Draco: Phoenix Rising

Chapter Twenty Two - Happy Potions and How to Make Them

Draco waited long enough to make certain Potter and Weasley wouldn't return and then he headed downstairs. He caught Hermione as she exited the fruit painting that led to the kitchens. She stared at him in surprise for a moment and then her eyes narrowed.

"I decided I'm not that hungry, after all," she said casually. "I'm going to visit Hagrid."

Draco shook his head in puzzlement. He would never understand the trio's affinity for that freakish, half-giant monster.

"I need to talk to you," he said. Her expression instantly chilled.

"What for? I don't want you to taint yourself by being in such close proximity to a loathsome Mudblood."

Draco winced. She really was angry. Hermione stepped around him and started for the front doors. He turned and went after her.

"Look, I only said that to Weasley for your sake."

She stopped and turned to glare at him.

"For my sake. Please tell me how spiteful slurs uttered behind my back are to my benefit."

"I was trying to calm the Weasel. He was practically frothing at the mouth."

"A state you likely contributed to put him in."

True, but he wasn't putting that weapon on the table.

"Regardless. I only said what I did to appease Weasley." He paused and suddenly realized that he couldn't recall the last time he'd apologized to anyone, for anything. It had likely been years. He continued lamely, "I didn't mean it. I don't... think of you that way any longer."

Her icy expression didn't change. "We've already established that you're an excellent liar. You need not remind me."

She turned and pushed her way out the doors. Draco flushed angrily. Stubborn wench!

He caught her at the foot of the steps outside. Afternoon shadows were lengthening about the grounds and a wicked breeze had sprung up. Clouds billowed on the horizon, promising more rain. Draco's hand closed on Hermione's arm. She glared at him and tore her arm out of his grasp.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" she snarled. Her hair, caught by the wind, twisted across her face in wild strands. "I don't want you to sully yourself!"

"I already said I didn't mean that!" he yelled, incensed.

"You've called me a Mudblood a hundred thousand times since we started at this school!" she shouted back. "How could you suddenly not mean it? You're a bloody pureblood and that will always be important to you. I was an idiot to believe you had changed! In two days? What was I thinking?"

She headed down the path again, walking so quickly that she was nearly running. Draco tore a hand through his hair. He'd never been faced with such obstinacy. He pulled out his wand and sent a spell flying after her. A nearby bush reached out and snatched at her cape, dragging her to a halt. She glared at him as he approached. Her hands busily attacked the offending branches, trying to break their grip.

"Why are you following me?" she demanded.

"I want you to listen," Draco snapped.

"Why?"

"I'm starting to wonder that, myself."
Their stares matched ice for ice. The rising wind did nothing to cool Draco's growing fury. His cape flapped about his legs and Hermione's emerald blouse clung to every curve. Draco was suddenly at a loss for words. She was determined not to listen to him. He clenched his fists and wondered why he even bothered. What was she to him? A girl that had stupidly trusted him? How many of those had he devastated? Why did he care about her opinion, anyway?

He angrily sent a spell at the bush, freeing her.

"Forget it," he said and set his jaw. "It's not worth it."

Draco turned and stalked back to the castle without looking back.

* * * * *

Hermione watched him go and felt a hard lump form in her throat. Almost, she ran after him, but what would that prove? That she was willing to be an idiot once more? That she could take one look at him and drown in those silver eyes? That she was foolish enough to believe in him simply because it was what she wanted? She pulled her cape tightly around herself, fighting the growing chill that came from within.

She watched Draco until the door slammed behind him as he entered the building. Why did he have to be such a puzzle? He was so bloody unpredictable and wrapped up in intricacies. Which Draco was the real one today? The one that kissed her? Or the one that called her Mudblood? The one that tried to apologize, or the one that stalked away like a wounded panther?

She turned and continued down the path to Hagrid's hut, pushed along by the wind. Rather than knock on the door, she actually banged into it with both hands held out to stop herself.

