Congenital Magnetism

Draco Malfoy sat on a grassy knoll at the edge of Hogwarts Lake before dawn and waited for the sun to rise on a shattered world. The familiar world that he and his parents had always inhabited, held together by certainties about magical and Muggle societies—all of it was in ruins. Draco thought about the wretched piece of scum his family had put their faith in, the madman who was now plotting to kill his father in prison. His mother’s stored memory, which Narcissa had shared with him, had convinced Draco that he and his mother could expect nothing but hostility and ingratitude from Voldemort.

“Dark Lord like bloody hell!” Draco muttered to himself. “I’ll never think of him as anything but an evil-minded fuck.”

The more he thought about Voldemort cooking up a recipe for treacle fudge to kill his father with, the more he wished to see Voldemort die in some messy fashion. Draco had allowed Voldemort’s dogmas about wizarding purity to hold sway over him, and look where it had gotten him. More to the point, look where it had gotten his father. Draco watched helplessly as his father did his level best to serve Voldemort, only to be discarded like a used tissue. Far from rewarding his father’s loyalty, Voldemort did nothing but fume about his stinking diary. How could Draco’s father have known that Lord Shithead had turned it into some type of experiment? To accomplish what? To become immortal or some such nonsense.

Melancholy stole over Draco. His father was an honorable man who had made all the wrong choices. There was no clear, obvious path ahead for Draco. He would have to invent his own methods as he went. Draco regarded Hogwarts Castle, remembering his private conversation with Dumbledore the evening before. The Headmaster was full of ideas Draco had never considered until now: mixing the magical and Muggle worlds, harmony between the two and mutually beneficial exchange. But then, Draco remembered that Dumbledore had the audacity to insist that he collaborate with Harry Potter in order to develop a potion that would alleviate the effects of whatever stupid spell was afflicting Potter at the moment… oh, that’s right, all the male students were trying to seduce him and shag him silly.

None of that is my fault, Draco thought. Why me? Why do I have to be the one to work on the project with Potter?

Dumbledore was kind enough to explain. The female students found that Potter’s skin threw off a glow, as well as little sparkly glitter things, that annihilated their powers of concentration. On top of that, Draco was the only male student who was unaffected by the unstoppable sexual attraction Potter was radiating. Draco had suggested to Dumbledore that perhaps he was the only male student with any sense. The Headmaster had smiled indulgently and told Draco that his comment was unkind, and to please adopt a cooperative attitude toward Potter. Draco bowed to the inevitable. Today, he admitted to himself, it was off to a private chamber in the Hogwarts dungeons to launch into a potion-making project with Potter. Draco contemplated the trying day ahead. A Potions project with Potter. Oh, what fun.

Sitting at the edge of the lake, Draco scrutinized the eastern sky as the color of a small area of the sky altered. He looked across the water at the low wooded mountains beyond the eastern shore of the lake. He noticed a pale spot in the sky, just above one of the lowest hills, and then watched as the pale area grew. Draco observed in quiet awe as the magic of sunrise revealed the many-shaded green colors of bog plants and moss that, until now, were hidden by black and darkest grey. The deep green of the high woods and the softer green of the rough pastures were becoming plain. The advancing light presented Draco with the finest gift he could think of: the verdant Scottish Highlands. Best of all, the dominant hue was the color Draco had always loved beyond all others: green. The explosion of green in a profusion of shades was everywhere transforming the landscape. Then without warning—

Harry.

The name sneaked into Draco’s consciousness of its own accord, and it whispered through the green trees and across the green bog for a brief moment before vanishing.

The dawn had arrived, changing the color of the water and sky. Mesmerized by the beauty of the Highland landscape at break of day, Draco realized that Voldemort was casting too large a shadow over his life. This vile madman was chasing after immortality, and yet all he could do was create fear. Who was this dark wizard who was plotting to murder Draco’s father in a cowardly and despicable way? He was lord of fear, which was to say, he was lord of nothing. People fear all manner of foolish things, not the least of which is the society around them, but Draco thought it stupid for people to let the demands of society rule their lives. That would be no better than being a minion of Voldemort, who did nothing but enslave his followers.

