Music of Destiny

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Chapter Eight

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"Need help?" Blaise asked for what seemed like the thousandth time.

Draco glared at both him and Pansy. "As I've already said, no! I'm not invalid, so stop hovering around me like two overprotective mothers!"

"Hey!" Blaise protested indignantly.

"You look invalid," was Pansy's only reply. "And I'm sure you feel like it too."

"How would you know how I'm - "

"Four broken ribs, punctured lungs, a few crushed fingers, large gashes bleeding profusely, welts obviously caused by a whip on your back, broken arms, a twisted ankle and bruises all over your body that we can't heal because we're too exhausted after working on the rest of your injuries! That's enough to kill a person let alone render him invalid!" Pansy hissed, glaring at Draco, who looked mutinously back at her.

Finally Draco muttered, "Okay, so maybe it does hurt a little."

"A little? Draco, you can't even stand. Admit it, you need our help," Blaise cut in, amused.

The three were currently standing by Draco's bed, having Ennervated him a few moments before - it was seven in the morning, which gave him more than an hour to wash up, or just to soak in the tub. That is, if he managed to get to the bathroom in one piece. Currently, he was trying to push himself up from the bed, but his body was screaming in agony.

"Draco..."

"Okay, fine!"

Pansy grinned widely and dashed to his cupboard to pick out his clothes for him, calling over her shoulder to Blaise, "Lift him up, will you?"

Blaise rolled his eyes at her back and then turned to Draco, who was now glaring at him. "Keep in mind that I do not need any help, and it's just that I can't stand her whining - "

"Yes, Your Majesty, I understand, Your Majesty, now shut up and let me do my job before she kills us both."

With Blaise's arm supporting him, Draco managed the short distance to his private adjoining bathroom (special privileges were dead useful at times). Blaise gently sat him down on the (covered) toilet seat, and then he and Pansy, who had brought his clothes in, turned to leave.

Pansy paused at the doorway and looked back at Draco. "We'll be back at eight fifteen, okay? That gives us forty-five minutes to walk down to the hall and eat and walk to class, so you don't stress yourself. It's a good thing that it's Friday, and Charms is first, since the classroom is on the same floor as the Hall - "

"Pansy!"

"Yes, yes, just a minute, Blaise. And you'd better give us a full account on what you said and why you were especially rude to him because usually it isn't so bad, so I want to know why you lost your mind - !"

The last words had to be shouted as Blaise dragged her away, pulling the door shut behind them.

Draco sighed at Pansy's mother-hen personality, before he started the painful process of removing his clothes. His muscles screamed as he tried to pull his shirt off, and he almost cried out in pain, but bit it in savagely, and managed to finally rid himself of the red-dyed shirt. He sighed as he stared morosely down at his equally bloodstained slacks. Oh well, at least they had removed his robe from him while he was unconscious.

Who was he kidding? He'd be glad if he were still conscious in five minutes. It'd be a miracle if he were both conscious and unclothed, too. He should have kept his mouth shut, but he had been so frustrated by missing his nightly 'appointment'... and look what that had earned him. How the hell would he get through this day?

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"You got an A for a paper."

"I am appalled at the very thought."

"A D?"

There was a sort of strangled sound.

"A P then."

"..."

"How about an E? Though personally I don't think that's bad at all..."

"Pansy, think about it - do you honestly think Draco would get anything other than an O?" Blaise intervened in their conversation before Draco could have an epileptic fit.

"But if it's not his grades, then... I know! Yesterday's food!"

Draco suppressed a snicker as Blaise patiently explained to her that Draco hadn't shown any signs of having been affected by whatever had been done to the food since he hadn't (1) slapped anyone, (2) puked, (3) complained/whined the day through, or (4) poked his dinner carefully and stared at it suspiciously for twenty minutes before venturing a bite. In fact, if she hadn't noticed, he was the first to start eating (earning a round of applause), besides Dumbledore of course.

