Snakes and Lions

The Facilis Potion

By the end of the Care of Magical Creatures on Monday morning, Ron and Hermione were holding hands. Harry scowled at their backs. He wished it was that simple for him to make up with Ron. He took the long way up to the school, so as not to overtake them.

Harry came in sight of the Potions dungeon just in time to see Snape's black cloak disappearing through the door. He sprinted forward and managed to get through the doorway just as Professor Snape pivoted towards the otherwise seated students.

"Once again, I see, class has only just made Mr. Potter's busy schedule," Snape commented. "Five points from Gryffindor. Sit down, Potter."

Harry thought he could probably squeeze in next to Neville. He started forward.

"You may sit with Malfoy, Potter." Snape indicated the empty space next to Draco. Harry felt immediately cheered, and tried not to show it.

"But --" he protested.

"It is not open to debate, Potter. Sit with Malfoy, and don't sabotage his work!"

Harry slipped in next to Draco.

"My favorite partner," Draco muttered sarcastically. Harry bit his lip, and pulled out his white notebook. Snape began to scratch out a title and ingredient list on the board, and Draco immediately began to write in his own, identical, notebook.

What was it, this time?

Draco wrote.

Nothing. I was just annoyed at Ron. More than usual, because I feel like I may have deserved it, for once.

Want to talk, tonight? I can't stay out late, again, but we could meet during library hours. I could use some help on my Transfiguration homework, anyway.

Harry hesitated and looked at Ron and Hermione, seated halfway up the Gryffindor side of the room. Ron looked back at him and scowled.

Sure,

" Harry wrote. "But I can't sneak out, tonight. Meet me behind the stands, after dinner.

"Mr. Finnegan?" a cold voice said, penetrating Harry's thoughts. He was immediately relieved that it had not been his name -- he didn't have the slightest idea what Professor Snape had been talking about.

Seamus's voice said hesitantly:

"By decreasing fear of other's opinions, yeah, but sir? How is that different from just getting drunk?"

"The Facilis potion does not damage either your mental faculties or physical coordination," Snape said. "Though it remains a worthwhile question. However, some in the healing community feel that it is better to keep some people continually altered than to force them to endure the basics of social interaction." Snape's scowl showed what he thought of this idea.

Listen to that!

came the words from Draco. He hates it enough to agree with a Gryffindor.

"You will prepare the potion with your partners," Snape said. "At the end of class, we will test the potion on Mr. Longbottom, who seems our most likely candidate."

Several people gasped, and others, mostly Slytherins, snickered. Hermione raised her hand. After Snape had ignored it for several seconds, she finally said:

"You just said this was a regulated potion, professor. Shouldn't --"

"I did not ask your opinion, Miss Granger, and am not a student for you to oversee. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Snape turned and swept his black gaze once across the classroom.

"Least anyone else feel that I am exceeding my authority, let me make it clear that I have the requisite permission from Mr. Longbottom's legal guardian. Are there any further questions?" That sweep of eyes, again, daring anyone to comment, then Snape turned back to the board, his dark cloak swirling about him with the motion. "Good," he said.

Harry glanced over at Neville, who was looking at nothing but the top of his desk. The boy's hands were visibly shaking. Harry wondered just what a Neville who was not afraid of people's opinions would do. Tell Snape he's a vicious, bullying arsehole, I expect, he thought.

"You planning on doing any of the work, Potter?" Draco asked loudly. Harry jumped.

"Uh, sorry, D- Malfoy." Harry reached over and pulled a pile of roots toward his side of the desk.

"Thin, even slices," Draco muttered surreptitiously. "Skin on."

Harry worked on that, using his the knuckle of his steadying hand to guide the knife. It occurred to him that if he got nothing else out of Potions, he would at least be useful helping in a kitchen. Eventually they were done with the preparations, and their potion was bubbling on the desk, ready for the last ingredient, a fine crumbling of chameleon skin.

