Rating:
15
House:
Schnoogle
Ships:
Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Ginny Weasley/Harry Potter
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Harry Potter
Genres:
Slash
Era:
Harry and Classmates During Book Seven
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Half-Blood Prince
Stats:
Published: 12/25/2006
Updated: 10/20/2007
Words: 96,401
Chapters: 16
Hits: 29,259

Some Kind of Miracle

Annie

Story Summary:
Draco is determined to live the last nine months of his life with no regrets. But when a series of unfortunate events exposes a list of his innermost wishes, ambitions, and desires to Harry Potter’s eyes, he might find that facing his imminent death is not so easy after all. H/D, post-war.

Chapter 05 - A Suspicion

Posted:
03/14/2007
Hits:
1,737
Author's Note:
As usual, oodles of thanks to my fabulous betas, Emily, Sharon, and Christine, for taking time out of their busy schedules to help me with what was originally a very long chapter :)


The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.

- M. Scott Peck

Chapter 4: A Suspicion

The Sorting Ceremony and start-of-year feast flew by in a blur. Throughout the entire two hours, the only thing Harry could pay attention to was the way everything was so normal, yet so different at the same time. The school itself had retained its usual glory, from the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, right down to the squid waving its tentacles in the air from the murky depths of the lake. Inside, the first years looked just as terrified as Harry had felt seven years ago, the food was as plentiful as ever, and the start-of-year notices still listed the Forbidden Forest and Fanged Frisbees (among four hundred and ninety-two other magical items) as being strictly prohibited. What bothered Harry the most, however, was the lack of reference to the war that had been raging just two weeks earlier. Not a word was said of the students and faculty that had died, save for a brief mention of McGonagall's new role as headmistress. Even then, Dumbledore's name was not brought up.

Thus, Harry spent a large portion of the evening glowering at McGonagall from where he sat at the Gryffindor table. Even though he knew she only meant to refrain from causing the younger students any unnecessary trauma, it infuriated him that she was acting like the war had never happened at all, like the school year's month-late start did not signify anything.

His heart ached with loneliness whenever he allowed his gaze to wander. There were empty spots everywhere, yet it seemed incomprehensible to him that the previous occupants of those seats were really gone for good. Sometimes he would even turn around, expecting to see Seamus wordlessly trying to transform water into rum a few seats down from him, only to be disappointed when he was greeted with the sight of Nearly-Headless Nick floating there instead. After all, ghosts didn't die. They remained on Earth, completely unaffected by the horrors of war.

Ron and Hermione seemed to be fully aware of Harry's uneasiness and tried many times to distract him from war-related thoughts. Harry had the feeling that Hermione had spent much of the train ride convincing Ron to forgive Harry for associating with Malfoy, because throughout dinner, Ron's behaviour could only be described as forcibly casual. This, of course, did not ease Harry's agitation very much, and finally he had to turn to them and calmly say that he was fine, that he wished to be left alone, and that they would talk later in the common room.

Once, during the feast, Harry happened to glance towards the Slytherins. They seemed to be far fewer in numbers this year (probably because the lot of them are festering away in Azkaban, Harry noted with grim pleasure), but even so, it appeared that none of their collective arrogance had been lost. They still sat haughtily in their seats, identical expressions of malice on their pale faces. Harry supposed it was a Slytherin thing.

Unwittingly, his eyes sought out Malfoy. The other boy was sitting near the end of the long table, as straight and dignified as ever. Still, there was a slight, almost imperceptible slump to his shoulders, and it was this - and the fact that he looked so pitiable without Crabbe and Goyle flanking him - that almost made Harry feel sorry for Malfoy.

This unusual sympathy, however, only lasted for a split second. Harry was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of people getting out of their seats and preparing to leave. The feast was over.

Harry made to stand up as well, but before he could, a swarm of first and second years surrounded him. They all began excitedly shouting things such as "There he is!" and "I want his signature!" Harry, meanwhile, could only blink up at them, not entirely sure what was going on.

