Title: The Secret's In The Telling
Authoress: Sakuri
Rating: T
Summary: Draco Malfoy, pureblood and Slytherin prince, suffers the unthinkable when he is attacked and bitten by Remus Lupin. How is he supposed to live any kind of life afterwards, especially when Potter continues to stick his unwanted nose into things? HPDM, SSRL
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one
Chapter 22: Never Friends
xxx
Draco stirred into wakefulness, stretching amid the tangle of pleasantly warm sheets. With him, something else stirred.
Potter's pet snake, he'd discovered, had the irritating habit of being drawn to body heat. This wasn't the first morning he'd woken to find her curled neatly atop his stomach. Rolling his eyes, he slid the creature off him so she landed in an inelegant pile on the bed, hissing furiously. He was gone before she could think to bite.
He yawned and padded toward the shower. At the very least, the thing was proving to be a very low-maintenance house guest. She was too small to eat mice, which would have left a mess, so occasionally he'd transfigure the odd piece of lint into a cricket, and let her hunt the chirping insects while he was in class. By the time he got back, his rooms were inevitably silent again.
Her Gryffindor owner was proving a much bigger problem. How naïve, Draco thought, that he hadn't expected Potter to be the clingy type. He'd been her every day this week for no other reason than to see the bloody snake. Then he'd sit, sometimes for hours, talking to her in that eerie language of theirs that did not make the Slytherin shiver...
At first, Draco had handed the creature over and disdainfully closed the portrait. But then he'd noticed Potter wasn't leaving after his dismissal. The prat would sit in the hall directly outside, only breaking his conversation to chuckle or, occasionally, address Lilith. Realising Potter was only drawing all the wrong attention – of Slytherins who knew exactly where his new room was – Draco had reluctantly relented, and allowed the Gryffindor inside for his visits. They didn't talk – after all, they weren't friends, no matter what Severus thought – and often Draco found himself vacating his own rooms in search of company, while Potter remained on his couch, hissing away.
The Slytherin had also determined a reasonable explanation for his moment of insanity, which had put him in this ludicrous situation. It was Dumbledore's spell of obedience. It had to be. Just as the terms of their agreement said, he'd been compelled to offer his help because he could help, and therefore had to.
There was no other explanation.
The shower offered him the usual warm relief, but for once he refrained from wanking. He'd need all that tension and adrenaline for the match scheduled in a few hours against Ravenclaw. Chang was a good Seeker, now that she'd finally stopped crying every five minutes, and she had herself a vicious reputation among the other Houses. He didn't plan to underestimate her.
xxx
"What time is it?" Ron asked.
Harry checked his watch. "Half eleven."
The redhead grinned and looked eager, cramming another buttered breadroll into his mouth before standing. "We should get going soon, we'll be late."
"Not like you to be punctual," Hermione commented, glancing at him.
Harry snorted. "Yeah, but this is Quiddich. Different rules." He half covered a yawn and got up to follow Ron.
Hermione sighed and quickly shoved a book under her arm to hurry after them. "It's not even as if Gryffindor's playing, Ron. I don't see the big excitement."
"No, but it's a chance to see Malfoy have his ass handed to him. Cho's a brilliant flyer. No way she'll lose to that git."
Automatically, Harry opened his mouth to add his opinion, then nearly choked in an attempt to stop himself. Okay, so now was not a good time to re-start the ongoing argument over Malfoy by saying he actually thought the Slytherin was a better player. Ron had become more venomous than ever when reminded of the blonde's mere existence, as if trying to convince Harry of all the reasons they hated him. Harry wasn't sure how to react to this. Though hardly on best terms with the werewolf, even now, he was growing uncomfortably aware that there was no longer the same bitterness between them. He might have thought this one-sided on his part, except that he sincerely doubted Malfoy would have allowed him anywhere near his rooms last year, let alone trust him to remain there alone. Besides, the Slytherin had proven he was capable of being civil when they were alone – something Harry would have laughed at only months ago. And then there had been the nights of the full moon, which were a different experience all together…
He just didn't know how to make his friends see all of this – or even if he should try.
xxx
Cold air bit his skin and whipped his hair around his head. In the sharp, cold sunlight, he knew it gave the impression of a halo. Flexing the fingers of his free hand, he waited impatiently for the formalities to be over.