In that moment, Draco stumbled across a goal worthy of Slytherin ambition. He decided that he would free himself from fear. He’d always heard rumors about Voldemort’s obsession with immortality, but now he knew what Voldemort didn’t: conquer fear and you will conquer death. Draco rose and strode toward the castle with new resolve. He could face anything, even an extended Potions project with Potter. Draco groaned considering the notion. A project with Potter that will last days, maybe even weeks? If he could put up with that, he reckoned he could put up with anything.

 

* * *

 

Harry woke to a new day, not in Gryffindor Tower, but in a small, disused classroom on the sixth floor of the castle that Professor Dumbledore had converted into temporary living quarters. Dumbledore had insisted that Harry sleep and eat apart from the other students for the first few days of the term, and rather than attending all of his usual classes, Harry would only attend a private Potions class with Draco. The Headmaster was hopeful that Harry would be able to go back to his own dormitory and begin attending his other classes within a week. Harry wanted nothing more than to rejoin his fellow students in Gryffindor Tower, but first, Harry and Draco needed to find some counteragent for Harry’s “condition,” with assistance from Professor Snape.

This was not how Harry had expected to begin sixth year, and yet in some ways, it wasn’t as bad as what he’d been expecting. A few short months ago, near the end of term, the Ravenclaw and Slytherin Quidditch teams had walked into the deserted locker room unannounced to witness an adventurous Harry losing his virginity and moaning in wild ecstasy as Kyle Urquhart, with his not inconsiderable anatomy, pounded into Harry. All summer long, Harry had steeled himself for rejection by many of the other students. Even the lust-inspired chaos on the Hogwarts Express the previous day was better than rejection and hostility, although Harry was relieved when Hermione’s tapioca pudding turned out to be a temporary cure. Harry was a lot more comfortable with simple cordiality than having every male student at Hogwarts wanting to drag him into bed.

What distressed Harry was his own unexpected reaction toward Draco Malfoy. Harry had now spent the previous 24 hours going quietly crazy. He attempted to understand what he hadn’t dared to tell anyone, what he was now brave enough to admit to himself. From the moment Harry saw Draco enter his train carriage, he felt the urge to seduce Draco. Even after he left the train, Harry spent his idle moments imagining every manner of ploy to use for the purpose of landing Draco in the sack. Harry was frantic, wondering what was wrong with him. This was Draco Malfoy, after all, bane of his existence for the last five years. He clung to the desperate hope that his erotic craving for Draco was a brief fluke, sort of like the 24-hour flu. Harry prepared himself to face the disquieting agenda that lay ahead of him.

It was still before dawn, but the house-elves had already delivered breakfast to Harry’s room. He left his room long before the beginning of the earliest classes, planning to visit the library while it was still deserted. It couldn’t hurt to study up on Potions before he had to confront Draco, who was soooo much more accomplished in Potions than Harry. Dumbledore had told both Harry and Draco that there was no need for them to wear the usual robes that Hogwarts students always wore. This was an independent project, not a traditional classroom environment, so the Headmaster said they could wear any casual clothing that suited them. Harry threw on the first jersey and pair of jeans he could find and headed for the library before dawn.

Arriving in the empty library, Harry first sought out some standard volumes on potions, love spells and counterspells. He settled himself at a table in the corner of one of the reading areas. The information on potions was material Harry had already learned, and he found his attention wandering… and then he noticed a magazine in a small basket next to the chair he was sitting in: the July issue of Wizarding Free Press. It was one of those low-budget magazines that most of the Hogwarts faculty regarded as disreputable. One particular article title on the cover caught Harry’s eye: “South London Witch Co-op Finds New Potion Uses for Reversing Technique.” Throwing aside the standard potion text in his hand, Harry snatched the magazine and started reading the article.

 

A witch cooperative in the South London area has been collaborating recently with a Muggle dietary center for the purpose of reducing the calorie content of high-calorie dessert recipes. The witches involved in the project combine leech juice and sugar, and then heat them until they bond chemically. This is then added to a high-calorie mixture, such as chocolate mousse, and the mixture is then stirred widdershins, which is to say, counter-clockwise.

