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 07 - A List

Posted:
06/01/2007
Hits:
1,518
Author's Note:
Thanks to my awesome betas, Emily, Sharon, and Christine, for their expert advice :) Also, I hereby dedicate this chapter to Chungsol, who's recently become a ATW fangirl again :P You rock the casbah, wifey.


If you can't change your fate, change your attitude.

- Amy Tan

Chapter 6: A List

Harry Potter didn't believe in fate. He saw it as nothing more than an imaginary force invented by the weak for the sole purpose of explaining away questionable happenings. It was true that he had once believed in fate, but he had come to change his mind as he began realising that his choices were what really determined the road ahead of him. He had chosen Gryffindor over Slytherin, in spite of the Sorting Hat's words of advice. He had decided to free Sirius, even though Sirius had been meant to die at the Ministry's hands. And no matter how many prophecies stated that he had been destined to kill Voldemort all along, Harry knew that he had killed Voldemort because he had wanted to - not because fate had decided it would be so.

In other words, Harry Potter wasn't one to willingly surrender control, especially to something as intangible and impossible to prove as fate.

By the end of the first day of classes, however, Harry was absolutely, positively, without a doubt sure that some higher power up above had, while Harry had been eating breakfast or sleeping or perhaps even before he had arrived at Hogwarts, decided it would be amusing to interfere with Harry's life.

Right off the bat, the fact that Malfoy had kissed him should have warned him of the traumatic events to come. But Harry, oblivious as he was, hadn't heeded the warning. Instead, following Malfoy's departure, he had simply shaken his head in disgust, performed a thorough scouring spell on his mouth (while making a mental note to brush his teeth more vigorously than usual later that night), and returned to the castle, deciding to brush the incident off as a freak and purely accidental meeting of his and Malfoy's lips.

But then they began happening: encounters - several of them - between him and Malfoy.

The first of the said encounters occurred in Potions, when Slughorn decided it would be entertaining to ease the class into the school year by re-enacting Harry's final battle scene with Voldemort as it had been described by the papers - with Malfoy playing the part of the defeated and dying Voldemort.

"There isn't a student in the school more fit for the role!" he had cried jovially, amid snickers and sneers from the students.

Of course, Malfoy had proclaimed furiously that he would never subject to something so degrading and humiliating before elbowing Harry aside and storming out of the room. Harry had fought the urge to follow Malfoy, reminding himself that he could resume his spying on Malfoy once the other boy calmed down. Besides, it wasn't as if Malfoy would attempt something stupid enough to get him caught in his first few weeks of freedom.

As Harry had been leaving the dungeon with Ron and Hermione, however, he had once again run into Malfoy - literally. He had been pretending to listen to Ron's gleeful recount of Malfoy's tantrum when the devil himself appeared out of nowhere in his path. The two of them had consequently walked straight into each other, a collision that had resulted in many exclaimed swear words, some accidental (and perhaps one or two intentional) hexes thrown around, and one very angry Slughorn waddling out of the Potions classroom and ordering "that troublemaking Malfoy boy" to the headmistress's office, while purposely ignoring the fact that Harry had also been at fault. Unfortunately for Harry, the more impartial Flitwick had been passing by at the time of the incident, so Harry had ended up being sent to see McGonagall as well

Thus, the two of them had trudged up several flights of stairs to McGonagall's office, Harry hating Malfoy with every fibre of his being and sure that his feelings were reciprocated in every way. McGonagall had, to Harry's surprise, left him alone for the first hour or so, choosing instead to round on Malfoy and list off a total of seventy-two reasons why she was "severely disappointed, outraged, and appalled" by his behaviour.

When Harry's turn arrived, she had merely told him that his well-known status in the wizarding world would not excuse him from causing trouble, and that she had expected better behaviour from him, even if it was Malfoy who had started it. (Here, Harry had purposely held back from pointing out that they had both played equal parts in starting it.) Then she had given them both detentions and slammed the door in their faces without a further word.