Harry looked around. No one else seemed to be ready. Ron and Hermione were working unusually slowly. Harry suspected that was intentional. They were too far away to hear, but Harry could see they were exchanging comments while coordinating the preparation. Across the aisle, Dean and Seamus were whispering to each other as they worked. At the desk in front of their own, Pansy was openly chatting with her partner, in a way no Gryffindor would ever dare do in Snape's class. Harry looked wistfully at Draco. Draco caught the look and scowled warningly back at him.

"Ready for a show, Potter?" he asked softly.

"I'm afraid of what he'll do," Harry said, at a bare whisper. He was too worried to summon the sarcasm that he and Draco attempted to maintain in public.

"Say hi?" Draco prodded. He rubbed the already powdered lizard skin between his fingers and thumb. It drifted down on the grey glop, setting it glowing with specks of brilliant orange.

"Tell Snape he's a slimy, underhanded bully," Harry whispered, stirring the orange in swirls through the potion below.

Draco snickered. Harry looked away, failing to contain a smile. Across the room, he met Ron's eyes. The redhead was glaring at him. Harry grinned back and turned away.

The potion was hot. When something hit it, it came splattering up out of the caldron in huge, thick globs, and burned where it landed on his hands, throat, and face. Harry gasped.

"Weasley!" Snape was screaming. "Fifty points from Gryffindor! That potion is intended for the extremely shy --"

Harry turned to Draco. Draco had also been splattered with copious amounts of the thick orange goo. Surprisingly, it did not seem to be leaving burns on Draco's face, and Harry could feel the pain fading from his own.

"You look utterly absurd," Draco said.

Harry laughed. "So much for your perfect hair!" he retorted.

Snape had approached them. With tongs, he picked up the stone pestle that had skimmed the top of their potion, and glared, first at it, then at Harry.

"Mr. Malfoy, report to the hospital wing," he ordered, as turned away. He strode to the front of the room. "We will use Potter as a subject for observation, since Mr. Weasley has so kindly selected him for us."

Draco leaned back. "I'll stay, professor."

"Mr. Malfoy, this potion was not intended --"

"I refuse to miss this show, sir," Draco said firmly. He grinned. "Don't worry I'll say anything I shouldn't. It's not Veritaserum."

Snape scowled. "Very well. Be it on your head, then."

Under the table, Draco put his right hand in the outer pocket of his robe and drew out two of his usual vials. He passed these to Harry, then stretched and stood up. He dipped a spoon in their still bubbling potion and drew it out full. With a hand under the spoon's brimming bowl, Draco prowled slowly up the aisle.

"Here you go, Longbottom," he purred. "Give it a try. It's nice."

Everyone's attention was locked on Draco or Neville. Harry quickly filled the vials and slipped them into his own inner pocket. Once they were safely hidden, he stood.

"Leave off, Draco," he said. "Neville doesn't need to play guinea pig, today."

"But it would be such fun," Draco retorted. He had reached Neville's desk and his eyes were sparkling as he looked back at Harry. Harry found he was grinning in return. It seemed suddenly ridiculous that they had been carrying on with pretending to hate each other. Really, he thought, who would care?

"But he's my friend," he coaxed. "Come on, Dragon -- you're not that bored."

"I am now," Draco insisted petulantly. Harry laughed outright, and Draco smiled at him. Everyone was staring at them, which was very amusing. Still smiling, Draco dribbled the potion, in lazy swirls, on Neville's desk, and Neville pressed into his chair to get as far away from the streaks of orange as possible.

"Don't worry, Neville," Harry called. "I'll protect you!" He pointed his wand at the spilled liquid and yelled "Saltoate!" The strands of potion lifted up and began to sway gracefully, forming a circle around Neville's caldron.

"Point!" Harry said triumphantly to Draco.

"Bloody hell!" Draco returned. "All right, so you managed to make that one useful. But it would be easier to just --" He raised his wand. "Referte!" Obediently, the strands of potion flew back to back to his and Harry's caldron.

