Harry Potter and the Trelawney Prophesy

Chapter 8

Draco's Problem and Voldemort's Gifts

Several days before the Christmas break, Harry walked through the hall, Ginger beside him, her hand held tightly in his own. They had just left the common room and were on their way to Sunday breakfast.

Harry could sense more than see that they were being watched.

"This is getting really creepy," said Ginger softly.

Harry guessed she felt it too.

"I know," said Harry. "I wish they'd leave me alone."

"They won't," said Ginger. "Everyone is afraid."

Harry stopped and turned to her. He rested a hand on her cheek. "Are you afraid, Ginger?" said Harry. "I couldn't bear it-"

"No, Harry," Ginger interrupted. "You know I'm not afraid. I know you just as Ron and Hermione and the rest of the family does. We know you'll do the right thing." She placed her own hand on Harry's cheek. "And I know you wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone."

Harry leaned down and gently kissed her mouth.

"Thanks, Ging," said Harry. "That means a lot to me."

"Potter."

Harry looked around.

"What do you want, Malfoy," said Harry as Malfoy strode up to them. "Your voyeuristic tendencies are starting to get annoying."

Harry let go of Ginger and looked at Malfoy.

Malfoy was actually grinning. "Sorry to interrupt," muttered Malfoy and he glanced down at Ginger. "Hello, Ginny. Enjoying yourself, were you?"

Harry couldn't tell if he was trying to be nasty or just teasing, the latter being unheard of.

"What do you want, Draco?" said Ginger with some of her own irritation.

Malfoy looked at Harry and his expression became serious. He took a step closer and leaned toward Harry's ear.

"He's getting impatient," said Malfoy in a very soft voice. "My father says he's irritable and may do something drastic if you don't - well, you know."

Harry looked at Malfoy with suspicion. "So you do know about that."

Malfoy nodded. "My father said it pleases him that you have been writing but he wants to see you."

Ginger looked back and forth between the two. "What's going on?"

"I'll explain later," said Harry.

"Don't you trust your girlfriend, Potter?" said Malfoy with another mysterious grin.

"Will you be quiet, Malfoy." Harry grabbed Malfoy's arm and pulled him closer to the steps. "Look around," said Harry with disgust. "They're constantly watching me. And why did you drag Ginger into this."

"I know," said Malfoy. "And because she needs to know."

Harry blinked at him. "Why?"

"You can't be that stupid, Potter," said Malfoy. "You've got good friends. Use them. You need them."

"They don't understand," said Harry. "You don't understand."

Harry saw that sadness again, but it was fleeting. "Don't I?" said Malfoy. "Just go, he needs to see you."

"How?"

"Figure it out, Potter," said Malfoy as he turned and walked away.

Harry blinked at him as left again wondering just where Draco Malfoy's loyalties were.

Had Dumbledore sent Malfoy to him or had Voldemort?

Harry turned to Ginger. "I have to see the headmaster."

"I'll go too," said Ginger.

"No, I don't-"

"Oh, yes," said Ginger, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him towards the stairs. "I should go too."

She had that stubborn determination on her expression as she lead Harry through the school and Harry sighed.

"All right," said Harry.

The gargoyle wasn't blocking the entrance so the two entered and went up the moving staircase.

"Ah, Harry, I assume -" he paused seeing Ginger. "Are you sure that's wise?"

Ginger crossed her arms and stared at Albus Dumbledore with a look that would have frightened anyone.

"Well, I see she is determined," said Dumbledore with humor glittering in his eyes. "Very well. Harry, you know what to do."

"Yes," said Harry but he hesitated. "Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Why are you ok with this?"

"Because you have a binding agreement," said Dumbledore simply. "And-"

"Don't tell me," said Harry. "I'm almost ready."

Dumbledore nodded gravely.

"Ready for what?" said Ginger.

"You don't want to know, Ginger," said Harry. "Believe me." He took hold of her arms. "Focus on me, Ging."

"Where are we-"

What a nightmare.

Harry stared into the fire, feeling Ginger's grip tighten on his arm.