At the centre of the pitch, Madam Hooch watched Marcus Flint and Roger Davies shake hands as she went about stating the rules. The rest of Ravenclaw stood neatly aligned opposite him, mirroring his own team. He glanced at Chang and saw, with some amusement, that her dark eyes could be just as cold as his own, when she wanted.
So this was the girl he'd heard Potter used to fancy. Draco had never really taken notice of her before now, except to occasionally display scorn for her weepy reputation, as well as being vaguely aware she attended DA meetings. He supposed she was pretty, in a casual, ordinary sort of way, and he knew she was a good flier – good, but not brilliant. He would have thought the Gryffindor Golden Boy would naturally go for someone as unattainable as he was, and of course they'd end up another legendary Hogwarts couple, like Potter's parents, or even his own.
Cho just seemed too… common. She was like a dozen other nice and pretty girls currently attending Hogwarts. Average.
"Mount your brooms!"
Snapping to attention, surprised he'd managed to tune out in the first place, he threw a leg over his Nimbus 2005 – the newest broom he'd brought from home, before the start of school; probably the last gift he'd ever receive, unless Lucius relented soon. His eyes found Chang's and he parted his lips in an expression one might mistake for a smile, if one were blind.
The sharp shock of Hooch's whistle sent them all rocketing into the air, accompanied by a wave of sound from the audience.
At that moment, Draco wasn't to know that the rush of exhilaration and sudden happiness he got whenever he flew was remarkably similar to the sensation Harry experienced. From the audience, however, a certain Gryffindor watched him and frowned. Harry preferred the days when he could glare without complication, instead of noticing horribly intimate facts about Draco Malfoy.
"And we're off!" Seamus cried from the commentator's box. "Beaters Crabbe and Goyle off to a surprisingly quick start – oh! Watch it, Davies, nearly got you there. Quaffle to Slytherin Chaser Warrington, to Montague, can Ravenclaw's Keeper – nope, Slytherin score…"
Ron growled lowly under his breath, and Harry rolled his eyes in response.
"Looks like Malfoy and Chang are keeping a close eye on each other. I haven't seen air between them yet!"
Bit of an exaggeration, Draco thought dryly. Still, he couldn't deny that he and the other Seeker were tailing each other. He tilted his broom handle, dipping lower, and immediately heard the dull rush of air as Chang zipped into place above him. When she sped up slightly, he matched her pace, spiralling around the girl skilfully, showing off.
Meanwhile, his eyes scanned the pitch. It was a grey day, the sky reluctant to shed any light that might glint off the snitch. He sensed Chang doing the same, even as she tried to compete with him, lunging and turning in midair. He indulged her somewhat, falling back when she took the lead, spinning around her, both of them rising and falling in an elegant pattern.
"Ravenclaw scores again! That's 20-10 to them!"
He frowned, but didn't pay it much mind. He usually failed to keep track of scores while he was flying, counting on himself to catch the Snitch and win the game. Anything before that rarely mattered.
His movements were almost becoming lazy as he executed yet another mid-air twirl, momentarily upside down and loving the rush of wind through his hair and clothing. He pulled out of the motion easily, expecting Chang to rise on his left, copying his trick. She didn't.
She'd already veered away and was streaming in the opposite direction.
Harry wanted to scream – preferably something along the lines of, "Arrogant twat!" – but he restrained himself. Well honestly! Malfoy was an idiot! Harry had spotted the tactic almost as soon as Cho began. She was distracting the Slytherin, playing to his ego by giving him this chance for aerial dramatics.
And, being Malfoy, he'd fallen for it. Grabbed the chance to preen and pose for an audience, oblivious to the fact that it made him careless, while Cho had waited for just the right moment to chase the Snitch and give herself a head start.
The majority of the audience were now cheering, urging Cho on. Next to him, Ron was screaming like a madman, pumping his fist in the air. Malfoy looked furious as he descended after her, pressed flat to his broom. Harry clenched his fists and watched, wide eyed, enthralled.
