Chapter Four

The next morning, as Harry was eating and conversing with Ron at the staff table, Malfoy approached them and slipped into the seat next to Harry's. Though Ron momentarily ceased speaking, Malfoy acted as though nothing was amiss and continued scooping scrambled eggs into his plate. Harry couldn't help but be amused by the look on Ron's face.

"What's wrong, Weasley?" Malfoy asked, without looking at him. "Not used to Gryffindors and Slytherins sharing a table? There's always a seat open with the students, if you're going to act like one of them."

Ron looked into his plate, clutching his fork with tenseness. "Great to see you too, Malfoy," he muttered, before shoveling more biscuits onto his plate.

Malfoy was unconcerned by the sarcasm as he proceeded to eat his food. He paused to address Harry, "Down to my right, that's the Hufflepuff professor I was telling you about. He looks pretty young, possibly in his thirties, dark blond hair—"

"I see him," Harry interrupted. "What's he teach?"

"Transfiguration."

Harry was startled. "Isn't that McGonagall's job?"

"Well, McGonagall has a lot on her plate as headmistress, so Malcolm Whitby took over for her. He's pretty experienced, from what I've seen." Malfoy said this as though he'd actually watched him transfigure.

"And how are you so skilled at knowing what good transfiguration looks like?" Harry asked, unconvinced. He'd always thought that Malfoy just knew how to brew potions.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "If I wasn't the Potions Master, I'd probably apply for the Transfiguration position. I don't know if you remember, Potter, but I was only behind Granger in most of our classes."

Ron immediately jumped up on his girlfriend's name. "What're you saying about Hermione, you git?"

Malfoy shot him a glare across the table. "If you had listened, Weasel, you'd know that I wasn't insulting her. But no sense getting that through your thick skull."

Ron clutched his fork even more tightly. Harry knew that Ron and Hermione had been dating for quite a while now, and the two were as close as ever. Ron in fact must be missing her especially while on this lengthy mission, which would only grate on his nerves even more.

The three ate the rest of their breakfast in silence. Harry continued glancing at Malcolm Whitby, who sat just four seats to Malfoy's right, chatting amiably with Professor Flitwick. Whitby looked quite good-natured, as all Hufflepuffs tended to look. His robes were well-pressed, his hair was combed back properly, and he spoke with his hands frequently. On a particular swing of his arms, he knocked over a goblet of water, which spilled down the table, toward Harry. Whitby raised his eyes to Harry's and immediately grinned.

Harry simply nodded back, unsure how Malfoy could think him unpleasant, especially after such a radiant smile. Then, he heard a scoff from his right side and noticed Malfoy pointing his wand at the mess of water seeping into the tablecloth and cleaning it up without so much as an uttered spell.

Whitby's reaction immediately turned cold. He glared at Malfoy and said, "No need to point out the mess, Malfoy. I would've cleaned it up."

"You could've done it quicker," Malfoy replied shortly. "And most people would just say thank you."

Whitby's expression became even more venomous. "And you think you of all people are deserving of gratitude?"

Malfoy glowered at Whitby, but otherwise deemed him unworthy of a response. He instead turned to down his goblet of apple cider and stood from the staff table. Harry, having finished his breakfast as well, followed suit. He told Ron he'd be around the castle and left to follow Malfoy as he stormed out of the Great Hall.

Harry found Malfoy at the stairwell, unfolding a parchment to skim over the list of potion ingredients. Harry glanced at him, noting that his movements were slightly aggressive and his features twisted into a snarl.

"I guess you're right," Harry said. "Whitby seems nice to everybody but Slytherins, especially you."

Malfoy didn't say anything, but it was apparent that he was in some turmoil about Whitby's words. He finally straightened up and merely said, "Well, I suppose we'd better start looking for these things if we're ever going to start that potion."

Harry followed as Malfoy led the way out of the castle, across the grounds, and toward the Forbidden Forrest. The ground was still packed with fresh snow and the sky was a miserable shade of gray. Harry glanced across the surroundings and noticed Hagrid's little cottage, swamped deep in the snow, a little trail of smoke creeping out of the chimney. He kicked himself for having forgotten to visit Hagrid, but told himself to do so as soon as possible. Maybe tomorrow, while Malfoy was busy with class.

