White Horses

HARRY HAD FELT SOMETHING CHANGING in him over the last few months. It felt as if something were shifting inside of him, as if little filaments and pieces of what made him Harry were being knit together - slowly tightening together until intertwined in a fragile new wholeness. He wasn't sure what it was. Maybe this feeling was him finally getting over Sirius' death. Or getting over his guilt about Cedric. Or was this just growing up?

Maybe Sirius' death and the loss of the last support structure he'd clung to had caused the feeling. Maybe it had been prompted by the members of the Order of the Phoenix coming to see him off at the end of the previous year, showing him that he perhaps did have a family after all. Or maybe it really had started when Malfoy dropped his glass in their Charms O.W.L., shattered by the mere presence of Harry.

Whatever had prompted it and whatever this feeling was of gears slowly turning and shifting, seeing Malfoy walk into the Room of Requirement had confirmed something in him, though he couldn't say what. All those gears he felt within him seemed to fall into place - with such a final click that he was surprised no one else could hear it - the moment that Draco Malfoy walked into the D.A. meeting that night. For better or for worse, he had changed somehow and it seemed Malfoy somehow had something to do with it.

HARRY WOULD LATER BE QUITE impressed with the reaction of the D.A. members, when he remembered this pivotal moment. While he himself was still reeling in shock, Neville, Luna, Dean and Zacharias cried almost as one, "Stupefy!" The slender, blonde Slytherin was sent flying backward by the force of their curses and struck the stone wall hard, before crumpling to the ground in a limp heap. Harry vaguely remembered the teachers fretting over whether McGonagall would live after four Stunners had hit her last year. He could only try not to imagine the trouble the D.A. would face if they had killed Draco Malfoy, even if he wasn't so popular these days. The rest of the club stayed frozen in shock as Harry hurried over to check that Malfoy was at least still breathing. But luck was on his side (or against him, depending on how you looked at it), because the Slytherin was still very much in the land of the living.

The thick silence continued as Harry cast about for what to do next, his back to the rest of the students. He hoped that Hermione might take charge in a situation like this, but she had gone unusually white, with her hands clasped over her mouth as her eyes widened in shock. Ron looked as if his synapses had simply imploded. He didn't even register when Harry started speaking, or shift his idiotic stare from Malfoy's unmoving figure.

"Everyone, stay calm. Good reaction time, by the way, to Neville, Dean, Luna and Zacharias. Although, four Stunners might have been a bit too much, even for a git like Malfoy."

Dean interjected softly, "Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system."

Harry started warningly, "Dean..."

But he got no further as his Muggleborn friend cried oh, "Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help! Help! I'm being repressed!" There were a couple nervous giggles, but the purebloods didn't understand what was going on, not catching the cheesy movie dramatics that Dean was indulging in.

Harry shot him a tolerating look before continuing,"Um, I think we better cut the meeting short tonight. I need to have a little talk with Malfoy here, and figure out what's going on." There was quite a bit of disappointed muttering - surely every person in Hogwarts had wanted the poncy little ferret at their mercy for some indiscretion or another over the last five years. They all seemed disappointed, that is, except for Ron - who was continuing to stare uncomprehendingly at Malfoy's body.

Grumbling amongst themselves, the D.A. members started to gather their bags and discarded robes, slowly filtering out of the room. Many made scathing remarks as they passed Malfoy and a couple even took the opportunity to literally kick him while he was down. Hermione had gently shook Ron awake and although his brain still hadn't apparently caught up with him, he was following her mutely. Harry was left alone with Malfoy, finding himself reminded of the only other time he had seen the blonde unconscious and defenceless like this.

IT HAD BEEN A STIFLING hot day in July when Tonks had come to pick Harry up for Sirius' memorial service. The Dursleys had looked suspiciously at the young woman when she came to the door, asking for Harry. Luckily, the wild metamorphmagus had conformed a bit so as to not alienate Harry further from his relatives, and was wearing a sombre black suit that day, with her hair a thankfully normal shoulder length black sheet and a conservative face. Harry had come to meet her at the front door, wearing the only vaguely appropriate clothes he had, which happened to be his school uniform. Tonks had taken pity on him and transfigured his plain white button up into a soft black shirt. As they walked out to the car together, they could have easily been taken for siblings with their two dark heads bent together and both their rather delicate features drawn and white in pain.

