If there was one thing Severus Snape hated – and there wasn't, for there were many, many things he hated – it was definitely children. He hadn't liked them when he was one and his fondness for them hadn't increased since. He despised children. They were noisy, slimy, and stupid. They were constant menaces to diligent potioneers such as himself. If Severus could have his way – and, alas, it seemed sometimes like he never could – potion brewing would never be taught to children at all. If people wanted to learn about potions, then they could do so when they were adults and thus able to take the numerous risks appropriately.

Severus didn't ask for much in this world. He just wanted to create new and interesting potions in peace and solitude, ideally not interacting with another person again for his entire life. He was an introvert and he was proud of it. He hated people, people hated him, and it was just the way he liked it. He had no intention of changing his ways for anyone, especially that blasted Potter boy.

Unfortunately, his desired life wasn't anywhere in sight. He was trapped by that fiendish, foolish old man Albus Dumbledore. He had been dumb enough to sign a binding magical contract with Dumbledore in exchange for him using his influence to keep him out of Azkaban. The end result was that functionally speaking, Severus was Dumbledore's slave. He had to follow all of Dumbledore's orders; the nature of the contract compelled it. That was the nature of magical contracts; they made you follow their precepts. If you rebelled against them, they changed your very thoughts until you wanted to follow them. That was undoubtedly what had happened to Potter with the Goblet of Fire. The blasted thing must have tricked him into thinking he had put his name in it.

Being trapped following Dumbledore's orders, to be clear, wasn't too much of a problem for Severus in itself. It was not the first time he'd had a master, after all, and Dumbledore at least was not into torturing people on the drop of a hat. Well, not physically, anyway. No, the problem was Dumbledore himself and Severus's continuous inability to figure out what the hell was going on inside that old man's head.

To describe Dumbledore's behavior as erratic was something of a gross understatement. He tricked, he lied, he manipulated, he stole, he brainwashed people, and he killed mercilessly, but this wasn't what was causing Severus problems. No, the problem was that he could not, for the life of him, figure out why he was doing any of it. Whenever he asked Dumbledore, he got some nebulous answer about how it was for "the greater good," which, given the fact that this had been Grindelwald's catchphrase, just raised further questions.

Dumbledore's behavior was contradictory and confusing and Severus didn't have any answers and he hated not having answers. Sometimes, Dumbledore would commit truly brazen tactical misfires. Other times, he would execute a preposterously complicated Machiavellian gambit the likes of no one, least of all Severus, would ever see coming. He could be as subtle as the most undetectable poison the one moment and then have all the subtlety of a sledgehammer the next.

Take his handling of the Potter child, for example. He had the boy placed in Petunia Dursley's house, seemingly so he'd be so grateful to the first person to come along and rescue him that he'd do whatever Dumbledore said. And then Dumbledore didn't rescue him. Instead, he sent him back, despite the fact that it would destroy any sort of trust Dumbledore had built up that year. Dumbledore knew Potter's life was in danger there. How could he be a pawn if he was dead? Not to mention, it was one heck of a gamble in the first place. Potter could have been damaged beyond use or killed or, hell, maybe Petunia could even have had a change of heart and raised him well. (Granted, hell probably would have frozen over before then, but still, the bonds of family were a strange, unpredictable thing.)

If Dumbledore believed in the prophecy, why wasn't he giving Potter training? If he wanted Potter to die at Voldemort's hands so he could sweep in and become the hero himself, why had he saved Potter's life in the Chamber of Secrets? Why was Potter in the hellishly dangerous Triwizard Tournament at all? What use was the Savior dead to anyone, let alone Dumbledore?

No, there was some thread Severus wasn't seeing. Something that had to make everything make sense. Dumbledore's manipulations were so ham-fisted – really, an obstacle course that a bunch of first years could and did run – that even Sprout was starting to get suspicious, and she thought the best of everyone. The man might as well shave his beard, grow a mustache, and start twirling it. Sometimes, Severus wondered if Dumbledore's next order would be to grab a maiden and tie her to the tracks of the Hogwarts Express like in those Muggle cartoons.

