Thanks Sachaelle! : ) A#1 Summer of 4th year. A#2 While there are no pairings in this specific episode, there will be both het and slash pairings in the series.
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Chapter Five
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Harry, Ron, and Hermione were nearly the last to leave the DADA classroom, Hermione having taken longer than either of them to finish up her notes and collect all her belongings. Malfoy moved passed them just as Hermione finished, merely nodding as he left; something Harry found decidedly odd. Of course, that wasn't anything new this year. Malfoy had been acting oddly since the welcoming feast. It had become more and more obvious as the weeks passed without clashes between their two groups.
"Anyone else think something's off with Malfoy?" Ron asked, staring after the Slytherin.
Hermione and he both nodded as they all made their way out of the room.
"He hasn't called me names at all this year," Hermione admitted, wearing a puzzled expression.
Harry shared a look with Ron, knowing full well what that particular expression meant. Their friend wanted to know why.
Ron shrugged. "At least this shouldn't lead to library research," he replied offhand, grinning crookedly when Hermione huffed in response.
"Don't you want to know why he's acting so oddly?"
"Well, yeah," Ron admitted, to Harry's amusement, "but that doesn't mean I like reading through boring old books."
Hermione rolled her eyes, while Harry just laughed.
She leaned in closer to the two of them after a quick glance around, presumably to make sure no one else was close enough to hear what she was going to say. "Professor Vane assigned paired projects in runes class earlier today, and she paired Malfoy with me."
Both Harry and Ron groaned.
"That's just it," Hermione continued, as if their groans had been actual comments. "He didn't protest, sneer, or . . . anything. He even came over to my desk instead of waiting for me to move. The whole class was spent actually working together to figure out just what we wanted to work on."
Harry gaped at her.
"You're kidding!" Ron exclaimed.
"Sshh!" Hermione scolded immediately. "I think something's really up with Malfoy. It's like he's being extra careful not to make trouble, or something."
"That's not like him," Harry replied thoughtfully, though, he had noticed the same thing; he simply hadn't been able to put what he was feeling into words. "He usually seems to revel in being the center of attention."
"You think that maybe he's setting a trap," Ron suggested, "trying to lull us into a false sense of security?"
Harry blinked at Ron in surprise, vaguely noticing Hermione doing the same thing. Harry stopped, the moment he realized just how insulting their reactions were. Ron wasn't stupid, he just didn't care much about school - a lot like Fred and George, actually; though, Harry was sure Ron would pretend insult at the comparison.
Unfortunately, it didn't look like Ron had missed their reactions. He huffed and strode ahead of both of them.
Harry hurried to catch up. "It's not what you think, Ron," Harry tried.
"Yeah?" Ron asked, his voice more than a little bitter. "What is it, you think that I think?"
"I know you're not stupid," Harry said, instead of answering the question directly.
Ron scoffed.
"The way you play chess proves that."
"Yeah?" Ron asked, this time sounding hesitantly interested, instead of bitter.
"Yeah. You just don't often bother to show it anywhere else," Harry continued. "And that's what surprised us."
Ron stared at him, eyes narrowed for several long moments. "Yeah, okay, I can see that," he said finally, relieving Harry greatly. He really didn't want to be at odds with either of his friends right now. He needed them both more than ever this year; so much was changing. Malfoy was acting weird. His own powers were still a bit wonky. Snape was actually being half-way civil to him - in the occlumency, disguised as anger management, training; though, the man was nearly as rude as ever in potions class. Neither had told the headmaster that occlumency training had been resumed, nor had either of them admitted that his so called anger management sessions were being waylaid - at least Harry didn't think Snape had. He certainly hadn't. It felt decidedly odd to have a shared secret with the dreaded potions master.
Hermione smiled at them both, before focusing on Ron. "Harry said it better than I could," she admitted.
Wow! I'm better at something than Hermione. Who'd have thought! Though, to be fair, Harry had to admit that tact was really not one of his brainy friend's strengths. Of course, until now, he didn't think it was one of his either.
"So," Ron said suddenly, "what are we going to do about Malfoy?"
Hermione shrugged. "Nothing, right now," she replied primly. "You have to get to divination, and Harry and I need to get to potions. We don't have much time left."
Harry blanched. He really didn't want to be late to potions. Regardless of the man's recent . . . softening in attitude towards him, Harry dared not risk the man's wrath. He did not doubt it wouldn't take much to put things right back where they were before, something Harry wanted to avoid at all costs. He was sure that even a tiny hint that Harry was 'taking advantage' of the lessening of hostility - whether he actually was or not - would put them farther back than where they'd started. He was actually getting better in potions, not being so tense, frustrated and angry at the professor all the time.
