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PseudonymousEntity

Friend or Foe

"Your worst Enemy could be your best Friend, and your best Friend could be your worst Enemy." -Marley

Summary: Draco being bullied by his father really pisses Harry off. Goblet of Fire.

Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy.

Warnings: Suggestions?

AN: Comments, Thoughts, Questions, Theories and Limericks are always welcomed, in whatever order of importance you choose to give.

ANx2: Next chapter for your reading pleasure.

Ever Yours, Pseu

"We won't hear a word they say, they don't know us anyway

They don't mean a thing tonight

Throw it away, forget yesterday, We'll make the great escape."

-Great Escape

Chapter...the next chapter. That's what it is. The next one.

In the morning hours where the sun is seriously considering dawning Harry Potter received a very quick, very awkward rundown on wizarding bloodlines and their implications.

The main thing sticking with Harry afterward was the information he was technically related to many wizarding families, the Weasleys included, but the connection was only significant enough to matter when it came to those of the Black bloodline. Namely, Bellatrix, Andromeda, Tonks, Sirius, Narcissa and...Draco. The next bit that stuck with him was the sort of agreements Harry was still applicable for as far as close family members go within the wizarding world, such as into business should he and Draco ever fancy to do something of that sort. Rather, if Draco ever decided he'd like to have a job other than head of a rich family. To be fair Harry had a bit of money as well but he was already used to working and hardly remembered it was there half the time.

There may have been a part where Percy decided -for whatever mad reason- to mention that cousins as far apart as Harry and Draco could marry. Harry couldn't speak for average magical fourteen-year-olds, as for fourteen-year-old Harry Potter? He had no desire to speak about marriage prospects. With anyone. Ever.

Merlin no. Just no.

The conversation turned to other things. All three elder Weasley brothers would be at the camp during various parts of it. Bill and Percy for work related reasons. Charlie because he wanted to be. Harry was ecstatic. He'd have more than Draco and Viktor to rely on during the camp. He could very easily come up with an excuse to talk to any of the brothers and get help with an interaction or information he needed to know. Not that Draco couldn't be a decent tutor when the mood struck him, the morning cleansing, for instance, Harry simply didn't want Draco -and his family by association- to realize just how out of his depth Harry was.

The three of them had come to the conclusion Harry knew a bit more about their world and customs than they'd thought.

This was partially true. And partially really, really not.

When you grew up with people like the Dursley's you learned at a very young age to never let on when you didn't know something, especially if they could and would use it to their advantage over you. You pretended you were in the loop and then you took the shoelace express to the nearest library or bookstore and looked it up. Harry employed this general idea when it came to his classes. Fake his way along with the bits he did remember and his understanding of whatever the subject happened to be, then he reread Neville's notes -Hermione never shared hers- and take down some of his own and reread that. Then walk into the class and pass the test.

He was not a shining example of scholarly excellence.

"And this one?" Charlie held up a flash card.

"Scion. Notoriously neutral family. A bit irresponsible."

"This?" He held up a different one.

"Unofficially named the heir." Said, Harry. "His father was not married to his mother and has borne a younger son to his rightful wife."

"Good." Charlie put it on the bottom of the pile and tapped them against the rough wooden table to get them all lined up once more.

It was Percy who came up with the idea. After decided Harry had a brain worth wasting his time on. Percy's words, not Harry's. Each note card had the name of a different magical person Harry might meet or hear about at the camp. The point of the game to remember the person's status within their specific family. Useful things to know if Harry wanted to avoid starting blood feuds or getting challenged to a duel. Yes. Duels for honour were still a thing in the wizarding world. Huzzah.

Perhaps if he looked at it all like a giant tabletop gaming convention where the players were really, really committed to staying in character he would be less likely to psyche himself out. The truth was, he was honestly surprised he'd managed to get this far without starting a blood feud or something. Or at least, he didn't think he had. The person wouldn't be talking to him if he had, obviously.

He hoped he hadn't.