Did Dumbledore really think he was just going to keep Harry in the dark forever? It was a miracle it took this long before Potter learned of his lordship. How he had missed everyone calling him Lord Potter in the past was an endless mystery. The only explanation Severus had was that the boy had been hit by one too many Bludgers in the past.

One day, Severus prayed Dumbledore would be caught. That his sins would be exposed. Severus didn't even care very much about the prospect of him going to prison as well. This was both because he was reasonably confident he could weasel out of it and because he was just so fed up with having to play his role. Frankly, Voldemort was starting to look better and better these days, and if he hadn't killed Lily, Severus probably would be trying to bring the Dark Lord back right this very moment.

"What is this?!" Dumbledore snarled as he stormed into Severus's office and threw the Daily Prophet down on the desk. The headline, written by the deliciously horrible Rita Skeeter, of course, read "Hogwarts Under Threat!" with the subtitle "Do you think your children haven't been menaced by a troll and a basilisk? Think again!" And it had a most glorious photograph of a decomposing basilisk on the front page, with Harry Potter standing in front of it and giving a smirk that reminded Severus most unpleasantly of James Potter.

"Well, it would appear to be a newspaper, sir," Severus snarked. Dumbledore pulled out his wand and slammed him against the wall, hard.

"How did she get this information in the first place?!" Dumbledore screamed. "I placed the children under a geas to ensure no mention of the troll or the basilisk would ever be mentioned!" He snarled at Severus. "It was you. You betrayed me!"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Don't be daft. Our contract specifically forbids me going to the press. If I'd somehow been able to break the contract, you wouldn't be alive right now."

Dumbledore took a few deep breaths. "The greater good, Severus, demanded that Harry be tested. As a sword is forged in fire, so is a hero. When Harry faces Voldemort, he has to be strong. We cannot have busybodies interfering with some silly, misguided notion such as that schools are meant to be safe."

Severus stood up and casually leaned against the wall, ignoring the pain in his bones. "There's nothing that can be done to negate this now," he pointed out in a calm tone deliberately meant to infuriate Dumbledore. Maybe one day he'd trick the old man into going too far and killing him. "Brainwashing the student body would just look even more suspicious at this juncture."

Dumbledore shook his head, the very image of a sad old man. "Brainwashing is such a harsh word, Severus, my friend. People need to be led by the wise, and I am wiser than all. Sometimes, for their own good, things that might upset them need to be…removed. In the end, we are doing all this for the wizarding world. Individual lives are unimportant."

He looked Severus in the eyes, trying to pierce his shields as always and, as always, failing. The old man may have been a master Legilimens, but Severus was the best Occlumens in living memory. "I want you to understand something, my friend," he said, his voice earnest. There was a sincerity about him that was often lacking. "I am not a villain. I am a hero. When Voldemort finally falls, when Harry finally slays him for good as the prophecy demands, we will sweep away these filthy dark influences and lead this world into a golden, eternal age of pure, shining light. All will comply. I will not give them another option."

Severus shuddered. Dumbledore was not a fan of things like free will. His idea of a utopia would no doubt be a dystopia. He probably would have disapproved of the society from the Muggle book 1984 for not being ambitious enough. He could see it now. An entire society of compliant drones, made to feel and believe in only the things Albus Dumbledore told him to. Just like Grindelwald had sought.

"You will question all your Slytherins under Veritaserum to see if anyone else has been speaking to Skeeter, my boy," Dumbledore commanded. Severus shivered as he felt the magic of the compulsion spells Dumbledore placed into the very wards of Hogwarts activate, triggered by the phrase "my boy" (or, in the cases of the females, my girl, or occasionally, in the case of the nonbinary students, my child). "Then you will make excuses to question the remaining students in detention. You will report your findings to me. Dismissed."

Severus just hated his life sometimes and now was no exception. Almost certainly the whole thing was a waste of time. If anyone was speaking to Skeeter in addition to Potter, it was probably a member of the staff. It couldn't be Minerva; she was so brainwashed it was a miracle she could tie her shoes without Dumbledore's command. It could well be Pomona – no one suspected Hufflepuffs. But in his opinion, Dumbledore was just overcomplicating things. Potter was seeking attention as he always did and seized on the opportunity to gain it with both hands.

