Harry Potter and the Darkest Winter

Summary: Voldemort is a powerful rebel, taking control of the Wizarding World from the inside. Harry Potter is a fifth year Slytherin, close friends with Draco Malfoy, and a feared traitor by not only his parents but his childhood friends. AU, no Boy Who Lived, pre-slash.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Harry Potter woke up late on Sunday morning to beams of sunlight coming though the green hangings he'd forgotten to fully close in his drunken state. Looking down the first thing he noticed was Draco Malfoy laying across his legs, fully clothed in a long sleeved shirt and black slacks, looking perfectly tidy except for the mussed hair and one missing shoe.

"Oi," said Harry, nudging Draco, he turned over with a grumble, "Oi!" he repeated, kicking Draco's leg. Draco stirred, and opened one eye, the eye narrowed into a glare and he stared hard at Harry.

"Out of my bed, Potter."

Harry snorted and kicked him again, "Stuff it, Draco, get off my legs." Draco huffed and sat up, getting a good look at Harry, he immediately started chuckling, "What?" asked Harry.

"Nice face," said Draco, tripping as he stumbled of the bed, his one shoed footing causing him to lose balance and trip.

"What do mean?" said Harry as he looked down, noticing for the first time the green and silver war paint on his bare chest. He groaned and wiped at his cheeks, his hands turning green as he did, and murmured, "Bloody hell." Last night had been the celebration of another winning Quiddich game, and as star seeker Harry had been hailed like a king. Everyone knew that Harry's skills were the reason Slytherin dominated the pitch. Even Snape, with his dislike for the Potter family would grudgingly acknowledge it.

Draco looked up at him from where he laid sprawled on the floor with a smile, "Somebody had a good time last night."

"Well, look at yourself, you've even got a few hairs out of place. Not the proper way for a Malfoy to behave."

Draco sneered, standing and straightening himself, "Not like you know anything about proper," he leaned close to Harry, and whispered into his ear, "Halfblood."

Harry glared and shoved Draco away from him. Draco smirked and raised an eyebrow, challenging. Harry stood, getting close enough to Draco to whisper back, "Watch who you say that in front of, Malfoy," he looked around the room at the beds with their curtains still drawn, "Wouldn't want to get me killed."

Draco guffawed, "Anyone who wanted to find out could," he shook his head, his voice still low, "A quick peek at your mudblood Mum's maiden name and everyone would know the smear on your bloodline."

Harry's head pounded, his hangover making itself known, rubbing his temples he said shortly, "Enough, Draco. I know it's not a secret, but making it common knowledge could get me in trouble."

Draco's mask broke and his face softened, "I'm teasing you, Harry, for Merlin's sake. I'm not about to go blabbing it around the Great Hall, you know."

Harry sat back down on his bed with a sigh, "I know that, but these are dangerous times, Draco. Sure, Hogwarts is safe, with Dumbledore keeping watch on us, but the Dark Lord's powerful outside the wards, and he has eyes in every corner." Harry pointedly looked towards Blaise Zabini's bed. "My parents and I may not see eye to eye on a lot of things, but I don't want to see my Mother murdered because I wasn't wise enough to keep my head down."

Draco's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline, "It would be wise of your parents to do same."

Harry didn't miss Draco's meaning; his parents were known members of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's secret army against Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Over the past few decades Voldemort had been slowly working to gain total domination over the British Wizarding World, currently he had plants working in nearly every department of the Ministry of Magic, taking control of it from the inside. Hogwarts was much the same, though it was considered a safe house for many opposing Voldemort's reign, due the Dumbledore's guard, it was impossible to keep out the many child spies and so called "neutral" teachers that the corrupt Ministry assigned. Because of these circumstances, it was near suicide to talk about ones less than perfect blood status and any children of Order of the Phoenix members had rare contact with their parents, couldn't meet in the open, and were written down as "traitors to the cause" by the Dark Lord's spies if they entered Dumbledore's office.

Harry's parents were in a Fidelius Charm protected location, their secret keeper, Peter Pettigrew, was a spy for Dumbledore and acting as a Death Eater. Harry hadn't seen them except for brief meetings in nearly two years. It was common knowledge that, since Harry had been sorted into Slytherin and made friends among Death Eater children, his parents didn't trust him to keep the Order's secrets and he spent most holidays at Hogwarts.