"That is quite enough!" Snape began, but, miraculously, the lunch bell rang. Snape growled, then quickly raised his voice to announce:

"Homework -- research two earlier variants of the Facilis potion, and discuss the benefits of the ingredient changes that led to the current formulation. I want twenty inches, twenty-five if your writing is overly large" -- here, he looked meaningfully at Ron -- "with some indication that you attempted to think."

"I can't believe you made Saltoate useful," Draco fumed at Harry, as they stuffed their books back into their school bags. "That's three you've done." Walking companionably close, they left the room.

In the hallway, Ron blocked Harry's way.

"Get away from him," he ordered, with a curt, angry gesture indicating Draco Malfoy.

"It's your own fault, Weasley," Draco said. "You shouldn't throw things in Potions class."

"Move, Ron," Harry said quietly.

"You were laughing!" Ron accused Harry. "When Malfoy laughed. Whatever he said, you thought it was funny. And that was before I threw anything."

"It was what I said," Harry returned, "and it was funny, it was nothing for you to get upset about, and you've no reason to assume it was."

"You were talking about Neville."

"What's it to you, Weasel?" Draco challenged. Harry thought that was rather lame, considering Malfoy's usual wit.

"Neville!" Harry called.

Neville scuttled back. "Harry?"

Harry smiled coaxingly at Neville, which appeared to make Neville nervous. "Do you mind that that Draco laughed when I told him I was afraid the potion would make you tell Snape that he's a slimy, bullying git?"

Neville choked slightly. His face turned bright red. "No," he admitted.

Harry smiled. "Well, there you have it, Ron. Nothing for you to be indignant about."

Draco nudged Harry. "Lunch, Harry," he urged. They passed Ron and continued up to the Great Hall together.

"That's what I like about Potions," Draco commented. "It's never dull."

"It's not as much fun when it's you and your friends being bullied."

"I expect so. You usually manage to hold your own though -- and Granger! Typical idiot Gryffindor heroes!" Draco laughed. "That 'I'll protect you,' thing -- that was brilliant -- utterly Gryffindor."

"I liked the little dribbles you did," Harry admitted. "Very pretty."

"It's a pretty potion, isn't it? Like lava."

Harry was not unaware of people, both Gryffindors and Slytherins, muttering as they passed, but they didn't bother him. He thought it was rather funny that he and Draco could cause such a fuss just by chattering about a class as they walked. Draco appeared to have the same thought, and they both began to talk more loudly and more cheerfully as they started up the steps.

It wasn't until they reached the Great Hall that they realized they couldn't sit together. Draco stared at his house table. Harry followed the look for a moment, then surveyed his own. As the Gryffindors looked at him, they bent their heads toward each other to whisper. Most looked away when he met their eyes. Hermione waved frantically and gestured for him to come sit with her.

Harry and Draco looked at each other.

"Shit," said Draco succinctly.

"Mm."

"We can't just grab food and take off. They'll allow that at breakfast sometimes, but not at lunch."

"Too many professors," Harry agreed. He brightened. "I know!"

"Shall we party, Lightning?" Draco enquired hopefully.

"Oh, give over! We have McGonagall, next period. But we can picnic. Follow me."

Harry led the way down to the kitchens. He rather expected Draco to know about the kitchens, but Draco seemed utterly confused when Harry began to tickle the pear, and astounded when it turned into a door handle.

"Welcome to the kitchens," Harry said. He had a brief impulse to usher Draco in, but then thought better of it and preceded him instead.

"Harry Potter! Harry Potter, sir!" came a familiar squeal, and a moment later, Harry was struck at the hip by an ecstatic house elf. (At the hip because he had learned, after his growth spurt the previous year, to turn slightly.)

"Hi Dobby!"

Dobby's clothes had, if possible, gotten even odder. In addition to his previous accoutrements, he now had socks dangling off each of his ears, and was wearing a large doily as a sort of poncho over Ron's old jumper. Harry hoped Draco wouldn't snicker. He glanced at Draco and decided he was currently too astounded.

Dobby, however, had noticed Draco and was glaring past Harry at the young Malfoy.

"Draco and I wanted to eat outside," Harry said, as casually as possible. "Is there anything we could carry for lunch? Picnic foods?"

