White Horses

HARRY HEARD THE GUN CLICK uselessly on the empty chamber. He heaved a deep sigh as he lowered his arms shakily. It was surprisingly tough trying to hold a gun up for long periods of time, the lactic acid backing up in your muscles made your arms positively ache. There was also the recoil that even handguns weren't entirely free from.

Trying to keep his hand steady, he loaded new rounds into the 9mm pistol that Lupin had somehow 'acquired' for his practice. He winced as his tired muscles pulled against half-healed bruises. He flexed his right fingers as he shifted the Browning L256B Bulldog to his left hand. He could move them without much difficulty, but the muscles were still stiff and moved jerkily. It had only been two days since he had been released from Madame Pomfrey's tender care in the hospital wing, four days since he'd returned to the school.

Setting the safety on the handgun, he tucked it into the waistband of his pants, at the small of his back. He had begun his practice with firearms before his capture, but it now he was taking a nearly fanatical interest in his improvement. He approached the magic target that Lupin had made for him. It was made of some indescribable matter that caught the bullets with no possibility of their striking the stone wall behind - which probably would hurt Harry just as much as the wall, given the likelihood that they would ricochet. Now with a wave of his hand, the spent bullets were released, falling to the ground with a clatter. He left them on the table for Lupin and glanced at the clock on the wall.

He needed to meet Draco soon, so they could make their way to the D.A. meeting together. He pulled his shirt down over the gun, though he knew that no one could see it if he wished them not to. The Notice-Me-Not spell was only one of the enchantments on the Muggle weapon. It also was aided by a silencing spell that no mechanical silencer could ever approach in effectiveness, and a particularly useful jamming charm that would allow no one else to pull the trigger unless Harry cancelled it. Despite these precautions, he probably wouldn't be telling Dumbledore that he now carried a loaded weapon around with him as his new 'security measure.'

Harry pulled the door to the private room shut and exited back into Lupin's office, to which the room was connected. He was thankful that the professor wasn't present and left quickly, feeling the wards seal themselves behind him when he went. He headed directly to Draco's room and pushed the tapestry-covered door open, feeling his own ward respond and open obligingly for him.

It was perhaps the first time that Harry had walked in to find Draco doing absolutely nothing. The blonde was leaned against his desk, arms crossed defensively and looking far more tense than he normally ever did in his private sanctuary. He didn't even glance up at Harry, since he knew it couldn't be anyone else entering his room.

Looking at the unnaturally pale Slytherin, Harry felt the nervousness that he had been suppressing rise up to meet him. He walked over and pulled those taut arms from their clenched position, twining his fingers together with the blonde's long thin ones. Usually, Draco might have pulled away from such a gesture, or might have only haughtily allowed it. But his attitude seemed to have changed a bit since Harry's return and today he held onto Harry's hands just as tightly as his were being held.

The Gryffindor wouldn't allow himself to read into this, to assume some depth of feeling on Draco's part, and instead accepted Draco's gesture without question. Draco took the words out of his mouth though, when the other boy asked, "Are you sure about this?"

Harry let out his breath in surprise and retorted, "Am I sure about this? You're the one who could be facing a life sentence at Azkaban for this little stunt."

Harry had been surprised at how readily Draco had agreed to help him with his idea for a lesson on the Imperius curse for the D.A.. It had seemed critical to him that he introduce his 'pupils' to the Unforgivables. He could lecture the others all he wanted, but to really see it (maybe even feel it) was something else entirely. And Draco was the only person he knew who could cast such Dark magic. Except, perhaps, for himself.

Draco did feel apprehensive about the meeting. Not because he was afraid he would get caught and sent to Azkaban - although it was probable enough with the tension and fear for Death Eaters that was rampant in the Wizarding world. His more immediate fear was that the D.A. would attack him the instant he walked through the door (as they had the last time), or that Harry's little cronies would surely kill him when they saw him casting 'Dark' magic on their friend. And it had to be Harry, because who else would trust him? Harry trusted him enough - or trusted his own ability to break through the Imperius enough - and if Draco pulled this off, it would cement Harry's trust in him. Which was vital, since Draco needed to give him the portkey soon.