After a very unpleasant day of teaching those hellions calling themselves children, Severus would have loved to kick back with a fine cigar and an antique potions tome from the Restricted Section. Unfortunately, he had to question those serpentine brats. Contrary to popular belief, Severus didn't like Slytherins more than any other house. In fact, their unmitigated arrogance often meant he despised them even more than the other houses, sometimes even more than Gryffindor.

One by one, he questioned them at random until he reached Daphne Greengrass. Unlike most people, Severus's talent for Occlumency meant that he remembered Daphne's existence constantly, her actions most of the time, and her name a majority of the time. He did not, however, remember her appearance any of the time, so it was always a most unpleasant surprise to see her dressed in appalling clothes. Every time, he forgot about her horrid appearance until he saw her, and there was nothing he could do to stop it, because he'd forget about any attempts to discipline her accordingly, and Daphne stubbornly refused to change.

Severus was so bored and annoyed at the fruitless questioning he'd had to do that he barely even noticed it when Daphne started to look frantic at the thought of being questioned under Veritaserum. It wasn't until he started asking her questions that he realized something was up. Daphne resisted the Veritaserum for an uncommonly long time, but she was a mere child and she eventually succumbed.

What Severus found almost made him want to laugh. A conspiracy to expose Dumbledore was going on under his very crooked nose and he didn't even suspect it for a second. More than that, it was one that was making a considerable amount of traction. Between Lovegood's ability to think outside the box, Daphne's cunning (the girl was a true Slytherin, a title Severus bestowed on depressingly few people), and their alliance with Rita Skeeter, they had a decent chance of winning their little war…assuming Dumbledore stayed in the dark.

"You don't like serving Dumbledore, do you, sir?" Daphne said when the Veritaserum wore off.

"No, but I have no choice. And I have no choice but to tell him what I have heard."

Daphne smirked. "But how can you tell him something you can't remember, professor?"

Severus favored Daphne with a rare grin, causing her to recoil slightly and Severus to remember why he never bothered to smile. "You are most certainly in the right house, Heiress Greengrass. I want you to know that what you are doing is extraordinarily dangerous. The wrong move will see you dead or worse. I have seen him take down far stronger mages than you."

"I'm not scared of him," Daphne said, transparently lying.

"Then you are an idiot," Severus said bluntly. "Leave me."

After Daphne left, Severus closed his eyes and meditated, bringing down the Occlumency shields subtly, bit by bit, until the full force of the Morrigan's curse fell down upon him.

Severus blinked. Had he been speaking to someone? He couldn't remember. Oh, well, it couldn't have been that important. He stalked over to the liquor cabinet. He had a feeling he was going to need a strong drink very soon.

From the very moment Charlie Weasley had learned about dragons, he knew he wanted to work with them. Well, at first he wanted to be one, but he grew out of that ambition when he was five. Looking after them would just have to suffice. He'd even tried to become an Animagus in the hopes he'd become a dragon, despite the fact that the last mage to have a dragon Animagus form was said to be Circe, and no one was even sure she was real. But alas, the meditative ritual that would reveal one's form showed him he would, in fact, be a platypus, and he hadn't gone any farther with the process.

Dragons were his whole world, more or less. Sure, he loved his family, but there were long periods of time he barely even thought of them while on the dragon preserves in Romania. He didn't need any humans in his life, truly. Not friends, not family, certainly not partners. That sort of thing had never interested him. No, Charlie had his dream job and he was truly content with his life. He may not have been paid a fortune, but he was happier than most everyone else he knew, and that was more than enough for him.

But nonetheless, when his family needed him, Charlie was more than willing to step up to the plate. He prided himself on being a good brother and son when the situation called for it. When Ginny had come out to him by letter, the first member of the family she told, Charlie didn't hesitate for a single second before giving his unflinching, unequivocal support. After all, dragons of the same sex were known to mate with each other. Homosexuality was a natural part of the world. End of story.