Luckily, Ginny came to his rescue. "Leave him alone!" she snapped, pushing her way through the crowd and grabbing Harry's wrist. She tugged him out of his seat and said hurriedly, "Come on, let's go before more of them come."

Harry and Ginny squeezed their way through the horde of students and dashed out of the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione were waiting for them outside the heavy oak doors.

"We thought Ginny would be able to handle the little twerps the best," said Ron with a sheepish grin.

"Ron!" Hermione reprimanded. "It's not their fault. They've only heard embellished stories about Harry up until now; it's no wonder they're so excited to finally see him in person."

"Yeah, well, there's still something called 'the right to privacy'," Ron retorted. He nudged Harry in the side. "Right, Harry?"

Harry blinked. He hadn't been paying attention to Ron and Hermione's conversation, but upon being brought into it, he said quickly, "Yeah, sure."

Hermione and Ginny exchanged worried looks. Then, without a word, Ginny grabbed Harry's arm tightly and began pulling him along after her.

"Where are we going?" Harry gasped, scrambling after Ginny, his eyes watering from pain as her nails dug into his arm.

"The common room, Harry, where else? Honestly, you'd think years had passed since you were last here."

Harry frowned. "It feels like it's been forever," he grumbled as they began climbing the stairs. "What about Ron and Hermione?"

"They'll follow us up. They're prefects, remember? They've got to stay downstairs and round up the younger students. Oh, and you can tell me what happened with Malfoy once we're inside," she added, giving Harry an extra hard tug.

Harry suddenly felt annoyed. Why did he have to tell her what happened with Malfoy? It wasn't as though it was Ginny's job to know everything that went on in his life.

Immediately after this thought crossed his mind, however, Harry was overcome by guilt. He was being ungrateful, of course. If he couldn't talk to Ginny, Hermione, and Ron, who else did he have?

Malfoy, a small voice in the back of his mind offered. Malfoy's just as alone as you are. Besides, he owes you - and he knows it.

Harry rolled his eyes. There was only one thing worse than talking to Malfoy about his problems, and that was knowing that Malfoy was only listening to them because he was obligated to. Harry was getting desperate, and that made him very nervous.

"Ginny," he said, panting as they hurried along an empty corridor, "are you sure the common room is this way?"

"Of course I'm sure," Ginny replied, looking over her shoulder at Harry and rolling her eyes. "I'm beginning to think you're someone else in Harry's body."

"That might be it," Harry muttered under his breath. Ginny, to his relief, did not hear him.

When they finally arrived at the Gryffindor common room, they were both out of breath. Harry collapsed against the wall across from the portrait of the Fat Lady, gasping. "Ginny," he choked out, "never do that again!"

She smiled weakly at him as she tried to catch her breath as well. "Sorry... I just wanted to make sure you weren't interrupted by members of your fan club again..."

"Well, we're both going to have to get used to it... unless you want to follow me around to all of my classes, that is..."

Ginny wiped her brow and closed her eyes briefly. "I guess you're right," she murmured.

"Anyway, let's go in," Harry said. The less time they spent idling around in the hall, the better. All he wanted at the moment, in fact, was to be alone, but he had a feeling that particular wish wouldn't be granted anytime soon.

As Ginny tried to recall the password Hermione had told her, Harry wondered what Malfoy was doing. I hope someone's keeping guard in case he tries to escape, he thought with sudden panic. He still didn't trust that Malfoy wasn't up to something, what with all the potion ingredients he had supposedly bought at Diagon Alley. And what was it that he had been checking to make sure he had brought that morning at the train station? It was all very suspicious, indeed.

"Harry?"

Harry blinked. Ginny had apparently remembered the password, because she was now kneeling in the portrait hole, looking expectantly at Harry.

"Sorry," he apologised, climbing in after her.

As it turned out, the common room wasn't the best place to find the peace and quiet Harry had been seeking. Indeed, the moment Harry stepped inside, it erupted in quite the opposite.