He raised his eyes from the floor, looking up at the earnest face before him and smiled, before pulling Harry in toward him. He tugged one hand free so that he could slip off the round, black glasses and throw them on the table behind him. Then he wrapped that free hand around Harry's back. He was surprised to feel something smooth and metal there as well, and Harry reached behind him to pull out one of those Muggle weapons, one of those 'guns.' Harry could see Draco's patronizing expression even without his glasses when they were this close and he just smiled sheepishly. His gun joined the glasses on the tabletop.

Then Draco pulled him in for a kiss and Harry forgot about guns or anything but the boy in his arms. When he was with Draco like this, he was finally able to forget about all the things that Voldemort and his Death Eaters had done to him, for a short while. He could forget about the rest of the world outside this room.

He was unnerved though, and the feeling of comfort evaporated, when he felt Draco's cool hands slip under his shirt, sliding over the planes of his back as he was drawn in closer to the Slytherin.

He broke away from Draco's embrace and stumbled a few feet away.

The glare that Draco shot at him was a bit less focussed than usual, but Harry tended to have that affect on him. He narrowed his eyes at the dark-haired boy who was now avoiding his gaze. He knew that he and Harry had never moved much beyond innocent kissing, but he hadn't expected the Gryffindor to be such a prude as to freak over a harmless touch. This train of thought was debunked, though, when Harry glanced up at him with those remarkably bright eyes and then pulled off his shirt. He thought to himself, Potter, you little minx! But the smirk died on his face as soon as he saw Harry's chest.

Harry continued to stare straight into his face, but Draco couldn't yet take his eyes away from the disfiguring scares. Directly above Harry's heart, someone had crudely carved a Dark Mark into Harry's pale, smooth skin. The scar was a dirty black and Draco remembered Pomfrey saying something about how Harry'd had oil poured into his wounds, permanently marring his flesh with the foul pigments.

The mark was larger than Draco's hand and was not a mere outline, but a complete replication of a Death Eater's sigil. Whole pieces of skin and flesh must have been hacked out of the boy to make the tattoo and it was jagged where he had obviously struggled.

Running around the mark was a scrolling cursive script. It was far too neat to have been done by hand and must have been inflicted with some kind of spell. An engraving spell, creatively employed by Voldemort and his goons. Of course, just because it was created by magic didn't mean it had hurt any less as it cut into the vulnerable flesh. The skin was still slightly red and inflamed around Voldemort's tender message: Death comes for us all.

Draco still didn't look up into Harry's face as the boy stood there with gooseflesh rising on his pale skin and his shoulders tensely hunched against both the cold and Draco's rejection. The Slytherin stepped across the few feet that separated him from the bare-chested boy and shoved him. Harry stumbled back and caught the back of his knees on the edge of the bed, falling on top of the green coverlet with a shocked cry. Before he could struggle up, Draco had pushed him further into the giving mattress by crawling on top of him.

Harry stared up at the fully clothed blonde, unsure about the Slytherin's expression without his glasses. Even with the aid of the correctional lenses though, Harry might not have been able to interpret the strange light in Draco's eyes this time. Draco himself was looking into that infuriating, anxious, precious face and knowing irrevocably that he had screwed up his in his plans - not that he would ever admit it. He thought briefly back to his meeting with the Dark Lord that past summer and heard himself once again saying, "You want Potter? I can get you Potter."

He brushed the black hair away from the scar on Harry's forehead and cradled the boy's head as he kissed the lightening shaped mark gently. He moved down to those inviting lips and breathed into his kiss, "Thank you."

Harry knew then that everything was alright and reached up to pull Draco in for a deeper kiss. The Slytherin slid a hand, warmed by Harry's own body heat, down his sternum in the lightest of caresses that Harry arched unconsciously into.

Draco could feel the muscles in Harry's stomach contract reflexively in response to his exquisitely light touch and the boy gasped sharply into their kiss when Draco placed his hand directly over his heart, white slender fingers obscuring the horrifically cruel marks. He kissed Harry deeply, his tongue sweeping the other's mouth as if to make him clean, burning away the last echoes of Harry's screams. And he kept his hand against that warm chest, awed by the slight roughness of the scars and the feel of Harry's heart pounding quickly beneath his touch.

