Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing to do with the Harry Potter world! Although James is kind of my own little creation. :)

Author's Notes: Hey all, I am sooooooo sorry for my incredibly late update! And this probably isn't the best chapter in the world to make up for it, I apologise profusely! Well as a little recap of the story; in chapter seven we had the kind of make up between Draco and Blaise but we also had the appearance of James in the Slytherin common room with explanations and all :) well I hope you enjoy. Reviews would be glorious and thank you to all those who already have; a big hearty hug to you, James style.

In the Skin of a Slytherin

Chapter Eight – The Past Comes Back to Haunt Us

The days of November were flying by with the speed of the Hogwarts express, being just as cloudy and overcrowded as such. Draco was surprised he had had the time to breathe let alone anything else as he watched light turn to darkness with incredible haste and likewise from dark back to light, he felt as if he was a bystander to his own life as he observed that same life flash in front of his eyes. He could not remember the last time he had been able to float and be carried away by the waves that were his thoughts. He felt as if he had reached some land; a hard, steep cliff climbing up into the atmosphere infinitely. His thoughts were the frothing, foaming waves below which crashed brutally but ineffectively against the dark barrier. Each wave more painful than the last and just as futile. But he had no period to do anything about the constant, ferocious battle within his mind; he had too much to do with too little a time.

It was all James' fault. His and Blaise'. The brunette lion had spent so much time within the dark confines of the Slytherin common room, he was furniture. And the most troublesome section of this; the snakes adored him. They looked to him as if he were a divine being, the devotion gleaming out of their eyes full strength. It had taken James a very infinitesimal amount of time to convert the green and sliver ties. It didn't matter who it was his audience was; he was able to handle them in just the correct way to win their hearts and, most importantly, minds. He seemed unbelievably well informed about all the occupants of the Slytherin House and seemed very quick to recover any mistakes he made, which were, unfortunately, few. There were obviously, and thank goodness, those like Draco himself who were still suspicious about the mysterious guest. If not, Draco would have been severely worried about whether his snakes were all secretly gullible Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors in disguise. He fought the urge to shudder at the thought of that scenario. It was bad enough one Gryffindor being allowed access to the dungeons let alone a House-full.

If Draco hadn't had his hands full of Hairy Lions (James) and Hufflepuffy Snakes (mainly Blaise but devastatingly several others fell into this category of late) he had been attending classes or meals, doing homework (this activity in particular had been very lacking on his part, work was sometimes not done until only two days before it was to be handed in and he had not been reading ahead in his studies either. Granger was sure to have better NEWT results at this rate.) or then he had been testing his team's ability to the extreme. Their first match was set just after the Christmas holidays and he wanted them ready; Gryffindor would not, could not win this year! There had been several occasions in which Draco had been needed because of Head Boy purposes as well. Then, of course, like every other human being ever to walk the Earth, Draco still needed to sleep. But then again all this activity was useful at suppressing the oppressing, ominous thoughts that would cloud his mind of the impending, inescapable events that were, with each swift tick of the clock, nearing rapidly like a live bomb.

At the present moment in time Draco sat in his usually high-backed, black leather chair within the confines of the common room, willing the warm glow of the flickering flames to soak into his skin. As had fleetingly become the norm, James sat sprawled across the sofa with his devoted fans clinging to his every, most probable lying, word. Draco allowed the sounds of the voices to wash over him only very slightly aware of words that were said, just listening for anything of interest but that was very improbable. Blaise sat in his own chair, intently listening and, more often than not, contributing to the conversation that wove throughout the group. The incessant chatter was only donating to give Draco an even greater headache and he had more important things to focus his thrashing mind upon...

There had been several times in the past few weeks in which it had only been James, Blaise and he. These usually consisted of business talks about their deal. Firming any blurry edges that had been brought into the light by both sides of the agreement. Stories and lies were conjured and developed into strings of complex spider cobwebs. One of the topics brought out to bask in the open sun's excruciatingly heated gaze was the matter of what Draco was to do about his allegiance with his parents.