Leech juice is one of the reducing agents used in Shrinking Solution. In other potions, leech juice can be combined with other substances (in this case, sugar) in order to deplete the effect of those substances. Doing further research, the South London Witch Cooperative has located certain medieval texts which mention stirring a mixture widdershins as a reversing method in potion making…

 

Harry folded up the magazine and stuffed it in his back pocket, and then headed off to the dungeons to embark on his Potions project with Draco. Snape had already cleared out one of the extra chambers in the dungeons for Harry and Draco to work in, and he had installed all of the basic equipment that would be found in Potions class. The cabinets were stocked with a variety of ingredients derived from both plant and mineral sources.

Snape gave Harry and Draco instructions for a few basic love potions, along with reversing techniques that would, in effect, create a counteragent, something that would nullify the effect of a love spell. Snape gave Draco an advanced-level Potions book for some preliminary work, and put Harry to work chopping rose thorns. Harry kept his eyes on his work, not trusting himself to look at Draco. Snape reminded them that his teaching schedule would only allow him to offer occasional assistance, and Snape seemed eager to make his exit and leave the two on their own. Before leaving, Snape pulled out a rolled parchment and handed it to Draco.

“Oh, yes,” Snape said. “Professor Dumbledore insisted that I procure this set of instructions for you from the house-elves in the kitchen. It’s a standard method for making tapioca pudding, although I can’t imagine any useful application for a dessert recipe. This is, after all, a Potions project.”

“But Professor,” Harry said, “Hermione’s tapioca pudding did produce an effect yesterday on the Hogwarts Express.”

“I suggest that any effect will most likely prove unreliable.” Snape rolled his eyes. “But if the pudding recipe is of any use, fine.” Snape turned toward the door and swept out of the chamber.

“So, Potter,” Draco said, aiming for light conversion, “you’re well rested I hope? I suppose we all needed something of a rest after yesterday’s entertaining train ride. I mean, it’s so boring to ride on the Hogwarts Express year after year the conventional way… you know, with the train staying on the tracks. I thought it was much more exciting to be on a train that was flying though mid-air and see the treetops far below. What would we all do without you to add that extra bit of fun.”

Harry tried his best to ignore Draco, but to no avail.

“And all those floral arrangements from half the blokes on the train. I was thinking of bringing a bouquet of roses for you today, Potter, you know, to make you feel at home.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Draco’s dry wit was pushing a few too many buttons for Harry’s taste, but he kept his temper under control.

Then Harry looked up at Draco, looking at him closely for the first time since they arrived. Dumbledore had told them both that they could wear casual clothing, and Draco presented himself in a skin tight t-shirt. It took every bit of self-control for Harry to keep his jaw from dropping, and he contented himself with ogling.

Look at that beautiful chest. Where had Draco gotten muscles like that? That nice hard stomach and those biceps… and those biceps… and those biceps… God, where did he get those killer biceps?!

Harry forced himself out of his reverie. “Look, I’ll keep doing the menial work like chopping rose thorns,” Harry said, resentment creeping into his voice, “and you read the advanced Potions book and figure out what we’re supposed to be doing. Maybe this evening, I’ll try to get Hermione and Ron to tutor me in Potions, since they’re both good in the subject, especially Hermione.”

Draco threw his hands up in disgust. “Potter, why oh why do you have to drag them into the discussion? This project concerns you and me. We’re the ones who are supposed to be collaborating on this.”

“They’ve always been good friends to me,” Harry said.

“But then again,” Draco said, “we might need to send owls to other institutions during the course of the research; and I suppose Granger might be useful when it comes to sending owls, you know, with that god-awful bushy hair of hers.” Draco was saying all of this while looking away from Harry, which was a mistake. He didn’t see Harry start seething, and he certainly didn’t see Harry clench his hand around the nearest available object, which happened to be a large beaker of pond slime standing on a nearby table.

“And Potions work does involve working with ingredients from nature after all.” Draco was having fun now, but he still wasn’t looking at Harry. “Perhaps we could clone Granger’s hair and place the replicas all over Britain, you know, as a nesting environment for birds. Since potion ingredients are derived from nature, wouldn’t that be considered a form of sympathetic magic? I think it would be, since her hair so closely resembles a bird nest. We might even ask her to follow her usual hair care routine and stick her finger in one of those Muggle electrical outlets every morning. I’m sure that’s how Granger maintains just the right degree of frizz.” Harry was boiling over with rage at this point, his hand wrapped around the neck of the beaker.

Draco started speaking before he turned around to look at Harry and was not facing Harry until he had finished the sentence. “Come on, Potter, work with me!”