The long car ride to London was a quiet affair. Harry was relieved to be with someone from the magical world again but it was only dimly felt through his grief. Tonks was also far more quiet than he was accustomed for her to be and he remembered that not only was she a member of the Order of the Phoenix but she was also one of the few remaining relatives of the Black family. She was probably the only family member who had seen Sirius since he had escaped Azkaban. But it seemed that all the surviving Blacks had come out to the service, not just Tonks and her mother, Andromeda.

Harry hadn't known what to think at first, when he saw that familiar blond hair in the front row of chairs. He had broken free of Tonks and strode up to where Malfoy and his mother were sitting quietly. He was shocked to see that Malfoy seemed to be sleeping and wanted to roughly either slap the boy or yell at him, he couldn't decide which. Maybe both. He was filled with fury that his most hated schoolmate had not only showed up at his beloved godfather's memorial but was so rude as to sleep through it! He had been surprised, though, when Narcissa Malfoy held out her hand, lightly jostling the boy who was leaning against her shoulder.

"You must be Harry Potter. I don't believe we have ever been formally introduced. I am Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black. I am pleased to meet you at last, though I am sorry that it should be on an occasion such as this." Her voice was measured and polite in an oddly formal way, but it was certainly much more than he would have expected. He felt slightly bad now for insulting the woman in past years, just to get to Malfoy.

The boy in question had awoken wearily, his eyelashes fluttering for a moment before he seemed to focus on Harry. His face remained as blank as it had in repose and he shifted his head slightly to look at his mother, seeing her hand still holding Harry's. He turned back to the Boy Who Lived and nodded briefly, acknowledging him softly with "Potter."

Harry had stared wide-eyed back at Malfoy, who had dark circles under his eyes and was watching him warily as if afraid that Harry might make a scene. Tonks' mother had come up to him then, placing a soft hand on Harry's shoulder and he had been forced to clear his throat, which was suddenly dry. "Malfoy," he nodded back to the boy, then turned to his mother, "and Mrs. Malfoy. The pleasure is all mine." He and Malfoy had stared at each other for the few minutes that Narcissa and Andromeda spoke, each feeling distinctly uncomfortable about being so civil towards his rival. It was only after Harry had taken his seat with the Tonks family that he remembered that Narcissa was the one most responsible for Sirius' death and for the empty coffin on display that day.

NOW MALFOY WAS ONCE AGAIN lying unconscious in front of Harry, though for very different reasons. In all their fights so far this year, neither had brought up their unspoken truce at the memorial service, nor had they even made mention that they had seen each other over the summer. Harry really didn't want to be reminded of it now.

Not wanting to wait for however long it would take Malfoy to wake naturally, Harry revived him with Ennervate and watched for the second time as those unreadable grey eyes focussed on him, framed by lashes that were shockingly black against that Malfoy fair skin and hair. As if in some parody of the encounter that was still fresh on Harry's mind, and perhaps Malfoy's as well, the blonde raised an eyebrow superciliously and greeted him with "Potter."

Taking his cue from the Slytherin who was still sprawled rather uncomfortably against the wall, he nodded grimly and spat out, "Malfoy. How's your mother these days?"

Malfoy smiled ironically and said, "She's just fine. And your parents, Potter? Still dead, are they?" Harry's expression became even grimmer.

He held out his left hand expectantly, his right still holding his wand steadily on Malfoy, who continued to stare at Harry without understanding until the Gryffindor said, "Wand, Malfoy. You know I don't trust you."

Looking like he wanted to snarl something surely insulting at Harry, Malfoy slowly pulled his wand from his pocket and handed it over. Harry pocketed his own wand and began to bend Malfoy's pale yew piece experimentally, it was almost as white as his own holly wand. The other boy started forward when he saw this potentially destructive action, but his motion was aborted as Harry made a quelling gesture. The messy-haired boy smiled to himself, saying cryptically, "Yew, huh?" Malfoy made an effort not to look shocked when the git used the unfamiliar wand to neatly transfigure one of the nearby silk cushions that littered the floor into a hard wooden chair. Following the dark-haired boy's signal, he sat himself gingerly on the new chair.

Harry was still twirling the blonde wand in his fingers, surprised at how inflexible it was. It made a good wand for transfiguration, not that Harry could remember Malfoy having any particular skill in that branch of magic. His unexpected guest had slouched back into his usual poise and was smiling at Harry mockingly, "You don't trust me, Potter? Well, gee, I'm hurt. No, wait, maybe that's from being on the receiving end of four Stunning spells."