"Forget the question," said Ginger. "You have an agreement to visit him?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Master Harry. I'm glad you came," said Lucius Malfoy, stepping up to them. "I assume you've spoken to Draco."

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," said Harry.

Malfoy looked down at Ginger.

Ginger lifted her chin. "My blood is as pure as yours, Mr. Malfoy," said Ginger. "You can't touch me."

Lucius Malfoy actually smile at her. "A Weasley with wizarding pride," said Malfoy with satisfaction. He looked at Harry. "You have good taste in woman at least," he eyed Harry's ill fitting clothes with distaste.

Harry sighed. "Where is he?"

Malfoy's expression turned serious. "In his tent, my lord," said Lucius. "Brooding."

Harry almost wanted to laugh as he escorted Ginger across the camp. Voldemort - brooding? Interesting.

"Ginger," said Harry. "Are you sure-"

"Stop it, Harry," said Ginger. "You know I'm not afraid."

Harry sighed and opened the flap so Ginger could walk in first.

Voldemort stood up as they entered the tent.

"Ah, Harry," said Voldemort, sounding relieved and pleased at the same time. "And Miss Weasley. How nice to see you again." He sent Harry a curious look.

Harry made a frustrated gesture. "Women," he muttered.

Voldemort chuckled. With a wave of his wand, Voldemort changed the atmosphere of the tent from dark and brooding to bright and almost cheery. Several house elves came out with trays of refreshments.

Harry and Ginger sat down on the sofa, not far but out of the flinch zone from Voldemort's desk. Ginger still hadn't let go of Harry's arm and Harry got the impression that although she put on a brave face, she was still nervous.

"So," said Voldemort to Ginger. "How does it feel to have acquired the affection of the most powerful boy in the world?"

"Voldemort," said Harry.

"Stop being so modest, Harry. You know it's true," said Voldemort. "And let me gloat." Back to Ginger, he said, "Well, Miss Weasley?"

"Harry knows how I feel," said Ginger.

"Indeed," said Voldemort. He turned to Harry. "And how does Harry feel?"

Harry opened his mouth ready to tell Voldemort to mind his own business but felt Ginger's hand tighten around his arm. He closed him mouth. Voldemort was staring intently back at him.

"Don't you think that's a bit personal, Voldemort?" said Harry.

He looked down at Ginger and she reached up and touched his face.

"It's alright, Harry," said Ginger. "I understand."

"You could have just said that you weren't sure yet," said Voldemort.

Harry stood up, running a hand through his hair and paced across the room. Voldemort knew everything. Harry shouldn't have been surprised.

"Harry?" said Voldemort.

Harry turned to him.

"Severus tells me that they still have you under constant surveillance."

"They do," said Harry.

"Doesn't that bother you?" said Voldemort.

Harry started pacing again. "Of course, it bothers me, Voldemort," said Harry. "But there's nothing I can do about it." Harry looked back at Voldemort. "And before you go that route with me about not being helpless, let me remind you that I'm not ready yet."

Voldemort chuckled.

"Anyway," Harry went on. "Dumbledore knows we have a deal and so does Sirius now, although I didn't tell him." Harry looked at Voldemort. "Did you?"

"No, Harry. Albus told him."

Harry nodded. "And obviously Ginger knows now and I noticed that Lucius knows." Harry looked at Voldemort again. "Why does Draco know, by the way?"

"Because I want him to know," said Voldemort simply. "He is the only other mutual contact we have through the school besides Severus."

Harry sighed. "I guess."

"He did tell you that I wished to see you, didn't he?" said Voldemort.

Now Voldemort had Harry's attention. "So you did send him?" said Harry.

"Of course," said Voldemort. "Lucius is completely loyal to me. As is his son."

Harry had seen evidence that this wasn't exactly the case but was starting to wonder.

"Anyway," said Harry. "You didn't have to get impatient. I would have come to visit in a few days."

"Oh," said Voldemort with interest.

"Yes," said Harry. "Sirius told me I should come for the Christmas break."

"Did he?" said Voldemort with a knowing grin.

Harry ignored it. "Yes."

"Did he tell you why?"

"No," said Harry feeling frustrated.

