An Inordinate Stroke of Luck

While Draco found himself miserably cursing all the Gods who were cruel enough to strand him outside his common room, Harry found himself chuckling with glee, the Marauder's Map tucked under his arm. He kept chuckling, in fact, up until he turned the corner and ran into Albus Dumbledore.

"Harry, I was just looking for you." Albus put his hand on Harry's shoulder, and began leading him down the hall.

Noooooooooo! It's not fair! I was soooooo close!

"It seems to me that you really don't have anything better to do, so I was wondering if you could help me with a particular problem. The Slytherin dorm has already been closed for the summer, and will not be opened again until Professor Snape returns."

Here Harry's heart skipped a beat and his mind started banging on the bars of what was undoubtedly becoming a prison cell. Not only had Dumbledore just stopped him from sneaking out of the castle, but if what he thought was about to happen really was about to happen then....

"I can see by the downcast look on your face that you've already figured out what my problem is." Albus had that twinkle in his eye, the one that said he was up to something. Only Harry had never been on the infuriating end of it before. Now he knew what Slytherin house had gone through when Dumbledore unloaded all those last minute points during first year. Which brought his mind back to that problem...

"Not Draco Malfoy. Please! Anyone but him! Anything but that!" Now it could be said that Harry was generally a proud person, but even he had his limits. When compared to staying in the same room as that prat, begging was almost a perfect way to spend five minutes.

Unfortunately for Harry, the Headmaster had already decided, and his decision was final. Draco Malfoy would be staying in Gryffindor Tower until the beginning of the next school year. Harry's sputtered attempts at some sort of denial went unheard as Dumbledore continued to walk, leaving the now dumbfounded Harry standing in the hall.

"Oh, and Harry, you might want to make sure he doesn't find any of the secret compartments in your dorm. You know how those Slytherins are, always poking around."

Harry Potter could imagine the twinkle in the old man's eyes as Dumbledore disappeared around the corner. The thought of it made the vein in his forehead pulse. If there was one thing that could make his summer vacation even more miserable, he sure as hell couldn't think of it.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

"Then things are progressing as I foretold?" A voice emerged from the darkness in front of Voldemort, a form without form. But form was not needed when you wielded powers such as Voldemort had seen at its command. Powers that Voldemort was drawing on to further his own plans. This creature had enlisted him only months ago, yet Voldemort could feel he was already twice as strong as he had ever been before. This time, Albus Dumbledore would not be able to save Harry Potter. This time, Voldemort would kill the Boy Who Lived.

"Yes my master, everything is preceding as planned." The creature turned, a movement of shadow, to glance outside the fortress walls. The salty tang of ocean air wafted through the solitary window, brought up by waves crashing violently against the cliff face.

"Excellent, my servant. Soon you will have all the power you ever dreamed of."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The scream of indignation rang all the way from the dungeons to the top of the astronomy tower, where it disturbed some quietly roosting birds who flew off from their perches to fly off into what was now becoming a clear, but darkening end of a day. A single feather displaced itself, and drifted down past the window of a hall where Draco Malfoy was storming away from Albus Dumbledore, who came slowly up the steps from the dungeon.

"Mr. Malfoy, I do not think you will be putting things off to a good start with that attitude. I'm sure that rooming with Mr. Potter will not be anything so bad as you seem to think." Draco felt a vein starting to pulse in his forehead.

"I will not be trapped in the same room with that dorky, four-eyed, knob-kneed Gryffindor who slums with the worst sort of muggle loving wretches. No way, no how. The large red headed lummox and the bushy haired Mudblood can keep him for all I care. I'd rather sleep in a cardboard box." Perhaps not the wisest thing to say to the headmaster of the school you were attending, true, but as Malfoy found himself being strangled by the heat of the anger he was now feeling, he thought it was justified.

"A cardboard box you say? I'm sure that could be arranged, if you are not willing to share a room with Mr. Potter." He was a damned evil man, that Albus Dumbledore.

"Fine. I'll stay in the same room as the idiotic prat, but don't expect me to talk with him." Albus just nodded his graying head, like the sages of long ago.