Unfortunately, their mother – if that word could be used to describe Mum now – disagreed. Loudly and profusely. Mum's reaction to Ginny's coming out was preposterously disturbing and extremely out of character. Mum had never had a problem with people like Ginny before. While Mum could be judgmental at times…okay, a lot of the time…she was hardly a bigot. The Weasley family was known for their unflinchingly progressive stance on a wide variety of issues. It was one of the reasons they were so reviled by the upper class.

Honestly, if Charlie hadn't known better, he would have assumed Ginny's letters were some sort of cruel prank she was playing. But it was clearly not. At least Ginny was safe at the Lovegood residence. Charlie had been ready to spirit her away to the dragon reserve, but he was glad Ginny had a safer option available to her.

Something was extremely wrong with Mum and it wasn't getting any better. Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron had all informed him, with consistent detail, Mum was regularly sending homophobic Howlers to Ginny. It seemed quite unbelievable. Surely the administration would have stopped such a thing. But Charlie's siblings didn't lie; not about things like this, anyway.

So when Charlie was offered a chance to go back to Britain to bring the dragons selected for the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, he seized on it with both hands. It was a golden opportunity to offer Ginny his support in person and to get Mum to get her head out of her arse. And if Mum didn't listen, if he was going to be forced to choose between her and Ginny, Charlie was going to choose Ginny in a heartbeat. Charlie was extremely protective of his little and only sister. Anyone who wanted to hurt her could do it over his dead body.

After getting the dragons settled in, his first stop was the Burrow. Charlie was practically vibrating with righteous anger by the time he arrived. He was ready to confront Mum and beat some sense into her if necessary. How anyone could treat a little girl with such contempt and cruelty was beyond Charlie, much less one's own daughter.

"Oh, look at you, you've grown so much," Mum said after almost strangling him with a hug. "You're not getting enough to eat in that godforsaken foreign country, are you? I told you, you should stay in jolly old England where the food is filling."

Charlie forced himself to stay calm. It was no use rehashing old arguments, not when the new ones are more important. "Well, I'll be here for the next few weeks, mum," he said coolly. "There'll be plenty of time for eating. But I'm not here for that. I'm here to talk to you about Ginny."

"Is she all right?" Dad asked, seemingly the picture of perfect, fatherly concern. "Nothing's happened to her, has it?"

Charlie glared at him. As far as he was concerned, his inaction at stopping Mum's abuse – and, yes, Charlie was reluctantly labeling Mum's actions with that dreaded word – made him just as culpable in the grand scheme of things. "Ginny is fine physically. Not that either of you would care very much if she isn't."

"How dare you speak to your mother like that?" Mum thundered. "You're not too old for me to take you over my knee!"

"I'd like to see you try," Charlie hissed, letting his temper flare. "I'm here to tell you that your campaign of harassment against my sister stops now."

Dad blinked a couple of times. "Molly? What is he talking about?"

"It's just an exaggeration, Arthur, dear," Mum said soothingly. "I've merely been trying to convince Ginny to abandon her libertine lifestyle and return to our society's traditional values."

"By sending Howlers to her every day!" Charlie shouted. "She's terrified! Ron says she takes her meals in the dorms now!"

Dad was staring at Molly as if she grew a second head. "You're sending Howlers to our daughter? Every day? Why? What has she done?"

Mum gave a condescending smile at her husband. "She refuses to fulfill the role she was born for and marry Harry. The headmaster filled out a marriage contract for them long ago. They are destined to be together. This…delusion she is attracted to girls is just simple teenage rebellion."

Maybe Mum had gone insane, Charlie decided. This woman in front of him may have looked like his mother, but she hardly acted like her. "Mum. Ginny likes girls. She does not like boys. She does not like Harry. She thinks of him as like an older brother, end of story."

"She doesn't have to like him," Mum said snidely. "She just has to marry him. That way, we can gain access to his vaults. I don't know why you're looking at me like that. I told you, this has all been decided. The contract is signed. Albus wanted me to send these Howlers, so that's what I did."