"And Chang's in the lead! Nasty little trick of hers, there – remind me to try it. Still, Malfoy's closing in fast, now that he's finally cottoned on. Oh, this could be a close one…"
Shut up, Finnegan, Draco chanted in his head. Idiot.
He was drawing level with the other Seeker's broomtail, and could see the Snitch ahead. She was already reaching out for it. Desperate, he put on a burst of speed and spiralled below her, manoeuvring so he flew upside down, facing her.
Startled, she looked down, probably expecting sabotage. Without thinking, he snarled, and watched her expression flicker. She faltered in the fatal moment, and suddenly the Snitch had darted downwards, away from them both.
He broke away from her instantly, swooping after it, not allowing himself to fully realise what she might have seen
(Fangs?)
(Wolf eyes?)
and instead concentrating on the task at hand. He wouldn't let her manipulate him again.
"Oh! What happened there? Nothing the referee saw, apparently, only that Chang just… missed the Snitch! And they're off again, Malfoy in the lead this time…"
Harry found himself on his feet next to Ron, anxiety radiating from him. What had the Slytherin just done? Surely he wouldn't be stupid enough… Not for the sake of a game…
Glancing briefly away from the match, Harry turned to look towards the Teachers' box and found himself staring straight at Snape. Odd, that they should have such a moment of clarity and agreement, but Harry suddenly found his suspicions confirmed in the furious gaze of his professor.
Yep. Malfoy was an idiot.
"Ravenclaw now have a 50 point lead, but none of that's going to matter if Chang doesn't catch up to Slytherin Seeker soon!"
Draco grit his teeth and ignored the deafening roar of crown and wind. His breath was swept away from him, catching in his throat and forced from his lungs by his momentum. He was plummeting, pressed so tightly to his broom he suspected he'd have a bruise the length of his chest after this. But it was working. He was gaining.
The tiny golden ball fell and fell until it was barely an inch from the ground, then zipped sideways. Draco followed, accomplishing such a tight turn at least half the audience screamed. He thought of that smugly, and wondered if Potter was among them.
No. Focus. He refused to lose to Cho Chang. He was the better flier, the better player, better wizard. He deserved to win! That the bitch had thought to trick him…! Well it just went to show she was afraid of him, as she should be.
Which of them was Potter cheering for? The ex, probably, he thought with a sneer. Bloody Gryffindor bastard!
His anger had come from nowhere, and surprised even him. But right now, there was no time to question its origins, just the opportunity to use it as fuel, which he did promptly. His Nimbus increased to impossible speeds just as Chang managed to close the space between them, and then he was reaching out, impatient and defiant, snatching at the golden prize before veering upwards, silent in his victory.
It took long moments for the spectators and players alike to realise it was over. Finnegan was still announcing scores when he stopped, mid-sentence, and added unsurely, "Oh… and Slytherin just won…"
Then, finally, the reactions came. Noise rose from the stadiums, exultant to one end, bitterly disappointed at the other. He sniffed and looked toward the Gryffindors, taking a moment to look superiorly at Weasley, then blinked in some surprise.
Potter was grinning.
xxx
Ron scribbled frantically on a piece of paper, holding up one hand and presumably counting on his fingers. Then he scowled, tossing the ink stained quill down and looking up at Harry.
"You realise we're drawing with Slytherin?"
Harry shrugged, looking up from the Potions essay he was trying to write. "There's only been two games, Ron."
"Yeah, but I just worked out the schedules. Slytherin go up against Hufflepuff next – and you know what they're like! They'll probably be so scared they just hand over the Quaffle!"
Hermione tutted. "Ron! That's unfair and you know it."
"I'm just being realistic," he grumbled. "Slytherin'll get a massive rise in points, so that means we have to do the same when we face Ravenclaw."
Idly, Harry scribbled out the last line he'd written down. "Easy enough."
