A/N: Alright, so this chapter is kind of a turning point for the plot and the characters. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter Seven

Harry pushed open the wire-mesh of the classroom door, entering the Herbology greenhouse, as Malfoy followed behind him. Harry glanced around the sunlit room, surprised to see such greenery when the outside world was covered in snow. It looked just like he remembered, vibrant and full of plants that, unlike normal ones, twitched and moved in their pots. Some even made soft noises when the two entered the room, apparently alerted to their presence.

"Who's there?" Harry heard Neville's voice from a back room as footsteps sounded from that particular direction. He heard him muttering to himself, "There's no class for another hour."

Neville emerged from the adjacent room, wearing some kind of protective glasses and canvas gardening gloves. His face, covered in dark smudges, lit up at the sight of Harry, and then darkened again at the sight of Malfoy.

"Harry!" Neville chose to ignore Malfoy for the moment and walked forward to embrace Harry. "I didn't know when you were going to come back. But I was sure that you would. I've heard all about your Auror training and how much you've done already."

"Well, it's great to see you, Neville," Harry said cheerfully, as Neville backed up to examine him. Neville's smile was radiant. Harry remembered that they had gone through quite a bit throughout their last few years in school. Neville was one of his truly good friends.

"I really don't mean to rush you, Potter," Malfoy drawled. Harry realized that he hadn't heard that drawl in the past few days, and the sound brought back memories of the taunting he'd received from Malfoy in school. Harry, of course, didn't particularly miss it.

Neville glared at Malfoy. "What are you doing here, Malfoy? I don't want you anywhere in my greenhouse."

Malfoy scoffed and crossed his arms. "Trust me, Longbottom, I take no pleasure from being in your flower garden."

Harry decided that Neville wouldn't open up if Malfoy was around. He placed a hand on Neville's shoulder and led them further into the room, saying quietly, "There's something I need to ask you, Neville."

They strolled into a corner of the room, where Malfoy wouldn't hear them. Neville looked at Harry concernedly and asked, "What is it, Harry?"

"Well, I've decided to brew a potion while I'm on this mission," Harry began. "You've heard of the Aurors being stationed at Hogwarts?"

"Of course," Neville nodded. "I've heard all about you and Ron being here to fight off the Dementors."

"Well, I need some help with defeating them entirely, and I think this potion might help me. But I can't find some of the ingredients I need for it, and since you work in a greenhouse…"

Neville beamed at hearing this. "Anything you need, Harry. I'll help you out." His voice grew hushed and he bit his bottom lip, "Why is Malfoy here? You're not working with him on this potion, are you?"

Harry looked uncomfortable. He would have never thought there'd be a day when he'd have to hide his involvement with Malfoy. "Not really. Since he's the Potions Master, I've been able to get some ingredients from him. But there's some things I couldn't find and that he didn't have."

"What do you need?" Neville asked. Harry was immensely thankful that Neville didn't ask too many questions about the potion or Malfoy, especially since he wasn't inclined to share.

"I need some goosegrass and ginger root." Harry glanced behind him to inspect what Malfoy was up to. He seemed to be examining some very ugly-looking plants by the entrance.

Neville smiled. "That won't be a problem. Goosegrass is seasonal, but I should still have some. And ginger roots grow year-round. I'll be right back." He turned and strode into the adjacent room he'd first come out of.

After Neville left, Malfoy caught Harry's eye across the room and seemed to silently ask what had transpired. Harry gave him a thumbs up, feeling slightly ridiculous doing so. A little smile graced Malfoy's features at seeing the gesture.

Neville returned not a minute later, holding a ginger root and a packet of what Harry supposed was goosegrass. "The goosegrass was crushed in my storage a little," Neville apologized as he handed the items to him. "I hope that's okay."

"That's fine," Harry said. "I think I need to powder it anyway."

Harry turned to head back toward the greenhouse entrance when Neville glanced at Malfoy and suddenly exclaimed, "Hey, you be careful with those! I just repotted them!"