Dobby looked at Harry severely for an entire second, then reverted to a pleading look.

"Harry Potter should not be about with a Malfoy, sir! The Malfoys are bad Dark wizards! You must not trust them, sir!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Could I please be me, for a bit, rather than 'a Malfoy?' It's so tiresome being part of a set."

Dobby set his arms across his chest and glared directly at Draco. "You, Draco Malfoy," he said shrilly, "are cruel, spoiled, vindictive, and a bad Dark wizard!"

Other elves were running about the kitchen, gathering up food. Draco looked at Harry. "I am so evil," he drawled. "Aren't you afraid of me, Harry?"

"Now let's see," Harry began speculatively, but at that moment, a simply enormous picnic basket was shoved into his hand by one of the anonymous elves in Hogwarts tea towels.

"Harry Potter should leave now, sir!" the elf squeaked. "It is good picnic!"

"Thanks," Harry said. He looked at Dobby, who was regarding him with horrified dismay. "We can talk later, Dobby, okay? You can come up to my room, sometime."

Dobby's face brightened at this. "Harry Potter is very kind to Dobby sir! Dobby will come talk to Harry Potter!"

"Great!" said Harry. "See you later, Dobby. Come on, Draco."

Harry and Draco walked up to the Entrance Hall. It wasn't until they crossed into the sunlight that Draco spoke.

"When you talk to that -- creature, please remind him I was all of twelve years old when last he saw me!"

It was cold outside. Harry led the way to Greenhouse One, which contained the most innocuous of Professor Sprout's plants.

"Did you ever torture him?" he asked.

Draco scowled, but considered the question. "Nothing so organized as torture," he said finally. "I kicked him about a bit, but ... He's a house elf, Harry! That's how everyone treats them."

"Everyone you knew, perhaps," Harry countered. "Honestly, I don't understand about wizards! You treat creatures that are smart enough to talk in ways I wouldn't treat a dog -- in ways I could get arrested for treating a dog! You're not cruel to your owl, why to the elf?"

"Because he snivels. He snivels and he cowers, and I hate that. If something cowers to me, I give it a reason!"

Harry opened the door to the warm greenhouse. "I'm not afraid of you, Draco, but I have to mostly agree with cruel, vindictive, and spoiled."

"Oh thanks. And here I've been being nice to your friends for you."

"And doing a very good job at it. You can learn. But your first impulse is still to be cruel, isn't it?"

Harry wondered if he would be saying these things without the potion. He suspected not, but perhaps it needed to be said, eventually. He set down the picnic basket, and looked steadily over it at Draco. Draco looked sullen.

"It works," he said.

"I'm sure," Harry said. "And I'm sure it's what you were brought up seeing and hearing. It's the way you know best how to handle things. And, honestly, you do it quite effectively. Look how long I hated you." Harry pulled out a chicken leg and handed it to Malfoy, who took it without comment. "I think evil is a bit much," Harry continued.

"And spoiled?" Draco questioned.

"Well, let's see ... who carried the basket all the way here? And who never offered to help? Would it be the same person who wouldn't carry the chairs I bought? Perhaps the one who thinks he shouldn't have to pay for anything, because other people's welfare doesn't matter? Who seems to believe he's entitled to anything he likes?"

"You never asked me to carry anything!"

"No, I didn't. But if I'd been walking with Ron, carrying something heavy, he'd eventually say, 'let me take that for a bit.' You don't -- it doesn't occur to you to do your fair share of the work -- you've never been expected to, outside of classes."

"Well, no. Someone has always done those things for me."

"That's what I mean by spoiled. It isn't that you're trying to impose on to me, it's just that you don't think about it. Work gets done. You don't do it. Things appear. You don't pay for them."

Harry was too hungry to continue lecturing Malfoy. He took some of the chicken, and some ham, and a crisp, speckled apple, and began to eat. After a while, Draco asked:

"Do you like me?"

"Of course!" Harry grinned at Draco. "I wouldn't be here, else, would I?"

