Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.
Dancing on Clouds
By Monday the brutal winds died out, but Draco still felt like as if he was blowing around, never able to get his feet planted firmly on the ground. Dating Hermione was the best. They spent most of Sunday cloistered in the library, mostly doing homework but there was also plenty of kissing. Heading back to classes on Monday felt like a rude awaking from the perfect dream.
"So, how was Slughorn's gathering Friday night?" Tom inquired as they situated themselves at the trays containing gnarled Snarfgallup stumps for Herbology on Monday morning.
"Dunno," Harry said, tugging on the protective gloves. "I didn't go."
Tom rolled his eyes. "And your excuse?"
"Meeting with the Headmaster."
Tom narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line.
"It was rather fun," Hermione said, a bit breathlessly as she set her things down next to Draco. She sent him a sunny smile before turning to Tom. "I mean, he drones on about famous ex-pupils a bit, and he absolutely fawns over McLaggen because he's so well-connected, but he gave us some really nice food and he introduced us to Gwenog Jones."
Harry blankly blinked at Hermione, then turned to Draco for an explanation.
"You are lacking as a Quidditch fan," Draco sighed. "She's the captain of the Holyhead Harpies."
"And rather full of herself," Hermione grumbled.
"I'll catch up on league stuff after I'm done with Marv," Harry muttered as Professor Sprout briskly bustled over and told them to get moving as they were lagging behind. Neville already had a bloody lip, but was clutching an unpleasantly pulsating green object the size of a grapefruit. Several other students had scratches on their faces, but only Neville had the Snarfgallup unearthed.
Harry gave the gnarled stump a look, swallowed, then dived. The thing sprang to life at once, the long bramble-like vines flying out of the top and whipping through the air. One instantly tangled into Hermione's hair. Tom looked bored as he trapped a couple vines and knotted them together. Seeing the hole open, Draco plunged his arm in and got trapped from the elbow down. Hermione freed her hair, pulled it back tighter then helped Tom and Harry wrench the vines, forcing the hole open again. Draco wrenched his arm free, holding a pod like Neville's. The moment they all let go, the prickly vines went back inside and the gnarled stump sat looking innocent and not deadly.
"How on Earth did Neville do that by himself?" Hermione asked, brushing bits of vine and dirt off her face.
"He's the plant whisper," Harry insisted in reverence.
"Pass me a bowl," Draco said, holding the pulsating pod at arm's length. Tom handed him one and Draco quickly dropped the thing, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands down.
"Don't be squeamish, squeeze it out, they're best when fresh!" Professor Sprout called out above the noise of the class trying to wrestle with a plant that wanted to kill them.
"Anyway," Hermione said as there hadn't been a lump of wood trying to kill them a moment ago, "Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party, Harry, and there's no way you'll be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you can come."
Tom snorted, bursting the pod open in the bowl with ease. Draco remembered it being a lot harder the first time he'd tried it.
"Just for the Slug Club?" Harry inquired.
"Yes," Hermione replied. "We're allowed to bring guests, so you can bring Tom if you want."
Harry appeared relieved, but then Tom proclaimed, "I am not going to anything held by Slughorn. Been there, done that."
Draco cocked an eyebrow at the boy, who was furiously not looking at Harry.
"Did you go last time?" Hermione said, rounding quickly on Draco.
"I party crashed for about five-seconds," Draco remembered. "I was trying to get to the Room of Requirement and Filch found me. Not my best moment. Slughorn was in such a jolly mood, he let me stay, only I didn't remain because Snape dragged me out and tried to find out what I was up to."
"And you didn't tell him?" Harry asked.
"No. I was an arrogant toe-rag who thought he wanted my glory," Draco spat. "Who wishes to get the second pod out of the plant?"
"Bother," Harry grumbled. "There's another one?"
"What are we to do with the tubers in the bowl?" Hermione asked and for the rest of the lesson, they didn't discuss parties, whom was taking whom, or anything not having to do with the lumpy, gnarled wood stump and it's pods full of wiggling tubers.