"Did you ask?"

"Of course I asked him," said Harry.

Voldemort grinned at him. "Would you like to know?"

Harry looked up. "Do you know?"

Voldemort chuckled. "Of course," said Voldemort.

"Tell me," said Harry.

"Albus is sending Sirius to spy on some of my Death Eaters in the Esperian province," said Voldemort simply. "To try to get the whereabouts of this compound."

Harry wasn't even sure where that was. "This doesn't worry you?"

"Oh no, Harry," said Voldemort. "Very few people know the actual location of this camp. My Death Eaters apparate directly to me through their link with the Dark Mark. That is the only way to get in here unless I want them too."

"Just give me a little more time, Voldemort," said Harry.

Voldemort chuckled.

"So why is Sirius sending me here?" said Harry. "Won't the Ministry find out?"

"Actually, the Ministry is unknowingly allowing it," said Voldemort. "Fools," he added with laugh.

"How?"

"They've ordered the school be emptied over the break with the exception of you - they must always know where you are - and the headmaster - who of course knows you must visit me - and one other teacher of Albus' choice."

"Don't tell me," said Harry. "Severus Snape."

Voldemort chuckled.

"And what about Hagrid," said Harry. "He lives there on the grounds. He'll miss me if I don't visit with him."

"Ah, Rubeus will be sent back to the giants," said Voldemort. "Pity about them. I was sure I would have more of them to rely on. But Albus was quick indeed with his emissaries."

Harry ignored the comment. "It seems like an awful lot of trouble just for me," said Harry.

"Just say the word, Harry," said Voldemort with another grin. "And neither one of us will have to worry about the Ministry or giants or anything else."

Harry smirked at him and turned to Ginger.

"Ginger," said Harry seriously. "You can't tell anyone about this. I mean it, not even Ron and especially not your parents."

Ginger sighed. "As honored as I am to be privy to this little secret life of yours, Harry," said Ginger. "I think Ron already knows."

Harry blinked at her. "Ron?"

"Yes," said Ginger. "Ever since the Hogsmeade visit, he's been muttering like an idiot about you."

"What has he been saying?"

"Stuff like 'what's Harry done now' and 'why won't he tell me'. It's making him nuts," said Ginger.

"And Hermione?" said Harry.

"Hermione just looks at him oddly and shakes it off."

"Ron figured it out before Hermione?" said Harry and he laughed. "Priceless." He looked at Ginger again.

She waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, I won't tell," said Ginger. "Who'd believe me anyway. 'That insipid little Weasley girl who was fool enough to trust something that she couldn't see where it kept it's brain. What does Harry Potter see in her?'"

Voldemort laughed over her little tirade. "Oh, I see precisely what Harry Potter sees in you Miss Weasley."

Voldemort's comment sobered her. Ginger glanced at her watch.

"We really should be getting back, Harry."

Harry looked at own watch then looked at Voldemort as Ginger got up and took his arm.

"I'll be back," said Harry.

"I'll be here," said Voldemort.

What a nightmare.

And it was a nightmare. Harry couldn't stop thinking about how natural their conversations were, how easy it was to talk to him, knowing he'd tell him anything he asked and knowing it would be the truth.

Harry didn't really mind visiting and that was really bothering him. And the prospect of going back in a few days was actually comforting. Harry tried to convince himself that it was because at the compound he wouldn't be watched 24 hours a day and would have the freedom to once again eat, sleep or do whatever he wanted without restriction but he knew it was more than that.

He was curious to see what Voldemort would teach him. He wanted to know what else he was capable of doing with his magic and Voldemort's tests always showed him.

The only thing that darkened his thoughts about the break was that he wished he could take someone with him. Someone to talk to or at the very least play chess or exploding snap with. Harry briefly recalled how Cathy had read to him. At least he'd had a friend.

But now, if the Ministry found out that Harry had another agreement with Voldemort, they'd try to lock him up, or worse, lock up Harry's friends.

He said goodbye to Ginger in the Common Room.

She fussed with his collar. Harry suspected she did that on purpose because she had discovered how sensitive his neck was and just loved to drive him crazy.