"Well? After all that, why do you like me?"

Harry looked speculatively at Draco. "I don't know about all of it," he confessed. "But some is that you're smart, and witty, and fun. You have ideas, and you're not afraid of them. You can be nice, when it's what you're trying to do." He shivered. "Then ... You know what the Cruciatus Curse feels like. We can honestly talk about things most people just repeat rumors of...." He looked at Draco. "Do you like me?"

"Of course," Draco said, "but don't expect me to sing your virtues. I'm not in the mood. You're an irritating, lecturing, oh-so-honorable Gryffindor prig."

Harry glared. After a moment, this classification struck him as amusing. "And your accomplice?"

"Well, maybe I'm exaggerating a little." Draco smirked and poked around in the basket. "Eclair?" he asked, offering one to Harry.

Harry bounced. "Thanks!"

"Don't mention it," Draco said airily. He smirked. "Especially as it's your food."

"Draco?"

"Hm?"

"May I keep one of the vials of potion?"

Draco shrugged. "You nicked them -- you can keep both if you like."

"One will do, I think. I wouldn't want to compromise the integrity of your collection."

"Really, Potter, I didn't think you knew such fancy words."

The rest of their picnic passed more pleasantly. They arrived at Transfiguration precisely on time, and sat together. McGonagall looked surprised, and a little displeased, but she let them get away with the level of interaction she usually accepted among her students, which got them through the first half of the class. At that point, Harry got bored. He lost twenty points for Gryffindor by turning one of the leaves on his geranium into a flimsy spoon, and using it to pelt beetles (made from the flower's petals) at Lavender, Hermione, Ron, and Seamus. Draco lost fifteen points for Slytherin by unexpectedly shoving Harry off his seat. Two minutes later, Draco attempted the same trick again, only to be grabbed and pulled over by Harry. Both of them sat on the floor laughing.

"Detention for both of you!" railed Professor McGonagall , "And thirty points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin! I have never seen such behavior in a sixth year class!"

Harry and Draco looked at each other. Harry stood up. "Professor?" he said politely. "Draco and I aren't really responsible for our behavior right now."

The class shrieked with laughter.

"And why would that be, Mr. Potter?"

"We had a contamination accident in Potions, Professor."

Professor McGonagall looked around the room. She apparently noticed that Harry's latter statement was not causing shrieks of laughter. "Finnegan?" she prompted. "Please tell me what happened in Potions?"

Seamus looked at Harry, then at Ron.

"I think you should ask Ron, professor," he said.

Ron looked at the top of his desk.

"Mr. Weasley?" Professor McGonagall prompted.

Ron blushed. "I threw something at Harry, and it landed in his cauldron, so Harry and Draco got splashed with the potion, which is some orange goop that makes them not care what anyone thinks of them."

Professor McGonagall regarded Harry and Draco disapprovingly. "Well," she said, "it seems to be working." She turned back to Ron. "And why, Mr. Weasley, were you throwing things in Potions class?"

"Professor ... Look, I'm sorry, but Professor Snape already took fifty house points, and gave me two nights detention, and I've had to watch Harry chumming around with Malfoy. Haven't I been punished enough?"

"I am not adding to your punishments, Mr. Weasley -- yet. I want to know why you were throwing things in a classroom replete with dangerous substances!"

Ron looked at his desk.

"Because I have Harry," Draco drawled. He smirked at Ron. "Didn't anyone ever warn you I steal anything that isn't nailed down?"

"You know, I've rather suspected that...." Blaise commented. People, especially the Slytherin students, snickered.

Draco met Harry's eyes. "Oops," he said lightly.

Professor McGonagall rubbed her temples. "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, there is an empty classroom two doors down the hall. Please go there and wait for my arrival. Do not speak to anyone on the way. I will come at the end of class and decide whether you are competent to attend your next lessons."

Harry and Draco went down the hall. They ran into Nearly Headless Nick on the way and had a fun ten-minute game of charades explaining that Professor McGonagall had told them not to speak to anyone. In the classroom, they lounged around and speculated on what they would regret when the potion wore off. By the end of the period they were feeling more in control, and assured McGonagall they were able to behave.