Now that he thought about it, however, he realized it might also have something to do with the fact that Malfoy had yet to try and sabotage a single one of his potions this year either. Either way, it certainly hadn't hurt his grades any, and he wanted it to continue.
As Ron yelped and hurried off toward the divination tower, Hermione started quickly for the dungeons. Harry hurried after, yelling off a quick, 'see ya later' to Ron.
x-x-x
If Draco had been less concerned about what others thought of him, he would seriously be gaping at the professor right now. Why did he choose now to pair him with Potter. It seemed completely unreal.
"Well?" the professor demanded, and Draco startled.
He rose - though, he suspected the professor had been urging Potter to move - and quickly gathered his things together. When he turned and headed towards the Gryffindors' table, he nearly smirked at the gobsmacked expression on Potter's face, his hands frozen in midact of refilling his bag. The idiot didn't move until Draco sat on the empty stool next to him - Granger having already moved to sit beside her assigned partner, Pansy.
As far as he was concerned, this whole day had been perfect. As much as he didn't really want to be working with Granger in runes, it gave him an opportunity, one he was going to seize with both hands. Now that Professor Snape had paired him with Potter, he might be inclined to wonder if either, or both, of the professors knew what he was trying to do - if he was a more paranoid sort. There was no way, after all, that anyone but himself could know. He hadn't told anyone, and hadn't made any overt moves yet. The only tiny possible clue was him keeping his head down - and that could have so many reasons behind it as to be impossible to pinpoint.
"You know," Draco whispered drily, as he set out his supplies, "if you stay that way too long, you might get stuck."
Potter's mouth snapped shut and his hands dropped to the table top. Surprisingly enough, the Gryffindor didn't over-react to the mild taunt, merely rolling his eyes after the initial shock seemed to wear off, and he began resetting up his own supplies.
Maybe this would be easier than he'd thought it would be. Nearly the moment he'd stopped tormenting them, they had seemingly backed off as well. It couldn't be that easy, could it? It certainly wouldn't have been with another Slytherin - not without major concessions, at any rate.
"Get moving!"
Draco jumped, so absorbed in his thoughts he hadn't heard the professor's orders. Good thing he already knew what they were making, or he might be in trouble. Relying on Potter to get it right wasn't something he was prepared to do - not in potions class at any rate. He supposed he was going to be doing just that elsewhere. It was an uneasy thought; though, he had to admit that since the Gryffindor seemed to keep coming out on top of his encounters with the dark lord, it shouldn't be too alarming. Of course, the fact that most of the people he'd taught in the DA - yes, what that group had really been had spread over the school within hours of Umbridge's breaking in on them - had passed their owls with Os - even Longbottom - certainly didn't hurt. Through the rumor mill, Draco had heard that Potter had even been helping 7th years. Now that was impressive, given that Potter had been in his 5th year at the time.
He rose at the same time Potter did, forgoing his usual demand that his 'partners' fetch all the ingredients. He didn't suppose continuing that attitude would assist in getting Potter to accept him - besides which, he wasn't entirely certain the Gryffindor would get the right supplies in the first place. He sighed in resignation, wondering just how much he was going to have to change about his way of doing things before Potter and his posse would accept that he didn't want anything to do with the dark lord. He'd already stopped calling all the . . . muggleborns mudblood, was actually finding that he wasn't all that tempted really, and that disturbed him a little. He snorted mentally as the two of them gathered what they needed from the student stores. He hadn't wanted anything to do with the snake faced bastard from almost the first moment he'd met the wizard, despite the urgings of the family curse to accept the dark lord and what he wanted of him, but that didn't automatically translate into him wanting to get all lovey-dovey with the mu-ggleborns, either.
Draco shook himself free of the dangerous thoughts as he vaguely noticed Potter reaching for the dried maradin leaves instead of the fresh. "Not that," he said quietly, keeping everything he felt about Potter's probable intelligence out of his voice, "we need to slice fresh leaves," he continued, picking up the proper jar and handing it to the Gryffindor.
Potter nodded, accepting the jar. "Thanks," he said, turning and heading back to their table.
Draco blinked and stared after the Gryffindor in shock for several seconds before quickly following. Shaking his head, he freely admitted - at least to himself - that he would never understand Gryffindors. It would not have been near that easy to get a thank you out of him in the Griff's place. He supposed it didn't really matter that he didn't truly understand Potter, and spent the rest of the class quietly cooperating with him. He was surprised to discover that, while he'd had to correct Potter a couple of times, he had to do so less often than he would have expected to, given past experience.