"I wish I could go," said Ginger.

"I wish you could too," said Harry. His shoulder hit his ear as her fingertips brushed around it. "Stop it."

Ginger sent him a knowing little smile and lifted her face for his kiss. He hugged her hard. "I'll miss you, Ging," said Harry.

"And I'll miss you," said Ginger, lingering in his arms, head against his chest.

Harry held her away. "Go on. You'll miss the carriages."

Ginger nodded and kissed him again, then left. Harry stared after her until he felt another kiss, this time on his cheek. He turned to Hermione.

"It's not fair you know," said Hermione. "Making you stay here all by yourself."

"I'll be alright," said Harry. "Maybe I'll get some extra help for the N.E.W.T.s."

Hermione made a very unladylike snort. "Harry, be serious. You could get them all today if they gave them to you."

Harry sighed. "Maybe all but the Potions one," said Harry. "Think Snape might..."

Hermione laughed. "You will be careful," said Hermione. "Won't you, Harry?"

"Always," said Harry.

"And talk to Ron," said Hermione. "He's been acting strange - well stranger than usual."

Harry repressed his laugh. "Alright, Hermione. I will."

She kissed his cheek again and left.

Harry sat down to wait for Ron. He could hear the sounds of the boys in his dorm dragging their trunks down the stairs and he said goodbye to Dean, Seamus and Neville.

When Ron came down, he looked as if he wasn't even going to say goodbye.

Harry stood up. "Ron," he called.

Ron looked at him, then looked at his watch. "What?" said Ron with annoyance.

"I need to talk to you," said Harry.

"Really?" Ron didn't even try to hide his sarcasm. "All your little secrets getting too stressful for even famous Harry Potter to manage on his own?"

Now Harry was annoyed. "Will you just sit down and listen to me for a minute," said Harry. "You used to be damned good at being my best friend. Can we try it again?"

Ron looked stricken. "Harry-"

"Just sit," said Harry.

Ron sat down and Harry took the chair across from him. Then he let it all out. He tried to tell him everything. The deal, the Ministry's manipulations, that Dumbledore knew everything, how afraid he was that Voldemort was winning and even that he actually had figured out what it was it had to do and what it was.

"Well that's it, Ron," said Harry, almost hoarse from talking.

Ron blinked at him. "Blimey, Harry. Why the hell did you have to tell me everything?"

Harry felt like his chest caved in. Ron must have seen it on his expression.

He quickly said, "I'm kidding. Honestly, Harry. You know I'm with you."

"Are you sure, Ron?" said Harry. "Even if it comes-"

Ron stood up. "Even if it comes to that. I'm with you until the bitter end."

Harry stood up. "Thanks, Ron," was all Harry could say or choke as it came out.

It was an awkward hug they shared before Ron muttered, "Serves me right for saddling myself with the damn Boy Who Lived. All this weight of the world crap. Nauseating."

Harry couldn't help smiling. "Certainly makes me sick," said Harry.

"Yeah, well, when you leave for Bulgaria, you better make damn sure you take me."

"You bet," said Harry. "You'd better go."

"Yeah," said Ron. "Just yell if you need me."

"I will, Ron," said Harry.

Harry watched him leave and suddenly felt very alone. He had told Ron everything - that is - all the facts. And Harry was immensely grateful for Ron's sworn support, but Harry couldn't seem to be able to express - explain the feelings, the effect Voldemort was starting to have over him.

Every damned look, every calculated touch, every carefully constructed manipulation.

Ron had met Voldemort, had dealt with him, but he couldn't understand how dependant Harry was starting to become. Couldn't conceive how it tormented Harry that Harry was starting to count on Voldemort always being there.

Harry sighed and heard nothing but silence echoing from the castle. He apparated to his tent and sat down on his bed. He grabbed a pillow and held it loosely on his lap.

Glancing up, he saw his reflection in the mirror over his dresser. He had let his hair grow a little so instead of a short untidy mess, it had a longer wilder look. His eyes were the same bright green but they were sad. His face although still thin had hardened. Harry didn't have to shave near as much as Ron did but there was a shadow of growth presently, darkening his somber features.