He gave a wince that might not have been all that exaggerated and Harry almost wanted to smile. Malfoy was obnoxious, but it took some bizarre sort of guts to be thrown into a wall and knocked unconscious, then lounge about afterward as if it had all been part of the master plan. Speaking of which: "Malfoy, what do you think you're doing?"

The blonde examined his buffed nails carefully, picking off some imaginary speck of dirt. "I'm currently bleeding horribly in my internal parts and will soon shuffle off this mortal coil, luckily taking you Gryffindors down with me. Even you, Wonder Boy, couldn't get away with the murder most foul of a fellow classmate," he said all this airily and seeing that Harry was looking quite apoplectic, he then sighed heavily as if he had been the one put upon by his shocking arrival. "If you must know, Potter, and evidently you must..." He examined Harry through a fringe of silvery hair as he drawled, "I just happened to be out patrolling the halls: prefect duty and all, you know how it is. Well, no, you wouldn't, would you? Not being chosen as a prefect and all."

He smiled sharply and Harry smiled just as sharply back, showing that darker side that he rarely let out around his friends, "I'm not sure you really want to find out just whether or not I can get away with murder, Malfoy."

The blonde only raised an eyebrow at this statement, continuing to himself, "And no wonder you weren't chosen as prefect, with an attitude like that. Now, as I was saying. I got quite bored and had been loitering up and down the seventh floor corridor, pondering to myself just what to do about the current fiasco in Slytherin house when, lo and behold, a door appeared to my much astonished right. And, of course, I opened it to find myself the happy recipient of a whole array of violent spells and I think you know the story from there, Potter. Curiosity killed the kneazle - I'm sure you've heard it."

Harry looked at Malfoy skeptically and told him flatly, "You are a horrid liar, Malfoy." The blonde narrowed his eyes at Harry, but before he could retort, the Gryffindor had continued. "No, really. I mean, that's just awful. It's almost as bad as your hippogriff story back in third year. You make up these huge exaggerated stories - that no one could really fall for. At least, no one who knows you." If looks could kill, Harry would now be a super-concentrated ghost with how many times over Malfoy's glare would have caused him to expire on the spot.

"You think you know me, Potter?" the Slytherin hissed, leaning forward as he poised for a fight.

Harry was about to retaliate when remembered that Malfoy must have come for a reason and that reason was what he should be focussing on. "I take it back, Malfoy. You can lie when you need to, but when you don't really care whether people believe you or not, you're absolutely shite at it. So, why don't you care if I believe your silly little tale, hmm? Why are you really here? Are you spying for the other Slytherins, or for Voldemort? Are you trying to play both sides? Or are you just a coward and trying to get in on the winning side, now?"

Not duly impressed by the Gryffindor's speech, Malfoy leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs, and he examined Harry appreciatively, "You think that yours is the winning side, Potter? Keep dreaming."

Harry didn't seem to be listening to Draco rant as he thought to himself, trying to tally in his head. He said tangentially, "Malfoy, do you realize that we completely abuse each other's surnames? How many times have you called me 'Potter' in the last ten minutes?" Harry had never noticed before now because he'd probably never had this long of a conversation with the Slytherin before now.

Staring at him in disbelieving disgust, Malfoy started out, "Look, Pot–" before breaking off mid-sentence.

"You know, you're actually right about something, Potter." He grinned jeeringly, "There's a first time for everything, I suppose." Satisfied at Harry's dark look, he came up with his own theory, saying thoughtfully, "I imagine that since being you is such an insult anyway, your name itself is a slur. And, of course, being a Malfoy is so enviable a position that it is like being called, 'your grace' or a similar title of your choice."

Now it was Harry's turn to look disbelieving and slightly ill, as he retorted "More like 'your ponciness,' you daft git. Now, Draco, you've avoided the question long enough. What are you doing here?"

Malfoy looked horrified and stared at Harry like he had started hissing in Parseltongue, "You'd better not be expecting me to call you 'Harry' or any-... oh, god damn it."

