Title: Groundwire Remix
By: Midnight Unicorn

Once again, this fic is a challenge to Midnight Genius' Ground Wire. Boy do I fail at life; it's been four freaking months since I updated. And here I was, thinking I could put out six chapters before the seventh book.

Anyway, each chapter takes place over the course of one school year; this is Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy's third year. The italics at the beginning are one of their thoughts at age seventeen.

The underline/italics in front of each section tell you where in the book the following scene could have happened; all page numbers come from the American hardback versions. Canon is important to me, and part of the reason this is written as it is, and on that note, I messed with a couple of scenes from the book. You'll see what I mean.

Warning: This chapter is still clean for boy love of any tangible level, but it's just round the bend, don't you worry.

Disclaimer: all recognizable names and places are property of J.K. Rowling and I am making no money off of this, just a couple of late nights.

Please review, love constructive criticism and any ideas anyone might have of the probability of this or that circumstance, and the pointing out of mistakes in canonology and/or spelling and grammar is much appreciated.

Year Three: check.

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It shouldn't have come to this. There must have been another way. God, I wish there had been.

Pre-Page 1

Potter-

You are completely mental and unbelievably lucky, but I suppose those are Gryffindor traits. I can't get around the fact that you went into the Forest voluntarily, never mind the tiny incident of man-eating spiders chasing and yet managing not to catch you. I swear, a hundred or so years from now, that'll be in Hogwarts, A History, and some poor student is going to test his luck.
Happy Holidays.

-D. Malfoy

Harry smiled faintly as he read the brief letter from the blond Slytherin and then looked at Arden, Malfoy's eagle owl. "Can you take a reply now, or would you rather rest the night?" he asked it.

Arden blinked, then hooted tiredly but stuck out his leg pointedly. Harry settled the bird with some water and Owl treats before grabbing a quill and parchment.

Malfoy-

Page 55

"Potter?"

Harry turned quickly, one corner of his mouth just lifting as he spotted his rival peer within moments of entering Diagon Alley. "Hello, Malfoy. Having a nice holiday?"

"Yes, but…what are you doing here…alone?" Malfoy questioned awkwardly.

Harry quirked an eyebrow, confused and slightly irritated. "You're alone," he pointed out.

"My mum's just at the Apothecary." Malfoy still had that weird, half-concerned frown. "But I mean… haven't you heard about Sirius Black?"

"Yeah, he was on the Muggle news, too," Harry replied. He was starting to get a bit anxious; what was he missing?

"You're not worried?"

Harry shrugged. "Should I be?"

Malfoy glanced around. It was only then that Harry remembered where they were and that in the eyes of the wizarding world they were enemies.

Although…as Harry looked about, it didn't seem as though anyone nearby made the connection that two teenage boys talking amiably in the alley entrance could be the famous Harry Potter and notorious Draco Malfoy.

"Do you want to go out to London proper?" Malfoy suggested quietly.

"Well, Fudge told me not to—"

"The Minister told you not to?" Malfoy interrupted, impressed. "They must be serious."

"Serious about what?" Now Harry was more than a little annoyed.

"Never mind; can you get to London?" Malfoy switched topics.

"Yes, I can. Why do you want to?" Harry asked curiously.

Malfoy shrugged, looking evasive. "No reason."

Harry grinned. "Liar. Just give me a minute to get by Tom, the barkeep."

"Right; I'll tell mother. It's good I'm with her; father would never let me go." He was walking away before Harry could get a better explanation.

He doubled back into the Leaky Cauldron to get his invisibility cloak and waited by the door until someone swung it open enough for him to slip out; sometimes his slight size was useful.

He glanced around and then tugged off the cloak when no one was looking and stuffed it in his pocket, loitering like a normal teenage boy waiting for a friend.

"That was quick," Malfoy announced his presence. He had changed into muggle clothes. They were newer and more fashionable than Harry's too-large hand-me-downs from Dudley but they both looked completely unremarkable.

"Thank you. So; why exactly are you so eager to wander around London? Diagon Alley is much more interesting." Harry picked up the previous subject.

Malfoy scowled. "I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone."

Harry laughed briefly, sardonically. "Be serious; who you I tell? Who would believe I'd even talked to you?" They were walking closer together than either of them would have preferred but they did not want to get separated in the crowd jostling them on all sides.

Malfoy conceded that point with a slight tilt of his head. "I'm just kind of interested—but not really interested—in how it is Muggles live without magic."

Harry wanted to laugh, because he certainly hadn't expected that, but he didn't because he knew Malfoy would take that the wrong way. "Why don't you take Muggle Studies?" he suggested instead.

Malfoy scowled again. "Are you mental? My father would disown me."

Harry also frowned; that seemed rather extreme to him but from what he'd seen of Lucius Malfoy last year he couldn't exactly refute the younger Malfoy. "So you're secretly just like Mr. Weasley."

Malfoy physically recoiled for a moment, honestly offended. "I am not a muggle-loving nutter," he retorted hotly. "Forget I said anything, it doesn't matter anyway."

Harry rolled his eyes, pushing his glasses up as he did so. "Whatever. Did you have any particular place you wanted to go?"

Page 122

Harry debated whether he should go see Malfoy or not. He was pretty angry with the blond as it was, but he wasn't completely sure the other was alright. Ron and Neville were snoring noisily, making it hard to sleep when he made up his mind.