"Merlin's Beard, it's Harry!"

"Harry Potter!"

"Is it really Harry Potter?"

"Tell us the whole story, Harry!"

Harry, Harry, Harry. That was how it went. Resignedly plastering a meek smile onto his face, Harry began taking their quills.

---

As the time to retire to bed approached, the Gryffindors began to slowly trickle out of the common room and up to their dormitories. By midnight, just three students remained, their hunched figures silhouetted by the dying fire.

"Ginny, are you sure?" one of them was asking in hushed tones.

"I'm telling you, Hermione, it's the truth. Here - have a look at this article."

There was a soft rustling sound as Ginny extracted a newspaper clipping from her pocket and held it out. Hermione took it, skimmed it briefly, and handed it back.

Dubiously, she remarked, "It says it was written by Rita Skeeter."

"That cow?" the third member of their party interjected indignantly.

"Shut it, Ron. I know she's not the most reliable source, but -"

"Bollocks! I refuse to believe it. Don't tell me you do, Hermione."

"Well... it does sound like something Harry would do."

This clearly was not the answer Ron had been looking for. "You mean after everything she said about Harry, you still believe this... this rubbish?"

"Ron, can you stop being a stubborn git for just one minute?" Ginny snapped at her older brother. "Don't you think it's a little suspicious that Harry's been lurking about Malfoy, that he offered to ride the train with him?"

Obstinately, Ron replied, "He was doing McGonagall a favour. I don't care what you two say... I'm not going to believe Skeeter's crap until Harry confirms it himself."

This declaration was followed by the sound of a pair of feet stomping across the common room and over to the stairs. As the echo of Ron's footsteps ascending the stone steps faded into silence, Hermione sighed.

"Do you mind if I ask Harry about it tomorrow morning?" she asked Ginny, as if there had been no interruption. "I'm sure he has reasons for not telling you -"

"Oh, yeah, no doubt."

"- but if I can get him to explain the whole story to me, I think it would be safe for you to reveal that you know about... this."

"He must think he's protecting me, the righteous idiot," Ginny snorted. "I suppose you're right, though. Thanks, Hermione."

"No, thanks for letting me know. I'm just afraid that Ron won't accept it so easily..."

Ginny laughed. "Harry will deal with him." She stood up, wearily rubbing a hand over her eyes as she did so. "Good night, Hermione."

"Good night, Ginny."

---

Meanwhile, Harry was creeping down the pitch-dark halls of Hogwarts, using the light emanating from his wand as a guide and his Invisibility Cloak as a cover.

Even though he had traipsed down the path from the Gryffindor common room to the library many times in the past, he still felt a thrill of trepidation crawl up his spine as he hurried down a narrow corridor lined with suits of armour. Being alone in the castle at night was never a good idea, no matter how well one knew the passageways. What if he got lost? Would anyone come looking for him?

Of course they would, he reassured himself firmly. They'd probably bring the entire Hit Wizard squad here to help them search, too.

As Harry turned into a wide passageway, he inwardly cursed himself for not bringing the Marauder's Map. Then again, it wasn't as though he'd had time to look for it - Ron had nearly caught him as he was sneaking out of the dormitory under his cloak.

When Harry arrived at the library, he eyed the closed door apprehensively. Would it open? To his relief, when he tried the door handle, it turned easily.

Harry stepped inside and shut the heavy door quietly behind him. He looked around. The inside of the library was dimly lit by the pale moonlight filtering in through several large skylights. Convinced that Madam Pince had long since retired to her bedchamber, Harry gratefully removed his cloak and extinguished his wand.

He had no idea why he was here, really. All he had wanted was a place to be alone and think, and the library was the first place that had jumped into his mind.

Harry moved stealthily towards the rows of bookshelves, his wand tucked into his pocket and his Invisibility Cloak clutched in his hands. He didn't know where he was going, but he let his feet carry him to the back of the library where rows of pouffes separated the Main Section from the Restricted Section.