The blonde let out a heartfelt string of curses, before running a hand through his ever-perfect hair and rearranging himself in the chair that Harry had created, drawing his composure around him like a thick cloak. He started again, suddenly sober, "Now, then, Potter. If you have seen through my artfully-created deceit, then I have no choice but to level with you. I'm willing to make a deal." When Harry didn't interrupt this time, he continued with an air of benediction, "I will do you the favour of joining your silly little club and even allow you to teach me any little tricks you might know. In return, all I'll ask of you is that our little arrangement not become common knowledge. Though I know it would be hard not to brag to others, as having me a member would hugely increase your popularity."

Snorting in laughter, Harry agreed with the other boy, "You're right, it would be hard not to brag about how Draco Malfoy came crawling up to me, Harry Potter, asking to join our little Light club and wanting me to teach him how to fight. Get out of here, Malfoy, if you think I'm going to include you in on anything of mine."

Harry really should have learned to heed that dangerous gleam in Draco's eye sometime over the last five years. It always meant the Slytherin was about to do something spiteful, quite probably against the rules and definitely painful to Harry or his friends. This time it meant that Harry found his breath cut off as Malfoy flung him into the wall with just a sweep of his empty hand. The slight boy stalked over to stand above Harry as his eyelids fluttered open to show dazed emerald irises, "Don't go thinking you'd be teaching me all that much." Figuring he had already screwed up any chance he might have had, Draco hissed in Potter's hated face, "How do you like it, then?" He gestured to Harry's sprawled position, much like that which he had found himself in earlier that evening, before picking up his wand and turning to leave.

"Wait." Harry's croaking voice stilled the other boy's hand as it reached for the door handle. "Show me how you did that, Malfoy, and I'll teach you my 'little tricks.'"

"YOU DID WHAT?!" RON'S HYSTERICAL exclamation cut across the din in the Gryffindor common room, his voice cracking as it hadn't in years. Ignoring the curious looks from their housemates, Harry tried to shush Ron. He'd been expecting a reaction like this, so he hadn't told them even half of what had really occurred after the D.A. members had left. He winced as Ron continued his rant, "Let me make sure I have this straight. You made a deal with Malfoy? Draco Malfoy, the bane of our existence, the personification of all things git-like, the bastard we thought was Slytherin's heir, Malfoy?!? You're going to teach him how to fight, so that he can betray you and then kill us all with the spells you so kindly taught him?! And come on, this is the D.A.! You can't have a Malfoy in Dumbledore's army, it's - it's - it's just wrong!"

Harry hadn't bristled up until that last comment, but hearing the phrase "Dumbledore's army" pushed him over the edge, causing him to snap waspishly at Ron in a way he wouldn't have normally even contemplated. "I'm not teaching him anything of the sort, Ron. How stupid do you think I am?" Ron looked like he was more than willing to elaborate, but Hermione placed a placating hand on his arm. His head jerked around to stare at her instead, in a mix of shock and mild betrayal.

"Look, Ron..." Harry sighed, "I'm not teaching him anything that could be used against us. It's all Light magic: summoning a Patronus, how to make Dark Detectors, that sort of thing. And he's not going to be a member of the D.A. - not for a long shot. Do you think I'd trust him as far as that? I'll meet him one on one. He'll teach me what I want to know and I'll teach him whatever I choose to."

Ron snorted, as he said skeptically at his best friend, "As if Malfoy doesn't already know every dirty trick in the book. Besides, do you even think its safe, Harry? I mean, it hasn't even been two weeks since the Muggle Relations Massacre." Hermione's hand dropped limply to her side as they all lapsed into silence at the mention of the attack on the Ministry.

The Muggle Relations office had been completely destroyed, blown out from the building that housed the Ministry of Magic. There had been nothing but charred scraps left of both the office and its staff. Many of the previous member's remains hadn't even been identifiable. There simply wasn't that much of them left after the Death Eaters were through. But it had become evident in the investigations that although the Muggleborn and half-bloods had died violently and unnaturally, it was the purebloods in the office who had suffered the worst. The message was clear and easy to decipher: Lord Voldemort would punish those who disgraced the Wizarding world and chose to identify with Muggles. Needless to say, any of the remaining staff of the Muggle Relations office had immediately put in requests for transfer or had submitted their two-week notice. The action was repeated all through the Ministry in any department that dealt at all with the Muggle world.

But accusing Malfoy of being related to the Massacre seemed a bit over-blown, even for Harry's fiery best friend. "Come now, Ron, you can't really be suggesting that Malfoy had a hand in the Massacre, can you?"