Throwing off his blanket and locating his invisibility cloak, Harry crept down to the Common Room. Two or three people were fast asleep around the fire. Nota one of them stirred as he slipped out of the portrait hole and picked a path to the hospital wing illuminated by the fraction of the moon peeking through high stone windows.

The ward was unlocked and he opened the door silently, sliding off his cloak at the same time. He barely had time to hide it when the occupant of the far bed sat up. "Who's that?" he hissed loudly into the darkness.

"Hush," Harry scolded. "D'you want to wake Madam Pomfrey?"

There was a pause. "Potter?" Harry moved closer and a bar of silver moonlight fell on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"You're not really hurt, are you?" he answered knowingly.

Malfoy scowled, pale face ill-looking in the half-darkness. "Am too. I don't feel it, but Madam Pomfrey can't get it to close up. She thinks it was something on the beast's talons."

"You should've been paying attention," Harry reprimanded, feeling foolish standing over the Slytherin and sitting on the bed beside him. "Hagrid told us hippogriffs were proud and disliked insults."

Malfoy shrugged with his good arm, gaze sliding sideways, affecting a disinterested air. "Did you really pass out on the train?"

Harry flushed, humiliated. "Yeah," he admitted. "Or near enough."

"Whatever you remembered must've been horrible," Malfoy commented, watching him keenly. Harry hitched his shoulders unhelpfully. "Well, anyway…you had Divination this morning, didn't you?" Harry nodded. "Who was supposed to die in your class?"

Harry's lips twisted into a derisive smile. "Me."

Malfoy looked a little surprised then also smirked faintly. "I suppose that's no stretch, what with Black af—" he cut off abruptly, looking confused like he didn't know how to cover the slip.

"Black being after me," Harry concluded shrewdly.

"Oh, so you know then?" Malfoy sounded slightly relieved.

"Yeah; Mr. Weasley told me." He glanced around, standing. "I'd better go."

"Right." Malfoy looked a little broody as Harry turned to go. "And Potter…" Harry looked back. "Thanks for checking to see if I was okay."

Harry let out an amused little puff of air. "Sure, Malfoy."

Page 141

"Whoa!" Malfoy and Harry rounded a corner at the same time. A quick turn on the balls of his feet moved Malfoy out of the danger of Harry stumbling to a stop. "Don't you ever watch where you're going, Potter?"

"Of, hush," Harry rolled his eyes. "You're no better. And what's your problem with Professor Lupin, anyway?"

"What?" Malfoy redirected his train of thought. "Oh, just what I said."

"Who cares about the state of his clothes?" Harry demanded. "I look just as bad in Dudley's old clothes."

Malfoy shrugged, unmoved. "It's different. He should be able to afford at least a better set of second hand robes." He waved aside Harry's response upon seeing the Gryffindor's furious expression. "Just drop it; Merlin, if it bothers you that much I'll leave off him."

Harry eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "He's not that important. I don't suppose you got to practice with you r Nimbus much this summer?" He turned the conversation to the right topic. Harry shook his head; Malfoy stepped around him and continued walking. "I'll see on the pitch, then, six o'clock tomorrow."

"Can you ride with your arm like that?" Harry called skeptically.

Malfoy rotated his shoulder experimentally, walking backwards. "We'll see, won't we?"

"Prick," Harry murmured, surprised to find his voice almost fond. Shaking his head, he returned to Gryffindor Tower.

Page 142

Despite his careless zooming around the pitch, Harry kept on eye on Malfoy the first few minutes in the air, making sure the blond could control his broom one-handed.

"Still not healing?" he asked, drifting up to Malfoy.

"Slowly. Pomfrey explained why it was taking so long but it went right over my head." He smirked ironically. "She probably shouldn't've tried to tell me while putting in the stitches."

"Did it hurt?" Harry inquired curiously.

"No, but it was the grossest thing I'd ever seen."

Harry chuckled. "I got stitches once; I think I was seven or so."

"What happened?" Lesser flyers would not be able to converse at their speeds, but even if they weren't the best in the world, they were pretty damn good.

"My cousin was pushing me around on the way home from school once and I fell and sliced my hand on a bit of broken glass." Harry examined his right palm. "No scars, but I couldn't write for the longest time; about a dozen stitches in all."

"Your cousin's a bully, huh?" Malfoy wasn't exactly sympathetic, but he wasn't taunting either.

"Yeah. Although I had him scared a good while summer before last until Dobby used magic and they found out I'm not allowed to do magic outside school." Harry looked regretful for a moment.

"But you blew up your aunt last August." Harry looked surprised. "My father told me. How come they didn't expel you?"

Harry snorted. "Fudge was glad I was still alive."

Malfoy sneered appropriately. "Yes, his image would never recover if the Boy Who Lived was murdered during his term. Probably permanently damaged as it from Black's break-out."

"Wonder how he did it," Harry mused. They spent their time batting theories across the pitch until curfew crept up on them.

Also page 142

Malfoy was emerging from the hospital wing when Harry spotted him, massaging his arm, pointed face gathered in a frown. He saw Harry and glanced around unhappily.

She still can't heal it?" Harry asked, low-voiced and hurried.

Malfoy shrugged carelessly, and then winced. "Quidditch practice just agitates it. Pomfrey's saying I might not be able to play in the first game if it doesn't get better quicker."

"But you've got ages, still, till the first game," Harry protested. "And Flint wouldn't take you out, would he?"