The rest of the day hadn't been any better. Harry had discovered, to his great dismay, that because each N.E.W.T. level subject only had one class that combined students of all houses, he shared every one of his classes with Malfoy. Whether this was an unfortunate coincidence or McGonagall's own way of helping Harry along in his quest to stake out Malfoy Harry didn't know, but either way, it had not done very much to ease the tension between the two of them. Hermione - and later Ron - had watched on with evident worry and suspicion as Harry was paired up with Malfoy to review basic techniques in Charms, Transfiguration, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry was especially indignant about the latter; he had thought Lupin would at least be sympathetic to the difficulties of working with Malfoy.

As terrible as the forced partnerships were, the frequent encounters in the hallways and stairwells (of which, as Ron had later kindly pointed out in the common room, there had been nine of) had been even worse. Sometimes they had simply passed each other by, but more often than not, Harry had found himself bumping into Malfoy. Once, he'd nearly tripped over Malfoy's lanky, outstretched legs in the courtyard, though he had realised almost instantly that this particular near-accident had probably been intentional. Flitwick, however, had once again been in the vicinity, and so Harry had walked away without a word, seething as he pictured the smug look on Malfoy's pointy face.

Thus, it was no wonder that by the time the hour of Harry's detention with Malfoy arrived, he was feeling even wearier than usual.

"See you guys later," he mumbled to Ron and Hermione as he reluctantly stood up from the squashy armchair he had been comfortably curled up on.

"Harry, are you sure you'll be all right?" Hermione asked anxiously, looking up from the thick textbook she was perusing. The shadows cast by the fire in the hearth danced nimbly across her face as she took in Harry's drawn features. "Honestly, I can't believe you've got a detention already... It's only the second night back..."

"Yeah, well, you'd be better off taking it to McGonagall," Harry said irritably, blinking and feeling slightly dazed by the flickering shadows.

"Hermione, leave him be," Ron said defensively. He was lounging carelessly on the unoccupied couch across the table from Hermione. "Don't you think it's bad enough already that he's got to spend two hours reorganising the library with Malfoy?"

Hermione sent a withering glare in Ron's direction. "I personally think McGonagall went easy on them! Reorganising the books isn't that awful of a punishment, you know; at least not for nearly cursing an entire hallway-full of students. And Harry, you must admit you're somewhat to blame... Really, you ought to have just ignored Malfoy in the first place..."

"You think I'm purposely running into him?" Harry asked incredulously. "Are you kidding, Hermione? I haven't changed that much..."

His voice trailed off, however, when it hit him that he really had no basis for his objection. His recent behaviour when it came to Malfoy certainly did imply that a part of him had morphed into something - someone - that the Pre-War Harry would never have recognised, much less accepted. Hermione was merely acknowledging the reality of it, voicing the facts that continued to lurk just below Harry's consciousness even after he had tried to bury them away...

"Harry?"

"Huh?" Harry snapped out of his thoughts upon being addressed by Ron.

"D'you want us to walk you to the library?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows as his brain slowly processed the words. When their meaning became clear, he said hastily, "Oh, no, it's okay. I - er, I need to be alone for a little while. To figure out what I'm going to do about all these weird meetings with Malfoy."

Ron frowned. "You sure?"

"Yeah." Harry smiled weakly at Ron, remembering that he had yet to find a suitable way to tell his friend about his role in Malfoy's trial. "You two don't need to bother yourselves with me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione said sharply, her hand pausing mid-way to her quill. "No one is being 'bothered by you'. We just haven't spent much time together ever since..." she faltered, then finished in a softer voice, "ever since the war began."

Ron cleared his throat loudly and glared at Hermione, a sort of secret message shared between the two of them that somehow drove Hermione to adopt a guilty expression.

"Sorry," she said meekly, though it was more to Ron than to Harry. "Go ahead, Harry. We'll wait here for you."

"You don't need to," Harry shrugged, feeling rather like a young boy watching his parents exchange silent, meaningful looks at the dinner table. With a jolt, he realised that for the first time in his life, he was the one being excluded from their three-way friendship, even if it wasn't on purpose - and he didn't like the feeling very much.