When not with Hermione (or even when he was with Hermione), Draco watched Harry and Tom closely. While Draco was sure Tom had more than friendly feelings for the Boy-With-A-Death-Wish, Draco wasn't sure about Harry. While Potter wore his feelings on his sleeve (only he was the idiot who didn't realize he liked Ginny Weasley till they finally got together), Harry did not. Harry guarded his emotions, especially after fourth year and fifth year. He seemed to have shut down completely. Draco was sure this time he had no romantic feelings for Ginny Weasley, he detested Cho Chang, and showed no interest in any other girl at school while every other sixth year boy (other than Draco and Tom) was eyeing the girls left and right. Draco had suspected Harry of liking Tom, but now he wasn't sure if Harry liked the other boy passed a friend or not.
Draco kind of did not want to know, just as Harry did not want to know that his two best friends were dating, as he completely ignored the change in Draco and Hermione's relationship. While Tom smirked and teased, Harry ignored Tom and changed the subject, usually to trying to find a replacement for Katie Bell, as while she was out of the Hospital Wing, she wasn't supposed to get hit in the head for the next month, thus she'd have to miss the next game.
"Should I ask Dean Thomas?" Harry asked, looking confused one evening.
"He's dating Ginny Weasley," Tom said, not looking up from the Transfiguration magazine he was reading. "Might add some romantic tension to the team."
Harry blankly stared at Tom.
"Ginny is serious about Quidditch," Draco said, giving Tom a look. "She'd never let her relationship get in the way of the team."
Tom shrugged. "You know her better than I."
"I'll ask Dean as soon as I can corner him," Harry decided.
The Corning of Dean Thomas happened after Transfiguration the next afternoon. Most of the class was gone, including Tom and Hermione who'd left behind a whole flock of twittering, little yellow birds. They'd been the only ones to be able to conjure so much as a feather from thin air. Harry sucked up a lot of oxygen and hurried over to the table where Thomas was still packing up. Behind him, Seamus Finnigan was slamming books into his bag with a sour look on his face.
"Are you still interested in playing Chaser? Just for our next game."
"Wha—? Yeah! Of course."
"Well, you're in," Harry said as Finnigan slammed books into his bag louder than he'd been before. Harry looked as if he wanted to be elsewhere. "Practice is tonight at seven."
"Right," Dean exclaimed, eyes bright. "Cheers, Harry! Blimey, I can't wait to tell Ginny!"
He sprinted out of the room, leaving Harry and Finnigan standing in uncomfortable silence that only ended when a bird dropping landed on Finnigan's head. He made a disgusted noise and stomped out of the room. Harry sagged. Draco Vanished the birds (he could do that, but couldn't make them appear out of nothing), then the droppings, and made his way over to Harry. He clapped him on the shoulder.
"The woes of being captain," Draco lamented.
"Wood never had to replace anyone," Harry grumbled.
"Johnson had to replace almost her whole team last year," Draco reminded him. "At least you've got choices when it comes to Chasers."
"Bah," Harry grumped.
While there was a lot of muttering about Harry's choice of replacement (there was another girl in their house who would likely have made a better choice, but she'd crashed her broom into Ginny for some unknown reason during tryouts multiple times), Draco knew after their practice that night they were going to win their first game. Thomas worked well with Ginny and himself. The rest of the team wasn't shoddy either.
"That was a really good practice," Harry said, bouncing up and down as he and Draco made their way to Gryffindor Tower.
"Yes, Dean works well with the team," Draco offered.
Harry continued to rehash the practice till they reached the shortcut behind the tapestry. Harry pulled the tapestry back and they found themselves face to face with Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley, lip-locked together. Draco cocked his head to the side, wondering if that was what he and Hermione looked like when they got a little carried away with kissing.
"ARGSKH," Harry ineloquently squeaked, making the couple jump apart.
"What?" Ginny asked, looking at Harry in a confused manner.
Harry made a serious of noises that weren't actually words before he turned around and ran off. Draco quirked an eyebrow.
"What's his problem? It's not like he's never seen anyone kissing before," Ginny muttered, her cheeks turning a little red.
"Er…c'mon, Ginny," Dean said, tugging on Ginny's sleeve, "let's go back to the Common Room."
