Chapter Two: Small Manias—Fifth Year

By the end of fourth year, Rachael and Draco were inseparable. Rachael was still picked on by his friends and other Slytherins, but almost half the time now, Draco was there to fend them off. He always came to her, sooner or later, if something was bothering him, and Rachael felt touched that she could comfort him, really know every facet of Draco's personality. She had the sneaking suspicion that she might develop romantic feelings for him, because what she now felt was so intense and so comforting, but every time she got worried that she'd fall for the Ice Prince, she had only to look into herself to see that for some reason, she could not see him as her lover. He was, if anything, her brother, and for that she loved him dearly.

Summer had been annoying. He had only been able to visit once or twice, and although she offered to come see him, he declined, always with a strange anxious look in his gray eyes. Clearly, Rachael thought, I don't know everything about him. But she didn't press it. Whatever it was that was bothering him was either trivial or not something he was ready to talk about yet, so she let it be.

Draco had told her that was one of her strengths: that she knew when to press him and when not to. He appreciated that she was patient with him, patient as so few others could be. Rachael had smiled shyly. "Anything," she'd told him, "for a friend." They had hugged.

And now, at last, they were in school again, able to see each other as often as classes and chance meetings in the hallways allowed. Rachael noticed that the other Slytherins pestered her even less nowadays. She imagined they were afraid of Draco as she was not, could never be, because she had seen the tender side of him, the side that held her when she was feeling alone and put up with, even laughed, about the half-joking tangents she went on from time to time, from teachers to other Slytherins to her favorite topic—Gryffindors. Oddly, she rarely talked about Harry Potter, the most famous Gryffindor in recent times. Draco had gotten curious and asked her why. She shrugged and replied, "I mean, I know he annoys you, and any enemy of yours is an enemy of mine, but—I don't know. I feel like, he's going to save the wizarding world, supposedly, and that's a huge weight to have to bear on your shoulders. I feel like he's got enough shit to deal with without having me whine about him behind his back when I've never even met the guy." She eyed Draco. "Not that I'm invalidating your issues with him, of course. That is entirely another story."

Draco had smiled in that appreciative, broken way before staring into space for a while.

She was still wondering about that. He'd asked her to stay with him at Hogwarts instead of attending the Hogsmeade trip. She had spent a minute debating, but really, what was there in Hogsmeade? Of course, Draco would never keep her if she wanted to go, but the look in his eyes had been intense, and Rachael had the feeling that whatever he'd wanted to say was important. So she'd stayed. But when they'd met up at breakfast, Draco had muttered something about wanting to see something, and could she wait until ten in his room? She knew the password by now, of course.

But it was ten-thirty now, and Rachael was getting worried. She knew he could be anywhere in the school, and that she possessed a sense of direction more akin to Christopher Columbus's than Sacagawea's, but she was worried and determined to look for him.

As soon as she'd gone farther than her furthest class from the Slytherin dungeons—the Charms classroom on the third floor in the East Wing—she was lost. She sighed and wished the spell Accio worked on people.

By chance she ran into Professor Snape, and asked him whether he had seen his godson. But the professor shook his head, an odd look in his eyes. "Did he not go to Hogsmeade, Ms. Coy?"

Rachael shook her head. "I stayed behind specially so that I could talk to him."

"About what, Ms. Coy?"

Rachael colored slightly as she shrugged and said, "Well, I—I don't really know, Professor. He just said he wanted to talk to me about something." She sighed. "You're sure you haven't—"

"Yes, Ms. Coy. But… you stayed behind on a Hogsmeade trip just so that you could talk to Mr. Malfoy?"

Rachael shrugged again and said, "Well… yes. He's my only friend here, so I'd have no one to go with anyway." She took a breath. "Thank you, Professor. I'll try and find him soon."

Snape nodded and went on his way.

The terrain just got stranger and stranger as Rachael went, but finally she saw a portrait of a rather portly lady in a pink dress. To her amazement, there Draco was, talking to her. He seemed rather irate.

"I need to get in!" he was saying. "I just—I can't explain it, but—"

"This," said the lady, "is the Gryffindor common room. I have had a long enough tenure at this school to recognize a Slytherin when I see one. You shall have no access, sir."

Draco drew himself up and said coldly in what Rachael recognized as the Malfoy Voice, "You will let me through, or there will be repercussions."

The lady laughed. "Ha! And what repercussions would those be? I have survived vandalism once, and shall surely do so again."

Draco rolled his eyes and finally stalked away from the lady. Rachael seized the moment and grabbed him, dragging him around the corner. "What the—" his eyes softened when he saw it was only her. "Rachael. I'm terribly sorry, I—I just had to do this."

