Mistaken Identity

Draco slumped down onto a nearby stone stairway and rested for a moment to catch his breath. His chest heaved with exertion as he scanned the room and hallways anxiously. Fatigue and darkness confused things. From the corner of his eye he caught glimpses of shadows and shapes moving, but whenever he turned to see there was nothing there. He tried desperately to focus his thoughts and to think things through, but his mind was a jumbled blur of images. He kept seeing that tortured pitiful expression on Harry’s face. He kept thinking of the Gryffindor alone and miserable and it was driving him to distraction.

He had to find Harry.

It didn’t seem matter anymore what the boy would think if Draco Malfoy insisted they talk. It didn’t worry the Slytherin that he was looking out for a supposed enemy and wanted him to be safe. He was too exhausted from running and from worry to care about such things. All he wanted now was for Harry to be okay.

How long had he been searching? Minutes? Hours? He wasn’t even sure. Long enough that his weary limbs weighed him down and his aching muscles burned with exhaustion. Probably long enough that if Harry was thinking of doing something stupid he would already be too late.

Angrily Draco brushed aside such thoughts and got to his feet again. He ignored the sharp cold pavestones on his bare feet and took off down the corridor. The cloak and shoes were long discarded now, because it just didn’t matter if anyone saw him.

Weary and confused he rounded yet another hallway, but this time stopped in front of a stone gargoyle. His mind dimly recalled some rumour about Dumbledore’s office being nearby and with only the briefest thought as to what he was doing he pounded his fists against the stone and cried out the Headmaster’s name. There was only silence to greet him and so he slowly sank to the floor in defeat.

Why didn’t he speak to Harry when he had the chance?

Briefly Draco thought he saw the statue move out of the corner of his eye, but his eyes had been playing tricks on him all night and so he ignored it. Thus, it came as a complete surprise to him to find the night’s silence disturbed by the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat. Startled, Draco spun around and sat staring up at an old man in a very distinguished set of bed robes. It took a moment for his mind to take everything in.

“Professor?” he gasped still trying to catch his breath.

“Mr Malfoy. You seem to be running about my school making a lot of noise in the middle of the night,” Professor Dumbledore observed, not unkindly.

The Slytherin stumbled to his feet.

“Professor, I need to speak with you urgently, it’s very important.”

“Yes I know.”

“You do?” Draco asked in surprise.

“I have been expecting you actually, though admittedly not at this particular moment. Come along.”

The headmaster held high the candelabra he was holding and motioned for the boy to follow him up a spiral staircase. Draco followed dumbly, wondering where the man had sprung from. They entered a large room filled with all manner of strange devices. There were portraits all across the walls filled with old snoring witches and wizards. As the light sprung into the room some of them seem to rouse and mutter irritably.

“Professor Snape has already had a word with me so I’m quite familiar with your predicament,” the old man began.

“That’s not important right now,” the Slytherin interrupted, completely forgetting who he was speaking to. “I need to talk with you about Harry!”

Once every ten or twenty years it was possible to catch a look of surprise upon the venerable Headmaster’s face. To those who knew the man it would seem almost comical, but to Draco it seemed like scepticism.

“He’s in trouble!” he blurted out.

Dumbledore quickly made his way over to a strange looking clock on the corner of a nearby bench. It had only one hand that read: ‘Harry Potter’. It was currently pointed towards the top of a gold circle that read: ‘Safe at Hogwarts’.

“I think you are mistaken,” the old man said turning to fix the boy with a quizzical stare. “Mr Potter appears quite safe.”

“Are you sure?” Draco asked softly, as sweet relief began to course through him.

“Quite safe I can assure you.”

Draco breathed a humungous sigh of relief and suddenly felt really stupid and really embarrassed all at once. What was he thinking stumbling into the Headmaster’s office in the middle of the night? He looked down at his shabby attire and began to straighten himself and brush at his hair.

“Oh, that’s okay then,” he said nervously backing towards the door.

The old man scrutinised him closely.

“Are you aware that you are not, in fact, wearing any shoes?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes. I better go back to my room now and get some and then sleep,” the boy stuttered nervously. “I think I had a nightmare or something and at any rate I don’t seem to be thinking properly so maybe I should just be going now …”

“What is it that made you think Mr Potter was in trouble?” the Headmaster inquired, his stern voice stopping Draco in his tracks.

“Nothing really, I’m just confused and tired.”

It was a plain and obvious lie. Draco was ordinarily exceptionally talented at keeping his thoughts to himself and concealing his motives, but he had been quite shaken up. In this state anyone could tell he was hiding something and yet the Headmaster didn’t question him further.

