiastic for what was to come from the victory Gryffindor would be achieving with this match, morale for his former rival team at an all-time high.

Dammit James, that charisma of yours is definitely coming to bite us all in the arse now, huh? He thought to himself morosely, ignoring a shouted "HEY!" as he pushed past a row of students distractedly blocking the exit from the benches.


"Five minutes, people!" James shouted over the abundance of noise reverberating within the locker room.

"Guys, the hell's my shirt? C'mon, this isn't funny!" came the whiny voice of one boy, as Frank snickered immaturely within a corner of the room.

Tripping over a pile of fliers that James was currently posting atop the walls around them, another boy complained about a swollen toe and was now requesting that the game be pushed back another week.

With everyone in such a frenzy, Draco found it a rather difficult task to maintain his concentration now. Pushing his thumb and forefinger against his temple, he shut his eyelids and allowed himself a few moments to achieve some degree of serenity before releasing the pressure against his skull. With this brief moment of peace being achieved within his mind, he now gave his full attention to his current priority…that being the twitchy boy who shakily stationed himself atop his broom, gripping the handle tightly and twisting it every second he was able to.

With a sigh, Draco attempted to empathize with Atrenus, easily able to understand how it must feel to be the youngest member on the team and being pitted against the team that rose stakes to the roof when it came to possession of House Pride. The fact that his breath wasn't tinged with the foul stench of acidic vomit put him a scale higher than Draco during his first game. Well, the boy has done this once before, Draco thought now.

"Look, you're doing the tilt just fine, all you really need to focus on is maintaining your balance but you can't do that if you're shaking the broom around like a leaf caught in a hurricane," he critiqued the boy now, as his little student bit his lip and gave a nod.

The child's hero-worship seemed to do well in dispersing his fears. Really, all Draco'd done was show the kid a few tricks and give him some tidbits of criticism on his technique…nothing that deserved this Potter-level of fan-ism. Then again, he, Draco, was quite an amazing Quidditch player, so any advice he passed forward (in any era) could be perceived as though spoken from the lips of God himself. Well, perhaps some might disagree with this assessment, but Draco wasn't going to retract this notion from his mind anytime soon.

Taking a step back to give one last glance over at the positioning of Atrenus, Draco gave a mental nod in his affirmation of the kid's success.

"That ought to do it, from here I doubt there's much I can help you on without getting out on the field myself and demonstrating it myself."

Atrenus had a frown pulling at his lips now, and Draco resisted a growl of irritation. Great, more worries he'd need to set aside from the kid's pre-game jitters-riddled brain.

"It should be you out there flying, not me. Everyone here knows it too," the boy stated with utter sincerity, his self-dejection eliciting an audible groan of annoyance from the former Slytherin standing before him.

"Dammit kid, you'll do fine out there, probably better than I could do right now, as rusty as I am," Draco declared in response. "Besides, if anyone should be getting kicked, it's Gudgeon; the guy flies like a hog with fairy wings."

At the second accusation, Atrenus cracked a small grin. Draco shrugged at the look one of the other players gave him, overhearing Draco's not so subtle assessment on the resident overweight player. Really, it was true; the kid wasn't so much fat as he was overly muscled. Sure, muscle was great for Quidditch, but only when it was lean and didn't restrict the ability to perform during a game. He may have been something to fear a few years prior from what Draco could make out in the former photos of games past, but puberty had hit this one like a wrecking ball and turned what was once a lithe and agile body into a mountain of muscle.

Giving a small smirk down to the smaller teen, Draco looked back down to his notes and penned down some last minute touches to the strategies he'd went through. As a side note, Draco gave Atrenus a pat on the shoulder as he walked by. "Just don't think too hard, you'll do fine out there. I'm rootin' for ya, kid."

Not bothering to take in whatever expression of gratitude the teen no doubt had upon his face, Draco found a place leaning against a locker near the back of the room, a tad more quiet than the rest of the locker room. We're ready, aren't we? Draco took the extra time now to go over the small doubts that'd lingered within his mind, but for all that logic dictated his team held the advantage in the match, his fears continued to crawl back, leading him to be somewhat more methodical in his planning than he'd ever been in his life previous; Vanishing Cabinet excluded.

James' bout of shouting over the clashing voices shook Draco from his internal musing, as the courageous leader settled the team down in an attempt to have all eyes locked upon him for whatever he had to say.

For all that James had reminded Draco of Harry Potter in the past, any remnants of aggression and disdain he'd retained up until this point in time had all but cleared up when James called for all the boys to gather up in the locker room, circling him as he stood atop a bench with a serious look on his face.

"Oy Draco, come 'ere!" Sirius called, being the first to notice Draco standing off to the side.

Draco hesitated but nonetheless pulled himself away from the locker and walked over to join Sirius at James' side, clipboard under his folded arms.

The locker room fell silent at once—not a single sound. Everyone stood quietly, their faces serious too (or was it nervous?). James only looked down at them for a minute, trying to figure out what to say while analyzing whether or not his team was ready for this. Finally, he seemed to come to a conclusion because he cleared his throat and raised a finger.