Harry threw the beaker at Draco with all his strength. The beaker missed Draco by inches as he ducked just in time, the doomed beaker shattering against the wall behind Draco with a great crash.

Obviously, Draco was going to have to make a few concessions if they were going to get through this project without killing each other.

“All right, Potter, no more lighthearted remarks about your friends. I promise.”

Harry looked over at where the glass beaker had exploded against the classroom wall. He couldn’t help but blush red as he watched pond slime dribble down in fluorescent-green rivulets and ooze onto the floor. Harry kept his eyes on the floor where the green mess was puddling, and when he spoke, his voice had lost its force.

“You’ve always hated my friends so much.”

“I don’t hate them. My feelings toward them are neutral.”

“Then why do you always insult them?”

Draco shrugged, not wanting to be honest, but seeing no other alternative. “They frustrate me.”

“Why?” Harry insisted.

Draco raked his hands through his hair, leaving it disheveled, and tossed his arms up in a sudden fitful movement. “Because they monopolize your time. Whenever I’m tempted to start a conversation with you, I can’t because they’re everywhere that you are!”

Harry had never considered this before and paused to think about it.

“Come over here and read the Potions book with me,” Draco said, his voice more even. “You might surprise yourself, Potter. Without Professor Snape breathing down your neck, your skills might improve. Haven’t I told you before to follow my lead and you might learn something?”

“Yeah, that’s right, Malfoy. I remember that insulting remark from last year.”

“I wasn’t being insulting,” Draco shot back, “I was trying to be helpful. You only take things the wrong way when I say them.”

“All right, so let’s just say that your skill at Potions could end up being useful… to a lot of different people.” Harry let the thought hang in the air, not wanting to be the first one to mention the change in Draco’s loyalties that had occurred over the summer.

“I guess it’s no secret that Voldemort has turned against my father,” Draco said, laughing. “Everyone in Slytherin knows already from their parents, and I suspect it’ll be common knowledge everywhere by about dinnertime today. Voldemort hasn’t exactly been discreet about it. I suppose Dumbledore’s told you I’m not on Voldemort’s side anymore.”

“Yeah, news travels fast around this place, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, that’s right.” A smile played on Draco’s lips. “I forgot about your locker room adventure with Kyle Urquhart at the end of term. That happened in the morning, if I remember correctly. I wasn’t an eyewitness, but half the school knew about it by dinnertime. So, I guess that means the average news cycle at Hogwarts is about 12 hours.”

Harry had to laugh in spite of himself. “You’re right, Hogwarts is a major gossip mill.”

“You know, when I heard that,” Draco continued, “I couldn’t help but wonder what use you had for an uncouth lout like Urquhart. Of course, the coward is lying low with his Ravenclaw girlfriend, but if I were you, I would forget the idiot.”

“You have one thing in common with Kyle Urquhart,” Harry countered, trying to maintain a neutral expression, but scowling anyway. “You have your own Ravenclaw girlfriend, right?” Harry was horrified anew at his reactions. Thinking about Draco with some Ravenclaw girl made his blood boil.

That’s ridiculous, Harry thought. What difference should it make to me if he’s got some stupid girlfriend? Oh my God, I must be going crazy. Help!

“And who told you that?” Draco’s voice yanked Harry out of his dark thoughts of taking vengeance on a particular Ravenclaw girl. “Our families are acquainted. I know her socially, but that doesn’t make her my girlfriend. Now get over here and help me, Potter. You can follow the instructions in this potion book just as well as I can.”

Just to avoid an argument, Harry stopped chopping the rose thorns and started helping with a standard potion for counteracting love spells. They began to work together, the same as they had so many times before when Snape had partnered them together in Potions class. But it wasn’t the same. There was something that was different, and Harry was trying to work out what it was. The work became easier and easier, and Harry was trying to figure out why. Draco didn’t bother thinking about it. He was happier, and he left it at that.