"We want to," Ron said stubbornly. "And when you come back you can tell us about all the things Malfoy did to you so that we can threaten him for you later. We've already got loads of dirt against him, but it can't hurt to have more..."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, he's not a child," she said with a hint of exasperation. "He can handle Malfoy on his own. Isn't that right, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry said dully. He turned to leave. "Bye then..."

He left the common room, almost glad to finally be away from Ron and Hermione. They had been fussing over him ever since the end of classes. Harry suspected they were trying to make up for their inability to help him during the war, but as much as he appreciated their efforts, it was beginning to get annoying.

When Harry arrived at the library, Madam Pince was waiting for him by the doors, her shrivelled face twisted into a suspicious glower. "The other boy is inside," she snapped irritably.

Harry followed her into the library. Sure enough, Malfoy was sitting on one of the couches by the entrance, his feet propped up on the low coffee table in front of him.

"Feet off the table!" Madam Pince squawked, shuffling over to Malfoy with a wild look in her eyes.

An expression of extreme alarm crossed Malfoy's face, and he quickly dropped his feet to the carpeted floor before the librarian could attack him. Harry bit back a smirk. Of all the people at Hogwarts, Madam Pince was the last one he would've expected Malfoy to obey.

Harry's amusement, however, did not last very long, for he soon discovered that he and Malfoy were to spend the next two hours immersed in the tedious job of rebinding old textbooks that had fallen into disrepair.

"McGonagall said we were going to be organising the books!" Malfoy exclaimed angrily when the sudden change of plans was revealed.

"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry snapped before Madam Pince could launch into a tirade about ungrateful students. The dim lighting in the library was making him sleepy, and all he wanted was to get the task done with as soon as possible. Turning to Madam Pince, he said politely, "Where do we start?"

"Transfiguration Section," she replied stiffly, shooting Malfoy a spiteful glare. "If I find you've been tampering with any of my books... If there is so much as a tear in any of the pages..."

"I know, I know," Harry cut in quickly. "We won't do anything."

He left Madam Pince, dragging Malfoy along behind him. The other boy let out an indignant sound of protest but allowed himself to be pulled over to the safety of the bookshelves anyway.

"Miserable bint," Malfoy spat out once they arrived at the Transfiguration Section. He shook Harry's hand off furiously and stalked over to the end of the low row of books.

"Talking to me again, Malfoy?" Harry asked mildly. He looked up at stuffed shelves with considerable apprehension. "I can't believe she's making us do this."

"No, Potter, I'm talking to myself," Malfoy said sarcastically. He extracted a random, leather-bound book and flipped through it, making a face when small puffs of dust flew up to greet him. "Thanks for landing me in detention, though."

Harry shoved the book he had been in the process of pulling out back into its spot angrily. "Don't you dare blame this on me," he growled, rounding on Malfoy. "You were just as much at fault as I was."

"Oh, please," Malfoy scoffed, slamming the book he held shut. He tossed it on the floor carelessly and walked up to Harry. "Don't think I didn't see you stalking me around school today. Your obsession with me is getting out of hand."

"The size of your ego is astounding," said Harry, disgusted. "All those meetings were just coincidences. I didn't ask Slughorn to appoint you the fallen Voldemort, so don't take your wounded pride out on me. I don't want anything to do with you, Malfoy. You're nothing more than scum on the soles of my shoes to me."

To prove it, he shoved Malfoy away from him roughly.

Angry red spots appeared in Malfoy's pale cheeks. "Don't touch me," he hissed venomously. His long, pale fingers gripped the edge of the bookshelf tightly.

"Oh, you're one to talk," Harry said mockingly. "Snogged any Gryffindors lately? Besides me, of course."

Malfoy's eyes widened. "That's none of your business," he mumbled.

"None of my business?" Harry repeated incredulously. "You bloody kissed me! Like hell that isn't my business..."

The red in Malfoy's cheeks was spreading. If Harry hadn't known better, he would have thought Malfoy was blushing. He did know better, however, and what he knew informed him that Malfoys didn't blush. Malfoys weren't capable of mustering up enough emotion to blush.

