Chapter Five: Tears From A Stone—Sixth Year

Rachael waited a little over a week to implement the first stage of her plan, partly because she wanted to make sure Draco didn't catch the slightest whiff of what she was doing and partly because she still lay awake nights wondering what the hell she was going to do if this didn't work. But it had to—but what if—but it had to filled her thoughts, until finally she thought she might go insane unless she started the first stage now. And even after deciding that, she had to wait until Monday, which was the next time she had Potions at the end of the day. She bit her nails and gritted her teeth, planning every minute detail of that class and what she was hoping would come after.

But the day eventually rolled around. In retrospect, Rachael was glad it had been so long in coming. This part of the plan was very delicate. She was going to need to be in top form.

She got there late, which was the first part of the plan. Slughorn trained surprised light green eyes on her. "Five points from Slytherin, Ms. Coy," he murmured. "This is unlike you."

"Sorry, sir," said Rachael, sitting down. She thumped her bag onto the desk, and noticed with satisfaction that several students jumped. "Just had more important things to do."

"Excuse me?" He, and everyone else around him, looked shocked.

"You heard me, Professor. I said—I. Had. More. Important. Things. To. Do."

"Twenty points from Slytherin, Ms. Coy," said Slughorn coldly, eyes narrowed. "And why not stay after class. Perhaps cleaning without magic will teach you humility."

Rachael felt like goading him a bit further, but she had what she wanted. She endured strange stares and several confused notes from Draco: What the hell was that? Why did you piss him off? And when she replied No reason, he said, You've lost it. She smiled and wrote, Perhaps. Halfway through class, he sent her another: No really. Why did you do it? After about three such notes, she started ignoring them. Draco tried to linger a bit so he could talk to her, but was quickly shooed away by Slughorn. Rachael tensed when the man came back into the room, certain that he'd ask her why she had behaved so uncharacteristically, but he just asked her for her wand, which she gave over with relief.

As soon as he left, Rachael began to search through the stores of ready-made potions, which had of late fallen into disarray and which she was now required to restore to order. She realized with glee that the potions were still roughly in alphabetical order. She darted straight for what must be the V cabinet.

"Veritaserum, Veritaserum," she murmured, poking through the mess of bottles. She grinned when she finally found a correctly labeled vial. She turned it over, looking for how much was in there. "Three hour's worth, I'd say," she murmured, and stuck it into the inside pocket of the sweatshirt she wore under her robes—she had worn it today for just this purpose.

She finished cleaning the room quickly. She had insisted on cleaning her own room soon after she'd started research on the Death Eaters for safety reasons, and she'd gotten quite good at getting it done fast. She bid goodnight to Slughorn, who did not try to hide his confused glances. Rachael smiled. Perhaps she ought to have kept up the act, but it would only have made Slughorn more angry. And anyway, it wasn't like he'd tell anyone, and if he did, they would probably put it down to hormones or a dare or something.

Stage Two started the next day after breakfast. Rachael ate quickly and left the Great Hall as soon as possible. Draco had only had time for one question, "Why are you in such a hurry?" She had replied that she was late with her homework, that Slughorn had given her a bit extra for her insolence, which had apparently "really wounded" him. Draco bought it, but just barely. No matter, Rachael thought, just barely is all I need.

She lurked carefully outside of the door the Gryffindors usually came out of. Damn it! Come on, classes start soon, why aren't you coming out? But at last they came, the famous Golden Trio. They were laughing about something, and Rachael almost didn't want to come over, knowing she'd ruin their contagious good mood. She bit her lip. For Draco, and walked over.

They all stopped, confused, seeing her green tie. She cleared her throat nervously. "I would like to speak to Mr. Potter alone, please," she said. "It's very important."

They looked at each other, Potter giving Granger a "should I?" look.

"What do you want to talk to him about?" asked Weasley uncertainly.

Rachael pursed her lips. "I'm—I'm afraid that's private."