With an effort, he pulled himself away from Harry's lips and turned instead to the tender spot where the other boy's jaw met his throat, drawing the skin lightly into his kiss so he could nip at the sensitive flesh. Harry groaned and the Slytherin was smiling as he moved on, trailing hot, wet kisses down Harry's neck. The boy jumped violently when Draco ran his tongue over his scarred chest, his gasp much more satisfyingly audible this time. More like a breathy little scream, really, to give himself due credit.

Harry was completely lost. He and Draco kissed often and touched each other as often as they could. Draco had never been this forward, though. Not that Harry was complaining. In fact, he was too busy feeling Draco's caresses to complain. He drug the boy back up to his mouth again, kissing roughly and urgently even as he wrapped his legs his legs around Draco, pressing them tightly against each other and still not feeling close enough. Not nearly.

The Slytherin happily reclaimed Harry's kiss, his hands trailing lightly up the bare sides of that trim waist. Harry shuddered delightfully and Draco wrapped his arms around the small boy, his hold almost strong enough to bruise. He had loved kissing Harry from the start, or else this ruse would never have worked. But this passion was something new, and begging to be explored. They had never been so uninhibited before and it was intoxicating.

It was quite a while later when Draco vaguely recalled that they were supposed to be doing something that evening; that was why Harry was here in the first place. He tried to reason this out, but was having difficulty since all his blood seemed to be rushing places other than his brain. He tried to pull away and gasp out, "Harry!" But the boy in question only seemed to take that as an encouragement and caught Draco's lower lip between his teeth. Draco got distracted.

Several minutes later, he had worked it up to try again and managed to get out, "No, Harry! We-" even as he was running his tongue along the other boy's lips. He wrenched himself away and stumbled back to land on his arse on the floor. He was quite impressed (and secretly pleased) when Harry slid off the bed and clambered on top of him on the hard floor with alacrity. The boy nuzzled at his throat, leaving nipping little bites as he went. Draco held him back by his shoulders, exclaiming, "Potter!"

The Gryffindor smiled regretfully before he rolled off. He sprawled next to Draco on the floor, a faint gleam of sweat on his bare chest. Without moving from his position on the floor, he reached a hand behind him to grab at his shirt and looked rather sheepish as he said, "You're right. We're probably going to be late for the D.A. meeting." They were both a bit shocked by what they'd just done. (And Draco was very shocked by this new view of Harry.) It hadn't seemed important before, but now Harry couldn't help noticing that they were in Draco's bedroom, and thinking about what they had just done on that bed. And what else could be done on that bed, ill-informed though he was in such matters.

He pulled his shirt back on, the rough cotton scraping over suddenly sensitive skin. Draco had retreated back into his usual composure and was smoothing back his fine silvery-blond hair. Harry loved that impossible moonlight hair, though it did remind him of the senior Malfoy as well. The well-groomed Slytherin stood and straightened any wrinkles, real or imagined, from his high-quality clothes. If he was going to be put under the microscope, so to speak, for Harry's defence group, he was at least going to look good while he was at it.

Draco held out a hand to Harry, who was still sprawled on the ground. His hand was accepted and he pulled the slightly shorter boy up to stand close before him. He reached up to fix that messy black hair as much as possible, though he knew it could never match his own enviably perfect coiffure. He tweaked the hairs, brushing through the clinging strands with his fingers and dutifully arranging it to cover the unnatural scar on the boy's forehead. He reached across Harry to grab his glasses and put those back into place as well. He didn't say anything to Harry's slipping the gun back his pants.

Harry turned to the door, saying as he went, "Well, if I meet your exacting standards, we ought to be leaving." He was stopped by Draco pulling him back and the Slytherin looked at him for a long minute. Then he reached out and placed his right hand over where Harry's shirt hid his new scar.

Harry's breath caught as he felt an aftershock of the heart-pounding breathlessness that Draco had produced in him. His chest was tight already, when Draco said, "It won't happen." Harry smiled, though for some inexplicable reason he felt sad upon hearing Draco's words - as empty and blind as all his friends' were.