The sun was legitimately starting to peak through the not entirely clean window and it was decided they all best get ready for the day before the rest of the house woke up and they found themselves battling for time in the washroom. When it was time for Harry's turn he brought with him some dried peppermint and rosemary from his potions kit. Ron was asleep when he entered his room to search out the herbs but nearly awoke when Harry hit his head against the side table. Harry needed to freshen up his sneaking skills.

In the slight cool of the Weasley's bathroom Harry carefully placed the herbs into a worn bowl and filled it with hot water. The bowl was placed on the counter with a small creak. The counter bowed in a bit but had yet to collapse. The power of magic.

He took a deep breath and went about the cleansing. It worked just as well if not perhaps better than it had the day before with Draco. He felt...refreshed. Clean. It wasn't a hygiene sort of clean feeling, it was more like you'd been walking through life carrying a bunch of nameless goop attached to you weighing down anxiety and pressure and resentment, and things like that, and suddenly all the goop was gone and you felt so much lighter and brighter for it. Harry frowned at himself in the mirror for a moment. Had he really felt like that all of the time? Maybe it was one of those things were you didn't know you felt so bad because feeling bad was your normal and you didn't have something not as bad to compare it to to know better.

He certainly knew the difference now.

The stairs murmured load groans as he descended to the living room area. Weaving through the jumble of oddly matched yet homey furniture Harry reached the dining room. Almost immediately the Weasley brothers stopped talking. Harry stood there a moment, feeling uncomfortable. "What did I do?"

"If you're going to be seen around Draco much you don't want to show up wearing something you've worn the day before." Said Charlie.

Well damn. Harry glanced down at the outfit Draco lent him. Seriously? "Then what the heck am I supposed to wear? Blue Jeans?"

The three brothers looked at one another. Eventually, it was just Bill and Percy looking one another over with flicks toward Harry. Bill raised a hand and pointed at Percy. "Slacks and shirt."

Percy tilted his head. "Jacket and shoes?"

"Agreed."

They both turned and walked in opposite directions. Harry blinked after them. What even?

Charlie smiled widely and motioned for Harry to hold out his arms from his sides. "This won't take long but you'll want to be ready for it."

"Ready for wha- holy crap!" Harry's clothes disappeared and new ones reappeared with a jolt. Harry flung out a hand and held tight to the wall to keep from falling. So much for being ready for it, he grumbled to himself. Scowling, Harry stood up straight and examined himself. Dark gray trousers stuffed into blueish black dragon-hide boots. Dark gray shirt with long sleeves rolled up to meet a blueish black short-sleeved jacket also of dragon-hide that fell to his knees. They weren't as obviously fancy as Draco's clothes had been, but even Harry could see they were very nice. He squinted and tilted his head. He thought he caught the outline of some kind of writing in a lighter silvery-gray along the seams of the shirt. He bent down a bit. Yeah, the trousers had it too. Huh.

Bill and Percy apparated into the dining room.

"So, what are the words for?" Harry asked. He held out the bottom of his shirt a bit to emphasize what he meant.

Bill opened his mouth and was interrupted by the sound of feet creaking on the stairs. What time was it anyway? Surely not time for breakfast just yet. The four wizards stilled and turned to see who had discovered them. Identical blue eyes darted between them.

"Plotting world domination this early in the morning?" Fred quipped.

George put a hand to his chest. "And without inviting us? I'm hurt."

Harry raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "And where are you off to?"

Fred and George glanced at one another. "You see, the thing is..." A bag of something gurgled suspiciously in Fred's arms. The faint smell of burnt wood was only slightly less alarming.

Taking pity on his younger siblings Bill made a show of yawning. He leant against the side of the table. "I don't know about you three but I am far too tired to take notice of anything just now. Not burglars. Not fires..."

"...People sneaking out." Charlie continued. "Nope, too tired myself, matter of fact."

The twins shot them mischievous smiles and darted out the door before anyone could change their minds.

"The rest of the lot is going to have an interesting morning," said Percy.

Charlie stretched his arms over his head. Harry heard a low popping noise. "Best we get going while we can."