Things had only worsened when Harry's parents, James and Lily, had gotten word of Harry going to Malfoy Manor for Easter Holiday last year, and had ceased all contact with him, fearing he'd been turned to the dark. Though, Harry was sure his parents hadn't abandoned him, but were waiting for the perfect moment to pull him out of Hogwarts and hide him away from the influence of people such as the Malfoys. Harry wasn't sure how he felt about this, for he loved Hogwarts, and Draco was his best friend.

Harry sighed once more, looking up to meet Draco's eyes, all his weariness and worry over his parents shining through. Draco forced a smile on his face with visible effort and sneaked a peek at the other beds, making sure no one was watching them. When he was sure they were safe, he pulled Harry up and embraced him. Harry returned the hug, nuzzling his face in to Draco's neck and breathing deeply.

"I'll keep you safe," said Draco, fiercely protective, "You're mine, more than you were ever your parent's. Malfoy's don't let others hurt their own."

Harry grinned; Malfoy's guarded their loved ones to the death and bugger the rest. Potter's, on the other hand, were generally of the light; martyrs, willing to make sacrifices that helped the good of the world. Harry disagreed with that ideal, he would much rather his parents being known to the world as cowards who deserted the cause and lived rather than have them die war heroes. Bravery and honor counted for little in the Slytherin dungeons.

Harry stepped back and nodded at Draco, trying to say how much that meant to him without actually speaking the words.

Draco licked his lips, face thoughtful, and said, "Harry-" before he was cut off by Theodore Nott, his head peeking out from his bed hangings, laughing hysterically at Harry's painted face and green boxers, which were covered in golden snitches charmed to zoom back and forth. Rolling his eyes, Draco stalked off to the bathroom with a sigh.

By the time Draco claimed Harry was suitably put together enough to appear in public it was lunchtime and they were both famished. Once they exited the safety of the common room and entered the less predictable hallways their demeanors immediately sobered, for at least in Slytherin they knew who the spies were, knew who to be careful around. The rest of the school was less certain.

The Great Hall was a generally somber place, with the occasional out bursts of laughter from the Gryffindor table, the cocky students who often flaunted their loyalty to the light, uncaring of who heard them, unknowing of the Death Eaters that lurked, who were taking notes for the moment the students left the safety of the school and would become a part of the "missing" reported each morning in the Daily Prophet. The more careful students ate their meals silently and had only whispered conversations to their housemates, all the while looking around nervously, unsure who was listening. Classrooms were much the same, even worse considering they were alone with a teacher who was either a likely Death Eater or Order of the Phoenix member. Harry and Draco made their way to the Slytherin table, sitting and beginning to eat their breakfast silently, and thus joining the ranks of the careful students.

Harry looked up over his pumpkin juice, quickly scanning the hall for anyone paying too much attention to him, and his gaze was immediately drawn to Ron Weasely, more commonly known to the Slytherins as Weasel Six, who was staring at him intently. Ron and Harry had been friends before they went to Hogwarts, both of their families were Order of the Phoenix members and they had spent many hours playing while their parents went on covert operations or were in meetings with the the others. Harry could remember many occasions where he'd spent the night at the Weasely family home, aptly named the Burrow, and enjoyed Ron's company.

However, since the moment Harry had been placed in Slytherin all of his childhood friends, the Weaselys, Neville Longbottom, as well as students from houses other than Gryffindor, such as Susan Bones, Ernie Macmillan, and Terry Boot, had written him of as a traitor. If it weren't for his parents loyalty, Harry was sure he would have been on the receiving end of a few punches.

Now though, Ron seemed to be trying to communicate something to Harry with his eyes, though what it was Harry was completely unable to decipher.

"What's wrong with Weasel number six? He looks like he's seizing." said Draco, with a feigned air of disinterest, but Harry could read the real question in his voice, what the fuck does Weasely want?

Harry shook his head, trying to make his confusion evident on his face so that the Weasel would give up and stop making a scene. He looked back to his meal, content to ignore Ron for the rest of lunch.