"Yes, it will. But not just yet." He laced his fingers with Draco's, so both their hands were held against his chest and said, "Eventually, he will kill me - unless I can kill him. No one else can do it."

Draco's fingers twitched against the material covering the scar and he spoke fiercely, "Yes, someone else bloody well can. Stop playing the tragic hero, Potter."

Harry smiled, looking truly amused by his obstinance and said with certainty, "No, Draco. No one else can."

He sounded so sure of himself that Draco wondered for a second if there was something more that he didn't know. He feared for his plan. But no; it had to work. It would work, dammit, even if he destroyed them both in the process. He glanced at the chest where his special portkey was securely locked away and hidden, even in his own private room. The plan would work.

Harry pulled Draco's attention back by pinching his hand with his own short, rough nails. "Don't worry," he teased him, "I will kill him when the time comes. I'll save the world, right? That's what heroes do." He purposefully pushed Draco's buttons, knowing how much the Slytherin was frustrated with all that Boy Who Lived crap - almost as much as he himself was. But the blond heard something more behind his words.

Dracp kissed the boy on top of his shining black head and whispered into that fragrant hair, which smelt of Harry's undoubtedly cheap, plebeian shampoo, "Right. That's what heroes do, Harry." And before he thought about it, his lips had found Harry's and they were lost again.

Harry manuevered Draco back until he hit the edge of the bed. The Gryffindor tried to topple him onto the duvet - much the same as had been done to him - but Draco refused to fall back, knowing that they were supposed to be leaving. Without breaking their kiss, Harry swept Draco's legs out from under him and fell with him onto the bed.

Draco felt the air forced out of him as the other boy's weight landed on top of him. Exercising great strength, both in body and in will-power, he rolled the two of them over so that was now on top of Harry again. He held himself up on his arms and started to say firmly, "We can't-"

But Harry neatly knocked in his elbows so that Draco collapsed back on to him. He muttered into Harry's mouth, "I don't think that's how you're supposed to be using your training."

Draco had to try again and he held the boy's face firmly between his hands as he bent down to say softly into his ear, "I know this is fun, Harry, but we're supposed to be at that meeting. And, oh my gods, where did you learn to do that?" Harry had found his ear as well and licked around the edge of that pale shell. Draco was shocked voiceless as he felt the brief swath of warmth, before the cold air hit the wet skin and sent tingling repercussions down his spin. He shuddered and groaned into the Gryffindor's ear, "My god, Harry. Fuck the meeting."

Luckily, he got a hold of himself. He was Draco Malfoy, master of control and self-possession. He would rise to the occasion. Well, in a manner of speaking. He slid his hand very low down Harry's stomach, his fingers brushing the sharp pelvic bones and suggesting just where they could continue down to touch the boy in a way neither had dared yet. Harry jerked in surprise and went still beneath his hand, and Draco spoke to the suddenly attentive boy, "Harry. We've been planning this meeting since you got back. We oughtn't miss it."

The combined shock of Draco's hand and the mention of his return - reminding him of just what he had returned from - was just the right touch to cool Harry's ardour long enough for him to pull himself together.

He pushed past Draco to sit up and said, "You're right, of course. Let's hope we aren't too late now." Draco still had one leg straddling him, though he had snatched his hand back as soon as Harry had moved. He didn't want to cross that line yet, they'd covered more than enough new territory already today. Harry visibly regained his control and Draco was almost sad to see that wild, playful side of him get locked away again.

Dammit, Malfoy, he told himself harshly, you can shag like bunnies later. But now you've got to go through with this and get him to trust you. He slid his leg off of Harry and the Gryffindor shuddered. Draco smiled, irrationally pleased that Harry couldn't cut himself off from him completely. Suddenly feeling much better, he rose from the bed in a smooth move and grabbed the invisibility cloak from where he'd laid it on the table earlier in his nervous waiting. Twirling it in his deft hands, he gestured for Harry to join him. "Come on, Potter. We're late."

He laughed at the glare that Harry shot him. The dark-haired boy was muttering as he pushed himself up, "Well, aren't we in a good mood all of a sudden."

