Year Six: Harry Potter and the Secret Letters

Chapter Nine: Draco's Second Little Secret

Warnings: Beware of switched perspectives! Conversations with spheres often switch back and forth so that I can catch the reactions of both parties, so pay close attention to who the italics are referring to in that particular instant. Otherwise… Enjoy!

He wasn't sure how much more of Hermione's lectures she could take. If the struggle of that afternoon's double potions lesson wasn't enough, he didn't have to have the girl ranting on and on about how he had cheated and it wasn't fair. Ron was somewhere between the two, enjoying the thought of Harry sharing his new insight with him in order to up his grade, but frowning upon the thought that it was Harry that Judas was talking to and not him, and therefore Judas was not very likely to answer any of the questions the redhead had to offer. Luckily, the scarred teen had escaped to the boys' dormitory before his ears began to bleed.

As was slowly becoming habit, once he flopped down on his bed, he retrieved the sphere from his cloak pocket. "Judas?" he asked into it. Oddly enough, when a sudden reply wasn't sent, Harry felt slightly irritated. What was up? Why didn't Judas respond? "Judas," he said again into the sphere, realizing that he always had a terrible habit of being impatient about things that he wanted to happen.

On the other side of the castle, beneath the ground level and deep in the dungeons, Draco lay on his own bed, face buried in his pillow, severely bitter and annoyed. To add to the blond's frustration, the scent from earlier that day returned to him even though all his nose was in reach of was the white, cushioned fabric. "Ugh," he moaned, rolling over and glaring daggers at the ceiling. If it wasn't enough that Harry had to completely steal his glory in that afternoon's double potions lesson, now he had that utterly sickening smell stuck in his head.

It took him many moments to comprehend that there was absolutely no reason why that particular aroma would be present unless it was coming from that god-forsaken sphere. Jerking it out of his robes, he saw his code name gleaming brightly in Harry's silver script. An uncharacteristic growl escaped his lips as he snapped into the globe. "What?"

The lack of knowing Draco's true tone was something Harry would never be able to feel more grateful for, well, later in life at least. He took the response as a natural reply and continued. "Thanks for your help today. I really appreciate it."

"Whatever," snarled Draco impatiently.

There was a short pause as Harry balanced his options of how he would like to phrase his next statement. "Um, can I ask you a question?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Sure," he retorted, sarcastic and bitter. "More classroom inquiries?"

"Not exactly," the Gryffindor explained, taking Draco's exasperation as an honest question. "You said you've been in the same year as me all through our time at Hogwarts. So, you must know who Draco Malfoy is, right?" he asked tentatively, hoping that this Judas person wasn't actually a friend of Malfoy's who may take offense to what he might say.

Draco sat up in his bed, staring wide-eyed and skeptically at the transfer sphere. There was no possible way that he could have figured out his true identity that quickly. If he did, why was he still calling him Judas? "…Yes," was his only careful reply as he watched the glass pensively.

Well, this may sound a little odd, but you remember the potion I had to make today? If you made it the best out of the entire class, you got a bottle of Felix Felicis, liquid luck, as a prize. Thanks to your advice, I won it, but I had Malfoy in my class, too. He never looked so angry than when he realized he didn't earn it. I guess, maybe it's just me, but I think there was more to why he wanted it than just for the luck. Do you know what I mean?

Draco was blinking, surprised, at the sphere, clenching his jaw now and then out of pure nerves. Since when was Potter so observant? "Yes," he answered, nonetheless. "I know what you mean." Sure, there was a deeper motive to his actions, but he wasn't going to be sharing that particular fact any time soon.

Can… The word faded away as Harry seemed to consider his words. Can you keep a secret?

Merlin, yes. Look at what he was keeping now: his assignment from the Dark Lord was hidden from the Light side, his hatred for the Lord was hidden from the Dark side, and his secret rendezvous with Harry through these letters were hidden from every living soul beside Aristotle. Oh, yes, he could keep a secret. "Of course I can. I'm keeping my identity a secret from you, aren't I?" he offered as a vague example.