Harry sat down on one of the pouffes and looked around. The shadows cast by the bookshelves seemed to stretch on forever, casting much of Harry's surroundings in darkness. He swallowed and averted his eyes.

He suddenly felt confined. What was he doing in the library anyway? He had never been one to read for fun, and he certainly didn't intend to start now. At the moment, he needed to go somewhere open - outside, maybe; the lake, or perhaps even the Forbidden Forest...

Deciding that the latter sounded oddly inviting at the moment, Harry stood, grabbed his cloak, and began to walk back towards the main doors. As he passed through the Charms Section, however, he heard a rustling noise and froze. It had come from the quiet study area of the library. Suddenly fearful, Harry stood still for several minutes, trying to breathe as softly as possible. Who could possibly be in the library in the middle of the night?

A wild thought flashed through his mind. What if it was the ghost of a student - Ernie Macmillan, perhaps? Could Ernie have chosen to leave an imprint of himself behind in the castle because he hadn't gotten the chance to memorise all of Hogwarts: A History before he died?

"Ernie?" he whispered, his voice shaking as he moved towards where he suspected the sound had come from.

There was silence. Then a cold voice asked incredulously, "Did you just mistake me for a Hufflepuff?"

Harry's mouth fell open as he stepped out from behind the bookshelves and into the quiet study area. Draco Malfoy was sitting at a low table in a pool of moonlight, glaring at Harry in a highly affronted manner.

"Malfoy?" Harry exclaimed, stunned.

"Keep your voice down," Malfoy snapped, looking around furtively. He put down the book he had been holding. "Why the hell are you here, Potter?"

Harry shook his head, still trying to recover from the shock of coming across Malfoy at midnight - in the library, of all places. "I could ask you the same question," he said, approaching Malfoy.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked, sounding very alarmed. "For Merlin's sake, don't sit down here!"

But Harry had already seated himself across from Malfoy. Suspiciously, he asked, "Weren't you forbidden to leave your dorm at night?"

Malfoy's pale face and hair seemed to glow in the half-darkness as he replied scathingly, "It's not any of your concern where I go at night." The panic in his voice had vanished as suddenly it had appeared.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, abandoning his earlier question. He looked around at the balls of scrunched-up parchment and scattered books lying on the table. "We haven't even started classes yet, so you can't be doing homework."

"You're a nosy sod, Potter," Malfoy said simply, opening his book again. "Now piss off, I'm busy."

Harry bristled. "Stop being an arrogant git, Malfoy," he said angrily. "In case you haven't noticed, I -"

"Cut the crap," said Malfoy, interrupting Harry. "You've reminded me enough times that you 'saved my life', as you like to put it. But no matter how many times you say it, I don't care."

Harry smiled smugly. He knew Malfoy was intentionally leaving out a little detail. "You're indebted to me now," he said, voicing it.

Malfoy looked sharply up at Harry. The moonlight glinted off his narrowed eyes. "I am not," he said coldly.

Mock-thoughtfully, Harry tapped his lower lip. "Are you sure? Because if I recall correctly, you now owe me a little thing called a life debt. The one Pettigrew owed me came in quite handy, you know, when he died so that I could kill Voldemort..."

"Shut - up," said Malfoy jerkily. He slammed his book shut. The sound echoed in the still, musty air of the library, but Malfoy seemed beyond caring. Tight-lipped in anger, he whispered, "I don't owe you anything, Potter."

Harry grinned. If only Ron were here... he would be positively gleeful to see Malfoy so flustered... But of course, Ron would be angrier that Harry had snuck out in the middle of the night to hang out with Malfoy in the library...

In a much more serious tone, Harry asked, "So Malfoy, you still haven't told me what you're doing in the library at midnight."

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy answered his question this time. "Working."

"Working on what?"

Malfoy haughtily shook back the few wisps of blond hair that had fallen into his eyes and glared at Harry. "You called me Macmillan earlier," he observed, smoothly evading Harry's question.