James had said that he would not be able to wholly protect Draco if that allegiance was kept, but he had also said that with this inevitable war neutrality may not be an option. The Dark Lord would not spare those too cowardly to join his cause. This caused Draco a dilemma; the main trait of a Slytherin was self-preservation, in the incident of a war a Slytherin would sway to the side with the devastatingly obvious advantage. But this war was between a seventeen year old, barely of age boy, who truth be told looked like the living dead and seemed that he could break at any moment, with an uncanny source of luck anyone had ever possessed in the history of all time and a reborn, repeatedly out manoeuvred by said seventeen year old boy who was in various degrees of inexperience at the time, cosmetically altered snake-man who had named himself Lord Voldemort. Out of that, which side was the one that was the outstanding number one to win?

Precisely, neither. So Draco had to use this to his advantage, if he could not be a non-committal neutral, then he would have to play both fields. If you can't beat them, join them. But how was he to play both fields? James would no doubt have to know about his allegiance with his parents and their snake-faced Lord, but what would the brunette do with that information? Call Dumbledore, the pied-piper, down upon Draco, or would he tell the Dark Lord of Draco's true servitude to him. Really Draco needed to know who their lion was. He needed a definite answer as to which side James' allegiance truly lay. And the waves thrashed even harder.

Getting no further with any plans of action, especially with the cacophony of the room's other occupants, Draco decided to lay such motions aside. Not that he really had the time to be doing such but there was absolutely no chance of him being able to think clearly while in such thunderous surroundings. And so he solely focussed his attention on the conversation enveloping him, almost rolling his eyes when he recognised that the voice of the person speaking at that moment belonged to none other than Blaise. Quite bored already of the drivel that dripped from the brunettes mouth, which could, quite easily have escaped from the other end for all Draco cared, he tried to catch the attention of James. It was nearing the end of James' session for the night and Draco was quite ready to fall into his bed and be engulfed by the supreme feather quilt as he gently drifted off into a dreamless sleep; such a welcoming invitation that was. Now, just to catch James' eye.

The only advantage Draco could see of James visiting the snakes' pit so often was the fact that he was able to study the lion. James visited most nights of the week, for the fewer nights he didn't arrive the fewer excuses he had to make; Slytherins were exceptionally curious creatures and wished to know everything. And although James had been an originally unusually difficult person to understand and decipher he was beginning to pick up the specific traits of the lion. Like the slightly widened eyes if he made one of those occasional mistakes, gentle fiddling with the hems of his shirt when nervous, Draco had once observed James clench his fist, causing the movement of muscles in his forearm, when he had strongly disagreed with someone. Then there was the wiggling of his toes, visible even through his shoes, as he tried to combat boredom. They were all very subtle movements that rarely lasted a minute but they were there all the same. The only disappointment with this subtlety was the fact that it was very difficult to pinpoint who the Gryffindor really was. Not only was his body language nondescript but he was also exceedingly careful as to his phrasing and sentencing. Sentences were ambiguous and phrases quite ordinary. James seemed more like a snake than any of Draco's Slytherins, maybe even more so than several of his Slytherins combined. It was infuriating.

Draco sat at the Slytherin Table for breakfast. Not that he had actually looked at let alone touched any of the cuisine laid out in front of him. His eyes were fixed intently upon the Gryffindor Table. Once again the Golden Boy was not present, most probably with the belief that he was far superior to all other attendants of Hogwarts to do such a thing as eat with them. The other two of the trio at quietly huddled together conversing animatedly in hushed tones. Most of the Seventh Years, he had noted, were looking particularly tired on this dreary morning; the dark circles under their eyes evident even from across the great expanse of the hall along with their inelegant yawns that reminded Draco of the animals they were named after. They were all so blatant with their hearts being carried around on their sleeves.

"Earth to Draco Malfoy," Blaise's amused voice accompanied his tanned hand waving in front of Draco's face. Snapping out of his gaze at the table home to red and gold, Draco instead directed a scowl in the vicinity of the brunette Slytherin. In response Blaise flashed a huge toothy grin towards Draco before switching his attention to the food upon the table. "So, Draco, what are your plans for this fine Saturday?" Blaise asked as he decided upon toast for his breakfast.