"Your father wanted you to talk with Harry anyway, didn't he?"

Draco's heart stopped mid-beat, before sky diving into his stomach.

"What?!?" Draco's eyes were wide.

"I said Harry is coming this way now."

Indeed, the Gryffindor was moving towards them, a look on his face to match Draco's own, which impressed Draco to no end. He thought it a rare gift to make such disgust apparent, but then again... if a dunce such as Harry could pull it off, perhaps it wasn't such a gift anyways.

"Headmaster, look, we obviously both would rather we not have to stay in the same room..."

"An understatement of fact, I can assure you." Draco drawled with his usual contempt.

"As I was saying, perhaps it would be best if we just..."

"No."

"No?" From both boys.

"No."

"Bugger," said Harry.

Draco said something much more vulgar.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Draco glared at Harry as he scrubbed the floor of Gryffindor tower, plunging the brush into the bucket next to him every few minutes before furiously pressing the brush against the stone floor. Who does that man think he is? Giving a Malfoy manual labor.

"You know Mal..."

"Don't say a word Potter. Not a word." Draco brandished the brush threateningly, and Harry quickly shut his mouth at the glare he was receiving. Draco might only have been a young Malfoy, but he was a quick learner. Father would be so proud.

A few minutes later, the bucket and brush were thrown out the window of Gryffindor Tower, followed a few seconds later by a resounding crash.

"Forget this. That old coot isn't even here. I'll just use my wand."

Withdrawing the elegant, ebony wand from his pocket, Draco glared knives at the imperfections that now marred his skin. "LIMPIOS!"

Suddenly a violent wind tore through the common room, apparently ripping the dirt from every surface by force. A few seconds later, the Gryffindor common room looked cleaner than it ever had before.

"Wow... I didn't think Malfoys knew cleaning charms." Harry's hair was now even messier than it usually was, though he was irritated to see that Draco's hair settled right back to where it had been before. Perfect. Poncy bastard.

"A Malfoy must always look presentable, even when there are no house elves around. And Potter? Don't even think of telling a soul." He'd probably go blabbing to his friends the second he saw them. Poncy bastard.

"Or what?" Harry's eyes glared defiantly at Draco.

"Or I'll tell everyone in the school about the pictures Colin took of Professor Sinistra under the fireplace."

Harry sputtered at Draco, who looked back with victory on his face.

"How did you find those? You didn't even go near the fireplace."

"You're not the only one with an invisibility cloak Potter." Then Draco turned and disappeared up the staircase, heading to the dorm under Harry's, where he had taken up residence.

Groaning in frustration, Harry took out his potions book, quill and parchment. Hermione would be very, very miffed if he hadn't even started by the time she had arrived, and if he had already completed the assignment, she would look it over for him. Besides, it wasn't like he had anything else to do.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

"Potter." Draco marched down the stairs, looking very regal, still dressed in his best robes, since he only had the one pair.

He could see the top of Potter's head sticking up over the edge of an armchair, but the Gryffindor didn't respond.

"Hey! Dunce!" Draco rapped hard on his head.

"Ow, ow, ow. Hey quit it." His words were almost affectionate, until he opened his eyes and saw that it was not a friend but Draco Malfoy knocking on his head. Then he smacked the hand away.

"Shove off Malfoy." He looked at the clock and saw it was time for dinner.

"Touchy, aren't we?" By the time Harry had a response, Draco was already slipping out the portrait hole and into the hall. Muttering darkly to himself about his summer not getting any worse, he slowly made his way down to the Great Hall.

Through dark hallways, past menacing shadows, past suits of armor and paintings that glanced without interest at him. All the while something nattering at the back of his mind. He had been dreaming something, but it was gone now, and he had the intense feeling that it was important somehow, though he didn't know why.

The feeling that he had forgotten something pressed at the back of his head up until he entered the hall, where it was replaced by a much stronger feeling. Disgust. He had forgotten that with everyone gone home, he and Dumbledore had been eating their dinners together at a small table in the center of the room. Now the table bore three settings, in front of which was sitting the subject of his disgust. Draco Malfoy, the self-satisfied git.