In History of Magic, his last class of the day, Harry arranged to sit next to Neville. This wasn't difficult, as no one else seemed eager to sit near him. At the end of the class, he held Neville's arm.

"Wait," Harry hissed, under the noise of students rising and shuffling books. "I need to talk to you."

Neville, round-eyed, nodded, and deliberately dawdled with packing up his books, while their classmates left. Finally, only Harry and Neville were in the room. Harry pulled the vial of potion from his pocket.

"I got some," he said.

Neville jerked back, then froze. He looked frightened.

Harry frowned. "I just thought you might want to try it," he said. "With people that you trust, not Snape and all the Slytherin sixth-years. You could have it up in the dorm."

Neville relaxed slightly, but still wouldn't meet Harry's eyes.

"I don't think -- with you and Ron -- It wouldn't be a good idea, Harry."

Harry considered that. "Well, you can arrange it," he said. "Who do you trust most? Of Gryffindor, I mean?"

"Hermione," Neville answered immediately.

Harry nodded. "Okay, so have Hermione there. That's a start. Do you not want me and Ron, or do you not want me at all?"

Neville bit his lip. "Harry ... If it wasn't for Ron, I'd be glad to have you there, but I think that if I leave you out, you'll still be okay to me, and if I leave Ron out...."

Harry shrugged. "Invite who you like. I'm not offended."

"Will...." Neville seemed unable to continue. "I'm not sure I want to, Harry. It was nice of you, but...."

"But what?" Harry asked. "It's not unpleasant. I doubt you'll act like I've been -- you heard what Snape said. This isn't approved for people like me."

"Do you think I'll like whomever is there?" Neville asked. "Like... Like you and Malfoy?"

Harry laughed. "Draco and I have been friends for over a month, Neville -- since Christmas break. We just haven't been letting on."

Neville's eyes widened. Harry looked away, slightly embarrassed. Ah, he thought. I can be distantly embarrassed now. The Facilis must be starting to wear off. "Um, so..." he urged. "Take it?"

Neville blushed. "Could you give it to Hermione for me?" he asked. "And tell her to talk to me?"

"Sure. No problem."

"Harry?"

Harry stopped in the doorway. "What?"

"I think you're a really nice person, even if you do like Malfoy. You're my nicest roommate."

"Thanks, Neville." Harry grinned. "Let's dump our books before dinner, okay?"

At dinner, Harry slipped into a spot next to Hermione.

"Tired of Slytherin company, Potter?" Ron asked him, from Hermione's other side.

"Drop it, Ron," Hermione ordered. "You know he wasn't responsible for his actions. The Facilis potion is a very powerful drug ---"

"Powerful enough to get us to admit we're friends," Harry interrupted.

Hermione blinked.

"Is that who you were with?" Ron asked angrily. "When I couldn't come? Malfoy?"

Harry sat back. "That's right."

Hermione stared. "Harry? You can't… Draco Malfoy is horrible. He's bigoted, arrogant, spoiled --"

"Intelligent, witty, fun, and as bored and lonely as I was. " Harry scowled at Hermione's indignant look. "Did you expect me to just sit in the Common Room until you two had time for me, again?"

"You could have asked --"

"If I could've found you, right." Deliberately, Harry started ladling stew on his plate and eating it. Neither Ron nor Hermione said anything further. Harry scanned the Slytherin table for Draco. He saw him, sitting on the far side of Blaise from Crabbe and Goyle. Nobody seemed to be talking to him, either, but Draco had perfected the expression of utter disinterest, and was using it now.

Harry decided he was done eating. Deliberately, he stood up and walked over to the Slytherin table. The glares he got there were not actually as bad as the ones at his back. The Slytherins seemed to be reserving the worst of their disapproval for Draco.

"Draco." Draco looked up. Harry inclined his head to the door. "Grab your broom and meet me on the pitch."