"I must admit," Malfoy began, his cheeks rosy with the biting cold. "It's going to be even harder to find some of our ingredients in the snow. Porcupines don't just stroll around the forest in this cold. And snakes tend to hibernate during the winter. Look for burrows and holes, that's the most likely place you'll find snakes."

They walked through the eerily quiet forest, their footprints disrupting the seemingly lifeless and frozen world outside of Hogwarts. Nothing moved through the woods as the tall bare canopy enveloped them. Only the whisper of their robes against the ground and their steps in the crispy snow sounded in the silent forest. The expanse was never-endingly white and unchanging, when Harry suddenly spotted the corner of something poking out of the ground in front of them.

"Could you find snakes hibernating in a log?" Harry asked, as he approached the rotting piece of wood.

"It's worth taking a look." Malfoy drew near the snow-covered log and rolled it on its side with one foot. Nothing happened.

"How about that one?" Harry said, striding through the snow to another rotten log he'd spotted ten or so yards away. Malfoy followed and did the same with this log, rolling it over.

There was the sound of movement in the log as something shifted and hissed. Then, immediately, a black snake slithered out, its smooth body covered in diamond-like scales, reaching perhaps ten feet in length. It slid out of the log entirely and raised its body toward the two, its forked tongue striking against the cold air as if in irritation.

Before either could move, the snake struck at Malfoy's leg, entrenching its fangs into the skin, through the pant fabric. Malfoy immediately cried out, but then bit his tongue against the pain. He forced himself to stand still.

"Potter, grab the snake!" he ordered. "Don't let it get away—we need the fangs—"

Harry had been stock-still up until Malfoy had yelled out, but now moved into action. Losing all queasiness at touching the snake, he grabbed the serpent by its neck and stupefied it using his wand. He gently pulled the snake's fangs out of Malfoy's leg and placed the snake on the ground, assured that it wouldn't run off after he'd spelled it.

Malfoy pulled up his pant leg—the snake had attacked just above his ankle—and examined the wound. Harry noticed that though the lacerations were bleeding, there were no other effects on the skin other than the two puncture marks. Little swelling had occurred and the skin wasn't discolored yet.

"The snake wasn't poisonous," Malfoy muttered, pulling out his wand. He focused on the wound briefly, then a warm glow covered his leg, and the bite marks slowly faded away until they disappeared completely. He pulled down the pant leg after the spell was completed, acting as though nothing unusual had happened.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know you could do such difficult wordless magic. Or even heal yourself, as a matter of fact."

Malfoy just smiled slightly. "There you go again, thinking all I can do is use a cauldron." He then redirected his attention to the large snake lying immobile on the ground. "We'll need to snap off its fangs. It's a good thing it was nonpoisonous—that's the kind we need."

Harry wasn't sure if Malfoy had considered what would've happened if the snake was venomous. Harry personally didn't know how to treat a snake bite, and some venom takes less than a few minutes to infiltrate the blood and fully poison the victim. He hadn't realized how dangerous just gathering these ingredients might be. And they had just gotten started.

Crouching on the ground, Malfoy was slowly opening the snake's mouth and feeling its fangs with his fingertips when Harry joined him. Harry grimaced as Malfoy abruptly ripped a fang out of the snake's mouth, the gruesome snap resounding in the quiet woods. Harry momentarily wondered at the maturity that appeared to grace Malfoy's actions; whenever he'd gotten hurt in the past, he'd simply whined until someone showed him pity and attention. Now he dealt with the pain and fixed it himself. Returning to the task at hand, Harry placed his thumb and forefinger against the remaining fang and without further thought, broke off the curved tooth, releasing a similar crack into the stillness.

Malfoy placed the two fangs into a stringed pouch, which he returned to his cloak pocket. He stood up carefully, balancing on his right foot, the one which had not been bitten.

"Are you still hurt?" Harry asked, finding himself concerned. He needed all the help Malfoy could give him, after all. And if Malfoy became wounded and reluctant to help Harry, he wasn't sure who else he'd turn to.

"I'll be fine," Malfoy brushed it off. "I'm glad we got the snake fangs out of the way. I wouldn't want to go looking for another snake again."

Harry agreed. He brushed some snow off his robes and avoided looking at the fangless, motionless snake at their feet, whose size and coloring reminded him strongly of Nagini. "Now, how are we going to find a porcupine around here? Most animals are probably hibernating underground."