Charlie just stared at her. "Dumbledore wanted you to send the Howlers."

"Yes, that's what I just said, you silly boy," Mum said with a warm smile. "Now I don't want you to concern yourself. This is but a temporary setback. Once we get her back here, we'll get her on the right track."

Dad sighed deeply. "Molly, I…I don't think this is right."

"And that's why I'm the head of this family, and you're not," Mum announced. "Now go away." Dad trudged away, looking resigned and hopeless. Charlie could not believe what a weak willed coward he was being. Was this truly the man who had taught him what it meant to be a Weasley, a defender of right and goodness? It seemed thoroughly unbelievable, like all this had been part of an awful nightmare.

"Mum, what right did Dumbledore have to sign that contract on behalf of Harry and Ginny?"

"He's Harry's magical guardian," Mum said slowly, as if talking to a stupid person. "He has every right to manage his affairs. Oh, it will be so lovely to have Harry be part of the family."

Insanity was becoming more and more likely, in Charlie's opinion. There was no such thing as a magical guardian. The headmaster, to a limited degree, had a certain degree of in loco parentis power over the Muggleborn students, as was necessary given the fact Muggles were unable to even see Hogwarts, but not to the point where he was able to sign marriage contracts on their behalf. Also, marriage contracts for minors had been illegal since 1971, so there was no way it would stand up in court anyway.

What should Charlie say to such madness? What would it take to penetrate Mum's skull? It had been hard enough to persuade her of anything back in the days when she had all her marbles. Though it was an exercise in futility, his love for his family demanded he at least make a token effort to try.

"Mum, this isn't right," Charlie said forcefully. "Can't you see this isn't what Ginny wants? You're hurting her with your words. She needs your love. She needs her mother's love."

Mum sniffed. "She has my love. I am doing all of this out of love. Now she needs Harry's. Maybe if I brewed a love potion…" Charlie immediately walked out of the Burrow and slammed the door hard behind him.

Right. That was it. Mum was beyond hope and/or help right now. Charlie was absolutely certain she was under some sort of enchantment. His money was on Lucius Malfoy, framing the headmaster for making his students' lives miserable in an effort to discredit him. No matter who was responsible, curing her was definitely out of Charlie's wheelhouse. This was Bill's department. Unfortunately, Bill was on assignment in Turkmenistan and would be utterly incommunicado for an indeterminate amount of time. The only thing to be done was wait it out.

Well, the only thing to be done for Mum was wait it out. Charlie may not have been able to help Mum, but he was able to help Ginny and right now, that was more important.

Since the first task was supposed to be a secret, Charlie was not supposed to make his presence known to the students of Hogwarts. His very presence there would automatically let his family know that the first task would be dragons. Charlie didn't give a damn about that rule, though. If the reserve in Romania fired him, there were other reserves out there. He'd gotten several job offers already, though he'd decided not to take them in the past because the Romanian reserve paid better.

Charlie stormed into the Great Hall at breakfast time, right around the time when Mum's Howlers were scheduled to arrive. He was disappointed to learn that every word his siblings had said about them was true and then some. The instant the Howler started spewing homophobic vitriol, Charlie cast a spell that caused it to grow legs, sing a show tune, give a dance on the Gryffindor table, and then turn into an inert letter.

"I have never been more disappointed to call myself a Gryffindor in my entire life," Charlie said, his voice icily calm. Everyone was staring at him. "Professor McGonagall, how can you call yourself an educator when you let such vile bullying go on?"

"Oh, hello, Charles!" McGonagall said with a glassy smile. "It's nice to see you again. I see you've grown! The fresh air was good for you, wasn't it?" Charlie scoffed and turned his back on the teacher he had once respected. She just stared at the ceiling, looking vaguely intoxicated. She'd probably had her brains addled with drink. How the mighty had fallen.

Charlie was tempted to confront Dumbledore, but he decided against it. He couldn't imagine a man like him being involved in such a scheme. Clearly Mum was delusional when she said he was responsible. Dumbledore knew very well marriage contracts between minors were illegal; he had, after all, led the charge for passing the law in the first place.