"Get to work," Harry said coldly after a minute or so of resentful silence. "I'm not going to do all of this by myself."

Harry turned away from Malfoy and began taking out books and stacking them on the floor. The ones in decent condition he placed back on the shelves. Then, one by one, he carried the old, loosely-bound volumes over to the nearby study tables and placed them under the light where he would be able to see them better.

Sighing, Harry picked up the first volume in a very tall stack. Tapping it with his wand, he said, "Reparo!" The tattered yellow cover immediately rearranged itself and merged back into one piece.

The time passed slowly. There were over three hundred books stored in the Transfiguration Section, and over two-thirds of them ended up needing rebinding. Nearly an hour inched by before Harry, with a great deal of relief, finally found himself returning the last of the books he had repaired (Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration) to its former spot.

"Malfoy, are you done?" he called out grouchily as he brushed the dust off his hands.

There was a rustling sound, and then Malfoy looked around his end of the bookshelf. "I've been done for ages," he said irritably.

"Well, good, we can get onto the Potions Section then," Harry replied petulantly. He winced at the prospect of rebinding more books. "I want to get as much finished tonight as possible."

The Potions Section went by considerably faster. As Harry transferred shabby volumes from the shelves to tables in the study area, he couldn't help noting dryly how peculiar it was that he had slipped back into the Hogwarts lifestyle so quickly. Less than two weeks ago he had been duelling and incarcerating Death Eaters, and now he was carrying out detention in the library with one.

After a while, Harry noticed something odd: The only noises he heard were coming from him, meaning Malfoy had stopped moving around. Assuming the other boy was slacking off, Harry angrily shoved his wand in his pocket and stalked back to the Potions section.

"Malfoy, get back to -" he started to say, but he stopped when he turned the corner and saw Malfoy. His eyebrows skyrocketed up to his hairline. "What the hell are you doing?"

Malfoy was sitting against one of the bookshelves, pointing his lit wand down at the thick book lying open in his lap. He was so engrossed in the text that he didn't even notice when Harry approached him.

Harry was very vexed now. Leaning down right next to Malfoy's ear, he said loudly, "Get back to work!"

Malfoy jumped at the sudden noise, causing his head and Harry's nose to collide. With a yelp, Harry fell back and landed painfully on his rear.

"Good Lord, Potter, don't scare me like that," Malfoy exclaimed heatedly, scrambling backwards. His pale face was even whiter than usual, and he seemed rather flustered by the sudden interruption.

"Yeah, well, next time don't sit around reading while you're in detention," Harry growled in return as he reached up to adjust his glasses and rub his nose. "Besides, I'm the one who got injured!"

"That's your own fault," Malfoy snapped. He leaned over and grabbed his book, pulling it to his chest protectively. "Sod off, I'm busy."

Harry stared at Malfoy disbelievingly, not sure if he had heard right. "Didn't you learn anything from all that time in Azkaban?"

"No, Potter, I was too busy trying to keep my soul from being chewed apart by the Dementors to worry about learning my lesson," Malfoy replied sardonically. He picked up his wand and started flipping through the book again, his own way of making it clear that the conversation was over.

But Harry wasn't finished yet. "You didn't seem to be bothered by them during the trial," he grumbled as he stood up gingerly.

"Just because things seem doesn't mean they are," Malfoy replied snootily. He carefully smoothed down a wrinkled page. "Now for the last time, clear off."

Harry folded his arms and frowned. "I'm not leaving until you start holding up your end of the punishment," he said stubbornly.

Silence.

He tried again. "What are you reading? Is that Hogwarts: A History?"

Malfoy looked up sharply. "Why would I be reading that?" he said contemptuously, but the flicker of panic in his eyes betrayed him.

Harry bit his lip. Malfoy was definitely hiding something. Then he remembered that they were in the Potions Section... and suddenly the two pieces of the puzzle clicked.

"This has to do with your trip to the Apothecary, doesn't it?" he accused.