“Well you had better go to bed then,” he said gesturing to the door.

Draco didn’t wait to be told twice, he darted over to the door as quickly as he could.

“If you need to talk to me about this again, or about something else, the password is jelly gnomes,” Professor Dumbledore added almost as if it were an after thought.

The Slytherin nodded and tried to smile, but then hurried down the stairs and away from the old man as quick as his aching legs could carry him.

***

As the first rays of Saturday morning sunlight filtered in through the tiny window near the top corner of Draco’s room the boy began to moan softly to himself. His legs were stiff and aching and his feet were sore, but an even larger cause for the noise was the flood of memories assailing his sleepy mind. He wearily got out of bed and cringed.

How could he have been so stupid?

He was truly fortunate that Professor Dumbledore had found him before he got himself into real trouble. For some reason the old man hadn’t punished him or even pressed him to explain himself. It was a lucky turn of events and although he was at a loss to explain the Headmaster’s behaviour he was certainly thankful all the same. What if Filch had caught him running around with tear stained cheeks and no shoes crying out Harry’s name? Or worse, what if Pansy had found him? He might already be in trouble enough without further demonstrating himself as a traitor.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The Slytherin continued to mentally kick himself as he got dressed and slowly made his way to the great hall for breakfast.

What happened to leaving Harry alone? Where did his carefully thought-out plans go? He had run about like an idiot all night looking for a boy who couldn’t care less about him when all the time Professor Dumbledore had been making sure the Gryffindor was safe.

Draco’s mood darkened.

Of course Dumbledore would do that, he berated himself. Harry Potter was the poster boy for the side of light, as if he didn’t have a hundred people looking out for him. As if he needed the help of someone like Draco.

He wasn’t sure why, but as the humiliating memories began to settle, he was left feeling depressed and a little hurt. It was his own fault of course. It was his idea to lend a helping hand to his old rival. It was an invention of his own mind that Harry Potter would need something from Draco Malfoy. It was all a ridiculous fantasy and it had nearly lead to severe embarrassment or worse.

There were some conspicuous absences from the Gryffindor table that morning, but Draco refused to think about this. Why should he care that almost all of the Gryffindor sixth years were missing except that squib, Neville? He felt a flutter of concern despite himself, but quickly clamped down upon it. He may have been stupid last night, but he would at least learn from his mistakes. Cloak or no cloak he was not going near any Gryffindors ever again.

He quickly ate his breakfast hoping to finish before any of the other Slytherins arrived. He really wasn’t up to facing anyone, he decided. Instead he would spend the entire day finishing homework and then think carefully over what he was going to do about this meeting with his mother tomorrow. Of course all of this would have to come after his morning lesson with Professor Snape.

***

Draco made his way down to the Potion Master’s classroom wondering what he should do. He couldn’t very well ask Snape for advice, the man had already offered it – go speak with Dumbledore. It wasn’t that it was bad advice it was just that he needed to explore his options better.

“Good morning Mr Malfoy,” the Professor greeted him, as he entered the room.

Draco returned the greeting and moved to sit at the table closest to the man’s desk as usual. There was a strange stone basin sitting there with odd grey wisps of light shining from with inside.

“You will be sitting over there this morning,” Snape instructed, pointing to the desk besides the one he was about to sit at.

Draco did as he was told noticing that another identical basin was sitting at that desk as well. Not identical, he noted at second glance, this one had silvery wisps and a whiter shining light.

“What are these?” he inquired curiously.

“The basin before you is a Pensieve,” the man explained. “Do you know how to use one?”

Draco had heard of such devices, in fact he was fairly sure his father owned one, somewhere. However he had never used one before and so he shook his head. The Potions Master then spent the next several minutes explaining how to use it.

“I want you to siphon off your more … important thoughts, your secrets,” he said tapping a finger to the side of his head.

Draco furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Why?”

“So that anyone who tries to inspect your mind during this Occlumency lesson will not be able to see them, of course.”

“But you probably know most of my secrets anyway.”

“You are not hiding them from me, Mr Malfoy.”

Draco was about to question him further when there was a knock on the door and the sound of someone entering.

“Good morning Mr Potter. So glad you could finally join us,” Snape sneered pointedly glancing at a nearby clock.

Draco made a strangled sound and almost fell off his chair with surprise. He stopped himself from turning around to see though and instead tried to think of how he should behave towards Harry. They were enemies he had to remember – perhaps he should say something insulting?

“What’s he doing here?” the Gryffindor asked darkly, as if the Slytherin’s very presence affronted him.