Alright. I see your point. So, listen to this. I saw him in Diagon Alley this summer, the same day you were there and gave me that letter. He was favoring his left arm in Madame Malkin's and he gave his mother the slip. Hermione, Ron, and I followed him to Knockturn Alleywhere he threatened Borgin about something; I don't know what it was. He never actually said the name of the thing. But Borgin wasn't having any of it, at least not until Malfoy showed him his left arm. I… I think Malfoy has been branded with the Dark Mark…

A single, humorless laugh forced itself out of Draco's slack mouth, one of his eyebrows raised in speculative revelation. Harry had been following him? How had he not noticed? The fact that he was so easily tailed by three students made his skin crawl with nerves. What if he had given himself away to them, blown his cover in front of the Gold Boy of the Light side? His father would have killed him. The Dark Lord would have killed him! But that did explain why Harry wasn't in the robe shop when he sent Aristotle to him. And that would also justify Harry's intensified curiosity on the train. "The Dark Mark? I don't think so." Draco pulled up his left sleeve just to humor himself by the un-inked, pale flesh.

He could almost hear Harry sigh. Yeah. That's what everyone is telling me. But I can't shake the feeling.

"Well, think about it for a minute. You don't see him disappearing randomly throughout the school year to attend Death Eater meetings. If he was marked, he probably wouldn't even bother coming to school in the first place. And do you remember him ever favoring his left arm before or after that day?"

Ther was a short pause as Harry considered the question. I guess not. Another pause. You wouldn't happen to be his friend, would you? I didn't mean to offend.

Draco shook his head a little, eyebrows raised. "No, I'm not offended at all. Amused is more like it."

Amused? How can this possibly amuse you? We're talking about dedication to Voldemort here.

"Exactly. Your imagination when it comes to that particular topic is astounding."

…I'm glad I was able to give you a few laughs…?

Draco actually laughed a bit at that.

Um, not that I'm trying to bring up the past or anything, but about earlier today… I waited until we got back to the Common Room because Malfoy was walking right in fron of us, but I told Ron and Hermione that you helped me. Hermione thinks that I was absolutely cheating, but I can't think of a more honest way to cheat. I mean, it wasn't like I was asking for you to do it for me or anything; I just wanted a few tips before I suffocated the class. That's a legitimate request, isn't it?

Draco's face fell back to its casual, thoughtful expression. So, Harry hadn't taken all the credit. Not with his friends, at least. Draco was under the wrong impression, as he was figuring out happened a lot when it came to the black-haired teen. "Yes, it is legitimate."

Thanks.

"No problem."

Can I ask you another question?

"That depends on what it is…"

What's your favorite Honeydukes candy?

A victorious smirk stretched over Draco's features. "Oh no you don't. The deal was that I'd answer a question for each letter that you sent me. You're not getting a single answer out of me until I see it in writing. Literally. Stop trying to cheat."

You're the one helping me cheat, remember?

Draco snickered. "Not this time."

Damn. It looked promising.

"Looks can be deceiving."

You're telling me this?

"Good point."

A pause. So do you think Malfoy's looks can be deceiving…?

Draco though about it for a moment. "I suppose. We all put up a different façade when in front of different company. I guess it comes naturally."

What do you mean?

"Well… do you act the same when you're at the Dursley's as you do at the Burrow – is that what it's called? Or, between your friends and professors? Or your mum and your dad?" Draco stopped suddenly, not realizing what he was saying until it was already too late. "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to bring that up—"

No, it's alright. I think I can understand what you're saying. You think Malfoy only acts that way in front of Voldemort supporters?

"In a way, yes. Or in front of those he feels the need to intimidate, like Borgin. It's just what happens when you have a lot weighing on whatever you say or do. For Merlin's sake, Harry, you're the Chosen One. You of all people have to know what I mean by pressure."

Yeah. That part I can definitely understand… So, I'm just looking too deep into things, aren't I? The others were right…?

"Yes. I think so, in this particular instant. But, your intuition isn't something to second-guess, Harry. If you have that kind of urge about something, you shouldn't just brush it off as you over-reacting."

'Kay.

"Do you have any potions homework let that I can help you with?"

No, thanks. Hermione already forced me to do it in front of her so I wouldn't 'cheat.'

"Tell her to mind her own business. If you want to talk to me, then have her bugger off. You can ask me if you want to."

Heh. 'Kay. I'll keep that in mind the next time she accuses my broom of being jinxed or the transfer sphere being cursed.