"Well sleepy head's decided to join us. I was just about worried that maybe I should have taken your hand and led you down here myself." Harry glared at him, but saw that it had little effect. That annoyed him even more, since one of his glares had made him shut up. He vowed the next time the punk gave him that glare he was going to poke his eye out with a fork. Or at least ignore it.

"Shove off Malfoy."

"Ah... the sweet sounds of originality. Ladies and gentleman I dine with an artist this evening." Harry wondered if it was even possible for someone to sound that sarcastic, or if Draco was breaking a universal law just to spite him.

"I see everyone is here." Harry bit down the retort on the edge of his tongue, seeing a victorious smirk make its way across Draco's face. It seemed that every damn thing was going the runt's way. It wasn't fair! Now he was stuck in a castle that was not only his prison but also his personal hell, and Draco there, now subtlety flicking irritating looks at him, was his own personal Satan.

"Shall we eat?"

Just as Dumbledore took his seat, a small mountain of food appeared upon the table. None of it was fancy, just cheese, bread, some meats, fruits and sweet breads, but they all tore into it with gusto, especially Draco who had had only a sandwich and a bagel to eat in the last two days.

Sopping up the last of the sauce on his plate with a piece of bread, Draco gave a self-satisfied smile. Both Dumbledore and Harry, having finished long ago, were looking at him strangely.

"Well at least now I know why I win at quidditch."

Still basking in the afterglow of a wonderful meal, Draco merely smiled even more. Quidditch couldn't matter less to him, it had always been, and would always be, in his mind at least, his father's sport. The sport he enjoyed, however, could only be played in certain circumstances, one of which was this dinner.

"So I take it Severus is a spy then?"

Draco watched both of them jerk up, taking particular delight in watching a worried look cross the old geezer's face. If he was lucky, he might have taken a couple days off the old kook's life. Also funny was the spray of pumpkin juice that Harry launched. It passed harmlessly to the headmaster's left, though Draco imagined it would have been much more entertaining had it hit the old coot. The old coot that would learn it was very rude to make ottomans disappear.

"What makes you say that, Mr. Malfoy?"

This time Draco was ready for the penetrating glare, and paid it no mind.

"Say, it's stopped raining hasn't it?"

Harry watched the exchange, confusion roiling around in his head. Draco just said that Snape was a spy, then Dumbledore asked him why... and he talked about the weather? Was there something wrong with him? Was he sick in the head? And he still had that self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face.

"Mr. Malfoy, this is no laughing matter. Explain yourself. Now!" Harry could see the look of worry on Dumbledore's face. If Draco knew, then who else knew?

"Well... fine." His voice started to waver. "Someone already knows that Severus is a spy."

"Who Draco?" The headmaster's face was furrowed as he stood and moved over to stand beside Draco, staring down his crooked nose at the boy. Looking up at him, Draco thought perhaps the old codger would do good to go in for some reconstructive spellurgery, that nose was just hideous.

"The muffin man." Then Draco reached over and grabbed a blueberry muffin from a tray, just before all of the food was flashed away. Biting calmly into the muffin, he stared up into the eyes of one very irate... screw irate, one very pissed off individual. An individual who now had his wand out and pointed at Draco.

"Mr. Malfoy, of all the stupid and discourteous things that any Slytherin has ever done while I have been headmaster, no student has ever, ever, been so infuriating. You will tell me who revealed Severus or I will..."

"Use an unforgivable curse? Realize that I was just yanking your chain? Realize that if I had just been guessing you would have revealed everything to me?"

"Get out Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore took his seat once more, forcing his voice and face to be calm.

Rising slowly, Draco made his way towards the doors. About halfway there, he turned around.

"It was Severus who told me, you know. And by the way, you were right, the tea didn't burn too bad."

With a final wink and a twinkle in his eye, Draco turned and walked from the hall, leaving Dumbledore to wonder if everyone was as infuriated by his twinkle as he was of the Slytherin pest's. And to think he was trying to help that boy. Perhaps the ottoman hadn't been a good idea...