Draco sat at the desk in his suite of rooms, dwarfed by the precarious piles of parchment and books he had teetering around him. He was on a mission. He was on a mission to support Harry, who was very clearly on a mission.
Something had changed in Harry around Christmas. A drive had crystallized within him, and his Teacher's Pet mode had been active and aggressively seeking out the next task to conquer ever since.
Draco supported all of this, of course, but Teacher's Pet Harry wasn't great at communicating, unless that was his current self-imposed assignment, which left Draco feeling lost and useless more often than not.
He hated being in the way.
So, while Harry was doing another Occlumency lesson with Father, Draco was currently taking a page out of Harry's book and writing a list of his own potential tasks that would help further their goals of helping Professor Snape, being the top two students of their year, and most importantly, keeping Harry safe and alive.
Draco had just finished organizing a letter writing campaign with the help of Terrence Higgs and Gemma Farley, to get as many Slytherins as possible to write into the Daily Prophet to attest to Professor Snape's innocence and pristine character.
He and Farley had brainstormed some other ideas, like a hunger strike, for when term started up again, but neither of them liked the idea of kids, and Harry in particular, skipping meals. They were currently leaning towards an organized walkout, complete with invitations to every reporter they could think of, for one specific day.
Draco had also read ahead in his Transfigurations textbook, since that was one of this strongest subjects, and tried to find patterns within the wording and wand-work of the spells that would allow him to begin experimenting with alterations and maybe even spell creation, if he got the hang of it. It was an exciting idea, and one he knew Harry would be too busy to do himself, with his potions obsession, Occlumency lessons, and current Teacher's Pet warpath.
In the last few days, Draco had taken more Transfiguration notes than he had done all term. He was beginning to feel like a teacher's pet himself, although he knew he lacked Harry's skill at pattern recognition and lateral thinking.
Mr. Bagman had stopped by for his promised private lesson, which had been awesome, except the advice he had given Draco had burrowed itself in Draco's brain and wouldn't leave him alone.
It was something that Draco already knew, even, he just didn't know what to do to fix it.
Draco's technical skills on a broom were greater than Harry's, and yet Harry was the better flyer. Mr. Bagman had pinpointed the reason why immediately.
Draco's fear was holding him back. He knew what to do, and he did it, but between thinking and acting, he hesitated. Fear of failure, Fear of injury, Fear of looking stupid, it all culminated in Draco being too slow in his reaction speeds to meaningfully compete.
He knew that, but how did one go about not being afraid?
Draco had no idea.
He had dug up some dubious looking self-help books from the turn of the century from the Malfoy library, but Draco wasn't holding his breathe that he'd find his needed answers there.
It didn't help that Draco had run into more of his ancestors' portraits the other day, who had been gossiping about the 'half blood servant' who was staying with them and being given far too much lenience in his duties, and were also incensed that Grandfather Abraxas had been moved from his place of honor in the family wing.
Draco had always known what his ancestors thought of muggleborns and half-bloods, had always passively thought that way himself, but after getting to know Harry, after seeing his skills with magic and his sharp mind, and then to hear his relatives assume he was slow because of his blood status, it made Draco rethink a lot of things.
He knew that his father would never willingly scrape and bow to anyone else, like what the nasty rumors were saying. A Malfoy had more dignity than that, no matter what, but the more Draco thought about it, the more he worried that his ancestors' point of view aligned with The Dark Lord a lot more than they did with Dumbledore or the Ministry.
What did that mean?
Draco hated The Dark Lord, because the psycho had tried to kill Harry, but what if he and Harry weren't friends? What if he still went along with his family portraits' beliefs?
What side would he be on then?
Even the way he and Pansy had always talked to each other seemed wrong to him, now. He had convinced her to tone it down in the dorms for Harry's sake, but what if she still believed those things?
It made Draco uncomfortable to think about it. It made him afraid.
If Ministry officials ever confiscated the family portraits, they would condemn them all, the whole Malfoy line, as bigoted fools.
And they weren't even his scariest ancestors.
Yesterday, Draco and Harry had been playing hide and seek, when Draco had found Harry standing in front of the blank space of wall that concealed the entrance to the old Mael Fae caves deep beneath the manor.
Harry had been in some kind of trance, and when Draco had brought him out of it, Harry had insisted that something down there was calling to him. Draco didn't know what to make of that, but it had been terrifying.
The Mael Faes had originally settled the Malfoy lands well over a thousand years ago, and they had not been nice people.
They were known for performing the worst sorts of Black magic. They had sacrificed their own children in gruesome rituals that had even made his father look sick when Draco had first asked about them.
There were rumors that they had enchanted and enslaved a forest Faerie and forced the bloodlines to merge, but no one in the family portraits was old enough to substantiate the claim, not that they would admit to such atrocities, or to the trace of inhuman blood in the line, if they could.
Father had shown Draco the very tippy top of the cave system once, so that Draco would know where the family's darkest secrets were buried when he eventually became Lord Malfoy.
Draco's skin had crawled with the clinging residue of ancient dark magic for weeks after that, and he hadn't even gone far enough down to see anything.
What could possibly have attached itself to Harry strongly enough to lure him down there?
It was horrifying to think about; one more thing that made Draco Malfoy afraid.
And then, pulled from his thoughts, Draco was confronted by the ashen face of one Harry Potter, who had burst into his room and said that Dobby had just given him a dire but insulting warning.
What had gone wrong now?