"She thought I'd cursed the transfer sphere?"

Yeah. Shows just how ridiculous she can be at times.

"No kidding."

Well, talk to you later, then? Dinner will be starting soon and I'm sure that the others have already figured out that I'm up here talking to you.

"Sure, talk to you later."

Oh, and don't be surprised if you have a letter via owl post from me tomorrow. I want to know something about you, for Merlin's sake.

Draco snickered again. "Later, Harry."

Bye, Judas.

XXXXXXXXXX

A rolled up piece of parchment indeed landed in front of Draco the next morning at breakfast. There was a flurry of owls overhead as anxious parents sent in asking about how the first day of school had turned out. The blond was already reading a letter from his mother and corresponding her notes with the headlines of the Daily Prophet when the leather-bound scrap distracted him. It was easily notable as Harry's promised letter from the previous evening, but when he looked up in search of Aristotle or Hedwig in the swarm of wings and feathers, they were already lost amongst the others.

Malfoy didn't spare a glance at the Gryffindor table as he dropped his other papers and untied Harry's. Blaise's curious frown went unnoticed as Draco read the letter to himself.

Judas,

Alright, a letter it is then. But what to talk about?

Well, for starters, I still can't help but suspect Malfoy for something. I watched him all last night at dinner to see if I could pinpoint any of those facades you were talking about. Nothing. He just acted like the snide, Slytherin git that he has been for the past five years. I can't seem to agree with you there.

Hermione seems to think the entire this is bollocks. Much like you. At least she's stopped spewing about the 'justices and injustices of cheating,' but I plan for that to return as soon as I ask you for help again.

By the way, considering how well you do in Potions, why are you not in that class for your N.E.W.T.s?

-Harry

Question #1: Honeydukes candy?

Draco smirked as he neared the end of the message, clicking his tongue reproachfully. 'Tsk tsk. Cheating again, I see.' He glanced up at Harry across the Great Hall, who was leaning close to Hermione to read the Prophet over her shoulder. Malfoy smirked lightly to himself in amusement of the other's nonchalant actions. Did Harry even realize how casual he seemed to act?

"Draco?" The odd voice brought him back to himself to find Blaise staring at him strangely. "Are you alright?"

The blond shrugged. "Fine. Are you?"

Zabini blinked a few more times at his classmate before turning back to his paper. The other Slytherins didn't seem to notice Draco's odd behavior; they were used to him receiving all sorts of mail and stopped questioning it back in first year. Popping a grape into his mouth, Malfoy stood, gathering his things, and exited the Great Hall towards the library where he could write back to Harry in peace and quiet.

You're cheating, Draco accused in the first line of his new letter, not bothering to greet Harry first.

I said one question per letter, and you asked me two. I suppose this means I get to choose which one I'd like to answer… As far as Honeydukes goes, my favorite would have to be a licorice wand, or lemon drops. I like the bold flavor, I guess, now that I think about it.

As for Malfoy, don't let it bother you so much. If, and I don't believe it, but if he is for some reason branded, I wouldn't worry about it unless you see him somehow acting on it. If you want to, if ever something else about him comes up, you're welcome to tell me. I don't see you as a complete fool. You do make moderate sense at times.

Now let me ask you a question. Is this the first time you've suspected Malfoy, or have you been thinking this since first year. It's no secret that the two of you have been arch-enemies-at-first-sight. Explain?

Draco copied his letter onto another scrap of paper with his beautiful emerald ink, having now made sure the rough draft was to his liking, and pocketed the first copy. He had been sure to keep a version of each of his letters with the responses from Potter in case he needed to back-track and check something that he said. Pulling a green ribbon from a pouch inside his book bag, he tied it around the rolled scroll and hurried off to the owlery to send it before their first class started.

XXXXXXXXXX

The week was only growing busier and busier as the days passed by, and time to speak with Harry was becoming abnormally limited. Classes were overbearing, and evenings were confounded with extra homework. Each day was spent cramming for exams that weren't even ten months away yet. Draco, though normally as proficient in his classes as Hermione, began to drag with the overload.