The door opened and Hagrid filled the doorway.

"Hermione! I didn't know you was here! Come in out o' the wind! It's gotten right nasty out there. Let me get you a nice cuppa."

She sat down at the table and watched Hagrid bustle around near the fire. It was always somehow comforting to be in Hagrid's cozy home, even though one never knew what terrifying creatures might lurk in every wooden crate. With that thought in mind, Hermione asked nervously, "Have you gotten any new... pets, lately?"

Hagrid sighed and set a gigantic steaming mug before her. She wondered if she would be able to pick it up with both hands.

"Naw, I haven't felt much up ter gettin' out, since..."

Hermione nodded. Hagrid's expression was grim. She knew Dumbledore's death had affected Hagrid more than anyone. Dumbledore had been more than a friend; he had practically become Hagrid's father.

"But, Lupin's been havin' me do some stuff fer the Order. Ter keep me busy," he said brightly. "I'm sure glad yeh come ter see me. I know Harry and Ron's here, but they haven't come down... mus' be too busy..."

Hermione hastened to reassure him while mentally sending a sharp kick in Harry's direction.

"He probably thinks you're off on a mission for the Order. And he's been using Dumbledore's Pensieve to try and find some information on how to stop Vol--You-Know-Who." She had weaned herself away from using Voldemort's pseudonym, but it still bothered Hagrid to hear his name.

Hagrid nodded sadly. "Yer prob'ly righ'. I shoulda gone up ter see Harry. It's just... every time I go ter the castle, I keep expectin' ter see him comin' down the stairs or standin' in the Great Hall..."

Tears filled Hagrid's eyes and Hermione impulsively stood to give him a hug. He enveloped her in his huge arms, being careful not to crush her, and sobbed a bit. After awhile, he pushed her away and coughed while wiping a fist across his eyes.

"Sorry 'bout that. I should be movin' on by now, yer think?"

Hermione dabbed the moisture from her own eyes with the edge of her cape and shook her head.

"Grief takes time, Hagrid, and I think you are dealing with it in a very healthy manner."

He looked relieved as she sat down again. She felt worse than ever. If she had come to see Hagrid to cheer herself up, it had backfired miserably. She leaned forward and tipped her flagon slightly to take a noisy sip of tea. She shuddered delicately. It was certainly strong enough.

Hagrid sat down across from her and studied her critically.

"Yer look tired. Somethin's botherin' yah. What is it?"

She nodded and sighed.

"Isn't it odd, Hagrid, how some people are so complicated? The simple people are so much easier to deal with. Look at Ron--he wears his heart on his sleeve; his every thought spills out of his mouth without a trace of guile; and his emotions are obvious in his every expression. You know he is kind, brave, loyal, and honest the minute you meet him." She stood up and walked to the fireplace and back, unconsciously pacing. "And then there are the other kind. The people that say one thing and mean the exact opposite. The ones that tell the truth but make it sound like a lie, and tell lies that sound like concrete fact. The ones who hide every emotion so you never know what they're actually feeling; the one's that twist a web of complexity about themselves so thick that if you try to follow a strand to the center you get tangled in another dozen along the way..."

Hagrid looked thoroughly confused.

"Who yer talkin' about? Only one I know like that is Snape." He spat the name. "Never did understand why Dumbledore thought he was so good. Mind you, he never did nothin' ter me except give me that look he had--yah know the one, like we was dirt under his feet... but he did that ter everyone."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah. He had plenty to hide, didn't he? He needed a complicated web of defenses to hide his true nature and motives." She nibbled on a fingernail. And yet, Snape was helping Draco find the Horcruxes. Even now, his intentions were unclear. Was Draco the same? What was his true nature? The cold, vicious Slytherin who stalked through the halls and snarled evil comments and lashed out at everyone before they could even consider doing the same to him? Or was it the calm, competent Draco that had taken the Horcrux stick from her tired hands and ordered her out of the Riddle house for her own safety? He was so different away... from... here... She gasped suddenly.