Finally, it hit Harry. There was something that had always been there when the two of them had worked together before, something that was absent now: the rest of the world. There was Ron, who would unfailingly drop some comment about what a worthless ferret Draco was, and Harry was reminded of why he should treat Draco with hostility. There was Pansy, who would be delighted to make some cutting remark about how the scar on Harry’s forehead must interfere with his ability to think, and that had to be why he was shit at Potions… and then Draco would be goaded into laughing along at Harry’s expense. The rest of the world—Ron, Pansy and everyone else in Gryffindor and Slytherin—weren’t there to maintain the atmosphere of rivalry and ill will between Harry and Draco. It was just the two of them creating a potion alone, and the tension between them melted away, having nothing to sustain it.

As they read the potion instructions, their shoulders brushed together; both of them noticed, but neither of them moved away from the other. As they handled the ingredients and passed them between each other, Harry’s hands continually made contact with Draco’s, but neither of them saw any need to limit the contact. In almost no time, the potion turned bright ruby red, indicating success.

“We did it,” Harry said smiling, surprised at how easy it was.

“That’s the only way we can finish this project, right? At least we can cooperate until we can put a successful potion together. Agreed?” Draco extended his hand.

Harry shook hands with Draco. “Agreed,” Harry replied.

“You took my hand,” Draco remarked, not letting go of Harry’s hand. “You didn’t the first time.”

“What do you mean?”

“When we were in first year. You wouldn’t shake my hand,” Draco said, but Harry was starting to get dizzy, his eyes glazing over, and he held onto Draco’s hand, if only to remain standing. Then Harry lost consciousness, crumpling onto the floor of the classroom.

“Are you alright, Potter?” Harry heard Draco’s voice above him, Harry’s eyelashes fluttered and he was opening his eyes now.

“Yeah. I think I blacked out because… it was because I heard this loud train going by. I don’t know where the sound came from. And I don’t know why it made me black out, but it did.”

Draco helped Harry onto his feet, studying him as though he were looking at a puzzle and trying to figure out how the pieces fit together.

“We’re going to have to test this potion out on one of the male students,” Draco said, “but why don’t we prepare a batch of the tapioca pudding, just to be on the safe side.”

“You’re right, we may as well have them both ready, just in case one doesn’t work. Er, Malfoy? I was thinking… tapioca pudding only has a few ingredients. Take a look at the instructions Professor Snape gave us. It’s just milk, eggs, sugar and dried cassava root. There were plenty of other desserts and pastries everyone on the train was eating yesterday, and a lot of them contained milk, eggs and sugar, but they didn’t counteract love spells the way tapioca pudding seems to. That only leaves one ingredient: dried cassava root. So why don’t we prepare a sweet mixture using just sugar and dried cassava root? And then we should add something that magnifies the effects of the cassava root, although I don’t know of anything that would do that.”

“Potter,” Draco said, smiling with genuine pleasure, “that’s an impressive display of logic. By the way, the potion ingredient that magnifies the effect of whatever it’s combined with is octopus powder.”

“Malfoy.”

Draco noticed a curious smile on Harry’s face. He had seen that peculiar expression on Harry’s face before, over the years, and Draco recognized Harry’s “troublemaker” smile.

“Yeah?”

“I think I know why we’re doing so well with this project. Nobody else is here with us. I mean, everyone we know in Gryffindor and Slytherin. If other people were here, we’d be arguing with each other.”

Draco tried to smile, but couldn’t. “It’s difficult to get rid of the rest of the world for any length of time, don’t you think? All the other students are in the Potions class just down the hall.” Draco shrugged, his eyes sad, and he gave a weary sigh. “It would be handy if you could just wave a wand and change the world around you, but I don’t think they have a spell for that sort of thing.”

And so, a short time later, during the break after Professor Snape’s first Potions class, Draco slipped into the dungeon passageway and grabbed the first two male students to leave Snape’s class, who happened to be Dean Thomas and Michael Corner.

“Thomas, Corner—hold up.” Draco darted in front of the two. “Potter has something he needs to tell you. He’s in a classroom down the corridor.”

Dean Thomas’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “Harry’s here? We’ve been looking for him everywhere. We heard that he has to work on some independent Potions project.”

“He wants to see us?” Michael Corner couldn’t hide his delight.

Draco led Dean and Michael into the small classroom.

Harry smiled and said, “Hey, Dean, how are things going in Gryffindor?”

“Harry!” Dean surprised Harry with a hug and began kissing him, beginning with his face and working his way further down. Michael already had his arm around Harry’s waist. Draco had to force himself in between Harry and the other two to separate them. Harry was then able to steer clear of Dean and Michael.