"Expressed with your usual lack of charm," Draco sneered. His smile warmed slightly. "But a fine idea, nonetheless." He stood up. "Beat you there."

On the pitch, Harry's gloom was left behind in blinding speed and dizzying turns. He and Draco played with the Quaffle. Rather than throwing it towards each other, or towards the goals, one would throw it in a random direction, then the other would pursue it. Draco, Harry decided, would be a fair Chaser.

As the last light of sunset began to fade, Draco paused, some twenty feet above the pitch, and looked up.

"We should go in," Harry called.

"Bags I the bat!" Draco yelled back, and he was off.

There were actually several bats, Harry realized, once he figured out what Draco was chasing. They flipped and turned and swooped more dizzily than the Golden Snitch. Harry took off after another one. He and Draco shouted to each other and twisted and chased, several times almost colliding, until the magically magnified voice of Professor McGonagall caused Harry to flinch so badly that he nearly fell.

"Harry James Potter, you get down on the ground this instant! That goes for you, as well, Mr. Malfoy."

Harry swooped down and dismounted so quickly that he staggered. Draco followed slowly, almost lazily, and smirked back at Professor McGonagall's glare.

"You are supposed to be in your Houses, by now."

"Sorry, Professor," Harry said quickly. "We were just practicing."

"Practicing what?"

"Quick moves," Draco volunteered. "We were chasing bats."

"Was that it?" she said sarcastically. "The both of you looked as if you were having some sort of aerial convulsions. Come with me."

She led them back to the school in silence. Inside the Entrance Hall, she shooed Draco off towards the dungeons, then began to escort Harry up to Gryffindor Tower. Harry did not dare to say anything, and McGonagall did not speak until they were at the top of the stairs.

"I suggest, Mr. Potter," she said, "that you do your practicing with your own teammates. I expect you to beat Slytherin in the spring."

While Harry was still wondering whether to argue or not, McGonagall turned and strode away. Sighing, Harry shouldered his broom and entered the Gryffindor Common Room.

Everyone fell momentarily silent when Harry entered. Conversations picked up again quickly, but no one greeted him. The atmosphere in the Common Room wasn't completely hostile, Harry decided, but it wasn't particularly friendly. He decided to go up to his dormitory.

While he was putting away his Firebolt, Harry heard the door behind him open. He took his time settling the broom securely and closing the trunk, then, apprehensively, he looked back. Ron was half-standing, leaning slightly back against his bed, and watching Harry. Harry stood up. For a minute, they looked at each other in silence.

"Malfoy's your mate, now, then," Ron said quietly.

Harry felt awful. He nodded. "Yeah," he said seriously. "Draco's my mate, now."

Ron's eyes flickered down, pale lashes briefly veiling blue eyes. "Draco."

"Yeah."

Ron looked hurt. It was much worse, Harry decided, then having him angry. Harry had a lot of practice in ignoring stupid insults and accusations. He wasn't as good with hurt.

"Since when?" Ron asked, his voice flat.

Harry shrugged.

"Christmas? It was leading up to that, before, in ways, but it was over the holidays that we started ... doing things together."

"You didn't tell me."

"Why would I tell you? You never asked."

"Asked what? Where you were sneaking off to?!"

"What I'd done over the holidays. Not once did either of you ask! You didn't really start taking any interest in me again until two or three weeks ago."

Ron bit his lip. "I started noticing you were gone a lot."

"Yeah."

"So you wouldn't let me come with you because you were off with him."

"It doesn't seem like a pleasant combination. I'd spend all evening hauling the two of you off each other."

Ron flinched. "I wouldn't go anywhere with Malfoy along!"

"And I'd already made plans with him. I usually have done."

Ron looked down. "Harry... Hermione's really upset. You know what he calls her, how he acts. Could you please come downstairs and talk to her?"

"So everyone can gang up on me?" Harry retorted. "It's not appealing --"

"Hermione, Harry!" Ron growled. "I'll hold everyone else off, if that's what it takes."

Harry sighed.

"Okay. I'll talk to her."