Pansy threw her hands up, grumbling, "Then what?" She glared at Draco, who was sitting in front of the mirror, painstakingly gelling his hair back, and ignoring the two people behind him. Blaise was, as usual, lying on the bed, after he had cleaned it up with a Scouring charm, of course. Pansy was pacing through the room, throwing dark glances at the lounging Blaise and the seemingly oblivious Draco.

"Then nothing," was Draco's bored reply. "I was just in a particularly grumpy mood, okay?"

"But why were you in a particularly grumpy mood?" persisted Pansy, stopping right behind Draco to glare at him in the mirror.

"None of your business."

"But - "

"And if that isn't clear enough, shut up."

"Draco..." Blaise's voice was soft in warning.

"Please."

Pansy gave Blaise an ugh-why-don't-you-talk-to-him glance and he raised his eyebrows in a sorry-I'd-rather-watch-you-get-trampled look as Draco picked up his wand and muttered a pain-reducing spell. So long as his skin didn't come into contact with anything except for the unavoidable light brushes as people hurried past each other, the pain would fade into a dull, tolerable throb. If he was hit... depending on the strength of it, the pain he had originally felt the previous night might come back stronger than ever. That was the risk.

As Draco stood and shrugged on his school robe carefully, Pansy tried one last time. "Draco, please just tell us what's making you so grumpy - "

"Let's go," he cut in, and without waiting for a response pulled open his door and strode out.

"Nice move," commented Blaise as he moved towards the door. He cast a glance back at Pansy, who was staring at him balefully. "Come on, we'll leave questioning him till later. Now we've got to pretend everything's fine, and keep people away from him."

"I wish he didn't run off every time I try to confront him," Pansy muttered as she followed Blaise. "I'm sick of having to simper over him when we're in public when all I want to do is drag Draco somewhere private and force it out of him."

"Kinky, Parkinson. Nice mental image. Being sarcastic here, of course..."

It took a moment for Pansy to understand.

"Blaise! Get your perverted mind of the gutter!"

"Actually, currently it's in bed..."

"Blaise!"

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They met Vince and Greg in the Slytherin common room. The two hulking boys were slouching around in the corner, but when they saw the trio they straightened and lumbered over.

"Hey, Draco, Pansy, Blaise. Morning."

Draco nodded curtly and breezed past them. Vince turned to Greg, who turned to Pansy, who turned to Blaise, who shrugged and said, "PMS."

"Ah." The two nodded sagely while Pansy gave Blaise a funny look.

"I heard that!" Draco called back. "Are you coming? Breakfast will be over soon."

Vince and Greg immediately hurried over to the Slytherin entrance, Pansy and Blaise following more sedately.

When they arrived in the Great Hall, it was more hushed than usual. The cause of the whispers was clearly the bunch of scared-looking people huddled in front of the teacher's table.

Draco didn't even spare a glance at the others in the Great Hall as he strode to the Slytherin table. However, once seated at his usual position - the one in the middle of the table and facing the rest of the hall, the 'leader's seat' - with Vince and Greg to one side of him and Pansy and Blaise directly opposite, he allowed himself to examine the newcomers. There were... seven new teens. Four boys, three girls.

The Dream Team came in at that moment, looking back constantly at a scowling Boy-Who-Lived who really did look like the Boy-Who-Lived-Note-The-Past-Tense.

Once they were seated, Dumbledore rose. McGonagall tapped her glass for order, and the whispers died down, expectant faces turning to the Headmaster.

Dumbledore looked gravely at the students. "Now that all of you have arrived, I am afraid I have to be the harbinger of bad news. Voldemort has attacked again. The post owls have dropped the papers with us, and we will give them to you later. For now, let us welcome the students of Old School Academy, one of the finest schools of magic in Ireland. Or should I say, used to be, as Voldemort has destroyed it."

Gasps were heard throughout the hall, though most people had an I-knew-that-was-coming look on their faces.