Harry tried to sound convincing, “Malfoy and I have been testing out some dessert recipes for the kitchen elves and we wanted to see what you thought.”

Draco shoved a cupful of the conventional potion for counteracting love spells at Dean and said, “Try this one first.”

Dean took a large gulp and grimaced. “Blech! It’s bloody awful!”

“Not that great, eh? All right then”—Draco handed him a bowl of tapioca pudding—“try this one.”

Dean ate the pudding. “Quite good, actually. So, Harry, where were we?” Dean was back at Harry, unsuccessfully trying to get Harry to sit on his lap.

Draco took hold of Dean’s arm and steered him toward the door. “We need to continue with our work. Headmaster’s orders. You’ll have to leave now. We’ll let Corner say goodbye to Harry, and then he’ll be leaving too.”

Draco unceremoniously shoved Dean out the door as Dean looked over his shoulder and said, “Hey, Corner, let me know what’s up with Harry, OK?”

Draco handed Michael Corner the bowl containing the potion of cassava root, sugar and octopus powder. “Here… last dessert experiment. See how you like it.”

Michael ate it up. “Tastes fine to me.” And then, with a sudden burst of energy he was at Harry’s side talking nonstop. “So, Harry, you’re working on potions? Then let me help you organize this place.”

Michael gave Harry a quick kiss on the cheek, and before Draco could reach him, Michael had jumped up on one of the benches and started rearranging books on the shelves, his movements as fast as a deer running at full speed.

“I’ll put the more advanced texts in one section, the intermediate-level texts in another section…” Michael was bouncing from one end of the room to the other too fast for Draco to catch him, although he dropped some books into Draco’s hands every time he ran past.

“And now, let’s alphabetize all of the potion ingredients.” Michael was jumping onto and off of benches and chairs with inhuman speed, transferring bottles of ingredients from one location to another. He stopped in front of Harry and gave him a quick French kiss before running over to the shelves of ingredients again. “Don’t you worry, Harry, we’ll get this classroom into shape in no time!”

Seeing that his efforts to catch up with Michael were futile, Draco looked over at Harry, and just then an idea hit Harry.

“Valerian!” Harry shouted to Draco. Harry retrieved a bottle of powdered valerian from the shelf, added water—and a pinch of octopus powder for good measure—and then ran over to Michael. “Here, drink this. You’re probably thirsty.”

“You’re so sweet,” Michael said, then downed the liquid in one gulp. The calming effect was immediate.

Harry and Draco both cautiously drew closer to Michael, who was now perfectly relaxed.

“There’s nothing else you want to straighten up around here?” Draco asked, waving his hand toward the shelves.

Michael shrugged. “Looks fine to me.” He sauntered over to Harry. “But I did want to sit down and chat with Harry for a while,” he cooed into Harry’s ear. Michael’s arm moved toward Harry’s waist, but Harry was too quick and moved away.

Draco diplomatically ousted Michael from the room, just as he had done earlier with Dean. “Sorry, Corner, maybe some other time. Harry’s schedule is full today, what with this Potions project he’s working on for Professor Dumbledore and everything. Say goodbye, Corner.”

“Yeah, Harry, I’ll see you around”—Draco was politely shoving him out the door now—“real soon, OK, Harry?”

Draco locked and bolted the door the instant Michael was out. Draco slumped against the door in relief, gazing at Harry.

“That was a spectacular failure,” Draco said. “I think that last disaster must have been the octopus powder magnifying the effects of sugar.”

Harry nodded. “I think some people get hyperactive with too much sugar, and adding the octopus powder as an intensifying agent made Corner bounce off the walls.”

“Wait a minute, Potter,” Draco said, an uncertain, questioning expression crossing his face, “how did you know to use valerian to calm him down? That ingredient is only used in very advanced-level potions.”

“That’s the ingredient Voldemort used when he made…”

Harry had already blurted out the words, and it was too late to take them back. He blushed red with shame, knowing he had gotten that information by viewing Narcissa Malfoy’s stored memory, something he had no business viewing in the first place. Harry felt his heart wrench when he saw the intense anger written all across Draco’s face.

That was really stupid, Harry thought. Why am I so stupid?