"Truth is, I don't think he has," Draco said to Ginny. "And after his horrible experience with it, I don't think he's ever tried it again."
The blush left Ginny's face and she looked thoughtful for a moment.
"Or it was simply he knows you," Draco offered.
"You know me," Ginny pointed out. "Just as well as Harry."
Draco shrugged.
"Ginny?"
"Fine, yes, let's go," Ginny said, turning and stomping off.
Dean waved at Draco before hurrying after his girlfriend. Draco decided to take the long way back to the Tower and let the tapestry drop back into place. He turned to go when he came face to face with Tom Riddle.
"Lurking in dark corridors, Riddle?"
"No. Avoiding amorous couples."
Draco smirked. "Jealous, Riddle?"
"No, Malfoy, I happen not to be."
Draco eyed the boy in front of him, who was standing so stiffly a breeze would likely knock him over and he'd crack into a million pieces.
"Sure."
Tom sniffed. Draco snorted, moving to walk down the corridor but Tom stopped him. Draco looked at the boy in question to find his body language had loosened and he wore a curious expression on his face. His eyes darted around and he grinned devilishly.
"Draco, shouldn't that little first year be else where at this hour of night?" Tom inquired quietly.
Draco stared at the girl, who was in fact a small first year from Slytherin, who was standing holding a glass bottle of toadsqawn. Draco sighed, walking forward silently, with Tom on his heels.
"Excuse me," Draco began, causing the girl to jump and the bottle shattered all over the floor. "Oh, I'm sorry."
Draco waved his wand, fixing the bottle, then moved the toadspawn into the jar.
"Shouldn't you be in your House right now? It's after curfew for first years," Draco said gently.
"Y-y-y-yes, sir," the girl stuttered, tearing off as fast as she could.
Draco glanced at the blank wall and sighed deeply.
"That was Crabbe or Goyle?"
"I don't remember," Draco admitted. "But he's in there right now."
"You could go in. You know exactly what he is doing and in what room," Tom pointed out.
Draco glanced at Tom, then walked back and forth three times thinking he wanted the somewhere to hide— the same thing he thought to get the room he wanted the first time. He didn't expect the door to appear, yet it did. He glanced at Tom before he jerked the door open, poking his head into the cavernous room.
It was silent.
Tom silently cast a spell, which shot around the room, but revealed nothing.
"There's no one here."
Draco glanced at Tom before he entered the room and headed for where he remembered the cabinet to be located. He heard Tom follow. He came to a stop in front of the cabinet, one door hanging off the hinges. Draco slowly opened the door to reveal an empty inside.
"He's been working on it. It's empty. It should be full of junk."
"You could break it further," Tom suggested, rounding the Vanishing Cabinet with a look of calculation.
"He'd still fix it," Draco pointed out, slamming the broken door, which further popped off the hinges. It hung dangerously over his feet. "The summer is always fixed, but there, I broke the door further."
"Dumbledore is up to something," Tom burst out, looking almost shocked he'd said it.
Draco narrowed his eyes, giving Tom his full attention. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, he's having meetings with Harry," Tom stated. "And Harry's not telling us about it."
Draco frowned deeply.
"You've not noticed because you've been wrapped up in your new romance," Tom sneered, "but, I've noticed he's gone sporadically and he stares at me differently now."
"He stared at you before?"
Tom gave him a look and sniffed. "He now looks at me differently. Whatever Dumbledore is telling him is changing his opinion of me."
Draco wanted to say that was good, as even after all these years of Tom Riddle not doing anything evil or wrong, Draco half wished he'd go away or he'd do something to make Harry hate him. Yet, staring at the boy now, Draco felt horrible, as Tom Riddle, while maybe genetically similar to Voldemort, was not Lord Voldemort. Nor did he show up to steal Draco's spot as Harry's best friend. While the two were friends, they'd never be best friends due to whatever else was between them that neither spoke of.
"What could Dumbledore possibly know about you that would make Harry see you differently?"
Tom looked unsure, which was unnerving. He bit the inside of his cheek, casting his sapphire eyes to the side and staring at the floor. Draco shifted uneasily.