"Which means," the redhead went on, carefully, watching his friend, "we'll hopefully be on even ground when Gryffindor versus Slytherin at the end of the year…"
Harry didn't react. Surprisingly enough, he'd already worked out the Quiddich schedule, and knew full well the House Cup would probably depend on him winning over Malfoy. He nodded distractedly, then glanced at Hermione. "How long do we have to make this essay again?"
He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw her smirk, before launching into a speech about what requirements Slughorn had set them.
Ron, meanwhile, fought to reclaim his attention. "Don't worry, mate. You'll fly him into the ground. You always do."
Harry gave a half smile and thought back to the match they'd watched earlier. He wasn't so sure. Malfoy had definitely gotten better since last year. That much was obvious from the tricks he'd performed at the beginning of the game, and then later, when he'd been forced to rectify his mistake with daring skill. Harry had felt for certain he was going to crash when he performed that dive, but he'd been in perfect control all along.
He shook his head. "Dunno. He seemed pretty good out there today."
He hadn't expected Ron's surge of temper in response to such a casual comment.
"Harry, for fuck's sake!" His outburst caught the attention of most of the common room, much to Harry's chagrin. He was grateful to Hermione when she hastily cast a muffling charm around them. "What the hell is going on? Don't think I didn't see you when he won today! Are you… are you and Malfoy friends all of a sudden?"
"I… Ron, for God's… That's none of…" He stammered with indignation and anger, choking on the emotions as he fought to find some retort.
Hermione stepped in before he could find his footing and begin the fight in earnest. "Ron, sit down." He looked as if he might defy her for a moment, but Harry suspected she'd been taking lessons from Mrs Weasley, and one flashing look from the witch returned him to his seat. "This is ridiculous, the pair of you. Stop starting fights where there aren't any."
"But –"
She leaned forward to hiss at the redhead, "Haven't you noticed that we've had practically no trouble from Malfoy – and the rest of the Slytherins – ever since Harry started talking to him?"
"Dumbledore's spell," Ron insisted stubbornly.
"No, it's not." She shook her head. Even Harry listened intently now, admitting to himself that he hadn't really noticed the change. "I don't know about you, but I haven't been called anything more offensive that 'Granger' in the last couple of months. Dumbledore's spell certainly wouldn't have included that. He's even stopped tormenting Professor Lupin."
Harry sat back sharply. Was that true? Yes, he supposed it was. Remus had looked permanently on the verge of a nervous breakdown at the start of the year, especially whenever Malfoy was in the near vicinity, a walking nexus of bitterness and anger. Thinking about it now, he had to admit that both of them had calmed, even in each other's presence.
Ron scoffed. "What are you saying? You think this is a good idea? Let me remind you that it's Malfoy."
"What I'm saying is that maybe Harry's right in that he can be useful. The DA is just one example. Look how much easier it's made life."
They didn't know the half of it, Harry thought privately. There was Vanima, for one, and the nights of the full moon…
Ron shook his head and stood. "I don't buy it, but if no one's going to listen…" He trailed off angrily and stalked toward the boys' dorm rooms.
Hermione glanced at him. "He'll come round. I think he's a bit jealous, to be honest."
"Of what?" he asked incredulously.
She made some vague, encompassing gesture. "He thinks you're becoming friends with him, Harry, and you know how cruel Malfoy's always been to Ron in particular. He's… I think he's scared that… well –"
"That I'll start treating him just like Malfoy does? That's ridiculous."
"I know that. It's Ron you need to tell."
Harry scowled and looked down at his essay again. "I'm not going to run around after him," he snapped. "If he doesn't know me well enough by now, what's the point?"
"You don't mean that…"
He sighed. No, of course he didn't. But he still wasn't going to run around offering constant reassurances.
"Anyway," he said sharply after a while, "I'm not friends with Malfoy. I don't see what he's worried about." And they weren't friends, he told himself firmly. They were… allies. Nothing more.
No, never anything more, despite the fact that each knew more secrets that Harry felt comfortable with, or the fact that they'd woken up together on more than one occasion, or even the fact that The Dream had made its reappearance a couple of times this last week. No. Not friends. At all.
Hermione was staring at him in a horribly knowing way, so he retreated behind his Potions essay, distracting her with a question on the properties of unicorn hair.