Instead, Charlie sat down next to Ginny, who was staring at him with pure awe in her expression. "Ginny, I'm so, so sorry it took me this long to show up," he said.

"Charlie, it's okay," Ginny assured him. "Your letters mean the world to me."

"I want you to know I'm behind you 100%," Charlie promised. "It's clear to me that I'm unfortunately going to have to choose between Mum and you, and I choose you. You are my sister, and I'll do everything in my power to protect you." He took a deep breath. "Ginny, I know this may not be what you want to hear, but I don't think it's Mum's fault."

"Excuse me?" an icy voice said and Charlie did a doubletake at Draco Malfoy, of all people, sitting nearby. What the hell was he doing at the Gryffindor table of all places? And why was everyone so chill about him being there? From what Charlie had heard from Ron's letters, Draco was a bully and a blood purist. What had changed? Charlie had a feeling he'd missed a lot. "How could you possibly say such a thing? No one should treat their child like that."

Charlie decided he would just roll with it. Draco suddenly becoming friendly with the Gryffindors was hardly the strangest thing that had happened recently. Heck, maybe the rumors had been true and Draco really was courting Harry. "I think – but I'm not certain – that Mum may be being…influenced mentally somehow. Even if she's not, I don't think she's fully sane right now. Something happened to her. I'm waiting for Bill to come back. He knows way more about this stuff than all of us put together."

"I…I'd like to believe that," Ginny said quietly. "But…it seems too much to hope for. And even if it's true, it still…it still hurts."

Charlie wrapped his sister up in a tight hug. "I'm gonna make it hurt less, okay, sweetie?" Ginny nodded. "Now tell me what progress you've been making with your crush."

"CHARLIE!"

Draco sometimes wondered if he was better off as Harry's enemy. Now that he was his friend, a strange but undeniable notion, he got to see Harry's insanity in full view and it was not anywhere close to pleasant. Well, maybe insanity was the wrong term for it. Perhaps it was just the opposite. Perhaps he was just excessively sane.

But either way, Harry was disturbingly blasé about a wide variety of very alarming matters, mostly centering around physical danger. He did not, for example, find it particularly disturbing to learn he was going to have to face down dragons in the first task. He calmly pointed out to a panicking Draco that he'd killed a basilisk two years ago and at least a dragon couldn't kill him with a glance. Draco wanted desperately to believe that Harry was lying or delusional, but he did not. You just had to look at him to know that, yes, he had killed that dead basilisk everyone had seen in bloody detail on the front page of the Prophet.

Since they'd learned of the dragons, Draco had spent most of his free time in the library researching dragons with the Golden Trio. Sometimes Ginny, Longbottom, and Lovegood showed up, but most of the time it was just the four of them, perusing books to desperately find spells that would enable Harry to fight a dragon. It had been weird at first to spend time with the Golden Trio and not be at each other's throats, but Draco, Granger, and Weasley's concern for their mutual friend seemed to almost entirely override whatever animosity they'd had beforehand. No. Ron and Hermione now. They were on first name terms. Draco would have to remember that. Draco still was determined to outshine Hermione in finding useful spells, but it was more of a healthy competition than anything else now.

Father would no doubt be absolutely disgusted with Draco and murderously furious to boot, but Draco couldn't bring himself to care very much. Draco was, improbably, having a good time with his new friends. Though he argued a lot with Hermione, their arguments were legitimate academic and philosophical arguments now without the ad hominem attacks that had characterized their previous relationship. Ron was shockingly witty when he put his mind to it and he had a surprisingly sharp mind. Hermione was a big picture person, whereas Ron focused more on the smaller details. Together, they were an unstoppable team.

And then there was Harry. Draco could admit it now: most of the animosity he had felt towards Harry had been out of jealousy. Harry had choices Draco didn't. Draco's future was defined by the Malfoy name, their reputation, and the responsibilities Father had placed on him for as long as he could remember. Harry made friends effortlessly, whereas Draco was trying to be so much like his father he failed to realize that the only reason people actually spent time with Father was because of his power and influence, neither of which Draco had. He'd come off as a stuck up bully instead. He had desperately wanted to be friends with Harry, but somehow, every time he opened his mouth, an insult came out. He had tried desperately to get his attention with snide comments and juvenile schemes to get him into trouble. Draco flushed just thinking about how immature and silly he had been a few years ago.