Harry’s words stuck at Draco and he turned around angrily ready to respond in kind. But the retort died before it could leave his mouth as he looked up at the boy for the first time. Harry looked awful. There were dark bags beneath his dull green eyes and his pale complexion seemed almost sickly. A shabby grey jumper hung from slumped shoulders and his expression was blank and downcast. Draco had expected something else. Defiance or anger or contempt or something. Not this tired looking mess before him. All of a sudden he just didn’t want to say anything to make the boy feel worse. Instead he turned his attention to the front of the room.

If Harry noticed anything, he made no sign of it. He refused to even to look at the Slytherin.

“Today’s class will be somewhat different from the usual,” the Potions Master sneered, as a malicious smile began to play across his lips. “My time is far too valuable to give you private tutelage every day Mr Potter. Take your seat, here,” he said, motioning towards the chair he had directed Draco not to sit at.

The Gryffindor took his seat ignoring the presence of this arch nemesis.

“Now, I will give you both the next five minutes to use the devices in front of each of you. After that we shall begin.”

Draco was in a panic. Five minutes to empty his mind of anything he didn’t want Harry Potter to see? That about covered all of his memories actually – especially those from over the last few days. With that last thought in mind, the Slytherin tapped his wand to the side of his head and began to use the Pensieve as he had been shown earlier. He worked in earnest, furiously grabbing at every memory he could think of. So intent was he on the task at hand that he found himself startled when Harry broke the silence of the room after only a couple of minutes.

“Professor, this doesn’t seem to be working properly,” Harry stated with only a hint of frustration. Mostly he didn’t seem to care.

“Mr Potter if you cannot use even a simple magical tool, then I wonder how on earth you will ever master magic as complex as Occlumency.”

Draco risked a sideways glance to see the other boy slump even further into his chair as he waved his wand listlessly. The Slytherin felt a pang of sympathy for the boy, but quickly dispelled it. He had to remember – they were enemies. He couldn’t show mercy or fondness or whatever other stupid thoughts or feelings he was having for the boy. They were not friends.

After what had seemed like only a moment later Snape interrupted them.

“Time’s up,” he stated flatly, before sweeping past the two boys towards the back of the room. He stood between two chairs that sat facing each other without a desk in front of them.

“You will take a seat,” he instructed.

Confused Draco involuntarily glanced over at Harry and met the boy’s dull green eyes for the first time that morning. For a brief moment he saw his own confusion mirrored in the Gryffindor’s countenance, but it was gone in a flash as the boy looked away and moved to take his seat as instructed. Draco followed him nervously and soon found himself seated face to face with Harry. The Gryffindor wore a tired and defeated expression. He looked as though he had given up caring, and was instead resigned to whatever unpleasantness Snape had in mind. The ordinarily composed Slytherin found that he was unable to meet those vacant dark eyes. There just didn’t seem much left of Harry in them anymore.

“This is the Aleora’s Band,” proffered Snape holding up a long flat black band not unlike a student’s ruler. “It grants the wearer a limited form of Legilimency, not as powerful as that of an average Death Eater of course, but a useful tool for our lesson today.”

He handed the strange device to Harry, who took it disinterestedly. As the boy reached out to take hold of it Draco noticed the dark scabs and bruises marring his hands and felt another flutter of regret much to his frustration. He had to stop thinking this way! If anyone found out he would be asking for trouble. It could mean his life. Draco wasn’t going to risk his own neck for Harry bloody Potter. No, he had to look out for himself. The Gryffindor didn’t matter to him, he couldn’t.

“Place the centre of the band to your forehead,” the Potions Master instructed coldly.

The Gryffindor did as he was told and was startled as the band suddenly began to change shape and wrap itself around his head joining seamlessly into a circlet.

“Now, you may begin.”

Draco tried to focus his mind as he had been taught, concentrating his thoughts on the floor at his feet. He began to feel the other boy probing his consciousness. It was different from Professor Snape’s usual barrage of images. Harry seemed to be questioning rather than demanding. It was easy to deflect him.

“You will have to try harder than that Potter,” Snape demanded.

Draco felt the other boy’s presence in his mind again, more forceful than a moment ago. He concentrated furiously on the floor again. Concentrated on the stone paves, the cracks the imperfections, only the stone floor and nothing else. Think nothing at all, he chanted to himself.

“Harder!” the man barked at the Gryffindor.

Harry took a deep breath before closing his eyes and tensing. Draco then suddenly felt an assault of images trying to distract him from the floor, it was as if the other boy was trying to side step his conscious thoughts, dig at his memories. He grit his teeth and concentrated hard, blocking the presence in his mind at every turn it took.