Malfoy looked up, surprised to be rebuked. He didn't appear to be doing anything wrong; he had just been stroking the plants' leaves. Neville strode toward him and pushed him out of the way. Neville then touched the leaves gently and, finding nothing wrong, became less tense. Harry slowly walked toward them, pocketing the ingredients he'd just received.

Malfoy looked livid to have been thrown back, by Neville of all people, but he didn't say anything.

Neville glanced at Harry as he approached. Neville looked apologetic to have reacted so strongly. "It's the Mandrake roots. They're so young; I try to be careful with them. You remember what they're like, don't you, Harry?"

Harry smiled, remembering when they'd had to repot them their second year. "Who could forget?"

Neville stroked the leaves fondly. "Very useful, Mandrakes. They un-petrified all those students when the Chamber of Secrets got opened. And a lot of poisons use them as a main ingredient."

Harry glanced at Malfoy as Neville spoke and noted that the latter seemed to have found something meaningful in Neville's last statement. Malfoy's eyes widened, then, after another moment, he bit his bottom lip and glanced away, lost in thought. Harry decided that if it was particularly important, Malfoy would tell him later.

"Well, Neville," Harry began. "Thanks for the goosegrass and the ginger root. Your class will be coming in soon?"

Neville straightened up and nodded. "Good to see you again, Harry."

Harry smiled and after several more exchanges, Harry and Malfoy left the greenhouse. Harry waited for Malfoy to say something, but the latter was still lost in thought and seemed to have no desire to converse. Since asking Neville for ingredients was the only thing they'd wanted to do that day, Harry decided that it would be best to part ways until tomorrow. Malfoy hardly even noticed when Harry bid him goodbye and left for the Great Hall.

Shaking his head at Malfoy's odd behavior, Harry sat down at the staff table and had lunch with Ron and the other Aurors. Ron had apparently been going to Hogsmeade with the Aurors and asking shop owners about the previous Dementor attacks. They hadn't gathered much information though. Dawlish spoke with Harry as he lunched, but even he didn't appear to have a concrete plan for defeating the creatures.

Harry returned to his sleeping quarters more restless than usual. Only after an hour in bed did he fall into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Harry awoke to the sound of his door creaking open. Immediately alert, he grabbed his wand from the bedside table and shoved his glasses on his face, hitting his nose in the process. The door then closed again quietly and someone walked around his four-poster bed and drew near. Harry's breath quickened. He clutched the wand with more fortitude.

The nearly-full moon shone into his room through a narrow window, allowing Harry to examine the figure. His intruder was tall and lanky, dressed in dark robes. But what stood out most was the blond hair gleaming in the moonlight.

"Malfoy?" Harry breathed, as his heart, which had been beating wildly, slowed down at the realization of who it was. "What the hell are you doing here? How do you even know where I sleep?"

Malfoy appeared to have crossed his arms, although it was difficult to tell in the dark. "Your dimwittedness still amazes me, Potter. I've been here before, when we spoke with Slughorn through your fireplace. But never mind that, I have something important to tell you."

Harry fell back into his pillow, his tension gone now that he was sure he wasn't in any danger. He then groaned. "It must be one or two in the morning. You have nothing better to do than to sneak into my room at night and scare the hell out of me?"

Malfoy scoffed and sat down at the edge of his bed. His voice became more urgent, "You'll have to listen carefully, Potter. I think I've come up with a plan to defeat the Dementors."

Harry sighed heavily and rolled over into his sheets. "I think we already have a plan, Malfoy. Can't this wait until morning?"

"No," Malfoy said shortly. Before waiting for another groan or irritated response from Harry, he launched into his explanation: "Now, you're a great Auror, Potter, you must know all about these creatures. Tell me—How do you kill a Dementor?"

Harry thought about this. He decided it had to be a trick question. "You think if I knew that—I wouldn't just kill the damn things? Of course there's no way to kill them!"