"How could I have been so stupid? Thank you for the tea, Hagrid, but I've got to go!"

She would have rushed out, but the door refused to budge. Hagrid got up and forced the door open against the wind. She pushed her way out into the gale and walked with difficulty back to the castle. Her cape flapped like a flag behind her and she had to tightly grip the clasp to keep it from choking her. It was going to be a devil of a storm when the rain arrived.

She had to use magic to get the castle doors open and she breathed a sigh of relief when they slammed behind her. She tried to smooth her hair and found it tangled far beyond what a pair of hands could repair. She would find Draco... just as soon as she did something about the snarled mess on her head.

* * * * *

Harry examined the rows of bottles left by Dumbledore, checking the labels carefully. He hoped none of the other memories would be as intense as the last one he'd experienced. Harry lifted one from the stack.

"It looks like this one is next. 'Albus and Severus, November, 1981,' it says. Maybe we'll finally learn why he trusted Snape."

"We could have used that information about six years ago," Ron said ruefully. He was sitting in the Headmaster's chair--Headmistress's, now--with his feet up on the desk.

"Yeah. See if you can find any record archives in here. With our luck, they're down in Filch's office." Harry wrinkled his brow. "Speaking of Filch, have you seen him? I'm surprised we haven't seen him and that stupid cat since we've been here. It's been nice having Madam Pince gone from the library."

"Maybe Filch actually takes a vacation." Ron laughed.

"Sure, I can picture him touring the Tower of London," Harry said.

"Probably has a photo album of all the different torture devices."

"With notes on how to recreate them."

They both laughed.

Harry lifted the bottle and carried it to the Pensieve.

"If McGonagall comes back, ask her about those archives."

"What am I supposed to tell her if she asks why I want them?" Ron protested.

"Tell her the truth. We need to find out where Tom Riddle used to live. Hmmm, have to come up with a good reason for that, eh?" He snapped his fingers. "I know. Tell her Hermione is making a map of all the locations relevant to Tom Riddle for some theory she has regarding where Voldemort will strike next."

"Brilliant. We won't mention it to Hermione, though, or she'll actually start it as a project," Ron said.

"Well, you might want to mention it to her, just in case McGonagall asks her about it."

"Right."

Dumbledore's portrait nodded approvingly.

"Wouldn't it be simpler to just tell the Order about these stupid Horcruxes?" Ron asked. He pulled out his wand and tried to twiddle it through his fingers like Malfoy. It dropped on the ground.

"We can't. Suppose one of them got captured by Voldemort or the Death Eaters? Our only advantage is that Voldemort doesn't know that we know about them. If he knew that we knew, he would gather them up and guard them more thoroughly than they are now. If Malfoy and Hermione found Hufflepuff's cup so quickly, Voldemort can't suspect that we know about them. We have to keep it as quiet as possible."

Ron sighed. "I suppose. Still, if Malfoy knows, it's hard to believe others don't."

"Didn't Hermione say that Snape told him?"

Ron snorted. "How many other people did Snape tell? Hey, didn't Hermione leave that Horcrux in the library? I thought I saw the bag on the table..."

Harry winced. "You know, we really need to come up with a code name for the things."

"How about You-Know-What?"

Harry shook his head. "Too cumbersome. That's why I could never get into calling Voldemort You-Know-Who. Can you think of something simpler?"

"What did Malfoy call them? 'Trinkets?'"

"That'll work. Who would have thought Malfoy would be useful? I'd better go get that 'Trinket' from the library before it gets misplaced and we end up searching for it again. Plus, Hermione will kill us both if we lose it. I'll be right back."

Harry hurried down to the fourth floor and saw with relief that the black pouch still rested on the table near the books. He verified the cup was still nestled within and put the strap around his neck.

When he returned to the gargoyle statue, he saw that Malfoy lounged idly against the wall next to it.