Harry blinked. "I -" he said, faltering. He felt a twinge of indignation at the sound of Ernie's name being uttered in such a condescending tone. Even though he hadn't been very good friends with Ernie, he still felt that the former prefect deserved some respect.

"Isn't he dead?" Malfoy pressed on, completely oblivious to (or, more likely, choosing to ignore) Harry's discomfort.

"Yes, he is," Harry snapped, hating the finality of those words. "I just thought..."

Malfoy was watching Harry carefully, his face inexpressive. When he spoke, it was almost as though he pitied Harry. "Macmillan wasn't daft enough to choose to become a ghost."

Harry inhaled sharply. "What do you mean?"

"Being caught in a state between living and dead isn't a pleasant experience, Potter," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. "Macmillan would have known that."

"Oh..."

Harry didn't bother asking Malfoy how he had known what he was thinking. Malfoy was right, of course, although Harry would never have admitted it out loud. He had merely reminded Harry of what Nearly-Headless Nick had said in his fifth year after Sirius's death: "I was afraid of death. I chose to remain behind. I sometimes wonder whether I oughtn't have..."

Ernie wouldn't have done that. On the contrary, Ernie would have eagerly embraced the opportunity to venture into an entirely new world... a new world where he could learn about the previously intangible mysteries of an existence beyond life... Yes, Ernie would have liked that.

"Oh," said Harry again, this time very plaintively.

"Get a grip," Malfoy drawled, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "If you came here to mourn over your deceased friends, I'd suggest you do it somewhere else."

Harry held back a retort about Malfoy's lack of consideration. After all, comforting words weren't exactly a Slytherin's expertise.

Several minutes passed in silence. Malfoy had returned to reading his book, while Harry stared absently out the window, which overlooked the Forbidden Forest. Every once in a while a Thestral would soar out of the trees, a black streak against the blacker night, before diving back down into the protection of the forest. Each time this happened, Harry's heart would skip a beat and his breath would catch in his throat - not out of fear, but out of wonder, for he had come to see an ethereal sort of beauty in the creatures over time.

"Have you ever seen a Thestral?" Harry finally asked, breaking the quiet. He looked inquisitively over at Malfoy, whose pale features were screwed up in concentration as he read.

"Yes," Malfoy replied, never once lifting his eyes from his book.

"Where?"

"Father bred them for the Dark Lord's use," said Malfoy levelly, carefully turning a thin page, as if the idea of a herd of winged, skeletal horses living in his backyard was not the least bit unsettling.

Harry grimaced at the thought. "That's not what I meant," he said quickly. "Well, I mean, yeah, it's what I meant, but... How did you come to see them?"

Malfoy finally looked up at Harry, disbelief in his eyes. "Are you serious, Potter? I would have thought you of all people would remember what that giant oaf taught us in fifth year."

"It's 'Hagrid'," Harry snapped. The wound in his heart smarted; Hagrid had been another casualty of the war - the giant raids, to be specific. "And I know how people come to see Thestrals; I just wasn't aware that you'd seen someone... someone..."

His voice trailed off as he remembered that Malfoy had witnessed Bellatrix's murder and, obviously, countless others during the war. He mentally hit himself for having temporarily forgotten something so significant. Then again, it was a little hard to imagine Mafoy the Brutal Death Eater while sitting in the library with Malfoy the Helpless Teenage Fugitive.

"Never mind," he said quickly.

"You're pathetic, you know," said Malfoy conversationally, placing both hands on the pages of his open book and staring Harry in the eye. "You're so scared of death that you can't even talk about it. Do your fans know that?"

Harry's blood boiled with fury. Malfoy was misinterpreting his words, as always. "If the alternative to fearing it is being so callous towards it that murdering becomes easy," he said, "I'd rather be afraid."

Malfoy laughed coldly. "It's not the only alternative. You could learn to accept it as a stage of life. Honestly, Potter, I never would have taken you to be one to simplify the world. Frankly, I expected more out of the Chosen One."