"No, it doesn't," Malfoy said hastily, looking positively alarmed now. "Stop nosing into my business, Potter!"

"You're a shoddy liar," Harry muttered, walking up to Malfoy again. Ignoring the other boy's angry protests, he leaned down and jerked the book away. As he did so, a sheet of spare parchment fluttered out from between the brittle, yellowing pages. Surprised, Harry asked out loud, "What's this?"

"Don't -" Malfoy started to say, but Harry was too quick for him. With one nimble swipe of his hand, he snatched up the piece of paper.

---

Shit.

The word echoed in Draco's head over and over again, pounding a dull rhythm against his skull, as he watched Potter pick up the list - his list - and turn it over to read it.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shi-

"One: Be invisible."

Draco almost groaned out loud. Potter was reading the bloody list. Potter was reading the bloody list out loud. But despite his mortification, Draco couldn't help shooting Potter a sideways glance.

Potter's eyes had widened, and for one bewildered second Draco thought he saw a spark of recognition in their green depths.

"Two: Climb a tree all the way to the top."

Confusion replaced recognition.

"Three: Ride a Thestral."

Two black eyebrows rose dubiously.

"Four: Get drunk."

Another few millimetres.

"Five: Hold a civil conversation with a member of every house."

Twitch of a cheek muscle.

"Six: Kiss my worst enemy. Done."

Complete understanding.

As cool, calm, and collected as Draco liked to think he was, this was the last straw. There was nothing - nothing - in the world he wanted more at that moment than for the ground beneath him to open up and swallow him whole.

"So this is what you were doing earlier today."

"That's all you have to say?" Draco asked incredulously. Perhaps he doesn't realise what he's holding, he thought hopefully.

"Well, what else am I supposed to say?" Potter looked annoyed now. "As heartwarming as your wish to befriend Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors is, I frankly find it a little weird that you've written down a list of things to do. And that you planned to kiss me in advance."

He gave an affected shudder. Draco hated him more than he had ever hated anyone in his life.

"If you find it weird, give it back," he snarled, his voice trembling with humiliation as he extended a hand.

Potter grinned, and his eyes lit up in the dimness. "Sorry, Malfoy, but I really can't turn down the chance to have a look at the rest of your plans." He glanced down at the list. "Looks like there are a lot of them, too."

Draco gnashed his teeth in frustration. Potter was holding his list and his book. "Those aren't exactly... plans..." he said in a strangled voice.

"Oh, really?" Potter's eyes snapped up to look at Draco over the top of the piece of parchment. With a sinking feeling, Draco realised that Potter had probably been waiting for him to speak up in regards to the true purpose of the list. "What are they, then?"

"Nothing," Draco snapped. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to contain his aggravation. "Just hand it -"

But at that moment, he was interrupted by the arrival of Madam Pince. She remarked nastily on their slow progress before informing them that their detention for the evening was over and that they were to return the subsequent nights to finish up the rest of the library.

"And mind your grip on that book," she said waspishly to Potter before she stalked away. "Those pages are fragile!"

"Yeah, sure," Potter mumbled. He handed the book back to Draco, and Draco accepted it with a sigh of relief. Potter hadn't had the chance to see the page he had been reading.

Once they were alone again, Draco stood up and said coldly, "Give it back to me, Potter."

"No."

"I'm serious."

"I am, too."

"It's mine!" Draco hissed. He didn't want to cause a commotion that might bring Madam Pince running back, but even so, his fingers involuntarily curled tightly around the handle of his wand.

Potter smirked in a self-satisfied manner. "Don't lose your temper now, Malfoy. You don't want to land yourself in another detention. This one's already going to take us through to the end of the month, you know."

Panic rose within Draco. What if Potter meant it? What if he kept the list and... and... and showed it to his friends? "Oh God," Draco moaned quietly. That would be the end of him. He had written down all sorts of humiliating things on that single sheet of parchment, and if the Weasel ever so much as caught a glimpse of them, Draco wouldn't hesitate to throw himself into the waiting tentacles of the Giant Squid.

"What's that?" Potter asked curiously.