In reply Draco looked up at the overcast, dull ceiling of the Great Hall and raised an eyebrow. "I have an assignment that needs completing and it's my turn to do the rounds today." Sometimes being Head Boy really was a lifesaver, especially for headaches.

"Aww, but Draco, you did the rounds last weekend, surely it's someone else's turn." And on the other occasions, being able to lie was a necessity. Waving away Blaise's whining complaint, Draco went back to lion watching which was rapidly becoming his favourite past time.

Sunday evening rolled around with no signs of James since the Friday prior. It had only been a couple of days but the whole of the House knew of his absence and it was unusual to go a day without at least two letters from the lion even if he was unable to make it that evening to go to the snakes' pit, especially so. Blaise was becoming quite insufferable with his worries and Draco himself was exceptionally curious as to the sudden disappearance of the Gryffindor.

"But, Draco, what happens if he's been caught and held captive? What if they are torturing him? He'll tattle; we're all doomed, doomed I tell you!" Blaise's imagination carried him away.

"Zabini, shut up." Draco snapped, quite irritable. He basked in the silence for a minute before calming Blaise, "Look, if he doesn't show up by tomorrow we will go and visit Professor Snape. No one angers Severus and lives to tell the tale and Snape likes to know everything. James has been having lessons with him and must have a fantastic excuse if he does not go." Blaise calmed down slightly after that.

Monday morning brought new panic to Blaise, although less obvious due to the public area, due to the main article of the Prophet. Draco had soon pried the newspaper out of the other's clutches to read for himself what the brunette was so fussed about. Taking in the surrounding room's occupants it was obvious that Blaise was not the only one affected by the day's headlines; there were many whispered conversations all with grave faces, some little First years had even started to cry along with some older Hufflepuffs.

The War All Over Again?

We have just received word of an attack that happened on Saturday night and during the early hours of yesterday morning. After over a year of no sightings or news of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named nor any Death Eaters it is with sadness that we have to tell you that they have begun to attack once again. And just like before, the targets of the first attack are a muggleborn family. It was late on Saturday night that the wards of the Farthing family were breached. Sarah Farthing, a muggleborn who owned a book store containing both muggle and wizardry books, lived with her muggle husband and two children. It is unlikely that Farthing ever had any prior contact with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named but she was his intended target. Terribly, none of the family survived the attack, the children only being nine and six. This is horrific news and our hearts go out to all those close to these innocent people whose lives were tragically cut short.

Aurors were called out to the location but were unfortunately too late; by the time they had arrived not only had all lives been lost but there were no death eaters on the scene to arrest. This is scarily a re-enactment of the first war and fear is consuming the country of the predicaments that lie ahead. But with such a slow response from our services, is it not something that we need to focus upon? How many more lives will be lost before our services are questioned and improved?

So the Dark Lord had started acting once again. The threat of war seemed all the more ominous; there was so little time for Draco to come up with his own plan of action. People were already being murdered, children were being killed due to their type of blood. Alright, Draco believed that he was purer than muggleborns; the magic running through his veins was untainted with the abnormal blood of muggles, his chance of being born a squib being so much lower than that of a child with muggle blood, but no one deserved to be killed. There were other ways of making sure that pureblood traditions were carried on throughout the generations even with the additions of muggleborns rather than killing them. For the first time in many weeks did Draco know upon which side his allegiance swayed. And for that he would most probably, however hard it was for him to accept it, need the protection James offered. Now, where was the scrawny lion when you needed him?

The whole of Monday passed by with, again, no news from James. And that was why Draco sat in Severus' office at nine in the evening nursing a warm beverage of some description. Taking in the aroma he noted that it smelt very earthy, like the smell of soil in a wood. He had to force himself from scrunching his nose up at such a notion. The consistency was very much like that of water, the viscosity practically insignificant. The colour being a clear, pale brown with the hint of pink. Draco was always wary of taking one of Severus' concoctions, not for the fact that they could be potentially harmful as Severus was always very careful with what he allowed people to have, more for the fact that he never really knew their effects; he did not wish to be drinking a truth serum nor a sleeping draught or anything like the such that put him at a disadvantage.