Ron floundered for a moment, stuttering, "Well, no. Not specifically. But you know as well as I, Harry, that he would've if he'd had the chance!"

The dark-haired boy shook his head, taking off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. This was really starting to give him a headache. "Ron, I'm just using Malfoy for any knowledge he has that could help me or the D.A.. I still don't trust him at all. Though someone must've; someone told him about the meeting."

Hermione glanced up at him, seemingly taken about by his frankly Slytherin disregard for using and abusing another person and her wide chocolate eyes seemed over-large in her pale face. "But I thought... I thought you said he - he told you he just happened by the room..." she said in an odd voice. "You think that one of the members told him about the D.A.?"

Harry glanced at her almost sharply, before answering her question. "Yes, Hermione. Someone told him about the room and the meeting, although they didn't fully understand how the Room of Requirement works. It can't be used for more than one purpose at a time, Dobby told me. So if I were in there when it was the D.A. room, because I wanted a place to practice, and Ron were to come by with a sudden yen for blood-flavoured lollipops," he was cut off by the ginger-haired boy's sound of disgust and continued with a grin, "the room can't cancel me out to have Ron open the door and find a room full of sweets. Neither can it combine the two somehow, so that I would suddenly find myself sparring with a giant blood-flavoured lolly. If the room is occupied, it won't reveal itself to anyone else unless they are looking specifically for what it's occupied with.

"That's why the members of the D.A. can find it and we're not in any danger of being found unless someone else knew about the D.A.. I imagine whoever told Malfoy didn't want anyone else to find out that they had. Come on, who would want to own up to letting Malfoy in? So they helped him come up with this plausible enough sounding story of coincidence, not knowing that the room can't appear by coincidence." Harry had already badgered Malfoy about this, but the Slytherin wasn't willing to give up who had told him about the room and the meeting that night.

Ron had his own ideas, though, of how Malfoy had come to disrupt their lives. "You're also ignoring the likelihood that Malfoy - evil little git that he is - blackmailed or threatened one of the members to tell him about the D.A.. You know what I bet? I bet Snape taught him how to do that Legilimency crap, even!"

Hermione interjected here, reminding Ron that Snape wasn't even civil to Malfoy at the present, let alone teaching him any powerful magic. Logic didn't slow him down, though, as he bumbled on, "I wouldn't be surprised if that was all a ploy to get at us, too! Throw us off his scent, that's what. It's a sure thing that he used some Dark magic or something to find us out."

Harry had to admit that this was a possibility, but... "Don't you think someone would have told us if they got threatened or attacked by Malfoy?"

"Well, that's why he used a Memory charm on them!"

Ron was at the ready to denounce Malfoy completely, but Hermione was the voice of reason as usual. Even she was beginning to sound exasperated at the other boy, "Ron, listen to yourself. Even I don't want to admit that Malfoy could actually be... decent in any way, but you're just grasping for straws! Whoever let Malfoy know about the D.A. must have had a reason. Besides, if we could get him on our side, he could be a powerful alley. He is poised perfectly to spy on our enemies."

Glad to let Hermione end the conflict peaceably, Harry made agreeable noises - although he didn't really think there was any chance of Malfoy spying for them, even if he could be coerced over to their side. He wasn't even sure he would want Malfoy on their side.

BUT HARRY DIDN'T FULLY REALIZE just how much Malfoy had risked in his crazy attempt until after his weekly visit with Madam Pomfrey. He would have normally met with Snape on a Monday evening, but the Potions Master was away on 'business,' which Harry took to mean that he had been summoned to a Death Eater meeting. The matron of the hospital wing had plenty of work to be done on any night, though, and had set him to healing the minor cuts and bruises of those patients currently in residence.

Pomfrey sniffed disgruntledly as they made their rounds, "Too bad you weren't here last night, Mr. Potter. You could have gotten some real practice with the mess that Draco Malfoy made of himself." She glared at Harry and for a moment he feared that she somehow knew his involvement in Malfoy's injuries, but she allayed his fears when she continued, "That boy is in here almost as often as you, Mr Potter. He came high near killing himself last night. Would have, too, if I weren't highly trained to spot magical maladies."

This time Harry didn't bother to hide his shock at Pomfrey's words. "What do you mean," he exclaimed, "Malfoy nearly killed himself last night?"