The silence was broken by an audible gasp of pain from Harry and Draco glanced up, concerned despite himself. He suddenly felt dizzy for a moment as the presence seemed to get the upper hand. It quickly disappeared though and left him staring into Harry’s confused eyes.

Draco hurriedly tried to think of what Harry had just seen from his thoughts. Had it been his own concern for the Gryffindor? He studied the boy hoping to see some tell tale sign in his expression, but Harry was pointedly avoiding his gaze and scratching at the back of his head.

Better say something insulting, Draco thought.

“That was pathetic Potter, did you hurt you empty little Gryffindor head?”

The words were there, but they were just that, empty words. Harry met the Slytherin’s eyes but he did not seem angry, just confused and perhaps a little curious.

Draco felt himself flush a little with embarrassment. Harry must have seen something.

“Excellent Draco, excellent,” the Potions Master interrupted, lifting the circlet from the Gryffindor’s head. The ring unwound itself and was once again a long flat band. “There is a little, discomfort if you push too hard when using the device. If you use it too much it can get quite painful after a while,” he explained handing it over to Draco. “Now it’s your turn.”

The Slytherin took the band from the man’s hands and placed it across his forehead as Harry had done a moment ago. Though he was expecting as much, he still felt unnerved by the movement of the band reshaping and snapping securely around his head. Draco began to concentrate and was surprised to find that he somehow instinctively knew how to perform Legilimency. He looked over at Harry who was staring steadfastly at the floor.

“Begin,” Snape directed flatly.

Draco began to probe the Gryffindor’s mind and was rewarded with a flash of disjointed images that he could not make heads or tails of. A moment later he was distracted by a distinct cry from the Gryffindor. Harry glanced up wildly his face darting between Draco and Snape.

“Again,” Snape instructed.

Draco closed his eyes and tried again, once more seeing into Harry’s mind. He saw a battle of some kind, there were Death Eaters and spells being thrown back and forth.

“No!” Harry shouted, suddenly standing up from the chair.

“Sit down Mr Potter.”

“No, that’s not right! It’s even stronger than when you do it!” he accused flushed with anger and embarrassment.

The Potions Master folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. “You are lazy Mr Potter. You have not made progress in my classes for some weeks now. It is time you tried a little harder.”

Harry glanced back towards the desk at the front of the room. “Something was wrong with that Pensieve.”

“I never said that it was a Pensieve Mr Potter,” the man smiled cruelly. “That is a Reflective. A device wizards use to analyse thoughts for reasons similar to those one uses a Pensieve, but entirely different in approach. You see, a Pensieve removes thoughts so that they can be analysed objectively. A Reflective concentrates them so that they fill the forefront of a wizard’s mind free from other distraction. It helps a wizard to ponder on how he feels about an event or memory.” The man then leaned forward, dark eyes alight with malice. “In these circumstances it makes the task of Legilimency much more easy. Call it my little attempt to motivate you. After all, you wouldn’t want Mr Malfoy here to see your most secret thoughts now would you?”

“That’s not fair!” Harry snapped showing more emotion than he had all morning.

Snape leaned forward so that his nose was almost touching that of the Gryffindor’s.

“Then, try harder!” he shouted.

Harry snapped his attention back to Draco and the Slytherin felt himself flinch under the intensity of the boy’s furious glare. At least Harry seemed a bit more alive now, though it was only as a result of pain and humiliation. The Gryffindor once more resumed his seat and look intently at the floor, gritting his teeth with determination.

“Begin.”

Draco did as he was told. It was difficult at first, but he soon found his mind flooded with images again. He saw a man, someone Harry felt deeply for, someone he was close to. He saw him vanish behind a strange veil. He felt guilt, sadness, loneliness and despair. A name – Sirius.

Harry cried out once more, gasping with effort and frustration.

“Again.”

Draco tried to ignore the other boy’s plight and focus on his own task.

We are not friends, he reminded himself. I don’t care what happens to him.

He saw a funeral now. Witches and wizards, some of whom he recognised. They gathered around him offering meaningless condolences and utterances of reassurance. “It’s not your fault,” they said, but he felt only contempt for the empty platitudes.

Harry was struggling not to make a sound and Draco found himself becoming increasingly uncomfortable at the other boy’s torment. He stopped for a moment to give him a rest.

“Again!” barked Snape.