Draco was furious to find that Potter was looking livelier than he had for the past few days.

"I'm glad you're enjoying this," Draco muttered under his breath. He took a deep breath. Time to try another tactic. "Can we take this outside?"

Potter looked surprised by this proposal, but he agreed to it nonetheless. They walked out side-by-side, for neither boy was willing to walk in front of the other. That would have required trust, and trust was certainly not one of the sentiments shared between them.

Once they were clear of the library, Draco sprang to action. Grabbing the front of Potter's robes in one hand, he slammed the other boy up against the stone wall, pointed his wand at his throat, and said in a dangerously low whisper, "Give me the list, Potter. Now."

Potter's eyes darkened. When he spoke, the earlier playfulness in his voice was gone, leaving it chillingly serious. "Let go of me, Malfoy. I've had enough of being physically assaulted by you for one day."

Draco immediately released Potter, his cheeks burning. "I need that list," he said almost pleadingly, loathing himself for giving in to desperation and Potter's games so easily. "I can't - no one can - it's for my eyes only -"

"I don't understand why this is so important to you. Everyone has aspirations; just because yours aren't very Slytherin-like..." said Potter, shaking his head in confusion. The cutting edge in his tone had disappeared to be replaced by something softer. "I'm not going to tell anyone, if that's what you're afraid of."

Of course not. Of course Potter wouldn't tell anyone, as noble and reliable and honest as he was. Draco's lower lip curled in disgust. "I hate you," he breathed.

"Yeah, I noticed," Potter replied, rolling his eyes. He placed both palms against Draco's chest and pushed him away firmly. "I'll give it to you, okay? Just let me read it first."

Draco supposed he could have cursed Potter at that moment with one of the spells he had learned from his father's mates, but that would have been troublesome and potentially messy. Thus, helpless to do otherwise, he dropped his hands to his sides and nodded in resignation. Just get this over with quickly, he prayed silently.

A stifling silence fell as Draco waited for Potter to finish reading the rest of the items on his list. He was aware of his heart beating wildly against his ribcage, and hoped fervently that Potter couldn't hear it.

After a few minutes that felt more like hours to Draco, Potter looked up. He exhaled shakily as he held out the now-creased sheet of parchment to Draco.

Draco took it without a word. He tried to say something malicious, something aggressive, something along the lines of "Don't ever fuck with me again, Potter, or you'll regret it," but the words kept getting lost somewhere halfway up his windpipe. He therefore resorted to staring at the ground instead.

"Why is this so important to you, Malfoy?"

Potter's voice was soft and coaxing, like the tone adults use to persuade frightened children out from under the bed covers after a violent lightning storm. Draco shook his head. He would never tell Potter.

"Save someone from the edge of death. Conquer your worst fear. Brew Felix Felicis." Potter's sharp intake of breath made a whistling sound as it passed through his teeth. "Those aren't goals you can accomplish in one day."

"How observant of you," Draco muttered, unable to locate the usual biting tone he liked to weave into his speech.

"You left a part of this list behind that night when I saw you in the library," Potter observed thoughtfully, "which means you probably spent a lot of time writing and editing it. Why are you putting so much effort into it? Do you actually plan to go through with all of these things?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Draco demanded defensively. Then he shook his head vehemently. "No. Never mind. I'm not going to discuss this with you."

He wheeled around, determined to return to the Slytherin common room before Potter said another word, but Potter quickly stepped around him to block his path.

"Tell me," he said obstinately.

"Get out of my way!" Draco exclaimed in frustration, reaching out to thrust Potter aside, but Potter easily caught his wrist. Draco stiffened at the contact.

"Malfoy," Potter said calmly, "so far today you've shoved me up against a tree and snogged me, tried to curse me in the hallway, landed me in detention, run into me a total of nine times, and left me to rebind all the books in the Potions Section of the library without lifting a finger. If you didn't owe me for saving your arse from the Dementors before, you sure as hell owe me now."

Something inside of Draco snapped.

"Fine," he spat, tearing his wrist out of Potter's grasp. "It's a list of things I want to do before I die, all right?"