Together they managed to brew the Skele-grow potion. It would have been easier on his own, but more time consuming, which was why the professor had assigned partners to start with. One person could not have finished brewing this particular potion in one class session, even a double one.
"It looks right," Potter offered quietly, staring at their finished potion intently.
"It is right," Draco replied just as quietly, sneering for any possible audience the moment Potter's back was turned. He had no intention of letting the professor - or anyone else - know anything that might give them clues what he was up to, at least not until he was ready. At some point it would become obvious and that was unavoidable, but, if at all possible, he wanted that moment to wait until after Potter's protection was virtually guaranteed - better yet, in place. "You know, you really aren't all that bad at this," he told Potter as he carefully bottled two samples of their potion. "You just need more information on the basics, methods of preparing ingredients and such, why different ingredients are prepared certain ways when combined with other specific ingredients."
"It really makes that much difference?" Potter asked, tilting his head to the side slightly and watching him rather intently, speculatively.
Draco ignored the look as much as possible, given that it unnerved him a little. What was the Gryffindor seeing, or wondering, that made him look that deeply? "Yes, it does. Different types of cuts release differing amounts of the components of each ingredient at different speeds." Draco frowned and turned to face his partner after securing the second stopper. "You really should have already learned this before first year even. It's basic level stuff."
Potter turned away almost before Draco was finished speaking. "How could I?" he asked bitterly. "I didn't even know I was a wizard until my 11th birthday."
Draco's eyes widened. Potter wasn't muggleborn - even if his mother had been. His father had been a pureblood. How could he not have known he was a wizard from the time he was very young?
"Hand in your samples now," Professor Snape demanded of the class. "If your potion isn't finished yet, you get a zero for the day. This is NEWT level potions and I will tolerate neither laziness nor disorganization. By now each and every one of you should be sufficiently skilled - relatively speaking - to be able to complete every potion I assign within the designated time frame. If you fail to complete more than three potions you will no longer be part of this class. I will not waste my time with those who refuse to learn!"
Draco felt sure the professor had directed a hard stare directly at Potter as he said that, and was intensely curious what that was about. Sure, Potter would never be a master at potions, but he did learn. How else could he have made it into NEWT level potions after taking remedial potions last year? Sure there was a story he was unaware of, Draco redirected his attention back to his partner and was surprised to see a hint of a smirk lingering on the Gryffindor's down turned face. Now, he knew there was a story to be discovered! He just had to figure out how to discover what it was. He was pretty sure it was strictly between Potter and the professor, however, and that left him with few - try no - options for finding out what it was; which was something of a disappointment. Maybe after he'd convinced the Gryffindor.
"How did you not know?" Draco asked as they packed up their supplies, going back to the topic of discussion before the professor's interruption.
Potter shrugged, then turned to face him, frowning slightly. "Why are you being so . . . nice all of a sudden?"
Nice? Draco shuddered, but let the description pass for now. He worried his lower lip, wondering if it was still too soon. He had everything he needed. Even the potion had been brewed. He just didn't want to reveal himself before there was even a remote chance of everything falling into place. He cast a quick glance around the nearly empty classroom, before deciding. Even Granger and the weasel were gone already. Still, he leaned closer and lowered his voice, wanting to take no extra chances that someone might overhear. "Not here," he replied, barely moving his mouth and keeping his gaze firmly on his bag sitting on the table. "Meet me tonight, and we'll talk." He nearly cringed mentally as he continued. "Please."
Potter's frown deepened. "Listen, I'm not trying to start trouble where there is none, but we've got . . . history with this scenario."
Draco did wince then. He'd forgotten about the time he'd set up a duel with Potter only to rat him out instead of following through. That Potter remembered that incident wasn't going to make this any easier. "I'm not planning to tell anyone about this meeting, Potter," he hissed quietly, the two of them heading for the door.
Potter snorted. "Why should I trust you?"
Draco sighed. He should have known it wouldn't be as easy as it had seemed near the beginning of class. Unfortunately, they were running out of time to finish this conversation. They'd already spoken without wands being drawn for longer than they'd ever done so. He didn't have any other choice, not if he wanted to secure his position any time soon. "You can bring the brown and red bookends with you. I'll come on my own and I swear on my magic that I'm not trying to set you up. I just want to talk to you."
Potter blinked, his mouth falling open slightly.
At least he isn't completely gobsmacked, he thought with a mental snort. That really isn't a good look on anyone.
"Alright," Potter hissed with a sigh, "outside the hidden east exit at 11pm." Then, without a further word, he strode away, quickly putting distance between the two of them.