Weasley gave Potter a smug look, and Rachael had to refrain from rolling her eyes. He must think I'm blind, she thought indignantly, I know an "ooh, mate, she's sweet on you" look when I damn well see one. Can I please just go through with this without someone belittling my purpose? She noticed that Granger was staring at her, and did not deign to give her a questioning look. She was agitated. She needed to set up a meeting with Potter, and preferably soon. She was not going to stand for his friends impeding her progress.

"Okay, um—"

"Rachael. Rachael Coy." She looked about for a suitable corner, and nodded towards it. "Over there? It won't be long, I promise."

Harry Potter nodded. "Uh—sure." He followed her over. "So, er, what's this about, then?" He looked vaguely embarrassed. "I have a girlfriend. Just so you know."

Rachael rolled her eyes. "Potter, I am not quite that out of the loop, thank you. I also happen to be in your year, and would appreciate not being treated like a smitten first-year." Rachael bit her tongue, realizing she'd just patronized Harry Potter. Curb your bloody tongue! You're not helping Draco at all! But Harry didn't seem angry. He seemed… stunned. No, more than that—fascinated.

What, Potter? Has Draco been the only one who was ever rude to you? The thought had no malice behind it, only curiosity, but she decided not to voice it anyway. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, Potter, I—I need your help with something. You're not going to want to, but I beg you to give me a chance to explain and try to convince you."

"Rachael? What's this about?"

She pressed her lips together, letting her anxiety show. "I can't tell you here. Can we meet later tonight, say, eight o' clock in the Room of Requirement?"

"Wait—are you sure you can't even give me an inkling?"

"It's to do with the Death Eaters."

Potter's back straightened, green eyes level. "I'll be there."

Rachael smiled. "Thank you. Really."

Potter scratched his head. "Well, thank you. For the information, I mean."

She was about to let him walk off, but she just couldn't. "Potter!"

He turned, and she beckoned him back over. "It's—it's not information, exactly. I mean, I—my best friend is in deep, deep trouble."

He frowned. "This best friend—this would be the reason I wouldn't want to help?"

"Um, yes. But—look, give me a chance to explain. No matter what. You'll promise me that, won't you?" she asked desperately.

"Yes. Our meeting's still on. See you at eight, Rachael."

Rachael waited until the Golden Boy was gone, and leaned against the wall, sighing with relief. This was short-lived, as she had to run to make it to class.

She forced herself to focus on whatever class she was in and not the looks and questions Draco was throwing her way every chance he got, not the tiny bottle of Veritaserum in her sweatshirt, and most definitely not eight o' clock in the Room of Requirement. Finally, after Charms—her second to last class of the day—Draco came up to her with hurt in his eyes, and she had to speak to him.

"Rachael, what is going on? I thought we didn't have secrets from each other."

She sighed and embraced him. "We don't, Draco. This is part of my plan, okay?"

"I want to know what your plan is. You're scaring me."

She threaded her fingers through his hair worriedly, affectionately. "Draco, have I ever failed you?"

"No."

"Then please, trust me now, when it's most important." She pulled back. "I love you."

He was still anxious, but at least the hurt was gone, and he sighed. "I love you too. Be careful, won't you?"

She smiled. "Yes." The smile faded as she said, "And you?"

"As much as I can be."

She bit her lip and hugged him again. This has to work.

At fifteen minutes to eight, she made her way to the Room of Requirement. Her sense of direction had improved since she'd become lost trying to find Draco on the day he'd told her he was in love with Harry Potter, but she'd still had to ask Draco to write down the directions and then had to memorize them by reading them aloud several times.

She was early, but so was Potter. He was waiting for her uncertainly, sitting at an oaken round table with two chairs. He looked up. "Hi. I wasn't sure—"

"This is fine." She sat and reached into her sweatshirt, pulling out the bottle. "You know what this is?" She had torn the label off, just in case. If someone saw it who wasn't supposed to, she could say it was medicine. Only Draco knew her well enough to know that she didn't take any regular medication.

"I'm famously terrible at Potions." He adjusted his glasses, no doubt wondering what this mad girl was about. She wondered briefly whether he'd figured out who her best friend was. Doubtless Granger had; it all depended on whether she'd told him…

"Veritaserum. Enough to make a person tell the absolute truth for a full three hours."