Draco came up to him, tweaking his hair and clothes for the second time that night and a little surprised that Harry hadn't blown his arse off by rolling around on top of his gun. He smoothed his fingers over Harry's wrinkled brow and said quickly, "Just consider it a bit of post-coital levity. Or, I suppose, pre-coital." He gave Harry a quick peck and then practically skipped away, except that Malfoy never skipped. Just like they didn't wear Muggle jeans or have pretty-boy-sex with their worst enemies. (He was still working on that last one.)

Harry had a rather determined glint in his eye, so Draco slung on the invisibility cloak and called out of the empty air, "Come on, Potter." He left swiftly and knew that Harry would follow. As they hurried the long path to the seventh floor, Draco continued to make whispered little comments and to generally drive Harry to distraction. Once he actually tried to grab the elusive blond, but desisted when all the portraits gave him strange looks for flailing around at nothing.

By the time they got to the Room of Requirement, Harry was fair panting with rage (among other things). Storming back and forth in front of the door the requisite seven times was enough to work off his excess energy, though, and Draco pulled off the cloak, handing it to Harry as they pulled open the door.

It was quite the same as last time; Draco finding himself on the wrong end of a whole array of unfriendly wands. The difference was that this time, he yanked the door back shut before anyone could hit him. Harry frowned at him and pushed the door open again. He held his hands up in warning and all the assembled obediently pointed their wands down, though they didn't put them away. They waited for an explanation from Harry, who was clearly in charge. Draco resisted the urge to laugh and the urge died quickly, as soon as Harry started speaking. This wasn't the Harry he was used to, not his snarky Potter, but Harry Potter: Hero of the Wizarding world®.

"Sorry I'm late. Today is a very unusual lesson and it took quite a bit of preparation."

Draco muttered loud enough that only Harry would hear him, "And how much of that preparation required rolling around on my bed?"

He could see Harry's throat work as the boy swallowed, although he couldn't be sure if it was keep from laughing or to hide some different feeling. Harry continued his address, "First of all, if you'll excuse me, I need to cast some wards."

Harry flexed his right hand experimentally, and Draco knew that it was still paining him, then he started to make similar weaving motions as he had when he'd altered the wards around their room. Draco sincerely hoped he wouldn't collapse like he had at that time. The Gryffindor continued speaking, despite his obvious concentration on whatever his hands were doing. "These spells will act as a type of bubble, sealing us off from Hogwarts' main wards, even though we are still physically within the castle. No one outside this room will be able to detect what is going on and I trust all of you not to speak of what you see, since Malfoy and I are putting our arses on the line for this lesson."

He fell silent again as he slowly pulled his hands apart, the effort clearly straining him as if he were struggling against something concrete. With a final flick of his wrists, he seemed to be done and everyone could feel an invisible something rush past them, expanding to fill the whole room. Draco held his hand on Harry's back, where no one else could see it as they faced the uncertain crowd. He could feel Harry relax into his support, ever so slightly, but his voice showed no sign of how much the spell might have taken out of him. Curiously his voice did seem to echo strangely now in the warded room, as he said, "I'm sorry for the crudeness of the spells. I'm afraid that my wand was broken while I was away and so I have to make do with what I have."

There were several gasps at his announcement, but Draco was sure that none of them - not even Ron and Hermione - knew just what had happened to Harry while he was 'away.' He felt Harry stand up straighter, relieving the weight from his hand, and knew what was coming. Harry stepped away to leave Draco standing at the centre of everyone's attention and explained briefly, "I'm sure all of you are familiar with Draco Malfoy. He is here at my request, since he and I are the only two present who can cast Dark magic."

There was a lot more shock and dismay after this statement, but Draco had claimed the floor. "Listen up, because you'll only hear this once and it might mean your miserable little life someday."

Draco heard the whispering amongst the assembled defence group and it was that annoying Zacharias Smith who dared say it aloud: "Why should we trust you to help us fight the Death Eaters?"

Draco stared coldly at the other blond and said caustically, "For Salazar's sake, you shouldn't. I will not fight the Death Eaters." He didn't even blink as all the shuffling and muttering grew more agitated and he amended, "But I will not help them."