And the food was really quite delicious today…

Smack

Harry blinked, a piece of toast had come flying from the Gryffindor table and had hit him square in the face. Draco was glaring intensely at the Weasely section of the table, where Ron was still trying to get his attention, and the people around him were starting to notice. Cursing Gryffindor stupidity, Harry faked huffing irritation, a perfectly acceptable Slytherin reaction to being hit in the face with toast, but not wanting to stoop to the level of a neanderthal Gryffindor, and stood to storm out the Hall.

Draco could also see the danger in the situation and, sparing a regretful look at his unfinished breakfast, followed Harry back to the common room.

"The hell was that?" said Draco, the minute he and Harry entered their dormitory, before answering Harry did a quick scan, making sure they were alone.

"Not a bloody clue," said Harry, "I think he was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't make anything out past, 'Help! I'm choking!'"

Draco snorted, "What does he think he's doing, making eyes at you right out in the open like that? The great buffoon, he'll get you both killed."

Harry nodded and paused for a moment before saying, "I just can't believe he threw toast at me."

Draco looked grave as he said, "You'll need to wash your face again, the butter will cause pimples."

Harry groaned, hitting his palm to his forehead.

Harry sat in the library, working alone on a foot long Charms essay Flitwick had assigned. He was gratefully Draco wasn't with him, because Draco detested Charms and would wine about the content for hours while Harry tried to work. Harry, also, quite liked Charms and had a bit of a knack for the subject, though admitting this to Draco would earn him a two minute long disbelieving look and a twenty minute lecture on how useless Charms were. It had been two days since Ron had thrown toast at Harry, and blessedly no Weasely harassment had occurred since then. Though, that could have been due to the constant presence of Draco at Harry's side. After the first incident, Draco had taken it among himself to be his personal body guard and keep him out of "those grubby, underclass Weasel hands" so that they couldn't "murder him and rob the valuables from his dead body just to feed the whole Weasel den" as Draco had said.

Now though, Draco was serving detention with Professor Sinistra for having Crabbe and Goyle dangle first year Hufflepuffs from the Astronomy Tower, Draco claimed that she had absolutely no proof, and warned her loudly that his father, a member of the school's board of governors, would hear about this. Harry had rolled his eyes, sure, Draco's pride and preening could be obnoxious and Harry became very short tempered with him at times, but at other times Harry couldn't help but find Draco's attitude charming…

Shaking his head, Harry continued his work with a faint smile on his face.

Merlin, cleaning charms, what a bore…

"Psst!"

Harry froze, looking for the source of the noise, unable to find it, he bent back down over his text book, back to his reading.

Cleaning charms are especially useful to a family who does not have the benefit of House Elves or who live in a Muggle home-

"PSST! Potter!"

This time Harry noticed two gangly, spotty, red headed figures sitting a table away. With a muttered curse Harry met the eyes of the Weasely twins, who were looking at him with a grin.

"Dropped your book, Potter!" said one of them as the other handed an unfamiliar tome over to Harry, who looked at it wearily, not taking it from the offered hand.

The Weasel holding the book sighed and looked briefly serious, saying in a low voice "Just take it, Potter." Cautiously, Harry did so, wincing as he did, waiting for the book to explode into Gryffindor colored glitter or cause him to break out in boils. Nothing happened, he looked up at the twins, who were back to grinning. Harry blew a hair out of his eyes as he turned back to his own table.

Harry weighed the options of opening the book now versus opening it in the common room. Really, the worst that could happen now was that it might blow up in his face, quite literally. Whereas, he also feared that the book had spells for spying, and bringing it to Slytherin would be a grave mistake… Shrugging and hoping for the best Harry open the book.

Nothing happened.

Blinking, Harry stared at the first page. It was just a fifth year Arithmancy book, but Harry didn't take Arithmancy, so he would have no use for it. Trying to understand the Weasely's meaning, Harry opened the book in the middle and it fell open to a page that was marked with a piece of parchment. On that piece of parchment was a note.

Meet us on the seventh floor by the tapestry of Baranabas the Barmy teaching trolls ballet.

Tomorrow, 10 pm,

The D. A.

P.S. This note will self destruct in 10 seconds.

Harry blinked, yet again, at the P.S. and a moment later the letter disappeared in a puff of smoke.