He didn't know how he knew, but Harry thought Malfoy must have smiled. "Exactly. There's no known method for killing a Dementor. You can only use a Patronus to shield yourself."

"Is this leading somewhere?" Harry asked impatiently. He was quite tired and he hadn't been sleeping well the past week, swarmed by thoughts of Dementors and potion-making.

"Yes," Malfoy snapped. "Now listen to me and quit interrupting." His next words were less harsh, as if he was attempting to lead a second grader to understand pre-algebra. "But if there's any certain thing with a creature, it's that it can be poisoned."

Harry ceased being impatient and sat up in bed. "Poisoned?"

"Yes. I think Dementors can be poisoned." Malfoy's figure shifted as he turned to look at Harry fully, his voice growing excited. "The potion for any poison is not that different. As Longbottom pointed out today, Mandrake roots are a main ingredient."

"So that's what you've been concocting all day?" Harry asked, as Malfoy's behavior after Neville's statement became clear.

Malfoy appeared to have nodded. "I realized that if we could just make the right potion, we could poison a Dementor and most likely kill it. If the poison is lethal enough, any creature can be killed."

"You really think you could do this?" Harry asked uncertainly. "You could create a poison that would kill even a Dementor?"

Malfoy sounded offended. "Would you quit doubting me, Potter? I know the idea is radical, but I think it's a better shot than the Felix Felicis. Liquid luck doesn't guarantee you're going to drive away all the Dementors. It just guarantees you'll succeed in whatever you try that day."

Harry was wide-awake now and his mind swam with ideas. "We've been working on the Felix Felicis for a while now. Are you saying you want to quit? Right now? After we're almost done getting the ingredients?"

"Of course not," Malfoy snapped. "That would be stupid. I think we should continue with it. But I also think we need a back-up plan. One that may work even better."

Harry was immensely doubtful of that. "Have you thought through this seriously? What if the poison doesn't work? What if something goes wrong and it backfires? What if—"

Malfoy suddenly got to his feet and Harry could tell he was bristling with anger. "Potter, would you have faith in me! Trust in my skill as a potion-maker! I have invented potions before—this is not that much of a risk. If the poison doesn't work, the least we have done is tried something new."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Malfoy spoke before him—"And for Merlin's sake! I'm doing you an enormous favor, and this is how you repay me: By being doubtful of everything I suggest before you even think it through. I've considered and reconsidered this all day. Do you honestly think I'd even tell you if I didn't think it was within my ability to pull it off?"

Harry fell silent, realizing that Malfoy was right. Malfoy didn't have to do this—in fact, he didn't have to do anything for him. But Malfoy had stuck by him with the Felix Felicis, and now he had a new plan to possibly effectively kill the Dementors.

Clearing his throat quietly, Harry said, "Alright. If you think this'll work, then we'll give it a try. Do you know what kind of ingredients you'll need?"

Malfoy sat down on the bed again, his voice becoming quieter. "I've drawn up an outline of what I think we'll need. None of the ingredients are too difficult to get. Some we already have and others are around the castle." His voice sounded more amused as he said, "And I still have Abercrombie for another month and a half of detention."

Harry stood up straighter in his bed and looked at Malfoy's face, darkened by shadows. His blond hair still stood as lustrous in the moonlight as during the day. Somehow, the darkness and time of night made their conversation intimate, as though Harry could ask anything and Malfoy would probably reply.

"Malfoy? Why exactly are you doing this?"

"What do you mean?" Malfoy sounded offended. "If you don't want my help—"

"That's not what I meant," Harry interrupted quickly. More slowly, he began, "Why are you helping me make the Felix Felicis—why do all this work to get supplies and spend six months brewing the potion—why plan to create a poison that's never been invented before, just to get rid of a few Dementors? Why do you want to help me? I mean, you've been a pain in the arse for the longest time."