Malfoy shrugged. "Probably. But we don't really have the option of waiting until the spring. We might as well look around the forest until something comes up."

Agreeing to this somewhat careless plan, they wandered through the forest for several hours, their footprints becoming increasingly more impressed into the smooth snow jacket as they walked through certain parts of the woods more than once. They tracked all the edges of the forest facing Hogwarts and much of the inner front as well, before finding their footprints again. As the two walked, they didn't talk much, other than to observe small noises within the tree canopy. Harry was becoming hungry and tired toward the later afternoon, when they had stumbled upon their tracks for the third time. Suddenly, as he watched Malfoy's brooding expression, he was reminded of something he'd planned to give to Malfoy, and pulled the object out of his cloak pocket. He wondered at how the entire thing had slipped out of his mind.

Malfoy was moving rather quickly through the forest, so Harry extended out a hand toward him and tugged upon his cloak.

"Hey, Malfoy—stop for a moment. There's something I need to give you."

Malfoy paused and turned around to face Harry. He raised his eyebrows at him. "What is it?" As he spoke, he breathed out puffs of air, signaling that the temperature was falling as the afternoon drew to a close.

Harry merely extended the hawthorn wand toward him. "This rightfully belongs to you. As you probably know, it was the weapon I used against Voldemort, so thank you. Sorry I didn't give it back a while ago."

Malfoy took the wand and examined it, as though seeing it for the first time. "Yes, I've had to use a replacement since then," he said, more to himself than anything. He inspected it carefully. "Hawthorn with unicorn hair. Ten inches." Then his tone became dry, "It took you three years to remember to give this back? I had to use my mother's wand for a while, before I finally got a replacement."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. It really did slip my mind, until I ran across it while packing for this mission," Harry said sheepishly. "I was really preoccupied after Voldemort fell. I hadn't gone to school for my last year, so I needed to get my NEWTs to get into Auror training. And then the training was pretty rigorous—Anyway, you have it now."

Malfoy just continued staring at his old wand before he finally pocketed it. "Well, in any case, thanks."

Harry looked upward into the canopy. "It looks like it's going to get dark soon. I think we should head back."

Malfoy nodded. "It'll be even harder to spot anything once it gets dark. I guess getting the fangs was the best we could hope for."

They set out toward the front of the woods, heading back to Hogwarts. The silence was more deafening than ever, so much that Harry became uncomfortably stifled within it. He wasn't used to being back at Hogwarts and especially in the constant company of Malfoy, of all people. He'd become accustomed to working in his cubicle at the Ministry or going out on raids with other Aurors, as well as being in constant communication with either Ron or Hermione.

"You know," Harry suddenly began, after about ten minutes of walking through the woods, "I think I've been keeping some of my memories of Hogwarts at the back of my mind since becoming an Auror. I honestly haven't thought too much about how things have been here or what's become of the school."

Malfoy snorted quietly. "Obviously. You probably didn't even know Longbottom had the Herbology job until I mentioned it."

Harry placed his hands in his cloak pockets to warm them up. "Well, I had an idea it might've happened—"

"But you didn't know for sure."

Harry pursed his lips. "Give me some credit. I had a lot on my mind after the War."

"You apparently still do if you can't cast a Patronus." Malfoy was blowing into his fingers to warm them as well. Now that the sun was coming down, the temperature was quickly falling and they weren't dressed in extremely warm clothing—they had no gloves, hats, or scarves.

"I guess I hadn't considered how many memories I was trying to forget. The Dementors reminded me. Of all the people that died. Of all the friends I'd never see again." Harry closed his eyes momentarily, overcome with grief. "I can't forget their still faces, arranged in a row, on the floor of the Great Hall."

Malfoy didn't reply. Harry realized that there was nothing to be said. He needed no response, really, he just wanted someone to hear him. Ron and Hermione were a great support system, but they had gone through the same horrors, and there was no need to bring up the bad memories between the three of them. Malfoy probably had no idea what had really happened at the Battle of Hogwarts. And as long as they were working together, Harry felt that talking to him might even help bring back the Patronus.

"Did you have a problem with your Patronus before you attempted it at Hogwarts?" Malfoy asked after a moment of silence.

Harry looked down at the ground as they walked. "I—I haven't done a Patronus since school ended. I haven't done it in years."