On Saturday evening, Harry asserted to being so busy with extra lessons that Draco couldn't get a word out of him until after eleven o'clock that night. Another week of school passed, everything hectic and heavy. By the time the following Saturday rolled around, the students were practically begging for any excuse not to study over the weekend. In one of their brief conversations over the transfer spheres, Harry had said that the Gryffindor quidditch tryouts were that day and Draco stole the invitation to attend as a way to escape the confines of the Slytherin Common Room.

The fresh, cool air striking Malfoy's face brought a rush of relief. He usually spent quite a bit of time outside in the heat and rain as a public haven, far from the stresses of Hogwarts. The walk down the grassy hill toward the quidditch field aided in the clearing of Draco's mind. The stuffy corridors were beginning to cause him to live in an overly crowded fog throughout the school day.

Assuming his appearance at a Gryffindor tryout would cause a scene, he hung back along the castle wall, far enough so people in the field wouldn't notice or recognize him from the distance, but close enough to spot Harry on his broom orchestrating the lot of wanna-bes. It took most of the morning. Even at the distance, Draco could hear the faint roar of Harry's annoyed yelling, instructing people to leave or please pay attention. Either way, his irritation was helping Draco keep a half-smirk, half-smile on his face the entire time. There were even a couple of threats shot at some rejected participants who refused to do as they were told, and even a crashed Comet Two-Sixty sometime during the Chaser tryouts. All in all, it looked like hell.

The trials for Keeper finally approached, and there many other random students had gathered in the stands, some of them rejects and some lazy students who were equally exploiting the mayhem as an excuse to procrastinate. Figuring he would be much less likely to be spotted now, he joined the crowd, sitting amongst a group of Ravenclaws. By the time he found a seat and caught himself up on what he missed, it was Ron's turn, who happened to be the last person trying out.

Ron seemed almost sick with anxiety, if his waxy green complexion was anything to go off of. Draco raised a single eyebrow at the redhead as his broom wobbled a little in front of the goal posts. It was an amazing feat that he stay levitated for the entire trial, let alone the fact that he hadn't missed a single quaffle. After his five goals were saved, Harry proclaimed as professionally as he could that Ron had fairly earned the position of Keeper.

However, as he landed and began to make his way off of the pitch, Harry was immediately stopped by McLaggen, a broad Gryffindor who had also tried for Keeker. The crowd had quieted enough to hear McLaggen's heated accusations. "His sister didn't really try! She gave him an easy save."

Draco turned a very sharp glare on the taller boy, tension slowly seeping into his muscles. Something about the way McLaggen was confronting Harry so close to his face made him instantly Draco's enemy. But his sudden hostility abated as quickly as it came when Harry stood his ground.

"Rubbish. That was the one he nearly missed."

"Give me another go."

"No. You've had your go. You saved four. Ron saved five. Ron's Keeper. He won it fair and square. Now get out of my way."

The small smirk returned to Malfoy's features at the demonstration of the stubborn, blunt Potter that he was so used to confronting. McLaggen seemed ready to punch the Gryffindor Seeker, but stormed off after a few moments of red-faced jealousy. Soon, fellow house members ran onto the pitch to congratulate all the new recruits, and Malfoy took the opportunity to slip away with the other spectators as to not be noticed.

He took his time meandering the grounds near the lake, refusing to go back to his studies any sooner than he absolutely had to, and heard voices floating down to him from up the hill. The Gryffindor Trio was walking across the grounds in the general direction of Hagrid's hut, Ron loudly boasting about his superb display of skill during the tryout while Harry and Hermione simply smiled and fed him sporadic praises. Slipping the transfer sphere out of his pocket, he quickly decided now was the perfect time to speak to him, when he could see Harry's expression. "Harry? Harry, are you there?"

It took a few moments and then Harry began to slow down, hanging back a bit as he looked around a little, lost. Then he froze for a fraction of a second before digging the transfer sphere out of his robes. Draco took pleasure in seeing the other's obvious eagerness to speak with him as the scarred boy held the sphere to his mouth and spoke relatively quietly, trying not to draw the attention of the still bragging redhead.

Hey, Judas. I can't really talk for long. How is everything?

Draco smiled. "Busy, but well. I saw the tryouts this morning. Your leadership abilities never cease to surprise me."

He could see Harry read the sphere and blink a few times with a furrowed brow of curiosity. Really? Why? Wait, you were there?