Talking to Hermione could have been worse. Harry pointed out that Draco had been better over the last month, and that was partly his influence. He pointed out that Draco looked down on him, as well.

"He considers my family substantially degraded, Hermione. He says that if it weren't for Voldemort, I could still get invited to the best parties, though, on the strength of my father's name." Hermione looked incredulous. Harry grinned. "He says he wishes I would, so those parties wouldn't also be the most boring."

That had made her smile. Harry pressed his advantage, telling her stories that she could appreciate, like that night's adventure of chasing the bats and the battle of the icicles. They were almost the last people in the common room, but he left her not only still friends, but aware that his mother was Muggle-born, like her, and he remained uncomfortably vulnerable to capricious rejection or acceptance by the elements of society which rejected her.

Black Ice

In Potions, the next day, Snape seemed determined to exert complete control.

"Weasley, sit with Zabini. Perhaps he can force you to behave. Malfoy, I'm afraid I'm putting you with Longbottom. Good luck. Granger -- " Snape smiled dangerously at Hermione -- "you may sit with Mr. Goyle, today."

Snape's eyes fell on Harry. "Mr. Potter," he hissed. Harry looked steadily back at him. "Presume I wish to make you miserable, Potter," Snape sneered. "With whom should I pair you?"

"Dean Thomas, Professor," Harry replied.

"Dean Thomas? Rather transparent, Potter, don't you think?"

"Normally, I'd say Crabbe, sir," Harry returned. "But the Slytherins are traditional enemies -- I've grown rather comfortable with them hating me. Dean, on the other hand, is furious at me over Draco -- more than the others, because he's Muggle-born -- and I'm not used to that from him."

Snape evaluated Harry for a long time before saying, "Sit with Crabbe, Potter. I'm not going to risk the chance you shamed your housemate into behaving."

Potions class was horrible.

After dinner, Harry met Draco in the Chamber of Secrets.

"Up for an expedition?" Harry asked.

Draco looked surprised. "Already? Whatever for?"

Harry looked off down the hall -- not at anything, just away. "Remember, when we were flying by that loch, the sign that said, 'Caution -- Black Ice?'" He looked back at Draco, who nodded. Harry smiled slightly. "I want to steal it and hang it on the door of Snape's potions lab. Tonight." He grinned at Draco, who was looking encouragingly stunned. "Up for it?"

Wednesday, Gryffindor and Slytherin had Potions first thing in the morning. Harry and Draco arrived early -- early enough to sit together, and early enough to be certain they would see Snape arrive. The sign they had put on the door a few hours earlier was still there.

Snape's footsteps slowed considerably, but never quite stopped, as he approached the door. He strode to the front of the classroom, did one of his usual smart pivots, and surveyed the class. Harry thought he was actually smirking.

"Should any of you be responsible," Snape said, "thank you for the decoration. And should I discover who was responsible, I shall report you to the headmaster on suspicion of theft, interference with Muggles, and leaving Hogwarts without permission." He turned again, and began writing on the board, then, abruptly, swiveled back.

"Mr. Malfoy? Pray tell why you are with Potter, again."

Harry looked at Draco. Draco raised his eyebrows. Harry nodded slightly.

"Because we're friends, sir," Draco said clearly. "We have been since December."

Snape looked startled. His eyes darted quickly to Harry's, then back to Malfoy.

"I see. Perhaps this explains the sudden improvement in Mr. Potter's work?"

"I've been explaining things to him, sir. I haven't done any work for him."

"If you can get the boy to understand simple concepts, Mr. Malfoy, please feel free. He should keep in mind, however, that he will be sitting exams on his own."

With that, Snape turned back to the board, and began the ingredients list for that day's potion. Though he occasionally cast searching looks on Harry and Draco, who were collaborating with cautious cheer, he seemed to be in an unusually fine mood. By the end of class, Gryffindor had lost only fifteen points.

As they were packing up their books, Draco caught Harry's arm.

"This weekend. . . ."

"What?"

"Since we're in for it anyway -- want to meet me for the Hogsmeade visit?"

Harry grinned. "Absolutely!"