Malfoy scowled. "Flint would do anything if it pissed me off." Harry had a sudden recollection of Malfoy, scared and white-faced on the floor of the Slytherin locker room. He also remembered his promise not to ask about it. "Anyway, I'm not going to let up in practice, no matter what she says."

Harry shrugged in acceptance. "If you like. Maybe we shouldn't fly so much, though. So your arm can rest more."

Malfoy nodded. "Probably a good idea. I've got to work on that essay for Potions. I'll see you around, Potter."

Page 144

"Malfoy!" Harry hissed, looking around a tall library shelf and the blond turned away from scanning book spines. "Help me."

"With what?" he whispered, frowning as he assessed their surroundings for eavesdroppers.

"Potions; I don't know what I did wrong in class," Harry explained, half-frantic because the essay was due the next day and judging by the numerous cross-outs he wasn't getting very far.

"Why don't you ask Granger?" Malfoy asked softly, examining the scribbles on the parchment.

"At the moment she's liable to bite my head off; she's in over her head with all her classes, but don't tell her that, and—"

"Right here," Malfoy cut him off. "You put in four crickets and a third cup of lily roots, right?"

"No, half a cup, but yes to the crickets." Harry replied.

"Well, maybe you meant half a cup but you didn't put in enough," Malfoy explained. "And the crickets were supposed to be live. That's why so many people got it wrong." Harry groaned. "I'm surprised Granger didn't tell you."

"She was helping Neville," Harry answered distractedly, writing in narrow, scurrying script.

"I see." Harry waved good-bye vaguely as Malfoy eased away into the aisle between the shelves.

Page 150

"What's up, Potter?" Harry glanced over his shoulder, halting his already slow pace for Malfoy to draw even with him.

"I can't go to Hogsmeade," Harry explained gloomily.

Malfoy looked shocked for a moment, then it faded as he reasoned out the why not. "McGonagall wouldn't let you go without a signed slip?"

Harry shook his head, and then frowned. "Malfoy, your arm…"

Malfoy grimaced, not bothering to hide it now that Harry had seen. "It's not as bad as it looks," he assured. "Pomfrey took out the stitches to try this cream. It works, but apparently it doesn't allow scabbing. I'm just going to change the bandages and get a Blood-Replenishing Potion."

"Go on, then," Harry insisted, giving the shoulder of his uninjured arm a slight push.

"Worried, Potter?" Malfoy teased, strolling on.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hardly." It was mostly true; Malfoy was in the best hands if something was serious.

Page 151

Frustrated with his peers' excitement over the impending Hogsmeade weekend Harry took his Nimbus out to the Quidditch pitch to relax a little. And relaxing meant pushing his broom as fast as it would go in dizzying and death-defying aerial maneuvers.

This plan was altered when he found the air over the stadium already occupied. Familiar white-blond hair flashed in the encroaching dusk, and Harry held his breath as the distant Slytherin executed a difficult mid-air roll one-handed.

"Do you have a death wish?" he yelled as he kicked off and Malfoy pulled up sharply.

"Do you?" Malfoy retorted. "I saw your team practicing in that storm the other evening."

"The match won't be called off because of a rainstorm." Harry countered. "Our team practices in whatever is thrown at us."

"Right. Lightening, hail and gale-force winds are the same as rain. Why couldn't I see that?" Malfoy said sarcastically. Harry snorted. "But seriously, Flint is just as tough as Wood and he canceled last night's practice."

"Better for us," Harry answered unsympathetically. "How's your arm?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and his sleeve up. Where heavy bandages had encumbered the limb for weeks was now only a clean white wrap. "Almost entirely healed. There won't even be a scar in the end. But Flint insisted I keep up the act. And I probably shouldn't be telling you that," he added in an annoyed huff.

Harry laughed and shot up towards the heavy clouds.

Page 166

"So what do you think?" Pansy looked at him expectantly.

"Dumbledore's a fool, but he's not stupid enough to hire someone who'd help Black break in." Malfoy replied wearily, getting up, skillfully maneuvering his bag around the arm in the sling. He glanced at Crabbe and Goyle who showed no indication of finishing lunch any time soon. Pansy turned to Zabani to try and sell her theory of how Black had gotten in; unexpectedly Malfoy's gaze caught on Potter's as it drifted past Gryffindor table.

He didn't even consider how exposed his actions were as he glanced pointedly at the door and jerked his head discreetly. Potter lowered his chin in assent and made an excuse to Granger and Weasley as Malfoy strode out. Potter caught up with him a few corridors away from the Entrance Hall.

"What's up?" he began curiously.

"Nothing. Just curious as to how you think Black got in."

Potter rolled his eyes. "That's all anyone's talking about. Did you hear Hannah Abbott this morning?"

Malfoy snorted. "Yeah; a flowering shrub. No accounting it's fall."

Potter nodded, but then his amusement faded. "McGonagall's banned me from going out to the pitch without a monitor."

Malfoy was hardly surprised, but he was not expecting to feel as disappointed as he did. "So no more pre-curfew therapy flights?"

The corner of Harry's mouth quirked but he shook his head. "I've got to go back."

Malfoy nodded tiredly and watched his retreating back.

Page 169

Malfoy saw Potter approaching and stopped. Potter slowed briefly, and then marched over purposefully. "I suppose it was all Flint's idea?" he said without preamble.

Malfoy took a step back, surprised the Gryffindor wasn't angry. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Half the team is furious we won't get to flatten Gryffindor and the rest of us are just glad we won't be playing in tomorrow's weather which is supposed to be worse."