"There you are, Potter. Good, I was afraid I'd be standing out here all afternoon. Did you find that address, yet?"

"The address to the Riddle orphanage? It's only been fifteen minutes."

"Well, hurry it up. I need some action."

Harry muttered the password to the gargoyle, having no intention of giving it to Malfoy. It was "sugar quill" and Harry had been surprised to find McGonagall keeping Dumbledore's habit of naming the password after sweets. The gargoyle leaped aside and the wall opened to reveal the staircase.

Harry snorted. "You won't be going after the thing, anyway."

He stepped onto the moving spiral stairs and Malfoy followed.

"Why not? In your eyes, I'm expendable. If I'm killed in the effort, so much the better for you. Only Granger's cleverness kept us from running the gauntlet of traps at the Riddle house. I doubt we'll be so lucky again."

"Frankly, Malfoy, I'll never trust you enough to send you after a Horcrux on your own. Get used to the idea."

Ron's head snapped up when he heard Harry's words and saw the two of them exit the staircase.

"Fine. Weasley can come along and be my watchdog," Malfoy said.

"I plan to go after the damned thing myself."

Draco laughed incredulously. "And she keeps telling me you aren't stupid. You're underage. Do you plan to use no magic while retrieving it?"

Harry scowled. "As far as the Ministry knows, I'm still at the Dursleys. If I use magic anywhere else in Britain, they can't possibly know about it."

"I'm not so sure. The Ministry seems to be all in a dither about you. It wouldn't surprise me if they attached a few extra tracking spells on you, just to be safe. That's what I would do, but then, the Ministry isn't exactly known for intelligence. After all, they hired Weasley's dad."

Harry's gaze slid to Ron, but he was surprisingly unruffled.

"I've decided to ignore you from now on, Malfoy, just as I would any other vermin. Roaches, centipedes, Malfoys... they're all the same."

Harry grinned, a smile that widened when he saw Draco's patented smirk slip just a bit. Malfoy shrugged.

"Good. It will be lot easier retrieving the Horcrux without you yapping and trying to hex me every five minutes."

"You're not going. And why would you take Ron? Why not Hermione? I thought you two were great pals after the Hufflepuff cup scenario."

Draco's gaze became positively glacial. Harry mused that grey was the perfect color for Malfoy's eyes. Grey like winter fog, icy road slush, and frozen metal poles that tore your skin off if you touched them.

"I'm sure she will be more useful in the library," he said blandly. Harry cocked a brow at him. Whenever Malfoy made a casual comment, there was generally a volume of unsaid information hiding beneath it. He wondered about Draco's relationship with Hermione. What had they been doing the past few days? What was up with that kiss? Hermione certainly hadn't seemed to mind it at the time. Harry had expected an enraged slap, followed by a shove down the stairs and a massive stinging hex. Instead, she had looked about to collapse from sheer bliss. And that scene in the library... Malfoy had called her Mudblood hundreds of times and earned nothing more than an absent sneer or a return insult. This time, the slur had cut her. Harry could tell. He grinned.

"She's brassed off at you, isn't she?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Doesn't matter. How long before you have that address? Do I have to find it myself?"

"Feel free to look around. I'm going to take a jaunt in the Pensieve, if you'd care to wait." He tossed the pouch with the cup in the window seat.

Malfoy shrugged. "I'll search the office while you're doing that. I doubt Weasley has gotten up the nerve to go through the desk drawers."

Ron flushed, but said nothing. Harry walked to the Pensieve and uncorked the vial he had left nearby. He poured the silver contents into the bowl and watched it swirl. Malfoy watched curiously.

"Back soon," Harry said and put his face into the liquid.

It took Harry a moment to get his bearings, as he fell into a scene nearly identical to the one he'd left. Instead of Ron lounging in the chair, it was Dumbledore. Bizarrely, his feet were up on the desk exactly as Ron's had been. Instead of holding a wand, Dumbledore held a handful of colorful candy and was popping them into the air one at a time and levitating them into his mouth.