That silenced most of the dissenters and so Draco continued, trusting in Harry's belief that these students were trustworthy, "You all ought to know that I am risking more than just my life, to be here. None of you can speak of my presence, let alone what we do here. If you cannot accept these precepts beforehand, knowing only that this lesson will involve Dark magic, then you must leave now." He looked over at Harry, who nodded carefully and made sure that everyone saw his agreement. The two of them turned back to the crowd with identical fixed expressions.

Harry smiled grimly when no one ran for the door and said, "Good. Then you should know that we will be teaching you about the Death Eaters tonight. I know about them because I've fought. Malfoy knows about them because he had to grow up with them. What we will be demonstrating today is one of the Unforgivable curses, the Imperius.

"To cast an Unforgivable, you must truly intend to cast them and all the harm that goes with them. That is why I have Malfoy here. I have cast Unforgivables myself-" he ignored the outcry, "-but a spell like the Imperius is far too volatile to be casting without a wand, at the risk of permanently damaging someone's mind. So Malfoy will be demonstrating the curse on me and we will teach you ways to recognize someone under the curse." He looked around reasonably and said, "Excuse me if I can't trust one of you to cast the curse, when you don't have any experience with Dark magic and don't know what you're doing."

It was Neville Longbottom who cried out this time, "And you trust Malfoy?"

Harry smiled reassuringly at his friend, "Yes, I trust Malfoy. More than that, I trust myself and I trust the rest of you, if things should get out of hand."

The Slytherin muttered reproachfully, "Gee, thanks, Potter." He gestured impatiently for them to move on and Harry nodded. Draco was not only nervous because the pack of good-doers who were watching him like hungry wolves, but because he had never actually cast the Imperius on anyone before. As such, he was completely unprepared for the feelings that swamped him when he intoned, "Imperio."

For the first few wild momentS, he thought he'd been blinded. Then he realized he was seeing not only what his own eyes perceived, but what Harry was seeing as well. It was nauseating to watch himself reeling from outside himself. But once he focussed on Harry, the other boys view of his dazed face slid away. He blinked and was seeing normally, but still left without explanation for the dizzying emotions that were preventing him from thinking clearly. Anxiety, shock, happiness, anticipation, fear, pain, trust.

He looked at Harry, unconsciously searching for some support. Harry took a step toward him, taking his arm. Did I do that? Are these Harry's emotions? He looked into that open face which looked completely normal and yet something in Harry's expression (or perhaps something missing from Harry's expression) gave him a chill.

He clenched his jaw and turned to face the D.A., getting control of both himself and of Harry. He could feel that the Gryffindor wasn't fighting his control at all, and was grateful for that as he got a handle on making Harry do what he wanted. Everyone was watching with a horrified sort of fascination as Harry stepped away from Malfoy, looking just as he always did. Had the spell worked? Malfoy sure didn't look too confidence-inspiring. Was this what Dark magic took out of you? Or could it ironically be that Draco Malfoy wasn't actually any good at Dark magic - the one person you'd expect to take to it like a salamander to fire?

Harry started speaking, "Now, as you all can see, a victim of the Imperius curse may seem quite normal and rational. The Death Eaters will have an advantage with the Imperius because people always try to see what they want to see. If I look like Harry Potter and I sound like Harry Potter, who's really going to argue?" As if to juxtapose the peculiar sight of Harry referring to himself in the third person, he reached up to straighten his glasses in a move that they had all seen Harry perform hundreds of times.

"If, however, I do not act or sound like Harry," the boy said as his posture suddenly improved and he stood stiffly, doing an impressive job at looming for being one of the shortest people in the room. His face was as cold and sneering as Professor Snape's and when he next spoke, his voice held the same darkly smooth and sinister tones, "Even Gryffindors and the rest of you subnormal miscreants should notice something amiss with your dear Mr Potter." A couple of students shot fearful glances at Malfoy, not sure if they should laugh or cower in the face of Harry acting like their most dreaded professor.