Draco didn't try and stop him, nodding his head once, relieved, even though Potter couldn't see his response. He spun and strode the opposite direction. He wanted to double check he had everything he needed for tonight's meeting before he headed to the library to study. He was also glad that Potter hadn't chosen the astronomy tower. Not only was it far too . . . cliche, it would be one of the first places the prefects and the professor's - not to mention Filch - would look for out of bounds students. He wanted this talk to go uninterrupted. It was far too important to his future - all their futures really. If the Malfoys threw in their lot with Potter, it would shift the power balance significantly. Even he knew that. The Malfoys just might bring with them the Crabbes and Goyles, the longstanding alliance between the three families very strong; though, that couldn't be guaranteed.
x-x-x
Harry hurried to catch up to his friends. They had just been speculating that something odd was up with Malfoy, and now, it seemed, something very odd really was up. That the prat seemed to actually want to talk privately was beyond surprising, despite the Slytherin's more . . . civil demeanor this year. He just wasn't sure whether or not to believe he really would be coming alone, in spite of having told Harry he could bring Ron and Hermione. That really didn't make any sense, not if he understood Slytherin thinking at all - which, frankly, he was beginning to doubt. Malfoy certainly wasn't making any sense.
"Ron! Hermione!" he called out, the moment he caught sight of the two.
Both stopped and turned, waiting for him to catch up. "You'll never believe what just happened to me," he said as he drew even with his two friends.
Hermione snorted and shook her head. "Considering all the exceedingly strange things that have happened to you over the years, Harry," she replied drily, "I would probably believe just about anything."
Harry laughed; the girl had a point.
"What happened, Harry?" Ron asked, grinning. "Malfoy lose all his hair?"
Harry blinked at the rather random guess, frowning slightly. "Not quite," he replied slowly, shaking his head at the image that popped into his brain. A bald Malfoy, a rather scary sight, truth be told. "But, not here. Neither of you have a class right now, right?"
Both shook their heads.
"Good," he said firmly, heading immediately toward the entrance hall. "Let's go somewhere we won't be overheard."
Fifteen minutes later, the three of them were at the far south end of school grounds, 50 yards or more from any obstacles anyone could hide behind. With that, Hermione's privacy spells would definitely be adequate to preventing their conversation from being overheard. As soon as they were cast, and the three of them were comfortably seated, Harry hurriedly relayed the conversation he'd had with Malfoy - including the wand oath he'd sworn. His two friends stared at him in shock for several seconds before he got impatient.
"Well?" he asked. "What do you think?"
"Blimey, Harry!" Ron exclaimed, shaking his head in outright disbelief. "You can't really believe Malfoy isn't up to something, can you?"
"Well," Hermione replied slowly, obviously still thinking as she spoke, "he did swear an oath."
"Yeah," Ron agreed drily, "one that only said he wasn't trying to set Harry up with the meeting, not that he wasn't going to get us in trouble some other way. I don't trust him," he finished flatly.
Of course, Ron didn't trust Malfoy. The day Ron did that, was the day the devil took up ice skating in hell, Harry thought with no little humor.
"You've already decided you're going to go," Hermione said shrewdly, "haven't you?"
Harry nodded. He was too curious not to. If nothing else came of it, he might be able to figure out what the prat was up to. He couldn't do that, if he didn't hear what the Slytherin had to say first, now could he?
"Harrrry," Ron protested.
"You're not going alone," Hermione said firmly, completely overriding Ron's whined objection, to which Ron nodded emphatically. "And you're going to take other precautions."
"I already planned on taking you to with me," Harry agreed immediately. That was easy. It wasn't like he trusted the Slytherin prat either. "And I thought, invisibility cloak."
"Good start, but we won't all fit under it any more."
"True. Hermione, any ideas?"
"Dissallusionment charm."
They discussed several more options before turning the subject to Professor Snape. Harry grinned then. "It's been going great, actually!" he exclaimed. "I'm keeping the professor out longer and longer. And when he does get in, he usually doesn't see anything I don't want him to see." Laughing, he shook his head and leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as he confided in the two of them. "I usually shove boring or sickeningly sweet stuff at him."
"Like what, Harry?" Ron asked, eyes dancing merrily.
"Oh, Binns' class, Lavender and Pavarti gossiping about boyfriends, Moaning Myrtle complaining about her lack of love prospects."
Both Hermione and Ron shuddered at that.
He snorted. "He usually withdraws very quickly with those last two."