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "The entire school is gone, but luckily its late Headmaster managed to get half the students out before it collapsed. Some of those students were re-directed to our school. They have lost much, and I hope you will help them settle into Hogwarts life. They have already been Sorted, and will get their robes later." He turned to smile kindly at the group of teens. "Also, they are exempted from classes today, and instead will be going on a tour around the castle, and then to their dormitories to unpack their belongings."

When he received a few feeble nods in reply, he looked down at a piece of parchment in his hand. "Now, let's see... Laura Feehilly?" A tall thin girl with a calm face marred only by worry lines stepped forward. "Ah, yes, you're in... Ravenclaw!" The Ravenclaw table clapped and cheered loudly as she attempted a smile and walked over to them. Draco mused that Dumbledore wasn't very good at imitations, since he did a very poor one of the Sorting Hat, though it was clear he was trying.

"Forello Tempe and Cassie Jackson." A tanned boy, small but compact, and a dark-skinned African girl hesitatingly moved to the front of the small crowd, shoulder to shoulder. It was obvious they were good friends from the way they stuck close together. The tension in their bodies lessened as the Hufflepuff table gave them a roaring welcome when Dumbledore announced, "Hufflepuff!"

"Daniel Hertogh and Brian Egan, you're in... Gryffindor!" Very blue eyes peered out from a pale-skinned face as a lanky boy made his way to the Gryffindor table, followed by his shorter but more solid schoolmate. Draco sneered at the way their eyes kept straying to the Golden Boy, who gave them a weak smile.

*Potter really looks like shit. I wonder if they feel let down?* Draco looked at the two boys again and snorted to himself, seeing avid excitement replacing nervous fear. *No, the Golden Boy can't be anything but perfect in their eyes.*

"And finally, last but definitely not least, Kent and Danica Raughte are in Slytherin!" Dumbledore's voice interrupted Draco's train of thought. He looked up to assess his two newest charges - twins, from the looks of it. Both had neatly combed short black hair and were of average height, slightly shorter than he was; the boy attractively lean while the girl just looked fragile.

They sat down next to Blaise, where Larry Rhimes had moved to make space. Dark brown eyes looked at their new surroundings, guarded wariness in them. Draco knew his house was waiting for him to make the first move, to give his approval. He smirked inwardly and stood, offering his hand to the boy first, who hurriedly stood as well and took Draco's hand, returning the firm handshake.

"Draco Malfoy, seventh year prefect. Glad to have you in Slytherin. You'll find that we're a very bonded house, though we have high expectations of each other." Something flickered in those dark eyes when he heard the name 'Malfoy'. Draco growled inwardly - why did everyone seem particularly affected by his family name? It wasn't as if they were all evil dark lords or something.

"Kent Raughte, sixth year, like my younger twin sister, Danica." The girl stood and offered her hand, which Draco shook politely. She had a weak grip, and didn't say anything, only quickly sat back down when Draco and her brother did. *A weak girl, it appears, but in Slytherin we can never judge anyone by their appearance - unless, of course, the hat put her in Slytherin simply because she's useless without her brother,* Draco thought scornfully.

Aloud he said, "Nice to meet you both. Now, I expect you're hungry, so let's eat." And with that, he began eating and ignored all around him, leaving his housemates to bombard the newcomers with questions and unwritten house rules.

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They got through Charms without any mishaps, and soon it was time for Transfiguration. Making his way to their corner, Draco gingerly sat next to Harry, who was already there with all the other Gryffindors. Harry glared at him, and he glared right back. It was obvious to their friends that both were in an especially bad mood.

Professor McGonagall strode in and her eyes immediately locked on Harry and Draco. "Potter, Malfoy. Come here."

They went.

"Mr. Potter. You are one of the best in Transfiguration, and Mr. Malfoy is one of the better ones. I'm sure you know how to do most spells, so from now on you will help Mr. Malfoy in his Transfiguration spells, and work on Professor Lupin's project when you are done. I will give you the spell you're supposed to be practicing before each lesson, after which you are to go to the room assigned to you. Understand?"