Near the spot where Draco had stood was Severus Snape. He looked the same as he usually did: greasy hair, unpleasant scowl, morose expression. In one hand, he held a large, tattered book with a black cover.

"Headmaster, I need to speak with you about a matter of some import," Snape said.

"I assumed so, Severus, or you wouldn't be here. Would you care for a Sugar Ant? There are different types of cream beneath the candy shell. The ants give them just the right zing. Delightful, really. Except the green ones. Not certain why they chose asparagus flavor over lime. I must write to the manufacturer..."

Snape's pinched expression became even more so. "No, thank you."

His tone must have alerted Dumbledore, for the Headmaster dropped his candy on the desk and put his feet down. He sat forward and steepled his fingers, as Harry had seen him do on numerous occasions. Harry frowned at the familiarity of the gesture and forced down a wave of sadness. He needed to concentrate on the conversation and not be drawn into nostalgia.

"Very well, Severus. What is it this time? A student matter?"

Snape scowled and sat down in a chair across from Dumbledore. He set the book upon his lap.

"Nothing to do with the school. I have confessed much to you and I think it's time to let you in on the reasoning behind many of my actions, especially those of late."

Dumbledore nodded seriously.

"You have decided to trust me at last, then?"

Snape's black eyes flashed.

"I have entrusted you with my deepest secrets, as you well know. You are aware of the mistakes I've made and the agony with which I have approached many of my decisions. What I tell you now will make some of those decisions clearer."

Harry scowled. November. It could only have been a few weeks since the death of Harry's parents, at most. He wanted to climb over the desk and shake Dumbledore. How could he believe any of the tripe spewing from Snape's lips? Mistakes. Agony. Even Harry could tell Snape wasn't sincere!

"The reason I asked you to help me recently is because I know the secret of the Dark Lord. I told you he will return. I know why he will return."

Dumbledore's pleasant expression had vanished, replaced by the serious, competent wizard Harry had seen so infrequently.

"And why is that?"

"Horcruxes," Snape said simply.

Dumbledore's gaze sharpened. Snape nodded.

"I see you've heard the term. I heard about Voldemort's plans from a reliable source. A Death Eater, of course." Snape's face twisted. "It would be bad enough if he had created a single Horcrux. The fact is, Voldemort so fears death that he made several."

Dumbledore stood. "This is very serious."

Snape nodded. "Now you know. I haven't been able to learn much about the items."

"The knowledge is forbidden."

"I did find a single reference in this book." Snape lifted the tome and handed it to Dumbledore, who took it. Harry hurried over to get a look at the book as Dumbledore flipped to the page noted by a red silk bookmark.

"From Salazar Slytherin's personal library," Snape commented.

"How did you get this?" Dumbledore asked sharply.

Snape rolled his eyes and his thin lips twisted in a sneer. "Have you forgotten who I am? I know quite a large number of dark wizards."

"And you are ruthless enough to steal this from beneath their very noses," Dumbledore muttered.

"Quite right." Snape's eyes flashed, but he seemed more proud than angry at Dumbledore's words. Harry read the word Horcrux in stylized print at the top of the page. The other words on the page were in a dark, cramped looking print that seemed to squiggle slightly when he looked at them. He frowned. Only books of very dark magic were written in such print. Dumbledore scanned the page quickly. Harry could only make out a few words in the archaic type. It seemed to be an introduction to Horcruxes. Dumbledore flipped the page and then slammed the book shut, much to Harry's annoyance.

"We would both be in severe trouble if this book were even found in our possession," Dumbledore warned. "You carried this openly through the halls?"

Snape looked at him levelly. "Did you bother to read the cover?"

Dumbledore turned the book over. Harry peered over his shoulder to read the tome.

Happy Potions and How to Make Them by Ernestine Welshmyre.