"I don't think I have to remind you lot that this is our first match against Slytherin this year," he began. He cast his gaze over the occupants of the room, stopping at Draco to give a short nod of thanks. Draco looked down at the clipboard in his hand, full of notes about new counters and plays fueling effective defenses for whatever he believed the opposing team might send their way today. He had surprised even himself at his eagerness to take on the position as assistant and advisor, whether his participation was to be needed or not. Finishing his sweep of the room now, James seemed to ready himself as he sucked in a short breath in preparation of some sort of grand speech.

All the young men standing around him waited patiently, their faces clearly showing that they wanted nothing more than to be blessed with whatever motivational words James had in store for them today. The way they looked up to him sometimes rocked Draco completely as he still couldn't believe how much adoration James had scored himself over the years. It was impressive, really. And even now, his presence there alone seemed to wash away some of the nervous energy in the air.

"Despite this being just another match against Slytherin..." James now continued, "...it's more than that and we all know it." There was not a single questioning murmur in response—just the complete silence and feel of acceptance in the air. "This can't be just for the knowledge that we beat Slytherin...this game means something more for everyone that's here today. It's something to look forward to, for each of our classmates, their families, their professors...everyone's had just about enough to worry about lately...what with the war..." Some of the boys exchanged looks now that told Draco they'd all tried their hardest the last couple of days to forget about the latest rally completely. But even that was easier said than done.

"Look guys," sighed James, "I know it's been real difficult but…you see, that's why we need to win today. That's why we need to give all those people out there something else to talk about. They came here today trying to forget, and dammit it, we're gonna help them to forget!" He stomped his foot once, thus scoring himself a few smiles from the boys in front of him. "We're gonna remind them that we are Gryffindors, and that nothing—nothing crushes us!"

"Yeah!" cried Sirius, letting out a few claps which were echoed by a couple of members.

"We're gonna slaughter those Slytherins today," James continued, "Not for the Quidditch Trophy, or for the additional house points…not even for the pride…no, this is way bigger than that...we're gonna do it for all those out there suffering and trying to piece together and try to make sense of the war but can't...we're gonna remind them of the power of teamwork and cooperation. We're gonna assure them that we stand behind them, 100%, and that we will continue to stand behind them until the very end. We—"

"Uh Jamesy," said Sirius, awkwardly. James turned to look at him, startled, as though Sirius had only just entered the locker room. "We get it. The big bad war sucks and you wanna make a point. But I think I just heard the whistle so how's 'bout we all go out there and actually make that point, eh?"

James laughed now, his face loosening up slightly. Draco was also smiling now. Today was going to be a good day. Lord knew they needed it to be.


"That was so brilliant the way he twisted his broom like that without even dropping the Quaffle at all, did you see it?"

"I still can't believe how he managed to turn that around, I mean that was just so out of nowhere, totally unexpected!"

"There probably hasn't been a match like this since the founders' time here at Hogwarts!"

"I think I wanna change my bet about Gryffindor winning the House Cup this year—do you reckon it's too late now?"

Draco remained backed up against the wall, out of sight, as he watched the crowd fill up the halls on its way from the Quidditch pitch. There was so much excitement in the air from students of all houses, that Draco didn't need telling which team was the 'heroes of the hour'. He kept in the shadows, not wanting anyone to see him and start asking questions he wouldn't be able to answer now even if he wanted to. How could he, Draco, just abandon his team like that in their time of need? Had he no knowledge of the word loyalty at all?

Draco had no idea how much time had passed but it seemed that pass it did because the halls that had been filled with noise and chaos not moments before now stood abysmally silent and deserted, with just him standing against the wall, heart pounding, shock engulfed in his veins, and mind post-explosion. How—how could he have possibly let things get so unbelievably messed up so fast?

For the next hour, he successfully avoided the Gryffindor common room for all that he could. He steered clear of the Great Hall too, as well as the Entrance Hall. No, Draco simply resorted to wandering the lonely sixth and seventh floor corridors, roaming around for what seemed like hours, trying hard to escape this twisted timeline and all the many problems that came with it. Why did he walk out on the match? Did he honestly care that much whether or not Gryffindor won some stupid match? After all, it was only Quidditch, and he'd already learned the hard way that there were more important things in life.

But when the grand clock at the end of the west fourth floor corridor chimed ten minutes to curfew, Draco knew that he had no choice. He had to go back to the common room someday.

With a dreaded feeling that the marauders wouldn't be too pleased with him snaking out on them during the match, he forced himself to turn around and made it all the way to Gryffindor Tower, head bent the entire way and hands firmly in his pockets as he went. He grumbled the password at the Fat Lady, crawled in through the portrait hole, walked across the nearly deserted common room and climbed up the spiral staircase to his dormitory. When he finally opened the door, he was extremely surprised to find all the marauders sitting on James' bed with the map sprawled open in front of them. Only Peter and Remus looked up to acknowledge that Draco had arrived.