But now Draco was really friends with Harry and it was…kind of awesome really. Harry was just as incredible a person as he'd appeared at a distance. He was fanatically loyal to those who were loyal to him in turn. Once you were his friend, he'd do anything for you. He'd break laws, he'd kill, and, distressingly, he'd probably die for you too. Draco had zero doubts that Harry would sacrifice his life for him in a heartbeat. Actually, he'd probably just do that for anyone, even the old Draco which was disturbing to say the least.

Harry was smart and funny and he had just the most incredible smile and the way his cheekbones moved when he smiled that stunning smile at Draco was just mesmerizing and –

"Draco!" Harry said, snapping his fingers in Draco's face. "You were zoning out on me, mate!"

"Uh, sorry," Draco said with a nervous cough. "What were we talking about?"

Harry just gave him a sympathetic look and Draco suddenly felt something unsettling happen in his stomach. Had…had someone released a horde of butterflies in it or something? This was not normal! Was he being poisoned?

"Uh, quick question," Draco said, twisting his fingers nervously. "Does anyone else feel like their stomachs are…sort of fluttery?"

Ron looked over at Hermione and flushed scarlet for some reason. "Nope!" he said quickly. "Definitely not."

There was an unholy glint in Hermione's eyes that Draco did not like one iota. "Just an idle question, Draco," she said in a tone of voice that indicated that some sort of horrible trap was nearing. "Do you have this flutter when you're around certain boys? Certain handsome ones? Like…Harry, for example?"

"I'm not sure I'd call myself handsome, Hermione," Harry said. For most people, this would be just a form of false modesty, but Draco knew with certainty Harry really meant it.

"Don't be ludicrous, Harry, everyone thinks you're one of the most attractive people in the school," Hermione said as if it was a fact as obvious as gravity. Ron flinched and clenched his fists. She looked at Draco, her lips fluttering in a smile. "So…your feelings?"

Draco shrugged. "Dunno. It started recently…it kind of does happen when I look at Harry a lot." He considered the situation carefully. "Maybe I should talk to Madam Pomfrey? Someone could have put a curse on me."

Ron looked ready to burst into hysterical laughter. Draco glared at him. He'd apologized, hadn't he? But, no, the prick couldn't help but laugh at the thought of Draco being cursed. "You…you think you're cursed?"

"Okay, that's enough," Harry said sharply. "I'm sure Draco is fine, right, Draco?" Draco nodded hurriedly. For some reason, this conversation was making him uncomfortable, and not just because everyone seemed to be in on a joke he wasn't getting.

"Oh, I think he's better than fine," Ron said, now looking as smug as Hermione. "In fact, I think –"

"That we need to take a walk?" Harry said. "Great idea!" Somehow, Draco found himself being dragged bodily out of the library by Harry. His hand felt warm and smooth and Draco's bizarre feelings seemed to intensify. What the hell was going on?

Harry and Draco quickly walked outside of the library. It was much cooler outside, which was good news, because Draco's face felt uncomfortably warm. "Are you scared?" Draco asked quietly.

"You wish," Harry said. The two of them shared a shaky grin at remembering their skirmish at the Dueling Club, back when they'd despised each other. Now Draco could look back at that moment and almost laugh at how silly he was being. Just think of what they could have accomplished as allies.

"No, I meant about the first task," Draco clarified.

Harry shrugged. "I've gone through worse. At least this time I know what I'm getting into. I can prepare for it, make a plan. That already puts me ahead of the game. Besides…the hat put me in Gryffindor for a reason, you know." He laughed softly. "I still can't believe this."

"The death tournament?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I mean us. Look at us now! If you'd have told me two years ago, back when you said you wanted to help the Heir kill Muggleborns, that we'd be friends, I'd have said they'd need their heads examined." Draco flinched at the reminder of his horrible, awful behavior. The idea of someone actually dying because of the Heir was a total abstraction to him at the time. He didn't think it would happen. He was just blowing off steam to his friends, but it had still been wrong.