Simultaneously, they looked out a nearby window lashed with rain as heavy thunderclouds boiled and brought an early night. "It can get worse?" Harry said in a hollow sort of voice.

Malfoy laughed weakly and patted Harry's shoulder. "Luck to you. You need it, but you seem to have it in abundance."

Page 183

"You still awake?" Harry lifted one hand despondently, the only indication he heard the soft query. Malfoy tip-toed into the ward and sat on the edge of Harry's bed, looking ready to run. "Have you slept at all?"

"I keep waking up," Harry answered dully.

"Don't be so melodramatic," Malfoy said bracingly. "It's just one game."

Harry grimaced, turning on his side, back to the Slytherin. "It's not just that."

"Your broom?" Malfoy guessed. "I heard it was smashed by the Whomping Willow."

Harry snorted bitterly. "Smashed is a gentle way to put it. It's humiliating," he exclaimed quietly with unexpected savagery. Malfoy leaned back hastily when Harry sat up suddenly to avoid knocking their foreheads together. "No one else passes out when the dementors are around. They get scared as hell, but they don't faint like…" he flopped ungracefully against his pillow, chest depressing in a loud, heavy sigh. "Like some spineless twit. And…" He gazed at Malfoy's face, taking in the attentive frown and then looked away. "Never mind."

Malfoy resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Buck up, Potter. You're probably not the only person to pass out, and it's really not the end of the world." Harry didn't even react to the scathing tone. "Okay, what's really wrong? You're an incurable optimist; that's the only way we ended up friends. What are you brooding over?"

Harry scowled, disliking Malfoy's interrogation, but he kind of wanted to run his fears by someone else without being scoffed at. "Promise not to laugh?" Malfoy nodded without hesitation. "It was…it was the Grim."

Malfoy's silver eyes narrowed. "Like Trelawney's Grim?"

"No…I mean, kind of, but—"

"Harry she's a crock. You're not taken in by—"

"No!" Harry interrupted, slapping a hand over his eyes in frustration. "I've seen the Grim twice, once over the summer before I ever heard of the Grim and I almost got run over by the Knight Bus. And just yesterday I saw it before the dementors came."

Malfoy's pale face was inscrutable, and then he held up two fingers. "Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. I wouldn't worry just yet."

It was such a lame reassurance, Harry couldn't help a brief laugh and he actually felt better. Not much, but it was something.

Page 189

Harry was surprised when, visiting the Owlery and Hedwig the Thursday after the match not only did his snowy owl perch on his outstretched arm but Malfoy's eagle owl landed on the ledge in front of him. "Hello, Arden," he greeted cautiously, stroking his great head briefly.

Hedwig nipped his ear in irritation and he turned his attention to her.

"Are you joking?" Arden snapped his beak upon his master's entrance and turned his back on those present. Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Did I miss something?" Harry asked mildly.

Malfoy huffed, sneaking up on Arden and reaching out. The eagle owl screeched and took off for higher perches. Malfoy scowled. "I had him out on the grounds and I was talking to Crabbe and Goyle; he wanted attention and took off in a tizz when he didn't get it."

Hedwig laughed, gently stroking Hedwig's chest. "I'm not the only one who pisses off my owl."

Malfoy scrunched up his nose, facing Harry with his hands indignantly planted on his hips. "I suppose I could use a school owl, even though it's so important."

There was a pause and then a 'whoosh' of wings as Arden fluttered down to land on Malfoy's shoulder, looking for all the world as if the Slytherin was another stone ledge. Harry smothered a snicker, but his lips were quivering with a repressed smirk.

"Changed your mind, did you?" Malfoy remarked blithely. Arden bit his ear; the blond grimaced and the owl let go, sticking out his leg. Malfoy withdrew a roll of parchment from his robe pocket and swiftly bound it to the owl.

Harry and Malfoy watched him in silence as he grew smaller and smaller in the vast sky. "Do you realize you're smiling?" Harry queried idly.

"Am I?" Malfoy responded just as vaguely, raising a hand to smooth the curl of his lips. "Sometimes he's my best friend and sometimes he's…"

"Not?" Harry suggested.

Malfoy nodded. "Yeah. Something like that."

Also page 189

Malfoy was yawning widely when Harry strolled into the abandoned classroom; he laughed. "Long night?"

"Very," the blond nodded tiredly. "I was helping Crabbe and Goyle with potions last night. I.e., recopying mine twice and doing the Charms that was due this morning. How'd you ditch Weasley and Granger?"

"Hermione's in the library, Ron is catching up on his missed sleep. So," he dropped his bag on a nearby desk. "Transfiguration or Potions?"

"Transfiguration," Malfoy groaned, falling into the seat opposite of Harry. "I've had enough of Potions."

Smiling faintly, Harry freed his Standard Book of Spells from his bag.

Page 190

It was just a brief moment; Harry and Malfoy passes right by each other the morning of the Hogsmeade visit in the Entrance Hall as Harry made for the marble stairs and Malfoy headed for the doors, Pansy clinging to one of his arms, Crabbe and Goyle on his other side.

Neither had any intention of acknowledging the other. One foot on the bottom step, Harry turned inexorably back. A moment later Malfoy's head swiveled to glance at him and their gazes met.

Harry waved, a little hesitant; Malfoy responded with a sneer, but it wasn't quite as harsh.

'Happy Holidays, Malfoy.'

'Whatever, Potter.'