"Wh...what's going on?" Draco dared to ask, slowly shutting the door behind him and taking a few cautious steps toward the bed.

James looked up with an almost pained expression on his face, and he actually opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Remus quickly filled in, "We've been worried about you, mate, where've you been all day?"

"Yeah, w-we thought you'd sit with us at the match!" cried Peter. "But you never showed up!"

"Well it's not like you couldn't find me," Draco blurted out, nodding once at the map on James' bed.

"Oh we found you," James declared in a bitter voice, "But Moony here insisted we let you be…can't imagine why you'd deserve it if you don't even care enough to check in, drop by, you know, just let us know that you're alive."

Draco sighed and looked away. But James had already made it clear that he wasn't having any of that tonight.

"So where were you?" he repeated.

"You did watch the match, didn't you?" said Sirius, now looking at Draco as though he didn't even know who he was or why he was standing here.

"I...what...well yeah!" said Draco suddenly. "Yeah, of course I did!" James raised an eyebrow and Draco sighed. "Most of it, anyway."

"Most of it?" said James.

"What the hell happened, man?" said Sirius. "What about all those weeks of hard work and training...that clipboard full of notes that you carried around with you everywhere!"

"I...you guys won't understand..." Draco mumbled.

James slid off the bed now and walked up to him. "We won't understand? You do realize that it's us, right?"

Draco looked away from him but James snapped his fingers in front of him to catch his eye again.

"Draco," he said, his voice lower now, "What is it you're not telling us?"

Draco's gaze fell upon each of the boys in turn as he wondered what in god's name type of excuse he should use now to explain today's bizarre behaviour. Dammit, it was getting harder and harder for him to lie to these boys.

"I...look guys," he said, now moving away from James so that the others could see him too, "I'll admit that I was wrong about today, okay? After ten minutes of the match, I already realized what we were destined for and I...later I walked away."

"You actually left the match?" spat Sirius. "But...Quidditch!"

"You can't just leave because your team is losing, that's not the way things work around here in Gryffindor," James muttered angrily. "Yeah, we lose from time to time but dammit we don't walk out on each other. We get through everything because we have each other!"

"I know that, James, believe me," said Draco, irritated to the bone. "What can I say, I screwed up!" He looked round at Remus, hoping for some kind of sympathy here. "You can understand that, can't you, guys? I mean I've never had a normal family. And you guys feel like a family to me. I just couldn't stand the idea of sitting there, watching my family get beaten down and humiliated completely. I just couldn't handle it." He looked to Peter now. "And I know it wasn't my shining moment but we all make those mistakes, don't we?" Now Sirius. "I don't know what happened but I screwed up and I'm sorry." And now James. He took a step towards him, sincere regret plastered all over his face. "I'm really, really sorry."

James let his guard down in an instant, actually surprising Draco in the process. He hadn't expected it to work this fast. Heck, he hadn't expected to get out of this without the need for a single lie.

"Hey, don't sweat it, man," said Sirius, now, also sliding off the bed and walking over to pat Draco on the back. "I mean we all get it wrong sometimes, right, fellas?"

The boys muttered their agreement and nodded their heads vigorously. Relief swept over Draco like a cool and pleasant wind. Even James lost all seriousness in his face and gave Draco a little smile now. Though the boys did not know it yet, Draco's words had a greater impact on them now than he would ever know.

"So...how did the match..." said Draco.

"...end?" said Sirius. He shook his head. "Not well. But Cresswell was actually quite impressive today. Hmm, Atrenus too."

"Yeah, so even though we got completely slaughtered out there, I was very impressed with their day's work," James declared in an official voice. "I'll be sure to mention that at the next practice. The team was a bit down by the time we reached the common room after the match."

"Really?" said Draco sarcastically. "Because the rest of the Gryffindors out in the stands sure seemed to be enjoying the game."

James frowned at him but nevertheless dismissed the comment. Draco sighed. Perhaps being a Gryffindor for just four months of his life didn't exactly make him an expert on how things worked over in this house. Oh well.

"That Lucinda Talkalot sure played one heck of a game though, didn't she?" Sirius said to James now.

"Well with her being captain, I'm not surprised," James replied. "She's a far better chaser than Belinda Overcliff though."

"I thought your brother played a fairly decent game too," Remus said to Sirius now.

Sirius scoffed at him.

"Decent?" James repeated. "The kid was the highlight of the show!"

"Can we please talk about something else?" Sirius groaned, now falling on his bed and moaning once painfully into his pillow.

Peter giggled.

"Sooo," said Draco, now attempting to redirect the conversation. "Uh, what's with the map?"

The boys looked down at the Marauder's Map still spread out on James's bed with barely any dots moving about the castle.

"We're spying on the Slytherin team," Sirius declared, now lifting his head from the pillow and turning in his bed to look at his friends.

"What for?" Draco looked up at James who exchanged a look with Sirius before answering, with somewhat of a determined grin, "Those little gits learned those tricks from someone tonight, and we're gonna find out who."


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