"Dumbledore would know about my and Lord Voldemort's past," Tom said quietly, clutching the strap of his book bag and still staring at the floor as if it held the answers to life itself. "While I've shared a few stories of my childhood with Harry, if he's seeing things…through others eyes without my side…"
"He might be seeing a side of you that you wish to remain hidden?"
"Not hidden," Tom insisted, looking up sharply. "I've told him about…some events. Like for instance, why Voldemort would hide a horcrux in that cave where Regulus found it, but…"
"But there's other things Dumbledore might know?"
"Who knows?" Tom burst out, throwing his arms in the air. "The man has been trying for years to find the horcruxes. He'd have to…learn more about Voldemort, get to know him on a level he doesn't wish anyone to know him—"
"As you've pointed out in the past, you are not Voldemort," Draco reminded the younger boy, who was looking much younger than his years. "What could Dumbledore possibly find out about you that would—"
"Draco, I was a horribly cruel child," Tom stated flatly, folding his arms across his chest. "While no one locked me under the stairs and made me their maid, I had no friends and made all the other children fear me. When new ones appeared, I made sure they were not to mess with me. I was the only child with his own room. For good reason."
"Fine, so you were a rotten brat," Draco agreed, feeling a little out of his depth. "I'm sure you shared that with Harry."
"I have, yet he still looks at me as if he doesn't know me after these meetings."
"Could he be…upset?"
"Over what I did?"
"No," Draco assured, feeling strange that he was trying to convince Tom Harry still liked him. "I doubt he'd put a lot of stock into the past actions of child Tom Riddle. Well, at first he might, but after he mulls it over he shouldn't."
Tom looked unconvinced. "Why is Dumbledore meeting with him? Regulus is horcrux hunting, so he doesn't need to pass down that information for Harry to use after his death."
"Regulus is horcrux hunting?"
"What did you think he was doing? Planting daisies?" Tom snorted. "He's Dumbledore's stooge hunting those foul things down."
"Why?"
"Finishing what he started," Tom offered. "Last time, I assume Harry was supposed to finish the job, as Dumbledore likely hadn't told a soul. Yet, this time, Regulus is finding the hocruxes, so why is Dumbledore meeting with Harry and telling him things that make him look at me strangely and avoid me?"
Draco frowned, having missed the avoidance.
His head was really in the clouds.
Tom folded his arms across his chest and pouted (which looks all kinds of wrong).
"He would not need to convince Harry on how— oh."
"What?" Draco asked.
"Oh," Tom said, frowning and arms dropping to his side. "What…what if…"
"You're not a horcrux," Draco reminded Tom quickly. "Why don't we corner Harry and ask him, okay? Like now. He's in the Common Room. Let's go."
Draco grabbed Tom's arm and towed him all the way to the Common Room. Harry wasn't in the Common Room, but in the dormitory. He was seated on his bed, looking as if he wanted to gouge his eyes out. He jumped up in surprise when Draco and Tom entered, then frowned deeply at whatever he saw on Tom's face.
"What have you been meeting with Dumbledore about?" Draco demanded.
Harry paled. Draco gave him a stern look.
"He's been…giving me Voldemort history lessons," Harry said, looking utterly baffled. "I mean, I knew a lot about his school days from Tom, but Dumbledore thinks… he reckonds I need to know more about him in order to face him in the end. You know, know your enemy?"
"So…that's why you've been staring at Tom funny?" Draco asked as Tom stepped on his foot hard. Draco hissed in pain and glared at Tom and stomped on the other boy's foot in retaliation.
"Will you two stop? I didn't mean to look at Tom funny. It was weird seeing the day Dumbledore met him…and I felt bad because Tom's never seen his family and I've now seen his parents, but—"
"You've seen my parents?" Tom breathed, stopping his skirmish with Draco. Draco got one last foot stomp in before moving away from Tom, who didn't bother to notice due to his staring at Harry as if he was a piece of chocolate.
Harry nodded, looking guilty. "Yeah. Uh, you look alarming like your father."
"But nothing like my mother?"