Malfoy almost stopped in his tracks at hearing this, but continued despite his surprise. "You walked into a mission involving Dementors without even practicing your Patronus?"

"Not exactly," Harry sighed, his breath coming out in visible puffs. "I've attempted it just before coming here. But I couldn't produce it. I just blew it off as nerves or sleeplessness. I thought I'd manage it the moment I saw a Dementor."

Malfoy sighed heavily. "Typical, Potter. Only you would undertake a dangerous task so recklessly. It's a good thing you're on a team, or those Dementors would've Kissed you by now."

Harry shuddered, both from the cold and from recalling the Dementors of his third year, surrounding him and Sirius Black, almost extracting their souls. "I know. I was just hoping that there was nothing wrong. I ignored my doubts. I needed this mission to prove my worth to Dawlish."

"Surely you don't need to prove yourself to the Ministry?" Malfoy scoffed.

Harry scowled. "I don't want everything handed to me for the sake of my name. I know you cling to your name like an anchor, but I'd like to be considered for my abilities."

Malfoy stopped abruptly. "That's rich, Potter. You're no better than those Gryffindors that flooded the Dungeons! You all think my name lets me have whatever I want, that it's let me become the Potions Master despite my prior status as Death Eater! I've had to fight for that job, just like I'm still fighting to keep it. And I'm certainly not known for my name anymore. My name isn't worth the dirt at my feet."

Harry was surprised at the outburst, but immediately countered. "I'm really not surprised at the way everyone's treating you. How do you expect anyone to believe that you went from being a Death Eater to someone with even half a soul in three years? That you didn't mean your allegiance to Voldemort? That you're really a decent human being?"

Harry's words had flowed unconsciously, brought back by years of animosity, not considering anything he'd seen in the past few days.

Malfoy's eyes flashed with anger, but his next words were deadly quiet. "Well, you believed it of Snape. How is this any different?"

The words stopped Harry in his tracks. He tried to think of a retort to this, but before he could do so, a scuttling sound came from a tree nearby. He looked into the canopy, attempting to discern anything in the near-darkness. Malfoy appeared to have heard it too, as he walked toward the source of noise.

"What is it?" Harry asked, his voice losing all anger.

Malfoy pointed his wand at the tree and light emanated from it, creating a radius of glow that illuminated the tree trunk. He raised the wand upward until they spotted a porcupine, clinging to the tree and nipping the bark. Malfoy turned toward Harry and raised his eyebrows.

"It looks like it's our lucky day," Malfoy said dryly, his words not betraying the anger he still probably felt. "We'll need to find a way to pluck off five of those spikes."

Harry looked up at the porcupine, which didn't appear overly alarmed at having a light shined in its face, and took out his wand. "Immobulus!" he said, pointing the wand at the porcupine.

The creature become rock-still and fell from the tree, landing in the plush snow. Harry crouched down and carefully started to pluck one of the quills out of the porcupine's back. Some of the spikes clustered around the one Harry was attempting to pull out scratched his arms, making him wince. Malfoy crouched next to him, shining the light onto the frozen creature, and began plucking as well. He seemed to be having as much trouble with the quills as Harry was.

"Bloody business, this is," Malfoy muttered. His hands were getting quite scraped.

They finally managed to pull out five of the porcupine's many quills and Malfoy placed them into another pouch in his cloak. Malfoy then healed his arms the same way he had healed his snake bite and reluctantly did the same for Harry. After finishing the spell, Malfoy brushed off some snow from his cloak, and got up to head back. Harry muttered a spell to grant the porcupine mobility again, sympathizing with the poor creature that had just been assaulted.

The two walked back to the castle in silence. The sun had set by the time they'd finally stumbled out of the forest and the moon was peeking over the horizon. Harry was exhausted from spending most of the day in the dark forest and couldn't wait to dine in the Great Hall.

Malfoy wasn't as amicable as earlier this afternoon. Upon reaching the castle, he simply told Harry, "Find me after my classes. I'll be in the Potions room." He promptly headed toward the Dungeons without another word.

Harry headed toward the Great Hall, his head full of thoughts.

Despite the initial bout of friendliness, it appeared that working with Malfoy would still be as hard as he'd thought.

A/N: I hope you liked it. Thanks so much to all those who have reviewed. I appreciate each and every opinion or comment you all have. So don't hesitate to let me know what you think!