Page 235

"Uhg, I forgot my book," Harry groaned as he and Ron stepped out of the Entrance Hall the first day of class after the holiday.

"How do you forget a finger chomping book?" Ron demanded.

"Just give me a minute," Harry called, taking the marble steps two at a time. A t the turn of the first corridor Malfoy suddenly appeared, blocking his path.

He didn't have to stop as the blond courteously flattened himself against the wall as Harry flew by.

"Sorry," he threw hastily over his shoulder as he rounded the next corner.

"Idiot," Malfoy mumbled, struggling with the Monster Book of Monsters in his arms he'd just run to fetch. On the front steps he chose to ignore Weasley as he passed the impatient and scowling red head.

Page 236

"So…You and Weasley aren't on speaking terms with Granger? What did she do?" Malfoy leaned against the wall across from Harry peering out a window.

"I got a Firebolt for Christmas." Harry answered bluntly, rubbing his forehead which was cold and clammy from resting on the frosted glass. He smirked only wanly when he heard Malfoy's surprised gasp.

"A Firebolt? Seriously? Merlin, my father won't buy me a Firebolt unless I do better than Granger on all of my exams. Can I see it?"

Harry's amusement vanished abruptly. "No."

Malfoy cocked an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"There was no note from who sent it to me. Hermione told McGonagall because she thought it was from Sirius Black and McGonagall agreed and took it. They're testing it for curses and hexes. I didn't even get to try it out." Harry was scowling so hard it looked like it hurt.

"That's a damn shame," Malfoy remarked sincerely. "Little mudblood should have kept her mouth shut."

"Don't call her that," Harry glared at him.

Malfoy resisted the urge to scoff but backed off. "But seriously, when you do get it back can I give it a go?"

There was a pause as Harry considered saying no because Malfoy's insult to Hermione, but then said, "Sure. I gotta go."

Malfoy frowned slightly. "Where?"

"History of Magic classroom. Lupin is going to teach me how to fight off dementors," Harry replied, shaking off his frustration.

"No more passing out?" Malfoy remarked with a smirk completely lacking in derision.

"That's the thought," Harry nodded, heading off with a wave.

Page 243

"They're dead." Malfoy paused, startled, and then continued. This was why he was still up, wasn't it? "They're dead and listening to echoes of them won't bring them back." He stopped again, watching the Gryffindor seated at the base of a suit of armor, dark head bowed as he rallied himself. "You'd better get a grip on yourself if you want that Quidditch Cup."

"That's for sure," Malfoy remarked dryly. Potter jumped.

"Malfoy, what are you doing still out?" He asked curiously.

He hesitated. "I was…making sure you were okay." He sounded to bewildered for his own liking and shrugged carelessly. "Seems I'm too late, though, if you're talking to yourself."

Harry wasn't even annoyed, just hitched one shoulder and his gaze drifted distractedly.

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing the green-eyed boy. "What's up? Lesson not go well?"

"I…well, it wasn't a complete waste," Harry sighed. "I learned something but…"

His voice trailed off. Malfoy frowned thoughtfully. "Are you having trouble getting past your bad memory?"

Harry grimaced, running a hand through his hair and messing it up further. "Yeah, something like that."

"Can I help?" Malfoy asked without thinking.

Harry sneered bitterly. "No, I doubt it."

Malfoy weighed the pros and cons of his next question and went for it. "What is it you remember?"

There was a broody pause. Then Harry looked up, young face far too grave. "I hear my parents the night Voldemort killed them."

Malfoy winced at the Dark Lord's name, slanting his gaze to the floor, unable to hold Harry's. "I guess that is pretty bad; it's not…" he gave up on nonchalance and rubbed his forehead. "I can't even imagine," he said in a strangled sort of voice.

"Good," Harry said harshly, standing abruptly. "Good night, Malfoy." He crammed the last bit of a chocolate bar into his mouth and headed back to Gryffindor Tower.

Malfoy unceremoniously fell into Harry's vacated seat, burdened by grim thoughts of his friend's dark past and bothered that it disturbed him so much. But the young Slytherin wasn't the only one troubled that night; Harry lay awake for hours, dwelling as much on his confession as on his mother's voice.

Also page 243

"Hey." Harry jerked at the insistent prodding on his head. He straightened his glasses and blinked owlishly at Malfoy.

"Wozamata?" he asked incoherently.

Malfoy tried to smother his smirk, he really did and his voice quivered only once in the face of his amusement. "You have the ingredients for a chocolate-based Undetectable poison on your cheek."

Harry slapped his hand over his face in embarrassment, fully awake. "Why did it have to be in Transferable Ink?" he moaned, scrubbing at it fruitlessly.

"Madam Pince is vindictive," Malfoy explained soberly. Then he turned brisk. "Oi, I know it's a completely radical idea, but try a pillow next time."

"That's not just radical, that's almost blasphemous," Harry replied, mock-sanctimonious. "Don't you know you're not allowed to see your own bed?"

"What can I say? I'm a sinner," Malfoy quipped, shifting the books securely tucked under his arm. "Sleep well, Potter."

"Sleep? What's sleep?" The sarcasm in Harry's voice was almost acidic enough to melt the book of poisons…not really.

Still page 243

Harry remained in the stands after the Quidditch game, bundled up in at least two layers of everything, waiting for the familiar blond Slytherin to swoop out of the locker room to do his post-game lap. Harry had never seen him at it, never known he did it until he mentioned it once when they discussed how the season needed to go for Slytherin or Gryffindor to win the Cup.