"Pay attention!" snapped the Harry-Snape, his green eyes as cold and empty as the emeralds they were so often likened to. He spoke slowly, seeming to savour the words, "Now, it is highly doubtful, but I am compelled to ask. Call it morbid curiosity. Do any of you thick-witted neandertals know just how to recognize someone under Imperius?"

Harry dropped the Potion Master's affectations and added normally, "Of course, there is the small chance that the person might be able to break free from the curse. But it's a rare talent, so you wouldn't want to bet your life on it.

"Being the great Harry Potter, I can easily break free of the curse." Any of the students who had been thinking that Harry had indeed broken free had their hopes dispelled with that very unHarry statement. "I know it's not much, but since I'll never be as devastatingly handsome as Draco Malfoy, I've got to flaunt what I've got." That statement left no doubt just who was putting the words in Harry's mouth. But as if to prove this crude claim, Harry managed to slip around the curse - that was the only way Draco could describe it - without breaking the spell, long enough to turn to Malfoy with an outraged, "Hey!"

There was some scattered laughter, as if this were all part of the show. Draco was careful not to show how easily Harry had shrugged off the curse, brushing aside the blanket of power as if it were a flimsy cobweb. He frowned at the Gryffindor and they continued.

"As we have said and (I believe, more than aptly) demonstrated, you may suspect someone to be under the power of the Imperius if they are acting in a strange or unusual manner. The behaviour of the victim is dependent on the skill and power of the caster. Draco Malfoy, of course, is not only stunningly handsome and a tactical genius, but a great wizard as well."

Harry paused and frowned in consternation, as if wondering to himself why he had just said that. Only Draco could feel the real Harry's glee in his mind, and he thought at the boy, You sick, twisted fuck, Potter.

Draco had Harry continue on, arriving at the important part of the lecture, all dramatics aside. "Regardless of the caster, though, there are a few simple tests that can be performed without even raising much suspicion in the person you suspect. The first test is pain."

The Slytherin took over at this point, gesturing elaborately as he bowed, "Allow me to demonstrate." He closed the few feet that separated him and his Harry-doll. Mentally, he could feel Harry retreating further into the spell, definitely not wanting to break free at this moment. He picked up the hand that was offered to him, briefly cradling those familiar digits, before he pulled a knife from his pocket and opened a wide gash across Harry's palm. The Gryffindor didn't even flinch. Everyone else was a bit more expressive.

Ron jumped at Draco, not caring this time whether fighting would solve anything - simply wanting to take a little blood from Malfoy as he had taken blood from Harry. Draco moved quickly out of the way and made a sweeping gesture at the room. Everyone else in the room stopped moving. The spell didn't make it impossible for them to move, but rather convinced them that they didn't really want to move anyway.

With the rest of the D.A. taken care of, Draco went back to Harry and cast the simple healing charm that the boy had taught him for this occasion. There was nothing in those green eyes but a sweet confusion - no pain, no anger, no sense of betrayal. Draco kept his back to the others as he added a scouring charm to remove the blood from Harry's person and the floor, where it had started to grow into a little puddle. Draco stepped away and it was time for Harry to resume his speech.

"If you'll all please calm down, Draco can remove the spell." After a brief but questioning look, the blonde did so and the rest of the students stumbled a bit as they felt the effects of the spell skitter away. Harry grabbed their attention before the angry mob could reform against Malfoy.

"Everyone, please," he said earnestly, "Calm down. I really don't feel any pain." But the students were suspicious now - after all, Malfoy was the one in charge of what Harry was saying. Just because it was a familiar trusted face didn't mean they believed that a knife plunging into your hand wouldn't pain you even a bit.

"This isn't just me being Potter the Stoic - though Lord knows I'm an insufferable martyr anyway." Catching the glare from Hermione, Draco decided to change Harry's direction a little. The boy started again, "I'm glad to see that not all of you will take my words at face value. You need to not be swayed by a well-known and well-liked face. But it truly is one of the effects of Imperius that the victims generally feel no pain. Imperius creates a euphoric state in the victim - which is what makes them so malleable - and even pain will not penetrate this 'high.'"

Draco stepped forward again and it was he who introduced the next part of their show. He told the Light wizards, "It is because of this same euphoria that we find our second test so effective." Draco held up his wand and said softly, "Lumos."