*Not again!* Draco groaned inwardly as he and that idiot Potter mumbled, "Yes, Professor McGonagall."

"Good. Now, you've finished the spell last lesson so you don't have to do it today, so off you go to do your research."

Glumly, the two gathered their books and made their way out of the classroom, sympathetic glances following them out, though they didn't notice it, too busy glaring at each other. Two of those sympathetic glances belonged to Pansy and Hermione, and as the door closed behind the boys, they turned to each other.

"Is it just me, or are they both in a horrible mood today?" Hermione asked Pansy.

The blonde nodded. "Yes, they are. Draco has a reason to be moody, which I can't reveal, though I don't know why Potter is... I mean, he's been improving, right?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes, whatever he's been doing, it's making him more relaxed... but this morning, when I saw him, he was back to being moody and withdrawn and depressed. I wonder why?"

Pansy made a face. "Those guys are so secretive... we have no choice but to let them do whatever they're doing and hope it turns out okay in the end, I guess."

That settled, the two got down to work.

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"I swear, if that stupid giant makes us do more project work in this room, I will scream," Draco bit out savagely. "Pateso... bloody ignorant cowardly idiots!"

"Don't insult Hagrid!" Harry snapped as he pushed past Draco into the room, missing Draco's wince as he did so. He flung his bag onto the table and threw himself onto a couch.

"Stick up your ass much, Potter?" Draco sneered as he dropped his bag on the opposite side of the table from Harry's, and settled himself gracefully onto the other couch, careful to make his movements smooth to avoid jarring.

Harry sat up straight, glaring at Draco. "Don't try to piss me off, Malfoy, 'cause I'm not very inclined to keep our truce intact right now."

Draco raised an eyebrow as he leaned back, seemingly unruffled. "You're bothering about the truce? Truth to tell, I'm having a very hard time keeping you intact right now."

Harry gritted his teeth. He had waited the entire night for the pianist to show up, and when he or she didn't, he had felt so betrayed, so alone. So he wasn't in the best of moods right now, to put it mildly. But he would try again tonight, and the next night, and the next... because something so precious couldn't be given away so easily.

Now, though, he felt pretty pissed off. And the smirking blond pig in front of him was the perfect outlet for his frustration - if only he could get the other to attack first. That way, he could say he was defending himself...

Draco wasn't very happy either, to say the least - he had been beaten to an inch of his life, and he had missed a meeting with the flutist. What would the other think of him now? He only hoped he would be forgiven... but he had to come up with an excuse. And he hated lying to people he liked, or making excuses. Hell, if he was good at excuses, he wouldn't be hurting right now, would he? He could have made an excuse to his father... but noooo, his pride hadn't let him.

So he vented his frustration the only way he knew how - on Potter. Draco kept the smirk on his face as he drawled nonchalantly, "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

Pure instinct made Harry shoot out of his seat and slam his fist into Draco's cheek.

Pain smashed into Draco's body - having been hit so hard, the pain-numbing spell had broken, and not only that but multiplied the pain, leaving his entire body in flames that burned even hotter than the night before. He curled up on the couch, trembling, choking, the pain making it hard even to breathe. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, and he felt like he was shattering into a thousand irreparable pieces, branded with a thousand burning sticks. Oh god oh god breathe just breathe don't think about it inhale exhale oh god it hurts, it hurts, please...

Harry panicked when Malfoy suddenly curled up. He hadn't even hit him that hard, and it was on the cheek and not on top of some important internal organ - oh, he got it now.

"Malfoy, very funny. Ha, ha, ha. You've had your fun, now stop it. Pretty lame, actually."

Malfoy didn't reply.

"Malfoy, I'm running out of patience. Get your ass off the couch."

A low whimper.

"Malfoy!"

It seemed the other boy couldn't even hear him. Harry hesitated, then reached forward and lightly rested his hand on Draco's shoulder. The blond flinched away, his entire frame wracked with a violent shiver.