"I'll think about how the game went," Malfoy had explained. "What I did well, what needs improvement, you know?"

Harry sat back a little as the dark figure wove and rolled lazily in the sky, as natural as a bird. He was suddenly reminded that as much talent as he had, Malfoy had been flying longer and had put more work into gaining his skill than Harry ever had.

And it had showed in his desperate catch to seal Slytherin's win over Ravenclaw.

Smiling and not even aware of it, Harry stood and began sidling to the stairs. His path was blocked when Malfoy landed in front of him.

"Spying?" he asked lightly.

"Yep, you caught me," Harry dead panned.

Malfoy shook his head in disappointment. "Not even able to sneak properly; have I taught you nothing, Potter?"

"I always had trouble taking instruction from a Slytherin," Harry fired back.

"I difficulty following instruction was a Gryffindor trait," Malfoy fielded, throwing his broom over his shoulder as they headed down to the field, He glanced at his Nimbus 2001 and then at Harry. "Want to give it a go?"

Harry grinned. "I was afraid you'd never offer."

Page 245

"Got all three moons?" Malfoy asked in a loud whisper.

"No, Harry murmured miserably. He stepped back as Malfoy bent to examine the sky through the telescope, adjusting it.

"Right there." Malfoy stood back for Harry to see. "Why didn't you just finish it last night in class?"

"I was trying to finish the Charms," he muttered, marking the moon on his star chart. "How are you keeping up with your studies so easy?"

"We only have Quidditch practice three nights a week and I don't have any dementor defense lessons or Divination." the blond explained, leaning against the cold stone wall, a thick cloak padding his shoulders, arms crossed over his chest. "How are those going, by the way?"

"Not...not as well as I would like," he sighed, noting a few more stars and straightening.

"You're trying a Patronus, right?" It didn't even register to Harry that maybe Malfoy shouldn't know that as he nodded, rolling up his chart. "A Patronus is sixth year level. Don't get too worked up about it not going right." He gave Harry's shoulders a little shove towards the stairs. "Now get some sleep. Homework isn't going away."

"Thanks for the reminder." Harry said sullenly, but they slipped through the halls together until they passed the stairs that took Malfoy to the Slytherin Common Room.

Page 276

"Patronus worked better than you expected, huh?" Malfoy applauded himself for not jumping when Harry spoke and turned to face the unfortunately smug Gryffindor.

"I'd say." Malfoy wasn't sure if he should be angry or resigned, and he wasn't sure if Harry wasn't angry under his triumph. "Your broom is fantastic," he added lamely.

"I know. What I don't know is why you tried to scare me, dressing up like a dementor." His expression had gone from gleeful to displeased in a blink. "Flint's idea again?"

Malfoy debated lying for a brief moment, and then replied distinctly un-Slytherin like. "No, it was mine," he admitted as they ducked into an empty classroom. "The dementor part. Flint wanted to sabotage the other players' brooms, knowing he had no chance to get to yours. I knew it wouldn't actually hurt you, anyway."

"No, Malfoy, I am wounded in my heart," Harry bemoaned mockingly.

"Why aren't you more angry?" the Slytherin demanded, puzzled.

Harry shrugged carelessly. "We won, you were terrified and got detention. There's nothing to be mad about." He leaned close conspiritorally. "And don't tell anyone, but I don't expect you to defend me to your dormmates."

Malfoy took a hasty step back, feeling inexpliacably nervous which helped nothing. "Speaking of dormmates, did Sirius Black really try to kill Weasley?"

The Gryffindor shrugged again. "He didn't try very hard after Ron shouted."

"Do you think he was after you?" Malfoy inquired keenly.

"Dunno. Don't think it hasn't crossed my mind." He didn't seem very concerned and Malfoy remarked on that. "Well, he didn't manage, did he? And now Ron gets to be a bit of a celebrity."

"Lucky him," Malfoy stated in a monotone. "I don't suppose I could have a go on the Firebolt?"

"Sorry; I'm still under guard," Harry denied regretfully.

"Shame." Malfoy leaned against a desk; it creaked threateningly but held. "What are you going to do when Weasley is in Hogsmeade on Saturday?"

Harry's thoughts went immediately to his invisibility cloak and the one-eyed witch. "Probably catch up on my homework," he said, affecting a gloomy tone but not quite meeting Malfoy's gaze.

"Have fun." Malfoy smirked. "Don't forget about the night shade's reaction w--" the desk squeaked and collapsed under the Slytherin. Harry, who had been relaxing against another desk, jmped forward in shock. Then he started laughing when it was clear Malfoy wasn't badly hurt. Attempting to glare Harry into silence resulted only in Malfoy laughing along.

Page 292

Malfoy wasn't entirely shocked when Arden landed on the edge of his plate and stuck out his leg with a scrap of parchment bound to it.

"Who's that from?" Pansy asked, trying to peer at the note over his shoulder.

"None of your business," he dismissed, reognizing the narrow scrawl and crumpling the note hastily. "Come on, Arden," he ordered the bird, rising abruptly. The owl hooted haughtily but obligingly flapped after Malfoy and perched on his shoulder as he strode out of the buzzing hall.

He glanced at the note in the relative privacy of the Entrance Hall and followed the short command to the Trophy Hall, Arden taking off before he was taken further into the school. Harry was waiting for his arrival and grabbed his arm to drag him into a nearby classroom. Malfoy resisted the urge to free the limb and forced his lungs to inhale naturaly when his breath suddenly caught.