Potter's eyes widened. "I won't—"

"It's not for you."

He was quiet. Finally he asked, "Why?"

Rachael sighed. "Because it will be very difficult for you to believe even half of what I tell you. I hope this will drive home the other half."

He paused. "Rachael, you don't have to—"

"I do. Believe me." She took a breath. "Before we start, Potter, I'd like to lay down a few ground rules. Number one, try not to interrupt me. If you have a burning question, you may ask it, but any ones that you can keep till the end of my tale, please do so. Number two, even if you don't accept my plea—that's what it is, Potter, don't look like that—nothing that I say leaves this room. Number three, Slughorn never knows that I took his potion."

Potter hesitated for a moment, but nodded. "Okay." He looked at her for a while, and added, "You must really care about this person."

She smiled sadly. "More than you know." She took out the stopper and put the bottle of Veritaserum to her lips.

"Rachael, are you sure?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Absolutely. It won't hurt me, Potter. And we're not talking about me here, if you want to put it in purely Slytherin terms. I have nothing to lose." She remembered when Draco had said that, and smiled. Well, almost nothing. Potter was quiet, and she downed the potion. They waited in silence for it to take effect.

Then Rachael started speaking. "I have exactly two people in this world who mean anything to me, Potter. The first is my mother. My father died when I was eight years old, and I have no doubt that under his tutelage, I would have grown into your average pureblood whelp. But my mother was different, and she knew that I was different. We knew that blood purity had bugger-all to do with anything. And so she let me be free, let me figure out who I was, and made me proud to be that person." She sighed. "The second one is Draco Malfoy." She waited for Potter to yell, say he was leaving, but he didn't. His eyes only flashed with some emotion she couldn't identify. She continued. "Draco reached out to me when no one else would. We became friends, and then siblings. We rely on each other. We—" she bit her lip, realizing that she was nearly in tears—"we're each other's lifeline. I love him."

Potter blinked. "You're serious, aren't you?"

Rachael laughed bitterly. "How could I not be? Veritaserum, remember?"

Potter nodded, bending his head. "I just—you—go on, please."

It was then that Racahel realized that he was surprised. She bit back a genuine laugh. Well, most everyone had someone, didn't they? Why not Draco, who was sweet and charming and funny and smart? But then, Harry didn't know that side of him. Yet.

So she told him. Rachael poured every ounce of her love for Draco out, eased by the Veritaserum, told what he meant to her and why. She told Harry Potter about how Lucius Malfoy had hurt his son. And finally, she told him about the day he'd said he didn't want to be a Death Eater—leaving out the part about Potter himself, of course.

When she was finished, it was ten-fifteen. Potter was looking at her intently, almost as though he was expecting more.

She asked the five most important words she'd asked in her life: "So will you help him?"

Potter leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "Rachael," he said, "you've done something I thought no one on earth could do. You've made me feel sympathy for Draco Malfoy. You have, in effect, gotten blood—no. You've gotten tears from a stone." He smiled at her. "Of course I'll help."

She sent him a thousand-watt grin. "Thank you so much. I can't even express—"

He held up a hand. "But I want to know why you didn't go to Dumbledore."

Rachael sighed. "I—Voldemort is manipulating Draco. He wants Draco to kill Dumbledore, and he's forcing him to do that by threatening to kill Draco's family." Her eyes were wide and frantic, her hands over her mouth. "Please, Harry! I swear, if you help, he won't—he wouldn't—"

"I know, Rachael. I heard what you said. If I were in his place, I—" he sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. "Is it necessary to keep this a secret from Dumbledore? I don't know if I can help Draco on my own."

"No. He probably already knows. But—we couldn't go to him, just in case something—didn't go right, and…"

Potter nodded. "I see. And you had to convince me that Draco wouldn't willingly do him harm."

Rachael nodded gratefully. "So you'll still help him?"

"Yes. But it's not because of him. It's because you love him so much." Potter shook his head. "I don't understand it. But—for whatever reason, you adore Draco. And although it's weird, I have to imagine he adores you too. I couldn't let him die when he means so much to you."

Rachael, speechless, reached across the table and embraced Harry Potter.