Madame Pomfrey made him get to work mending broken bones on a practice dummy back in her office, before she lowered herself into her chair to explain more fully. "Oh, Mr Malfoy came in all bruised and shaking, due to a Quidditch accident, or so he would have had me believe. As if I wouldn't recognize the effects of a Stunning spell."

She shook her head at the foolishness of students who thought they could pull the wool over her eyes. "As Mr Malfoy is not a trained mediwizard, he did not realize the potentially fatal side affects that can arise from falling victim to Stunning." Seeing that Harry had stopped in his ministrations, she gestured for him to continue; she hoped her young charge's sudden fascination with medical magic wasn't prompted just by his animosity towards the poor Malfoy boy. "There aren't many people who understand the real nature of the Stunning spell," she sniffed again and her disdain for wizards flinging about spells they didn't understand was clear. "Stunning puts a halt not just to the limbs of a body, it momentarily stops all the functions of your body and it is this shock to your system that causes the unconsciousness that people ill-educated about the spell associate with Stupefy.

"Of courses, if you are hit with just one spell, there are normally no further complications, unless you already had some other affliction or weakness. But when hit with multiple spells, as Mr Malfoy obviously was, the body cannot naturally recover. All the major organs begin to shut down, which puts too much strain on the heart as it belabours to pump blood. Clinically, the heart is not pumping enough blood - and with it, oxygen - to the extremities, so the victim begins to loose feeling, starting in the hands and feet before spreading through the body. Then a hysteria, as the brain loses its source of oxygen, which is compounded by hyperventilation and a feeling of suffocation as the cells of the lungs themselves begin to wither from asphyxiation and - Mr. Potter! You're looking dreadful; are you all right? Dear me, I had no idea you were so squeamish."

She pushed him down into one of the chairs as he battled with his own feelings of suffocation. For all the joking the night before, he hadn't thought that they might have actually killed the smarmy git. If Madam Pomfrey hadn't been in, or hadn't been so good at what she did...

Harry pushed himself out of the chair with a hasty, unintelligible excuse, and rushed out of the hospital wing, throwing apologies back over his shoulder. He dashed through the nearly deserted corridors, but no one paid him much heed, as Harry Potter was always rushing about to spoil the Dark Lord's newest plan or save a kitten from a burning building or some such rubbish. He skidded to a halt in front of the seemingly blank stretch of corridor that he knew hid the entrance to the Slytherin common room, far into the catacombs of the castle that stretched under the lake. He banged on the wall before leaning over to catch his breath.

After a couple moments, the door ground open and Harry heard a sharp intake of breath. He peered up through his unruly black hair and saw Blaise Zabini staring at him in shocked silence. "Potter, what the fuck...?"

Harry gasped out between ragged breaths, "Get Malfoy. I need to kick his ass." He tried to ignore the stabbing pains in his side, but still couldn't straighten up.

Blaise looked shocked for another moment, then his dark eyes lit up, as he drawled, "Normally I wouldn't oblige a Gryffindor, but this should be worth it."

With perfect timing, Harry heard Malfoy's cold voice and saw him coming down the stairs through his view under Blaise's arm, "Zabini, what are you doing? If someone's forgotten the password, leave them out there to freeze, for God's sake."

Blaise turned to reveal Harry and the blonde Slytherin's shock was apparent for a moment, before his face froze into a mask of fury. "You've got a visitor, Malfoy," was all Blaise said as he waited, smirking, for Draco to stride forcefully across their common room.

The furious boy shoved Harry out of the door frame and back into the dark corridor as he growled, "Potter. What the fuck do you want? Looking for a fight?"

Harry glared back at him as he regained his footing and replied in a similar tone to the one Draco had used, "Yes, that's exactly what I'm looking for." Malfoy noticed the avid Slytherins in his common room and slammed the door in their faces before dragging Harry roughly down the hall.

Harry was actually a bit surprised by this raging, harsh Malfoy, who was quite different from the obnoxious but joking boy of the night before. Maybe almost dying did that to a person. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing here, Potter? I can't even begin to imagine how you knew where the entrance to the Slytherin common room was."

Harry snorted and told Malfoy, "Hell, I've been in the Slytherin common room before. Subausculto signum." His whispered incantation sent a little blue ball of light whizzing around the corridor before zooming back to his hand, signifying that they were free from eavesdroppers. Malfoy loosened up a bit when he saw this display, but said grimly, "You're going to have to do better than that if you want to ensure privacy in Slytherin territory."