The Slytherin hesitated, but the Potion Master’s glare was enough convince him to continue. This time he saw no images only feelings. Dark, festering feelings of guilt, confusion, shame and anger. Harry pressed his scratched and battered hands to the side of his head and whimpered pitifully. He then shook his head and bit his lip hard as he gasped for breath.

We are not friends, Draco reminded himself again and again as the torrent of feelings continued. He saw a longing for release, a desire to self destruct. He felt scared though, too scared to go through with it. Then he felt disgust that he couldn’t even end his own life. He hated himself, he wanted to die. He hated that he had betrayed his best friend. He hated that he had hurt Ginny. He hated that he had caused his Godfather’s death, caused everyone around him so much misery. His head began to spin as he felt overwhelmed by pain and anguish.

Harry had fallen from the chair and onto his knees, tears escaping his tightly clenched eyes. The whimper became a scream, partly from pain partly from the humiliation of being unable to stop his most secret thoughts being stripped from him one by one.

Then all at once Draco stopped suddenly as the room filled with a desperate cry.

“NO!”

The word reverberated about the room seeming to echo back and forth for a moment.

Draco was standing, chest heaving with exertion. Harry was on the floor staring up at him with an expression of shock equal only to that of Professor Snape’s. It took a few moments for the Slytherin to realise it had been his own voice that had shouted out.

The Potions Master quickly recomposed himself and bellowed “AGAIN.”

“No,” Draco said softly with a slow and gentle shake of his head. He removed the black circlet from his head and tossed it at the incensed man. “I wont,” he said without stopping to think why.

Snape’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his hairline, but before he could say a word they were both distracted by Harry scrambling to his feet. All three of them stood there gawking at each other before Harry abruptly took flight from the room.

“Potter!” the Potions Master roared.

Draco unthinkingly ran after the boy.

“Ma … Malfoy!?”

The Slytherin ignored the Professor’s protests and scrambled into the hallway.

***

“Potter,” Draco shouted at the Gryffindor who stumbled down the passage in front of him.

Harry completely ignored him and continued to run.

Draco followed, rounding a corner into a long hallway. He saw Harry running ahead of him and shouted out, “Harry!”

The boy hesitated for a moment no doubt surprised to hear his first name uttered by the Slytherin. The sudden movement causing him to stumble briefly. He quickly righted himself, but it was enough for Draco to catch up with him. Harry rounded on the other boy, mustering what was left of his anger and hatred and demanded: “What do you want Malfoy?”

The question bounced around the confused Slytherin’s head for a while without him coming up with a suitable response.

What did he want?

Harry seemed to give into exhaustion and he sank to his knees in despair. He disregarded what was left of his pride and gave in to tears. He then sat back against the wall and drew himself into a ball to hide his face.

Draco watched the miserable, tormented boy and all of a sudden the answer was clear – just like it was clear last night when he had thought Harry in mortal peril.

“Sometimes …” Draco began softly without really knowing what he was going to say. “Sometimes, everything just seems like such a mess that it really isn’t worth trying to work through.”

The Slytherin thought back to those dark moments when he himself had been faced with impossible choices. To betray his family, the only thing he had in the world, or to go on living a life he just couldn’t live anymore. He remembered the self loathing, the anger and confusion. He remembered wishing he could change, wishing he could do his father proud believe all the nonsense that the Dark Lord espoused. He remembered thinking, that if he could not do that then at least he should protect those he loved. End his own life so that they could continue theirs. The choice had become either betrayal, or death. It was that simple. He had chosen life. Taking a deep breath he tried to speak from the heart, something he was unused to doing, something he had in fact never done before.

“Sometimes, it seems easier to just end it all and be done with it. Like you just can’t go on because it hurts too much. Like other people will suffer because of you and it’s not their fault and so you should bow out and let them live in peace.”

He paused for a moment trying to think what he wanted to say.

“But things change Harry, and sometimes … you’ll see it gets better and … well you might think now that its not worth it, like your not worth it, but it is … and … well, you are. I mean…”

Draco fumbled.

“What I’m trying to say is Harry, um … Potter … um well. I want you to try. I think …” he trailed off in frustration tripping over his own words. This wasn’t making sense at all. He took a deep breath again and gathered all the conviction he could muster to meet Harry’s confused green eyes.

“I think you’re fantastic.”

There was an uncomfortable silence and for what seemed like ages neither boy dared to break eye contact. Then Draco lost his nerve and started to retreat, his mind reeling with disbelief at his own words.

Harry looked as though he was going to say something, but Draco panicked. Once more acting without thinking he fumbled through his robes and quickly drew his wand.

“Obliviate!” he shouted.

The Gryffindor slumped to the floor unconscious.