"I don't have any more to give," Harry said in a strangled voice, only vaguely aware that he was losing control over his emotions. "If you expected more, you'll be better off finding it in someone else."

---

To say the least, Draco was very taken aback by Potter's emotional breakdown. He had been trying to provoke Potter, yes, but he hadn't expected Potter to crumble this easily. Derisively, he said, "Do you think I care?"

Anguish swirled in Potter's eyes, but he seemed to have regained a hold of himself. "No, Malfoy, I don't, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't."

Draco arched an eyebrow, still somewhat bothered by Potter's brief rant. "I can't say I believe that. It looks to me like you want someone to whom you can run crying and pour out all the details of your oh-so-tragic existence. Which, might I add, is not so very tragic at all, considering you've still got your friends, girlfriend, and freedom - oh, and not to mention the entire fucking world at your feet."

"Well, you're not that someone," Potter growled, "so you can breathe a sigh of relief."

Draco smirked. Watching Potter struggle was very amusing. Nevertheless, he had come to the library with a purpose, so he returned to flipping through his book without further comment.

A short while later, however, he was interrupted by Potter again.

"What are you planning?"

Draco sighed. "For the last time," he said icily, "I'm not planning anything worthy of the Chosen One's attentions. No one is going to be killed, tortured, possessed, or hurt in any way, shape or form."

"But you are planning something," Potter pointed out shrewdly.

Draco ground his teeth together. He'd had enough of Potter's vacillating temper and incessant prying. Standing up, he gathered the books he had spread out around him. With a wave of his wand, he cleared the table top of crumpled, used parchment.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not in the mood for small talk," he said coldly as he turned to leave. "It's been a pleasure, Potter, but it's about time I took my leave."

And with that, Draco walked away.

---

Though Malfoy's abrupt parting had been unexpected, Harry was not fazed. His hands had been itching to grab one of those discarded pieces of parchment, but he hadn't wanted to give Malfoy the satisfaction. Instead, he waited until he heard the distant sound of the door opening and closing, then bent and disappeared under the table. He reappeared moments later, triumphantly clutching a wadded up ball of parchment that had he had seen earlier by the table leg. Smoothing out the creases, he read the neat, cramped handwriting:

- Read Hogwarts: A History

- Be invisible

- Witness

But the rest of the last line had been crossed out so completely that Harry couldn't even begin to guess what it had read. Puzzled, he sat back and stared contemplatively at the words Malfoy had written. What did they mean? Could Malfoy be planning to cause trouble while invisible? But, in that case, what Hogwarts: A History have to do with anything?

The more Harry pored over the list, the more he realised that there really wasn't anything dangerous about it. Even so, Harry was suspicious. He knew all too well that Malfoy was very much capable of concealing his true intentions from others.

Determining to keep a close eye on Malfoy in the future, Harry pushed his chair back and stood up. Over an hour had passed since he found Malfoy; he'd have to return to the common room before his absence was discovered. Using his wand, he Vanished the other bits of used parchment Malfoy had failed to dispose of and left the library, deep in thought.


First of all, let me explain the "originally a very long chapter" bit in the pre-chapter author's notes. The original version of chapter four was twice as long as it is right now. However, it turns out that 10,000 words is the limit on Mugglenet Fan Fiction, so I ended up splitting it into chapters four and five. I'm keeping it that way on Schnoogle, since I don't want any chapter confusion between archives.

Anyway, sorry for the delay. My updates, from now on, are going to be less frequent than they once were, as AP tests and the end of my senior year draw near. Also, American Idol (for those of you who watch, vote for Chris Richardson!) takes up a hefty chunk of my week. I simply haven't had the time to write, and I doubt I will anytime soon. I assure you, however, that this fic has not been abandoned and that I will continue to update it on an irregular basis.

Once again, join my Yahoo! group for updates and announcements: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/anniesfanfiction/