"Well, I suppose that would fool a casual observer," Dumbledore commented. Harry snorted. Anyone that didn't know Snape! "Thank you, Severus. I will give your words some consideration. I'll return this to you when I'm finished reading it and we can speculate at that time."

Snape nodded. "I shall return the book to Spinner's End so that it will not... get anyone into trouble." He rose and headed for the door.

"Severus. See that no one else is told about this."

Snape scowled. "I'm not a fool." He stalked out.

Dumbledore sighed when he was gone. "No indeed. Never a fool."

He set the book on the desk and cracked the cover once more to reveal the book's true title, printed on the yellowing parchment.

Secrets of Longevity and Immortality by Baptahlah.

The memory ended and Harry was suddenly back in the present-day office. He cursed roundly.

Malfoy looked at him in amusement from where he lounged in the same chair Pensieve Snape had vacated.

"I didn't think Gryffindors were allowed to use such language, Potter."

"Belt it, Malfoy. I think we may finally have caught a break! This was a memory of Snape talking to Dumbledore. He did tell Dumbledore about Voldemort's Horcruxes. Snape had a book with reference to them. Unfortunately, Dumbledore didn't leave the memory of himself reading it, but I may know where to find the book. Snape said he would be taking it back to Spinner's End for safekeeping!" Harry began to pace. "Now, if only we can get Snape's address..."

"I know where he lives," Malfoy said casually.

Harry stared at him. Malfoy laughed and Harry was shocked to hear it sound like a genuine sound of amusement, instead of a sarcastic bark.

"Honestly, Potter, you think I hide out at the Manor all summer long? I have a life, you know. Good old Snape was considered a friend of the family." He shuddered. "Lives in a horrifying house, though, in a wretched neighborhood. What kind of book?"

"A tattered black book." He gave them the two possible titles and continued, "This is great, Malfoy. You could take us there."

"I could take Weasley there. You're staying here."

Harry scowled, but Malfoy held up a hand.

"No way will I be responsible for the safety of The Chosen One. If Snape and a group of Death Eaters happen to be hanging out at Spinner's End, they'll snatch you up and that will be the end of this little war before it's begun."

"He's right, Harry," Ron said, although he sounded like it poisoned his tongue to admit Malfoy was correct.

"Damn it!" Harry yelled. "First I was a prisoner at the Dursleys' and now I'm a prisoner here!"

"It's only for a couple weeks, mate," Ron said apologetically. "And you still have a stack of memories to get through. I'm going to be upset if we go all the way to Snape's and you find a memory of Dumbledore reading the damned book."

Harry looked guiltily at the Pensieve cabinet.

"I won't. I need to get the hell out of here. Come on, Weasley." Draco stood up and headed for the door with a sweep of his cloak. Harry wondered how he managed to get that arrogant rustle in his cape when he walked. Probably years of practice before a mirror.

Ron gaped at him. "Now?"

"No time like the present, Weasley."

He headed down the steps.

"How will we get there?" Ron yelled.

"Brooms."

"In this wind?" It was howling like a banshee outside the window. Ron looked at Harry helplessly.

"Stay if you're scared, Weasel," Draco called from below.

"Take my broom, Ron. It's next to my trunk. It has stability controls. Don't let him talk you into doing anything stupid. And for God's sake, don't let him goad you into a fight!"

Ron's freckles stood out like beacons on his white face as he got to his feet.

"Wait up, Malfoy!" he yelled and then muttered, "Stupid, thickheaded Slytherin bastard. If I don't make it back, it's been nice knowing you."

Ron trailed after Malfoy looking like a beaten dog following its master. Harry suddenly regretted offering Ron his broom. He should take his Invisibility Cloak and follow them. Then again, Ron would take that as a sign that Harry didn't trust him, which of course, would be true. He didn't trust Ron around Malfoy.

He turned back to the Pensieve with a feeling of foreboding. Maybe he shouldn't have let Ron go. Still, it was the only lead they had on Horcruxes so far.