Following his words, Malfoy cast a high level Notice-Me-Not spell that encased he and Harry in a soundproof bubble which any prying eyes would slid over without seeing. "Nice one, Malfoy. Devious and yet obvious, just like you. You'll have to teach it to me sometime."

Malfoy wasn't about to be sidetracked by Harry's left-handed compliments, though, and he launched back into the raven-haired boy. "I sincerely hope for your sake, Potter, that you didn't come down here just to compare spell work," he hissed scathingly, "If you did, you will find yourself with your wand shoved so far into your personage that even Pomfrey couldn't remove it."

Harry winced slightly at Malfoy's imagery, before saying, "I've actually just come from Madam Pomfrey and she was telling me a bit about your escapades last night."

Malfoy blinked at Harry's revelation and said disbelievingly, "And... what? You were driven here by your overwhelming concern for my health and my undeniably alluring body? I know I'm the sexiest bloke at Hogwarts, but there's no need to get yourself worked up." He leered at Harry, "Even if I died, you wouldn't even come in a close second. Hell, you'd probably be at least down in the teens. Come to think of it, even dead I could probably retain my title..."

Now this was more like the Malfoy that Harry had begun to expect, using his sharp smiles as weapons that cut into you like blades with their cold beauty and making claims so outrageous that you could do nothing but shake your head in disbelief.

But why had Harry rushed down here to the Slytherin's lair? He decided it must have been that Gryffindor urge to do the right thing and make sure he hadn't caused Malfoy's death. "Oh, how noble of you," Malfoy snorted when he heard this. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got to go do damage control and tell all the snarling Slytherins how I mopped the hall with your sorry arse." He brightened for a moment, and said hopefully, "It would be so much more convincing if I could bloody you up a bit, maybe even knock you out?"

When Harry flatly denied this possibility, Malfoy shrugged and waved him off, "Scurry away then, little Gryffindor." He smiled savagely and growled, "Else I might be tempted to do it anyway." And Harry, shaking his head in disbelief, started off as he had been instructed to, ignoring Malfoy's calling after him, "And don't think I didn't notice your claim to have been in the Slytherin common room, Potter! I'll get the truth out of you yet!"

HE WONDERED A BIT, THOUGH, as he wandered back toward the Gryffindor section of the castle, about this almost bipolarity of Malfoy's. In front of the other Slytherins and when Harry had first arrived, Malfoy had been very much the boy that Harry known and hated all these years. Perhaps even more so than that boy, he was cold and harsh, quick to anger. But when it was just the two of them, on those few brief encounters when it had been just the two of them, a different Draco Malfoy seemed to be emerging.

When they had parted ways, Harry had looked back over his shoulder after Malfoy's last shouted comment in time to see Malfoy slip back into that cold countenance - which seemed like some bizarre parody after the bright, painful smiles that Harry was privy to. The blonde's face had been an emotionless mask, schooled to show just a hint of a triumphant smirk, the telling satisfaction in his eyes that would convince his housemates that he had just come from thoroughly trouncing his rival for daring to show his face in Slytherin territory.

It wasn't as if Malfoy was actually nice to Harry, or pleasant by any imaginable definition of the word. But he seemed somehow more real when they were alone. Gone was Slytherin's ice prince. That soulless shell was so perfectly trained to show nothing but unbreakable composure and thoughtless cruelty that it couldn't seem real, rather Malfoy seemed some bizarre caricature of a villain from a gothic novel. Surely it couldn't be right for a teenager to be so self-contained and controlled. Harry had never thought about what kind of life could mould a boy into such an emotionless statue - he wouldn't want to end up actually feeling something so soft as pity towards the Slytherin. But when he was teasing and smirking at Harry, making the Gryffindor feel every inch as awkward and foolish as he was, then Malfoy seemed like a real person. A real annoying person, that is.