Harry was happy - even with the Malfoy mystery. Things seemed to be going right for him, for a change. The only thing he hadn't managed to do this year that he'd set out to do, was set things right with the headmaster. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure that was going to happen any time soon. He was still far to angry at the wizard for that to happen. It hadn't helped that the headmaster had yet to relent in regard to the 'anger management'. Harry completely disregarded the fact that he hadn't had a single session, despite the headmaster, having occlumency instead. It was entirely beside the point.
"Harry?" Hermione asked suddenly. "Don't you have an 'anger management' session with Professor Snape this afternoon?"
Harry's eyes widened. "Yes!" he yelped. "What time is it?"
"Ten til four."
"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, jumping up. "I've got to go. Sna-"
Hermione arched an eyebrow at him.
"Professor Snape will skin me alive if I'm late!" He took off at a dead run, needing to get all the way across the grounds and down into the dungeon in less than ten minutes. Gasping, he skid to a halt in front of Snape's office door, knocking before he'd even caught his breath.
"Enter!" Snape snapped.
Harry jumped, but opened the door, quickly slipping into the room and shutting the door behind him. A quick glance at the clock on the wall read, 'thirty seconds to spare', and he breathed a sigh of relief.
"You're late!" Snape snarled, rounding his desk to stand directly in front of him.
Harry bristled. He was not late! Even the professor's bloody clock agreed with him! He just wasn't early.
"Legilimens," the professor hissed.
And so it began, the occlumency lesson from hell, the worst one of the year. He seemingly couldn't do anything right, the professor growing angrier and angrier. Harry couldn't help but respond to that anger with rage of his own, especially when the older wizard started in on his father again, something he hadn't done since before Harry had brought him the books he and Hermione had found. Harry didn't understand it. Something had to have happened to set the professor off, but Harry couldn't figure out what it was. It didn't make any sense. He really didn't think he was doing any worse than he had been. In fact, he'd kept the professor out of his head for a full ten minutes this last time, but not even that seemed to satisfy the man. It actually seemed to make him angrier.
Finally, Harry'd had enough; more than enough, and he lost it.
"What the bloody hell do you want from me?" he screamed.
"Language, Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape sneered, staring down at him as if he were less than a bug to be dissected, or perhaps scraped off the bottom of his shoe.
"Legilimens!"
This time, Harry couldn't form his quiet place, his sanctuary in the sky. This time, he saw red, gallons of it; lakes of roiling, molten magma. No sooner had the professor broken through his newly strengthening mind shields, than Harry sent a mental blast of it straight at the man's mental presence and the professor was suddenly gone.
Harry blinked in surprise at the classroom around him, the professor smirking at him from across the room. "What just happened?" he asked warily, knowing a smirk on that man's face was never a good sign.
"You finally pushed me out of your mind, Potter," Snape replied smugly, "without using magic."
Harry gaped in disbelief. That was what this whole thing had been about? He wanted to rage at the arse, but was too numb to actually do so. Then it truly hit him what the professor had said, and the grin that stretched his mouth uncomfortably wide, robbed him of the opportunity. "Yes!" he exclaimed, jumping and pumping his hand in victory.
The professor just rolled his eyes at Harry's antics. "Don't let it go to your head, Potter," he said sourly. "You still need to learn to do it under other circumstances. The dark lord won't be so accomodating as to push all the right buttons."
Accomodating! Harry thought incredulously, gaping at the professor.
"Yes, Potter, I said accomodating," the professor replied just as if he'd spoken aloud. "I trust you will have noticed that this time that rather tetchy temper of yours didn't actually smash anything or anyone to splinters too tiny to find?"
Harry nodded, still rather numb. The professor had truly, actually helped him. The man had figured out the key that Harry needed to push him out and forced the circumstances that made it happen. It was . . . well, it was bloody unbelievable was what it was. Harry couldn't wrap his mind around it one bit.
"Thank you, Professor," he said finally.
Snape nodded once. "Go on, get out of here. Enjoy your dinner."
Harry spun around and sped out of the room, not quite believing it had been that easy. Easy? he thought to himself in shock. He'd spent most of the session so angry he could barely see straight, and he was calling it easy!
He froze in the middle of the hallway, it hitting him all at once. He had been really, really angry; as angry as he had been the day he'd set fire to Mrs. Black's portrait, and not a single vial, nor piece of furniture - or the professor, his thoughts added vindictively - had been harmed in the slightest. His grin widened further, until his jaw and cheeks ached with it. He took off at a dead run. He had good news to share with his friends.
Not even the shocked, "Ten points from Gryffindor for running in the halls!" from Professor McGonagall could dim his mood - or slow him down.
The End - Episode Three of 'Going Grey'
Kiristeen ke Alaya
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