He could hear Hermione whisper to herself, "Of course," as he directed the light so that it wouldn't blind the rest of them and turned his new spotlight on Harry. They could all see his unnaturally illuminated face, although not all of them understood immediately what seemed wrong with it. Hermione said aloud, "The pupils won't react properly."

Draco nodded brusquely and elaborated, "The elation that Potter feels will cause the pupils to remain dilated, even with light stimuli."

Malfoy toned down his light and had Harry detail the last test as he began to feel nervous again. He tuned back in to hear the Gryffindor saying, "...one almost failsafe test. It can be considered Dark magic, but if you want to survive, I'd suggest knowing it. The incantation is Empyrium. Draco will demonstrate."

The Slytherin held his wand steady on the boy and intoned clearly, "Empyrium." Nothing seemed to happen, although Malfoy gave a little start. Everyone continued to stare. Smirking a bit, Draco said, "That's it, kids. This is a lesson in subtlety, though I know it's not your strong suit. No, it's all declaring of intentions and waving around swords, that's what your lot it all about.

"You don't necessarily want to alert anyone who might be watching that you know the victim is under Imperius. At times, it may even be more useful to leave a person under the Imperius, so that you might fool your enemies. As such, this spell isn't going to set off any fireworks. What it will do is send a slight shock through the caster, if the object of the spell really is under Imperius, and I suggest that you all try it to become familiar with the feeling."

There was quite a bit of shuffling, since most of them were unsure whether this was Dark magic and just what that truly meant. Finally, Ginny stepped forward and Draco graced her with the slightest approving look. Feeling more confident, she pointed her wand firmly at Harry and said experimentally, "Empyrium." She gave a little gasp at the static shock that ran through her, crackling her vibrant red hair. She told the others, "It really does give you a little shock!" As if those words were some reassurance, soon all the other D.A. members had stepped forward to give it a go.

Satisfied that everyone had gotten to feel the confirmation from the spell, he said simply, "Finite incatetum." He felt suddenly empty as the distant buzz of Harry's thoughts and emotions was cut off from him. The small boy stumbled a bit and Draco's arm naturally shot out to catch him. Green eyes rose to meet his and he was glad to see Harry again in those eyes. The boys separated and got a hold of themselves. Draco was ready to call it a night - this had been enough stress and drama for one night. But it never was that simple with Harry, was it?

Malfoy addressed the D.A. for what he hoped would be the last time, saying, "Now, if I cast the spell again, when Harry is not under the power of the Imperius curse..." Smirking, he broke off to point his wand at Harry and say, "Empyrium." This time he got to watch as Harry jumped in surprise and he said in a satisfied voice, "It is dear Harry who receives the shock."

Harry was rubbing his hands in consternation and he said resentfully, "Dammit, Malfoy - that's like an electric shock!" The other's laughed at him a bit, having felt the same shock themselves.

Harry turned back to the assembled students and asked in a perfunctory manner, "Any questions?"

Neville Longbottom spoke up hesitantly, "You said... or, well, Malfoy said that that Empyrium spell could be considered Dark... should we really be using it then?"

Harry told him, with a reassuring nod, "Yes. When it could mean your life or the lives of others, you should use whatever means are necessary."

He was unsettled though, when Zacharias said accusingly, "How do we know that you're really Potter again? Maybe this is just Malfoy trying to convince us to use Dark magic."

While Harry spluttered in indignation, Draco narrowed his eyes spitefully at the blonde tart. Surprisingly, it was Hermione who came to the rescue. She had recognized when Harry had thrown off the curse earlier and, knowing how much practise Harry had against the Imperius, she doubted that Malfoy would be able to keep Harry under if Harry didn't want to be. More than that, she just knew Harry.

She stepped up and said clearly, "This is Harry Potter, in body and mind. I can still recognize my best friend." She glared at Zacharias and said dryly, "Unless any of you want to test the theory by sticking him with a knife, perhaps?"

Before any retort could be made, she shocked all the students into silence by declaring, "And what's more, I'll undergo the Imperius myself."