Harry wondered if anyone else knew about this second Malfoy. He certainly hadn't acted any different in N.E.W.T. Potions that afternoon, despite their surreal tête-à-tête of the previous night. He'd given no sign at all that they'd even seen each other since the class's last meeting on Wednesday past. The only sign Harry had that he hadn't imagined the whole encounter was when Malfoy had, with the slightest evil glint in his eye, sent a piece of kelpie flesh scuttling across the table to land in Harry's lap. It was a close thing and if anyone had been watching they would have assumed that Malfoy had merely flicked the raw lump of meat at his involuntary partner, in one their usual fits of goading each other. Only someone as close as Harry would have been able to see that Malfoy hadn't physically touched the chunk of kelpie at all. And no one else would have known that Malfoy was baiting Harry with his dexterity at wandless magic, unless they had been privy to their conversation in the D.A. room.

Poncy git, he thought to himself as he recalled the incident. Probably didn't want to get his hands dirty with the rancid evil-horse flesh. Harry had been forced by Hermione to run up to the Gryffindor dorms on their break between classes, because the stench of the meat had been so potent. Malfoy had gotten yelled at by Snape for interrupting the lecture and Harry was disconcerted to get away without a single insult or point taken, even though he was the one who had jumped up with an - it had to be said - unmanly shriek when the lump of cold, wet tissue had landed on him. As much as Harry was disturbed by Snape's new tolerating attitude towards him, Malfoy seemed just as unconcerned about Snape's vindictiveness, and had continued to flout his head of house.

Harry just hoped that his own head of house never turned on him in that way. He would greatly fear to face the brunt of McGonagall's wrath. Shaking his head at the thought, he arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait and let himself in with Hermione's new password, "Widdershins." He spotted the bushy-haired prefect easily in the unusually empty common room and dropped into the chair opposite hers with a tired groan, letting his eyes drop shut.

Hermione had seemed pleased the last couple days, since she had been getting on with Ron quite well. Their ginger friend became furious with just the thought of Malfoy and had taken to glaring more potently than ever at the boy with the mocking silver eyes. Hermione had listened to his irate complaining, though, and murmured soothingly in agreement, only occasionally trying to remind him that people could change for the better. Or at least, for the slightly more neutral, in Malfoy's case. In return, Ron had been heard to comment in wonderment about just how good of a person Hermione must be, to even think about giving a bastard like Malfoy a second chance. He'd been looking a lot more appreciative towards her constant presence, too.

But tonight Hermione looked far away and hadn't even greeted Harry when he came to sat with her. In fact, her eyes looked rather red and puffy... oh no, what did Ron do now? Casting for conversation, Harry leaned his head back and said, "You wouldn't believe what I heard tonight, Hermione."

She gasped and seemed to focus on him for the first time. Her lip was trembling and her eyes seemed over bright as she whispered, "You - you've heard about it, too, Harry?" He felt a quick stab of cold in his stomach, wondering how she could have known about Malfoy's brush with death at their hands. There couldn't be something else, could there?

He said bracingly, "Well, yeah, Madam Pomfrey told me all about it during our session. But don't look so worried, the stupid git is fine."

Hermione blinked at him in confusion, tears trembling on her eyelashes. She said to him, incomprehension making her voice thin, "Who's fine, Harry? You mean - someone made it out alive?"

The cold feeling swept back into Harry, causing his fingers to still from where they had been nervously fraying a dusty gold pillow in his lap. He heard his own voice sound almost as high as Hermione's as he asked her, slowly, "Hermione, what are you talking about?"

"The attack, Harry! The attack on the school!" she cried in a rough voice that was somehow too soft, as if something had broken inside of her and some vital part which would have normally filled that voice with life had leaked out with her tears.

Harry was reeling, "The school... wha - Hogwarts?!" He watched horrified as she wrapped her arms around herself. He was taken aback by how small she looked. Hermione had always been very skinny but now she looked like a little girl, hidden within her too large robes and her wild mass of hair. He felt like he ought to go over to her, hug her, take her hands, do something. But he couldn't seem to move.

Her voice was high and keening when she answered him. "No, no, Harry, the primary school. I thought you'd heard? Voldemort, he... he took out an entire primary school." Hermione was staring unseeingly up into his face, as she murmured, "The staff, and the teachers, and the children. Oh my god, the children..."

Harry felt everything fading around him. His vision was dancing with dark spots while his hands went numb. Was this what it felt like to suffocate under the weight of the Stunning spells? It was like when you stood up too quickly from sleep. That must be it, he must be sleeping. It's just a dream, a nightmare. Wake up, Harry! But Hermione cut through the buzzing in his ears, her voice choking on her whispered words, "...the children were all murdered. Harry, over seven hundred people are dead."