Malfoy scoffed at the insult, but didn't reply immediately. In fact, the question seemed to catch him off-guard. As though he had been wondering the same thing for a while. Harry watched his dark figure as Malfoy raised a hand and ran it through his hair.

"I don't know," Malfoy said after several minutes. "I feel like I owe it to the Wizarding world to redeem myself. I've considered this for a while: That becoming a Death Eater was not a choice I would have made if my family wasn't caught in the War, on the losing side." He heaved a great sigh. "My task in sixth year… it was horrifying. I didn't want to do it. I wanted someone to take my place. As much as I still consider Dumbledore an old fool, I never wanted to kill him."

Harry was surprised at the scrap of humanity he had uncovered. Malfoy's words were an iceberg; just a glimpse of the turmoil he suspected lay beneath. "That day in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom…" Harry began slowly.

Malfoy laughed quietly. "Yes, that wasn't the only day I spent there. You know, Myrtle can be comforting when she tries."

"I don't have many fond memories of that bathroom either," Harry said, remembering himself and Ron uncovering the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets and meeting Voldemort's preserved memory.

"I find that hard to believe," Malfoy sounded cynical. "You didn't enjoy hexing me into a bloody pulp?"

Harry blanched. He recalled Malfoy's body lying on the water-logged bathroom floor, his face paler and more pinched than usual, his shirt quickly flooding with blood, and Harry unable to stop it, not knowing the counter-curse for Sectumsemptra.

"No, I didn't," Harry said darkly. "That was the first time I had ever done that curse. I really was afraid I'd killed you."

Malfoy sat hunched forward on the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, arms extending out and his hands clasped together, appearing pensive. "That was probably unfortunate for you, not having killed me."

Harry was becoming angry at the way Malfoy was throwing around these sarcastic statements. "Dammit, Malfoy! Why are you bringing this up now? We're more friends now than we've ever been. But you're disregarding all this and acting like we're back in school."

There was a moment of silence before Harry heard Malfoy breathe in deeply.

"Alright," Malfoy said finally. "I'll answer your question without beating around the bush. The reason I'm willing to help you. Part of it is that I really do owe you my life. Crabbe had made a mistake that cost him his life that night; and at that time, I no longer cared about being a Death Eater. All I ever wanted was to please my parents. I never truly cared about what You-Know-Who planned.

"The other part of it is that my name is meaningless now. Our family isn't recognized by anybody—not by the former Death Eaters, nor by your Order of Phoenix, and anyone else on that side. If I wasn't as qualified for the Potions job as I am, I would be Merlin knows where, but definitely not welcome here." Malfoy turned toward Harry, though neither could see each other very well. "You'd probably think it selfish, but I need to let the Wizarding world see me for my talents and not for my past choices. The moment you came along with your Dementor problems, I decided to help you. So the Malfoy name can be strong again, but maybe this time, for better reasons."

Harry wasn't sure what to say. He'd never known that Malfoy was so dedicated to his parents, that he wasn't completely brainwashed into being a Death Eater, and that the current state of his name was so monumental. Harry took the glasses off his face and rubbed his eyes.

"So there's always been some ulterior motive," Harry finally said, though not meaning it unkindly.

Malfoy sounded amused. "You should know that, as a Slytherin, I always have ulterior motives."

Harry placed the glasses back on his face. "You're sure then, that you want to create this poison along with the Felix Felicis?"

"If you'll trust in me a little, then yes, I'm sure."

Harry heard Malfoy's robes shuffle as the latter stood up from his bed and said, "I think I've kept you from your beauty rest long enough. Meet me in the storage room tomorrow night. Be dressed in warm clothes."

"Why?" Harry asked as he watched the dark figure walk around his four-poster bed toward the entrance of the room.

Malfoy chuckled as he creaked open the door. "We're going to the Black Lake again."

The door shut behind him with a soft click before Malfoy could hear Harry swear loudly.

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