Without waiting for the rest of the household to show up they made their way to the floo. It didn't seem to be necessary for Harry to point out that three unexpected visitors with red hair sliding out of the fire would be less than enthusiastically greeted by the Malfoys. Bill floo'd to Gringotts. Percy to the Ministry. It was only Charlie coming with Harry, and he'd already been to the camp himself when he was younger. Harry still wasn't one-hundred percent certain that they wouldn't get cursed at, but he'd already been magically beaten up by Lord Malfoy once. What was another time? As long as Mrs Malfoy wasn't around Harry would be fine with whatever may happen.

As they stepped in Harry swore he saw Ginny Weasley sneaking out of the house with a broomstick...

The floo room looked the same as it had when Harry left it. All muted marble and dark wood, severe and hard. Yuck.

His cousin -he had a cousin who wasn't a fat lump of wasted space!- sat on a settee with a book in his lap. Harry was beginning to learn that Draco and books were never far from one another. According to the carafe of lemonade on the side table, the same held true for sweet lemon drinks. White-blonde hair slid back from the lightest shade of eyes he'd ever seen in person. A perfect mix of Lucius and Narcissa. Without the crazy or the ruthlessness.

Harry swept his gaze over his cousin, searching out any signs of new injuries. Any indication that something had happened in the time they were apart. It was unncanny, the similarity, really. Nice looking homes with nice looking people. You would never guess from the outside looking in...

A pale brow rose only the tiniest bit.

"Harry. Charlie." Draco greeted.

Harry was amused to know now that greeting Harry first indicated he was the one who had Draco's attention or held more importance to him. Acknowledging Charlie afterworld by his first name to indicate they knew one another and because it polite etiquette required it. Harry also thought Draco rather liked Charlie. He must if he allowed the other to continue to call him by his name when they were no longer connected through the camp. Unless there was some other mysterious pureblood reason behind it.

Draco closed his book and set it aside, rising to stand in one fluid motion., He approached Harry, pulling a small jar from within a pocket. Long fingers spun the lid, releasing a small Harry vaguely recognized. Then he was attacked. Or, okay, perhaps it was his hair. And maybe it wasn't violent. Still, hair wasn't that bad all on its own, was it? Wait, did he brush it today? He couldn't remember.

"Better." Said Draco.

Charlie grinned. "Are we going straight there?"

"Yes, I've no other plans for Harry this morning. Father is already gone attending to his business." Said Draco.

He lifted his left hand and waved it out. "This way." The semi-formal yet relaxed etiquette calmed Harry's nerves. This wasn't so bad. Perhaps he really wouldn't make a fool of himself today.

They came to a long hallway of nearly floor length, large portraits. Each in a thick frosty blue frame showed a different location. Harry recognized one of a small shop in the lower alleys of Diagon and another somewhere in Hogsmeade. Draco lead them to one on the right halfway down the hallway. It was a painting of wide field with rows of tents and what looked like market stalls. Between each row flowed a sea of witches and wizards. Off to either side parts of the field had some sort of event going on. Harry couldn't tell what they were.

Draco opened the frame. "Go on."

Harry blinked several times. The portrait opened to the exact scene from the picture. As if you were standing in that spot and painted it and then built a window in the exact same spot. He walked through quickly, careful not to stumble over the bottom of the portrait. The sounds of crowds of magic folk flooded his ears. He smelt a sweets cart nearby. Tents lined the sides of his vision and between them were wizards and witches mostly around his age. Stalls with books, broomsticks, what he thought might be Quidditch gear, and things he'd never seen before went straight down the middle. Further back he could see much larger tents. Just to his left was a bulletin board with people crowded around it. A map maybe? Or a schedule. Overhead a group of wizards shot by on brooms. He could hear cheering from somewhere in the background.

Magic was awesome.

Pseudonymous Entity

2017

"The rest is still unwritten..."

Notes:

Comments, Questions, Theories, Suggestions, Guesses and Limericks always welcomed.

AN: Welcome to camp!

-Pseu