Harry frowned worriedly. Maybe Malfoy wasn't pretending after all... great. At this rate, his resolution to ignore the Slytherin was going to be impossible to fulfil. He just didn't know what to expect next with Draco Malfoy. Sighing, Harry reached for his wand and muttered a full-body numbing spell.

Draco felt numbness spread all over his body, lifting the unbearable pain away. Blinking his eyes open, it took him a moment to blink away the blurry moisture and readjust them to the light. When they did, he saw that he was curled up with his back against the back of the couch, and Harry Potter stood in front of him, worry and guilt warring in his face.

"Malfoy... did you put a pain-numbing spell on yourself?" he asked quietly.

"Did you put a full-body numb on me just now?" Draco countered.

"Yes."

"Then yes." He owed the boy one straight answer, at least.

"Did it hurt that much? Before the spell? Since I got such a violent reaction when I, um, hit you." Harry averted his eyes as he spoke, knowing that this would be violating their rules - no poking into the other's business.

But to his surprise, Draco asked tiredly, "Have you ever been put under Crucio, Potter?"

Harry nodded.

"This is worse. You don't want to know how much worse, trust me."

"How is that possible?"

Draco stared at the Gryffindor in disbelief, who had lifted his head to look unwaveringly back at him.

"Look, you don't have to answer," Harry added as he mistook Malfoy's disbelief for indignation. "It's just, I've been under Crucio before. And, well, I don't see how anything can hurt more than that. But if it's possible, then I'm sorry. For hitting you, and breaking the spell. It must have hurt like hell."

"Ten hells, actually." Draco shook his head and sighed. "You're too naïve, Potter. Did you really think Crucio is the worst of it? What if someone used Crucio and beat you up? What then? Or if they used Crucio non-stop? I take it that you only had it on you for a while. Take this spell off, Potter, and help me cast the other one. I hate not being able to move."

Harry did as he asked, and when Draco sat up gingerly, tugging at his robes, he asked hesitatingly, "Is that what happened to you?"

A moment's silence passed, before Draco stiffly nodded.

"Who?"

"Too many questions, Potter."

"Sorry. So... is that the worst of it?"

Draco sighed, shaking his head pityingly. "Naïveté will kill you in the real world, Potter. Of course not. There are many other horrors that will break you more than a simple Crucio ever can. For example, the Dark Mark. It's a dark magic of the foulest kind, invading your mind and soul and turning it black bit bit. And the pain - Crucio is just a mockery of that. Did you know, Crucio was created based on the pain felt when having the Mark burned into you? It can never compare to the real thing, I assure you."

Harry muttered resentfully, "And I suppose you would know best."

Draco froze, then turned furious eyes onto the Gryffindor. That. Was. IT. He stood, no matter how much it pained him, and hissed, "Do not 'suppose' anything about me, Potter. You don't know a shit about me. I do not have the Mark and if I have my way I never will succumb to that monster. This is what I get for answering your questions honestly? You haven't had to go through the hell that I have, so don't suppose things. I only know all this because I have a mockery of a father who's fallen into Voldemort's snake pit. And he's put me through hell because I won't do the same, so don't you dare act all righteous with me because you don't know what real pain is!"

Harry looked at him with unreadable eyes as he fought to calm himself down, then said, "You called Voldemort by his name."

Draco stared, then collapsed back onto the couch, anger dissipating. "Bloody hell, Potter, after all I've said don't tell me this is the only thing that registered in your little mind."

"Well, no, I did get the bit about Voldemort having a snake pit."

Draco's mouth twitched.

Harry looked innocent.

Then they both started laughing. Real laughter, the kind that was treasured in such dark times.

They calmed down somewhat after a while and Harry sat down again, facing Draco. He looked at the Slytherin seriously and said, "I apologise for my assumptions earlier. It was wrong, and now, I see it was also untrue. I just assumed that since your father is a certified Death Eater, you'd follow in his footsteps. After all, you always act so arrogant, so... so Malfoy-ish, I guess, for want of a better word, throwing your name and status about."