"Did you know?" Harry demanded immediately.

"Know what?" Malfoy countered, tugging his arm loose. "And on that note, what the bloody hell was your head doing floating around outside the Shrieking Shack on Saturday?"

"Never mind that," Harry dismissed impatiently. "Did you know your father was going to have Buckbeak executed?"

"Of course," Malfoy replied coldly; Harry sudden;y felt the blond boy was impossible far away. "My father would seek nothing less than death for a creature who had injured his son."

Harry seized the front of his robes, but abstained from shaking him. "But you're fine! Couldn't you just tell him to leave Hagrid and Buckbeak alone?"

"Open your eyes, Potter!" Malfoy snapped, shoving the Gryffindor back violently. "Do you have any idea how little this has to do with me, or Buckbeak, or even Hagrid?" He could tell by Harry's expression he'd said too much. He ran a hand through his pale hair in frustration. "Look, I love my father; I admire and respect him. But I'm not an idiot. This whole affair with the Committee ismy father proving that even though he's not a school governor he's still immensely influential."

"That's pathetic," Harry snapped.

"What's pathetic is working yourself up over a beast that will just as soon attack you as me," Malfoy retorted.

"I could care less about Buckbeak," Harry growled. "But Hagrid is my friend and Buckbeak matters to him, and I'll help him any way I can."

"Yes, the great oaf who rescued you from the heartless Dursleys," Malfoy mocked cruelly. "Tell me: if my father had presented the letter to you, would you have attached yourself to him like a grasping baby? Love me, love me, someone, please, be my friend. You want to talk about pathetic."

Both boys were breathing hard, eyes blazing silver and emerald, fists clenched and moments away from a brawl.

"At least I don't choose my friends on blood, money, or who their father's know," Harry remarked as icily as a true-born Slytherin.

"You think that's how I choose my friends?" Malfoy demanded furiously. "Shows what you know, you stupid pig-headed prat. Don't even look at me until you're going to apologize."

"For what?" Harry snarled incredulously as Malfoy grips the doorknob tightly.

"For failing to recognize what I count as friendship," he hissed and stormed out.

Pages 299-302

Out of habit Harry wandered down to the abandoned classroom he and Malfoy had staked out to study in together. But he found it already occupied.

Malfoy glanced up sharply, startled at first but then he scowled.

Harry hesitated for a moment, and then turned and left.

next

When Harry visited Hedwig in the Owlery, Arden swooped down, screeching reprouchfully and bit his ear almost to the blood before Hedwig chased him angrily to the rafters and then out of the Owlery.

next

Harry wasn't that thick-headed most of the time, but looking across the Great Hall at Malfoy and the people around him at the Slytherin table he couldn't see how he was wrong.

Crabbe and Goyle sat across from hiim, Pansy Parkinson on his right, Blaise Zabini on his left; Nott, Avery...all purebloods, most very wealthy. At the ends of the Slytherin table were the unfortunate muggle-borns sorted into the house, and the poor students in ragged robes in worse state than any of the Weasleys'.

As he watched them, though, an idea began to worm into his mind. Maybe--

"Harry, why are you staring at Malfoy?" Ron asked curiously.

"Thinking about the match," Harry mumbled the quick lie.

"Yeah, you'll wipe the smirk off his face in two minutes," Ron crowed enthusiastically.

Across the Hall, Malfoy glanced over at the noise, sneering at Weasley's overconfidence. His eyes met Potter's for a moment before the Gryffindor dropped his gaze, frowning thoughtfully.

next

"Harry, it's fine," Hermione called exasperatedly as Harry scrambled to his feet, kicking the strap of Ron's bag off his ankle and shoving a last bite of shepard pie into his mouth.

"I know," he mumbled, struggling to control his own bag with one hand and keep pie in his mouth with the other. "It's just..." But the sentiment remained unvoiced as he was out of anyone's hearing range and swallowed the mouthful with difficulty.

Suddenly his bag lightened and he stumbled forward. Books, rolls of parchment and quills scattered, the latter fluttering delicately to the stairs as his ink jar clattered down and shattered at the base.

Harry cursed loudly, staring at the bottom of his bag which had not split along the seam which was hardly uncommon, but was shredded. Knowing even before he turned to look up the stairs, Malfoy was sneering down at him, arms crossed over his torso, wand tapping his shoulder lazily. Harry snarled, but Malfoy whirled away and was gone before Harry reached his wand...which was twenty feet below in a puddle of ink.

Page 314

They met the evening after the match, broom in hand.

"I'm sorry," Harry blurted suddenly, voice overloud on the silent pitch. "You were right, I didn't know what was a friend to you. You were wrong to insult Hagrid; he is none of your business. And I know you can't control you father, but I'm not sorry about what I said concerning that."

"You're being unusually mature, Potter," Malfoy remarked snidely. "Did Granger slip you something? Or do you just need help studying that badly?"

"I mean it," Harry said, though he gritted his teeth. "And I want you to apologize, too."

"What for?" Malfoy's disdain instantly turned to incredulity.

"For ruining my bag," Harry explained evenly.

They stared each other down, Harry willing him to give, Malfoy refusig to do so. Finallyhe turned up his nose in an arrogant sneer. "You deserved it, acting like a fool over your broom."

Harry arched an eyebrow as the tension bled away. "It's a good broom; you said yourself Flint wanted to tamper with them."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "That was months ago, Potter. Show me again how good that tree branch is," he added, mounting his broom and kicking off.