Rachael raised an eyebrow. "You had to try to convince the portrait to let you into the Gryffindor common room?" she asked quietly.

Draco looked uncomfortable. "I—"

"Please don't lie to me, Draco. I think you owe me that. And you know I'll take whatever it is you were doing to the grave."

Draco sighed. That unbearable pain was in his eyes again, and Rachael took his hand, giving it a squeeze. "It, er—it has to do with what I was going to tell you in the first place, so I guess it's a good thing that this happened. Makes the telling easier."

Rachael frowned. "You know you can tell me anything free of judgment, right?"

Draco smiled. "Of course. But I—it's kind of… Well, you'll see. Shall we talk by the Lake, as per usual?"

"Sure. I mean, if you want absolute privacy, we probably ought to talk in your room, but the Lake's fine too."

Draco sighed. "I want to be outside. And anyway, almost nobody's crazy enough to stay back from Hogsmeade unless they're sick or really behind on homework." Draco flashed a smile at her, and Rachael knew it was his little way of letting her know he was especially grateful that she was crazy enough to stay back in order to help out her mercurial friend.

They walked to the Lake in easy silence, making their way to their favorite tree. It was a massive weeping willow, long tendrils of leaves extending into the water. Rachael and Draco ducked beneath the leaves and sat next to one another, leaning against the trunk. Rachael twined her fingers with Draco's. "Okay. Spill."

He rolled his eyes at her, but he was smiling. He took an anxious, shuddering breath. At last he said faintly, "Rachael, I'm in love."

Rachael smiled uncertainly at him. He didn't sound too happy as he said it, so she wasn't sure whether to react. I guess it's unrequited? No matter. I'll beat whoever it is into submission, she thought with a slight sardonic grin. "That's—that's great, Draco! With whom?"

"That's the problem." Then, Draco told her a long story about how he'd met Harry Potter, and the story of their animosity over the years. Rachael couldn't see the connection at first, but when she studied Draco carefully, she could see the look in his eyes, the pain that sometimes shot through their gray depths.

"So you're in love with Harry Potter." She squeezed his hand. "I'm so sorry, Draco."

Draco sighed. "Don't be. Wasn't your fault. It was me who fucked everything up." He ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "But—but I was young then, and I didn't know any better! How was I to know my father was a bigot, that everyone didn't think that way? It's mostly been my pride keeping me from him all these years. I never had the guts or the humility to apologize and explain. And now…" he shot her an aching look.

"But I… I don't quite understand, Draco. How could you fall in love with someone who's only ever been cruel to you?"

Draco shook his head. "He was only cruel because he thought I was. But he's got such kindness in his heart, and such love! I'd never seen anything like that. I wanted it so badly, and I guess that translated into wanting… him, when I was older." Draco was quiet for a moment, picking at some grass. "Not that that's any justification, really. It was ridiculous and incontinent of me to let myself fall in love with him so deeply. Even if he did love me back, by some small chance or gesture of mercy at last given to me by the heavens, we could never be together. You know what my father wants for me…"

Rachael squeezed his hand again, worried. "You don't want to be a Death Eater."

"No! Of course not. Not when I love—and I don't want to hurt people. And don't say that name." He sounded hurt.

"Draco, don't be offended. I had to make sure."

He peered into her eyes. "What are you planning, Rachael? You can't get me out of service to the Dark Lord. That's impossible."

Rachael just smiled. "Believe me, Draco, possibility doesn't have standards."

"Rachael…" there was great concern in his eyes. "I don't want you to get hurt. Please. I'm touched by your offer, but you'll get yourself killed if you try to steal a potential disciple of the Dark Lord, however unwilling the disciple may be." He leaned back against the tree. "And anyway, maybe he'll find me unworthy."

Rachael let him sit there quietly, but thought, No, he won't. Draco, you're smart and handsome and you're seen as the face of Slytherin. He won't see the sweet, loving, caring person beneath the façade as I have. And if he sees later that he's been swindled, he'll kill you. She tended the dying embers of her hope. She needed to, for him.

Suddenly he said, "You're not surprised about the Harry thing?"

She laughed. "No. It makes a lot more sense that you hate him so much now."

Draco laughed too, but bitterly. "Yes, well. My—I guess it could appropriately be called obsession with Harry Potter is just one of the many small manias that make up the barking mad whole that is Draco Malfoy."

"You're not crazy. You're just weird sometimes."

He laughed for real this time. "I thank you for your glowing praise, Rachael." The pain receded from his eyes, and Rachael knew that she would do anything to keep the ever-present agony at bay for this boy on the cusp of becoming a man, for this friend, for this person who had become her brother.