“That’s the ingredient Voldemort used,” Draco said, finishing the sentence for Harry, “when he made the treacle fudge that he wants to use for murdering my father. Dumbledore… ?” Draco was fuming. “Dumbledore showed you my mother’s stored memory?”

Harry knew now that his inexplicable attraction to Draco was no 24-hour flu because he dreaded Draco’s reaction now. There was no use in lying and saying that Dumbledore had showed him the stored memory; Draco could easily find out what happened by asking the Headmaster. Harry had no choice but to tell Draco the truth, and Harry’s heart sank when he thought of how Draco would hate him more than ever. He couldn’t fathom how Draco had created such a hold over his affections in such a short space of time, ever since Harry had first seen him on the Hogwarts Express the previous day.

“Professor Dumbledore didn’t show me your mother’s stored memory,” Harry replied, lowering his head and hoping to hide his face. “Professor McGonagall took me to the Headmaster’s office when I got off the train yesterday, but Professor Dumbledore was in a meeting. She told me she had to attend the meeting as well, and I was supposed to wait in his office until the Headmaster got back.”

Now came the hard part. Harry had thought that he and Draco were almost starting to act civilly with each other. Their collaboration was beginning to feel comfortable… and who knows, they might even start to enjoy each other’s company. But Harry was sure that Draco would go right back to hating him when he heard the next part. It was as if someone had given Harry the most wonderful present he could imagine, and he had it for a few happy moments, but now he was forced to give it back. And he loved his new present so much. He didn’t want to give it back.

“I guess I was bored… so I started looking through the Headmaster’s office for something to do… and then I saw your mother’s container of memories on the shelf…” Harry was still looking down, and a silent tear slid down his cheek and onto his chin. “I knew it was wrong for me to look, but I was so curious that I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t imagine what your mother’s stored memory was doing in Professor Dumbledore’s office.” Several more tears followed, though Harry’s head was still lowered, his face hidden. “I’m sorry, Malfoy. I know you don’t have to accept my apology, but I’d like you to just the same.”

Seeing Harry’s tears, Draco opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it. He was at a complete loss for words, which was the rarest of occasions for Draco. Never in his life would he have expected Harry to care one way or the other about his opinion, let alone shed tears on account of what he thought.

Draco was forced to appraise the boy in front of him for the first time in years. Draco wasn’t affected by any spell or whatever it was that made the other male students want to haul Harry off to the nearest private chamber. He looked at Harry and saw what he had seen ever since he had first laid eyes on Harry in Madam Malkin’s robe shop five years before: a boy who was almost too beautiful to be real, every exquisitely perfect feature of his face carved by some master sculptor. And those haunting eyes… Every time Draco wandered through the high wooded hills around Hogwarts or the rolling hills and plains of his native Wiltshire, he was reminded of the deep green color of Harry’s eyes.

Draco took Harry’s arm and led him to one of the benches along the wall and sat down with him.

Draco hardly knew where to begin. “Since Harry Potter isn’t here with us this morning, perhaps you could introduce yourself. You are… ?”

Harry laughed, relieved that the tension between the two of them was easing. “I’m capable of an apology when I’ve done something I shouldn’t have.”

“If Professor Dumbledore had used his authority to force the information on you, I suppose I would have been angry with him. But since it was only your uncontrollable curiosity… I guess, there’s nothing to apologize for.” Draco gently brushed the last remaining tears off Harry’s cheek. “There’s no real damage done, I suppose.”

Draco was so astonished by Harry’s radiant smile that he smiled himself.

“Even without viewing my mother’s memory, you already knew, like everyone else did, that Voldemort had turned against my father.”

“You don’t call him the ‘Dark Lord’ anymore?” Harry couldn’t resist asking.

“I’ll do anything to protect myself and my family from that vile piece of shit.”

Harry’s expression turned more serious. “Yes… I’m sorry for the grief Voldemort has been putting you and your mother through.”

“You know, Potter, a year ago, you would never have concerned yourself with respecting my privacy or my mother’s privacy. You would have acted like a self-righteous prig. Honestly, Harry. You used to look at the world only through your own preconceptions.” Draco rested his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “What happened?”

Harry smiled softly. “People change. I guess they grow up. You’ve grown up a bit too, you know. Yesterday on the train, you were actually able to carry on a civilized conversation with ’Mione. I’m sure that surprised the hell out of her.”