He pulled up sharply when Harry brought his broom up in front of him. The Gryfindor held out a hand; Malfoy was reminded of the train ride so long ago. "Friends?" he said, only a faint twinge of uncertainty in his voice.

Malfoy's heart jumped into his throat as he clasped the boy's hand. "Friends," he agreed quietly one hundred and fifty feet in the air.

Also page 314

When Malfoy was truly focused on studying he didn't get distracted by much. Gregory and Vince sometimes called his name three or four times when he was working on something interesting.

Lately, though, Potter had been a distraction, which was bad as exams were bearing down on them. He wasn't doing it on purpose; he'd shift because of an ache, put his quill down because his hand cramped, mutter aloud without even noticing it. Malfoy would look up and even after Potter settled down he'd still watch him.

He ruine dhis Charms notes, spotting it with ink when he stared at the dark-haired boy for several consecutive minutes. He cursed when he realized this and Potter looked up.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I forgot I was going to meet Vince and Greg in the library," Malfoy lied as he threw his things into his bag, unable to look at Potter.

"Right, well, thanks for helping with the Charms."

Malfoy noticed how quick Potter returned to his studying as he left and then kicked himself for noticing.

Page 316

Malfoy stared out over the lake, dangerously close to curfew, barely noticing the giant squid gliding across the surface as he stroked Arden, perched on his shoulder.

He had always thought he had a good deal of self-control; maybe he was a bit tepid about some things, but who wasn't when punishment or the Forbidden Forest were involved? But this obsession seemed beyond said control.

And Malfoy disliked the word obsession because it brought to mind creepy shadow stalkers, which he was not. But it seemed he could never stop his mind from drifting to Potter unless something required his full attention. He found himself wondering when Harry was doing, looking for him in likely places, turning to his voice or laughter, thinking of ways to make Harry look at and think about him.

"What is wrong with me?" he whispered to his owl. "Why can't I get him out of my head? He's not that attractive, or smart, or particularly wealthy. He's good on a broom, he means well, but he's impulsive. I'm thirteen; why should I care about anyone?" His owl hooted apologetically and began preening his pale blond locks as the wind tossled it. "I don't even understand what Pansy's all about."

Malfoy kicked dispiritedly at the grassy shore and began to return to the school. Arden took off to hunt for the night, bidding farewell with a hoot.

Page 423

Harry was so focused on his destination he strode right by Malfoy. Before the blond could come up with a reasonable excuse to hail him, the Gryffindor paused and glanced back, and then turned to face him fully.

"You now about Lupin?" he demanded, low-voiced and tense.

Malfoy took a step back in surprise and nodded cautiously. "Snape told someone; Pansy told me. Is that where yuo're going now? To see him?" Potter nodded, mind clearly elsewhere but he wasn't rude enough to just walk away. "Aren't you...er, concerned at all?"

"Of course I am. He shouldn't have to leave, he's the best Defense teacher we've had in three years." Harry exclaimed vehemently.

"But he's a werewolf," Malfoy replied, incredulous of Harry's disregard of this rather important fact. "He was loose in the Forest last night; imagine if some adventurous young Gryffindor curiously like yourself had been on the grounds."

Harry couldn't respond without giving himself up; he turned his face away and muttered, "I don't care. He never hurt me. Later, Malfoy."

"Hang on," Malfoy called, desperation laced with jealousy leaping to his throat as Potter rushed to someone else. "Did you hear what else happened last night?"

"What?" Harry prompted impatiently.

"Two escapes, Black and Buckbeak. The--er, Hagrid must behappy about that."

Harry regarded his oddly tense expression slowly, and then hitched a shoulder in assent. "Yeah, he told us. That's how I found out about Lupin leaving."

Malfoy let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and gestured in the direction Harry had been going. "Go on. You might miss him."

Harry waved good-bye hurriedly and took the invitatioin.

Page 428

"Oi, Potter." Harry glanced back around the corridor he'd just crossed returning to Gryffindor Tower. Malfoy picked up his pace to reach him quicker. "Did you just come from the Owlery?"

"Yeah. You're not taking Arden in already, are you?" He doubled back to walk with the blond.

"No, he hates a cage and the train. I send him home with a letter and he just won't come back."

"I see."

"But that's not why I called you. What did you do to Snape? He's always despised you, but lately the mention of you makes him practically murderous." Malfoy was analyzing his face like that would give him the answer.

Harry shrugged. "Search me."

"I am. You know exactly why he's furious." Malfoy replied with alarming conviction. "You can't lie that well."

Harry refused to show how he was unnerved by Malfoy's perception, but reminded himself it wasn't terribly surprising. "Can't tell, either."

"Why not?" Malfoy demanded petulantly. Arden hooted reprovingly as they reached the Owlery and he came down to a lower perch.

"Dumbledore made me promise." Harry hoped he bought that fib.

Malfoy screwed up his face. "What does the Headmaster have to do with it?"

Harry shrugged again with a mysterious, annoying little smile. "Search me."

Page 434

Malfoy watched Potter disappear through the barrier, flanked by Granger and Weasley.

He had a crush on Potter; he finally admitted it to himself. He had a crush on another guy and it had to be Harry bloody Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

He sighed, looking for his mother. Life was going to get so complicated.

That's all, folks. I'll probably see you on the other side of Deathly Hallows. Once again, please review, and point out spelling and grammar errors.