Harry shook his head. "She…uh…she had long hair that was dark?"
Tom sat heavily down on Harry's bed.
"And your uncle liked to curse your dad, who, uh, thought your mother's family were…well, strange?"
"A bunch of freaks," Tom muttered bleakly. "Makes sense. He was a land owner, rich and affluent. Good looking I assume. The Guants…I know they weren't the easiest people to look at due to inbreeding for centuries."
Harry cringed.
"What memory did he show you?" Tom asked.
"The day a Ministry official went to give the Gaunts a warning for what Morfin had done to your father the previous day."
Tom nodded. Harry reached out and grabbed Tom's hand. Draco quickly looked at the ground.
"The Gaunts were nothing to write home about, and your mother was terrified of her father and brother, but she was besotted by your father."
"Who didn't know she was alive," Tom muttered.
"No. It's likely true about the love potion theory you've got," Harry quietly admitted.
"What else did he show you?"
"The day he met you," Harry revealed.
Draco glanced up on his way to his own bed to sit and found Harry still had Tom's hand, but Tom wasn't holding Harry's back. He wore a horrified expression that was a tinted with embarrassment.
"Not one of my better moments," Tom dryly joked.
"No. No, it wasn't. But, you're no longer a magpie," Harry teased weakly.
"True. I gave that up when I had no reason to hold trophies any longer from my cruelty," Tom confessed. "Also, I couldn't actually hold onto anything."
Harry snorted.
"What else?" Draco asked, making both boys jump as they'd clearly forgotten Draco was in the room.
"Uh…well, there was a foggy memory Dumbledore got of Slughorn," Harry said, glancing at Tom sheepishly.
"Foggy?" Tom asked.
"He altered it," Draco realized. "Slughorn let something slip that he was later ashamed of."
Harry nodded. "Dumbledore suspected, until Regulus told him about Voldemort borrowing that evil book from his father's family library, that Slughorn had given Voldemort the information he needed…to know if he could make more than one horcrux."
Tom looked ill. "Slughorn would have given it, if he'd known. Why would he know that kind of information?"
"He's a Slytherin," Draco answered, refraining from rolling his eyes. "He'd likely come across it during his research for his Mastery, wondered what it was, found out, and stored it away for later use if needed."
Harry turned a lovely shade of pea.
"He'd never use it," Draco assured both boys.
"How come you didn't know what it was?" Harry quietly asked.
"One: Voldemort took all the books pertaining to horcruxes in the library; and two: I never researched a Mastery. Slughorn was at school when the books were still in the library and he researched a Mastery in Potions. While horcruxes are not potions, they are a Dark Art, which Potion Masters must be fully versed in order to stop curses and halt poisons."
"He's right," Tom quietly admitted. "In the days before Voldemort ran off with the books, they were in the library for anyone with access to the Restricted Section and there were many more people reading for Masteries than simply getting jobs straight out of school in those days. Especially those from pureblood families. It was only recently that Masteries fell out of fashion, mostly because starting with your father's generation, they were too time consuming and there were greater issues to deal with, such as the war Voldemort was waging on their way of life."
"So, it was simply luck that no one knew about horcruxes?" Harry inquired
"No, it was of Voldemort's making," Tom said, turning sharply to Harry. "He made sure so no one would know of them."
"So, would Snape have learned about them? He's got a Mastery right? He'd do research in more places than just Hogwarts, yeah?"
"Maybe. He did read Potions in London. There are quite a few extensive libraries in London, and as a Death Eater he likely had access to certain pureblood libraries as well," Tom admitted grumpily. "Though, as we all know the book with the most information on the topic is written in Parseltounge and only three people we know if can read it."
Harry shuddered. While the two had read the book Regulus had given them, they'd both seemed too disturbed after telling Regulus to share the information with Draco and Hermione. However, because they were more than willing to entertain the idea of seven horcruxes, neither had pressed Harry to tell them what the book had entailed.
Draco didn't want to know.
"He wants you to know Voldemort's motivations," Tom said into the silence that had fallen. "To see his secrecy, his need to be alone in everything. While we do know this, to the extent…"
"He talks big, but his goals are small," Harry offered.