"That's because I am a Malfoy, and proud of it."

Harry looked confused. "What - "

"Just because my ancestors for the past few generations were evil in a way, doesn't mean the Malfoy line is hopeless. We used to be a very well respected family, not associated with anything dark. All we did was legal, open to criticism, and beneficial to others. A few generations ago, though, someone turned to the Dark Arts, and it went downhill from there. Even our family mottos have been re-interpreted, twisted into a form that roughly illustrates the principal of 'exitus acta probat'."

"Which is?"

"Latin. It means 'the end justifies the means'."

"So... you're proud to be a Malfoy, but you hate them... how does that go again?"

"My father's a bastard, a shame to our name, like his father before him, and his father before that, and a few more fathers along the line. When he dies, I'll inherit everything, as I'm the only heir. I'll get my family back on track again. Whatever it takes, I'll restore the Malfoy name to what it was before. Not just a wealthy family at Voldemort's beck and call."

Harry looked uncomfortable. "But... the way you've been acting in school the first few years? It sort of enhances the image of the Malfoys as stuck-up snobs, and, well..."

Draco's mouth thinned. "That is a subject I would rather not talk about. Let's just say things have changed."

The memory of dust-coated light dancing on silver hair and dirtied robes stirred at the back of his memory. He had forced himself to forget that - he didn't need another burden to hold, another friend to hurt. It didn't mean anything, anyway. "Ok, fine, changing the subject now... how do you know so much about your family?"

"Research. I wanted to reassure myself that Malfoy weren't doomed to a lifetime of crime. You'd be amazed at how much information you can get from research, ever tried it? And speaking of research..."

"Our work awaits."

"Exactly."

Draco got up, stretching carefully, and padded over to the wall where the old tomes were. Harry immediately hurried over, holding out a hand to stop him from picking the heavy volumes, saying quickly, "It's okay, I've got it."

"Potter," Draco said exasperatedly, "I'm not that fragile. In fact, I can handle a dusty old book without any problems at all. If you're pitying me, I think I will be forced to punch you."

Harry picked up the topmost book and turned to grin at him. "I'm not pitying you, I'm feeling guilty. You just sit over there and I'll bring two books over, and we'll call it quits."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Quits?"

"You know, me punch you, me feel guilty, me want to apologise, me do manual labour for you, me and you quits?"

"Ah. The Neanderthal way."

Draco didn't argue further, and retreated to the table, sitting down where his bag was. Harry came over, hefting two old tomes, and set them down, sliding one over to his partner. Taking the other for himself, Harry sat down opposite Draco, pushing his bag aside to make space for the book.

Draco was examining the front cover when Harry spoke. "Malfoy, I just wanted you to know... I still don't like you, but that's for all the things you did to us before. Actually right now I think you're a pretty tolerable person. Especially with that whole Voldemort-hating thing. That's a pretty redeeming point. And not to forget last year, fifth year, when you saved - " he abruptly stopped when he saw the warning look on Malfoy's face. "Um, nothing."

Draco considered him, then decided to forget it. "I'm a nasty old Slytherin, remember? How do you know I'm not lying about the Voldemort thing?"

Harry smiled. "I just do." How could he tell the other boy that he had seen the fire in those silver-gray eyes and the passion in his flowing movements, and believed? It sounded so cliché, not to mention sappy.

The blond frowned. "Just don't go saying that in public. Everything I've said here, just now? Don't let it leak out of here. I'll die if it gets out, and I mean that literally. And I'll make sure I take you with me."

"I got it, don't worry. Your secret's safe with me," Harry reassured his companion. "And, I know you most likely don't want to make a fuss, but if your father goes too far, you have to do something."

Draco shook his head. "Right now, I can handle it. I'm not that stupid, Potter, I know what to do. Now shut up and get to work."

"Aye aye, sir."

"And Potter?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He didn't say anything, but it didn't matter. His smile was reply enough.

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