Draco forced a grin and marveled at how quickly it morphed into an actual one. "Well, maybe I'm just using you to get your strategies for Quidditch."

"Kind of a stupid plan, then, since we don't have Quidditch this year."

"It could be a long term scheme! You don't know!" The two of them devolved into almost girlish giggles. Draco hadn't felt as light and free for a long time.

Then something occurred to him. "How did you know I said that about Hermione? I mean, I'm sorry I said it. I was…stupid back then. Just parroting my dad's sayings without actually thinking about it. But I don't think I said that in your earshot."

Harry looked guilty for some reason. It was so bizarre that Draco thought he might be misinterpreting it for a second, but no, there was guilt on his face. "Uh…promise you won't get mad? Or rat us out to Snape?"

"I bragged about wanting a kid to die, Harry," Draco reminded him. "Whatever happened can't be worse than that."

"We sort of broke into your common room," Harry admitted. Well, that didn't sound so bad. "By disguising ourselves as Crabbe and Goyle." What. What was even happening right now?

Draco just stared at him for several seconds. "You made Polyjuice when you were twelve?"

"Well, Hermione did…"

"What did you do with them?"

Harry looked like he was ready to make a run for it. "We…may have drugged them a little? And locked them in a closet? Look, we thought you were the Heir and hurting people! We wanted confirmation!"

"If you were brewing potions illegally, why not just brew Veritaserum?" Draco asked.

"We were twelve!" Harry said, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"I can't believe you attacked my best friends," Draco grumbled. Vince and Greg may have been thick as planks, and no doubt reporting to Father on top of it, but Draco had known them for as long as he could remember and he had a great fondness for the morons. He wondered who had let them out of the closet. Maybe it was Professor Snape.

Harry gave a wry smile that somehow made Draco's stomach feel like it was entangled in knots. "We won't do it again?"

"You'd best not," Draco muttered. "Look, in all seriousness, what the hell is going on with me? Do you have any clue? Cause I've been experiencing some weird symptoms recently…"

Harry looked around him frantically to see if anyone else was there. Aside from a water beetle perching on a statue, they were completely alone in the hallway. "I have a theory," he almost mumbled. "You can stop me if you want, but…if I'm right…"

After one more frantic look, Harry stepped over to Draco and leaned his face towards his. Wait, was this what Draco thought it was? No! No, it couldn't be! It wasn't possible! But those lips moved inexorably in Draco's direction…getting closer and closer…

"WE FOUND SOMETHING!"

"Goddamn it, Weasley!" Draco screamed at Ron, who just smirked at him. "Do you have absolutely no tact whatsoever?"

"Not a shred of it. Ask my brothers." He gave a diabolical grin. "Oh, terribly sorry. Was I interrupting something?"

"No," Harry said very firmly. "What did you find?"

Ron brought them back to the library where Hermione showed them a tome that was so old that it was written in Old English. Of course Hermione could read it, the know it all, and she told them that it was an account of a wizard who was able to tame a dragon using Parseltongue. If Harry could speak to the dragon, he could use diplomacy instead of having to resort to violence.

"Aren't we supposed to be killing the dragon?" Draco pointed out.

"I can't see Charlie standing for that," Ron said. "He'd have gotten arrested for punching the minister or something like that."

Hermione shrugged. "Given historical precedent, it's more likely he'll be having to retrieve something from the dragon's nest. But I do agree we need to come up with a backup plan just in case the dragon isn't able or willing to speak to Harry." She tilted her head, a smirk on her face. "Unless, of course, you have something more important to be doing?"

"No! No, not at all! Let's get researching!" Hermione chuckled. Draco couldn't help but groan. A part of him thought he was happier back when he was left in the dark about his "affliction." Now he knew he had a crush on the Boy Who Lived…who was also the Boy Who May Not Survive the Year. Spectacular. Just spectacular. Why did everything happen to him?