Draco snorted. "Small? The total destruction of wizarding society?"
"No, I mean, he talks about taking over and ruling, creating a new society, but he doesn't care about any of that. He doesn't want to be Minister of Magic, he doesn't want to hold a position of power publicly, he wants to be like Slughorn— pulling the strings behind the scene. He wants…."
Harry stared at Tom, mouth hanging open.
"What?"
"The last memory I saw…it was of when Voldemort returned to Hogwarts in the fifties," Harry whispered, looking horrified. "It went along with, or so Dumbledore thought, the Slughorn memory. I didn't understand till now."
"Why did Voldemort visit the school and meet with Dumbledore in the fifties?" Draco asked, feeling bewildered.
"He wanted to teach," Harry murmured. He shook his head and looked at Draco. "When he graduated from school, he applied for the position that was opening up for DADA. The headmaster turned him away because he as too young, not enough experience. He worked at Borgin and Burkes for a short time till he vanished without a trace after killing a woman who owned two Founders items. He made those into horcruxes, by the way. Then, he reappeared, surrounded by his old gang from his school days. He reapplied for the DADA position, which had just happened to be open after the mysterious disappearance of the professor. Voldemort met with Dumbledore and he looked…different. His features were all blurred."
"He'd divided his soul too many times already," Tom realized in an undertone.
Harry nodded. "As well as other things. He'd pushed the limits of magic, or so he claimed. Well, Dumbledore turned him down and he left in a huff. Since then, Hogwarts has been unable to keep a DADA teacher for more than a year."
"He cursed the position," Draco shuddered.
"That's what Dumbledore believes, even though he didn't exactly say that. Anyway, Dumbledore said Voldemort wished to mold young minds, to create followers for himself. I thought he just wanted to crate an army of Death Eaters, but in reality, he wanted to do what Slughorn is doing: creating connections and holding the power behind the scenes. Marv doesn't actually want to be in power. He wants power, but…"
"He doesn't want to deal with all the strings that come attached to being in the spotlight," Tom nodded, looking wise and sage-like. "He never wanted to be in the spotlight, nor do I. I detest most people. I'd rather be a powerful wizard locked away in my own home than be out in public showing off."
"But, he does like showboating," Harry reminded Tom. "He talks a lot about himself."
"Of course he'd want to boast about his success," Tom drawled. "Slughorn does the same thing."
"And you?" Draco challenged.
Tom cut his eyes to Draco. "I believe my success speaks for itself, Malfoy."
Draco quirked an eyebrow.
"So, how does knowing that Voldemort simply wants to mold young minds help us?" Harry asked, looking between the other two boys.
Draco felt his stomach bottom out. He looked at Tom, meeting his gem colored eyes and knew they were thinking the same thing.
"He's going to go after Hogwarts," they said in unison.
Harry turned a combination of white and green.
"He wants…what Dumbledore has," Tom determined, looking a little green. "Take Dumbledore out…he can implant himself here, as headmaster. He'll be able implement his influence for generations, as he'll never die."
"Well, he thinks he'll never die," Draco reminded the pair. "But, he will die. Painfully."
"Not likely," Tom said, shifting closer to Harry and looking ill. "While I agree he ought to die a pain filled death, the best option to us remains—"
"Avada Kedava," Draco sighed.
"Did you ever notice if you shorten that spell, it is AK?" Harry asked, quirking an eyebrow. At both Tom and Draco's blank looks, he added, "AK-47? It's an automatic weapon that, uh, Muggles use to take one another out in war. It's a reliable rifle."
"A gun," Tom filled in at Draco's confused expression. "Muggle wand?"
"Oh, those. Makes loud noises and shoot tiny bits of metal," Draco said, nodding. "There's one called AK-47?"
Harry nodded. "I shorten the spell in my head to AK and always think of it like the rifle. Only, well, less bloody and not as loud."
"Cleaner," Tom drawled. "Well, magic is usually cleaner."
"It also cleans," Draco drawled, twirling his wand and casting a few cleaning spells at Harry's bed, making him yelp.