"So what was it, Draco, that you wished to speak to me about?" Severus said as he took his place opposite Draco at his desk. Draco placed his cup down onto the dark wooden desk, which was marred in many locations from its prolonged use. Severus sounded quite tired as he rubbed his temples, most likely trying to expel a headache caused by the cacophony of the many students along with the intense fumes inhaled throughout the day. Draco really wouldn't wish to have Severus' job; although he highly enjoyed the art of potion making the fumes really were horrendous and then trying to teach a load of idiots how to brew sufficiently within the confines of those fumes.

"Sorry, Severus, you know I do not usually intrude upon your free time but there are a few questions that are quite pressing." Severus was one of the few people Draco would willingly apologize to, was one of the few people he held the utmost respect for.

"I expected as much, do carry on." Severus replied. The dark eyes of the professor trailed down to the drink abandoned upon the desk. "Do drink, Draco, it shall be good for you."

"What is it?" Draco enquired before asking one of the main questions probing his mind. "I heard something in passing a little while back and it was familiar but I can't put my finger on where from, I was wondering if you could help."

"I haven't named it as of yet, still needs some fine tuning. Could be used as an everyday beverage to clear the mind. Good for just before sleeping. I can only offer my services if you tell me what you would like for me to help you with."

"Going into the production of herbal teas now are we?" Draco teased lightly and received a scowl in response. "It's a name I heard, I think you may have mentioned it years ago; Prince?" Draco watched intently and was satisfied to see Severus' right eye twitch and his jaw to clench; that was Severus' telltale sign that he was shocked by something. Draco raised his eyebrows in enquiry showing that he had seen a significance of the name to Severus.

Snape sighed before answering, "Yes, I know of the name Prince." Draco waited patiently for the professor to elaborate. "Are you going to drink that?" An elevated eyebrow was the response to the diversion. Draco was not going to be distracted from the answer, however hard Severus tried. Severus finally gave in with a small huff. "You may remember me telling you once about an Eileen Prince." The Head of Slytherin House paused for any reaction from Draco. The name rang bells but once again he couldn't quite pinpoint why. After seeing Draco's continually blank face, Severus carried on. "It was when you were very little, you asked me about the game Gobstones. Of course, only after playing a game could we actually listen to a story and hear the rules." Severus' tone had taken up a distant quality to it, obviously lost within his memories. Draco knew that his Godfather was teetering all around the edge, not actually answering the question, but he allowed for it. "Such a stubborn child you were, Draco. Wasn't helped by the fact that your mother spoiled you incessantly. I remember when you..." to a degree. He cleared his throat, telling Severus to get back to the point. "Some things never change." Snape muttered before carrying on, "As I was saying, Eileen Prince; I told you a long story about how she was the captain of the Hogwarts Gobstones team, how she earned that captaincy and how they played, so on and so forth." As Severus said this some distant memories did float back to Draco, but Severus had very rarely called her Eileen Prince instead referring to her as......

Draco sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as he allowed the very rare event of showing his shock on his face. His mind travelled at the speed of light, reeling at what this meant. But what did it mean? "I see the puzzle has clicked into place. Was that all Draco?" the professor's voice could hardly be heard against all the clogs turning loudly within his head. Shaking his head slightly, Draco dispelled the overpowering thoughts and focused on the present. He still had other information to gather. And he had thought the next information would be the more difficult and complex.

"Sorry, no I still have other questions. Not linked to the first. About James; he hasn't been present for the past three days and we have not heard a single utterance from him. I was wondering if you knew anything about this."

"I had been expecting such a question. Both James and myself have been extremely busy of late, with other, more pressing matters to deal with. It may still be several days before your guest is able to enter the dungeons again. Now is that all? I do believe the hour is getting quite late and I have to tend to some potions before I can go to bed." Draco stood silently, understanding that he was unwelcome and with a final farewell was on his way to unravel some mysteries with the new information he had retained.

End of Chapter Eight

Author's Notes: By the way anyone who has forgotten etc. Eileen Prince is Severus' Mother. :) Really sorry for the short chapter, will really try to make the next one uber special. Maybe a bigger feature of James, I don't think he spoke at all in this chapter :O the horror! Well tata for now.