"Yes, as was a good portion of the school. And you always seem like such a people-pleaser, not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings. I was impressed when you stood up against McLaggen."

That's what friends do… I impressed you?

"Harry. I'm your secret admirer, remember? There are a lot of things about you that impress me. It comes with the territory."

He could see Harry smile, glancing between the globe and his friends to be sure they weren't listening in. Right. Forgot. The sarcasm would probably have been missed had Draco not been standing a mere sixty yards away, carefully gauging Harry's reactions.

"Tell Ron congratulations for me."

I will.

"By the way, I know you've been busy and all, but I never got a letter back from you—"

The three students were getting rather close to Hagrid's hut by then, and Harry was getting a bit fidgety. Sorry, Judas. I have to go. I have detention with Snape tonight, too, so I won't be available to talk until late.

"I thought it was for last weekend…"

It got rescheduled.

"Um, alright. I'll wait up for you."

Once again, Harry gave the sphere a surprised smile and bit his bottom lip a little before responding shortly. Talk to you tonight, then.

"Talk to you later, Harry."

XXXXXXXXXX

Draco had barely reached the Slytherin Common Room when he was assaulted by his four closest housemates, overwhelmed by a multitude of accusations and questions that he could hardly make out since they were all talking at once. "Bloody hell! What's wrong with you lot? Shut up for a minute, will you?" he snapped, a disgusted scowl plastered on his face. The other students quieted down, but did not release the blond from the corner they had backed him into. Blaise looked livid, Pansy sympathetic, and the boulders seemed really confused. "Crabbe, Goyle, go sit down before you hurt yourselves. Blaise, what's going on?"

"It's in the Evening Prophet," Blaise began flicking the paper in his hand to indicate the article. "Your house was searched by the ministry. Again. Arthur Weasley assigned it."

"What?" Malfoy exclaimed, snatching the Prophet out of the other boy's hand and scanning the article as he pushed past them. It was true; on the second page, in a corner between an ad for knock-off brand foe glasses and a photo of a shaken Ollivander, was an article along with an eloquent Narcissa Malfoy who was patiently explaining that the search was unjust and the ministry was obviously acting irrationally. The article briefly stated that the search had been based off a confidential tip and had turned up nothing. "What in Merlin's name— Now that the weasel father got a promotion, he's waving it around like some sort of trophy. How pathetic!" Draco dropped himself onto the couch without looking up from the sideways script.

"Who do you think the tip-off was from?" Pansy asked as she sat carefully beside him.

"How would I know, Parkinson? We're a death eater family! There are countless people who would love to see us all thrown in Azkaban."

"Yes, but who would go to that blood-traitor instead of someone with more power?"

Draco actually didn't respond quickly to that one. The first enemy on the tip of his tongue was also the one with the closest ties to the Weasley family. And the one who made him the angriest to think of as guilty. Sending the innocent girl a sharp glare for saying something offensive without even meaning to, he shoved himself off of the couch and stormed down the stairs to the dormitories. Only once the door was closed firmly behind him and he was burying his face in his pillow did he let out an aggravated groan.

Harry was going to drive him crazy.

XXXXXXXXXX

He was nearly asleep when Harry's fine script appeared in the transfer sphere from where it sat in front of his face on the pillow. He simply watched it blankly as his codename came up and faded away. Why was he doing this? Why was he playing with his food? Why was he acting a part when he was already playing too many as it was? Draco shifted the sheets up to his nose. Harry called his name again. It was different before he had the Dark Lord's orders to follow, but now he was crushing himself with the added pressure. It was suppose to be a game, a torturous game; now it was becoming a battle tactic. And it was making him miserable.

Are you there, Judas?

"I'm here, Harry," he whispered.

TBC…

A/N: …I know there is nothing I can say to justify this update taking two and a half years. Let's just say that I never thought I'd be writing fanfiction again in my life. But now I'm back, and this story is my main focus. You should be expecting another update within the next week or two if I can have my way. I want this. Please, review. You have every right to yell and bitch at me if you want; I'll take it. But tell me what you think of this chapter, if it flows, if I lost the characters. I'm a bit rusty after such a long break and I could use the criticism. And if you love it and want me to write more, be sure to put that in there, too.

I can't wait to write for all of you, again!