“That nickname refers to Granger, I presume,” Draco replied, arching his left eyebrow.

Harry smiled.

“So,” Draco said, “shall we concede defeat? I mean, concerning the results of our potion-making work this morning.”

“No, we shouldn’t.” Harry pulled his copy of Wizarding Free Press out of his back pocket. “I have one strategy left.” Harry opened the magazine, turned to the article in question and handed the magazine to Draco.

After he finished reading the article, Draco set the magazine down. “Your idea is to apply these techniques to a recipe for tapioca pudding?” he asked.

Harry nodded.

“I suppose what that means,” Draco began, “is combining leech juice with an ingredient used in love spells—”

“—like the chopped rose thorns from the basic love potion,” Harry added.

“Fine, but I think we’ll have to powder the rose thorns rather than chop them, that is, if we want the leech juice and rose thorns to chemically bond.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Harry admitted. “The rose thorns have to be powdered.”

“And stirring counter-clockwise… what’s the medieval term? Widdershins?” Draco’s eyebrows knitted together. “I’ve never heard of that, myself. But I suppose it’s worth a try.”

Harry and Draco had become accustomed to working with each other by this point, and it took minimal effort to whip up a new batch of tapioca pudding and heat the leech juice and powdered rose thorns in a separate cauldron until they chemically bonded.

“Ready for the mixture of leech juice and rose thorns?” Harry asked.

Draco poured the mixture into the tapioca pudding as he and Harry watched the combined mixture turn bright green, then dark purple, then silver, then pink, then cool grey and finally a bright gold color.

Draco looked at Harry uncertainly and said, “I’d be more comfortable if the final color were ruby red. That’s the color that a potion for counteracting love spells is supposed to be… but that color change was impressive, in any case. Go for it, Potter. Stir the potion widdershins.”

Harry placed the wooden spoon in the cauldron and stirred several times in a counter-clockwise direction…

Severus Snape was presently conducting Potions class several classrooms down the corridor from where Harry and Draco were working when he first heard a loud explosion nearby and then felt the floor start to shake. Aware that the British Isles were not located in an earthquake zone, Professor Snape, not to mention the rest of the class, began to pay close attention to the various glass phials and bottles arranged on the classroom shelves. The bottles were vibrating and, in some cases, clinking against each other. The next thing Professor Snape and his students took note of was the door of the classroom being knocked down with tremendous force, whereupon several enormous jungle vines of some variety invaded the classroom, knocking down everything in their path. Large yellowish-white globules now emerged from the base of the huge leaves and then shot up into the air. The globules burst to form many smaller globules of varying sizes, at which point they began chasing each other.

The globules that issued forth from the leaves of the jungle vines were made of some soft, gelatin-like substance, but rather than remaining round or oval in shape, one side of each globule split apart, with teeth-like formations at the upper and lower edges of the split. Having attained this final shape, the globules chased each other merrily through the air, the larger ones eating the smaller ones. Their jaws snapped open and shut ferociously as they consumed one another, and when there was only one large globule left from the original batch, it would burst apart, starting the entire fascinating process over again from the beginning. Students were scrambling everywhere as they attempted to get out of the way of the advancing jungle vines. The battling globules in the air splattered a great deal of yellowish-white substance at everyone present, and it became apparent that the substance was tapioca pudding, much to the delight of many of the students.

Snape climbed over the huge jungle vines, through the classroom, out the door, and into the corridor, tracking down the source of the calamity. He was not entirely surprised when the source turned out to be the classroom in which Harry and Draco were conducting their Potions project. As Snape squeezed through the doorway, which was now occupied by the gigantic trunks of jungle vines rather than a door, he could see Harry and Draco hurling all manner of liquid and powdered potion ingredients at the source of the monster plant, futilely attempting to bring the mammoth vegetation under control. This was, no doubt, where their cauldron once stood. Snape aimed his wand at the base of the plant and uttered a number of incantations in Latin. The huge vines contracted from the extensive portion of the Hogwarts dungeons that they had invaded: the classroom that Harry, Draco and Snape were in, the corridor and all of the surrounding classrooms. The jungle vines reversed the process of their growth and expansion until they were nothing more than a small Philodendron houseplant sitting on one of the tables. All that was left were large mounds of tapioca pudding… everywhere.