Harry looked away from his own sorrow and noticed the cabinet. He stood up and moved to the large intricately carved wooden cabinet that had never graced his room before.

"What the hell?" said Harry as he looked it over. Eight feet high and seven feet wide and at least four feet deep of what looked like solid mahogany. There were no knobs on the doors.

Harry tried to pull the doors open but couldn't.

He raised a hand. "Alohamora," said Harry.

Nothing.

"Try 'open'."

Harry startled and turned to see Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway.

"What do you want, Malfoy," said Harry turning back to the cabinet.

"Lord Voldemort sent me to see if you'd arrived yet," said Malfoy.

"So you just walked on in," said Harry.

"Of course," said Malfoy. "Rude of me, wasn't it?"

Harry turned back to him. Malfoy had his arms crossed over his chest, leaning on the wall and he had a strange grin on his face.

"I'd say it was," said Harry. He gestured at the cabinet. "Do you know what this is?"

"Of course," said Malfoy. "Don't you?"

"No," said Harry, looking back at it. "What did you say to do?"

Malfoy snorted. "Honestly, Potter. You are so pathetic."

"I grew up with Muggles," said Harry with irritation. "Excuse me for living."

Malfoy actually laughed. "No excuse for the Boy Who Lived," said Malfoy.

Harry let his chin fall and shook his head as he realized the joke. "None whatsoever," said Harry, but he couldn't help his own smile. "Poor, pathetic, Harry Potter," muttered Harry under his breath.

Malfoy heard him and snorted. "Pathetic, yes, but poor," said Malfoy. "That I know is lie." Harry sent him an irritated glance. "Even if you do dress the part."

"I hate to bust your misinformed bubble, Malfoy," said Harry. "But there's a perfectly good reason why I'm pathetic and appear poor."

"Oh, really?" challenged Malfoy. "I dare you to tell me."

Harry sighed. "I was clueless until my 11^th Birthday."

"You're still clueless, as far as I'm concerned," said Malfoy.

So much for that. Harry turned back to the cabinet.

"Wait a minute," said Malfoy as if realizing Harry had been serious. "What do you mean?"

"Forget it," said Harry.

"No," said Malfoy. "Why was famous Harry Potter clueless."

"That's just it, Malfoy," said Harry. "I didn't know."

"Didn't know what?" said Malfoy, looking confused.

"Now who's being pathetic?" said Harry. "I didn't know anything."

Malfoy just stared at him still looking confused.

"Why did you think I didn't say much in the robe shop that day?" said Harry.

"I thought you were shy," said Malfoy honestly.

"I had know idea what you were talking about," said Harry. "School houses, Quidditch-"

"You'd never heard of Quidditch?"

"I never heard of Hogwarts until I got my letter," said Harry. "I didn't even know I was a wizard."

Now Malfoy looked skeptical. "Yeah, famous Harry Potter didn't know he was a wizard."

"Yeah well, famous Harry Potter didn't know he was famous until Hagrid tracked us down and broke into the cabin where my aunt and uncle were hiding me."

"They were hiding you?" said Malfoy confused again.

"They didn't want me to find out I was a wizard," said Harry. "They think I'm a freak. They told me I got this scar in the car crash that killed my parents."

Malfoy's jaw actually dropped open. "They what?"

Harry only nodded. "Over night I went from being just Harry, treated no better than a house elf to famous Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived."

Malfoy stared hard at him and Harry could see the minute he believed him. "You didn't know about Voldemort?"

"Nope," said Harry. "Hermione knew more about me than I did when I first started at Hogwarts. Hell, you probably knew more about me than I did."

Malfoy continued to stare at him for a minute then he laughed.

"Thanks, a lot, Malfoy," said Harry. "So glad I've amused you."

Malfoy must have heard the bitterness. "I'm sorry," said Malfoy. "It's just so ironic."

Harry only nodded.

"Well that explains the pathetic part," said Malfoy. "What about the poor. You found out about the money."

"Yes. Hagrid showed me my vault," said Harry. "But there was no way I was going to let the Dursleys know I had inherited a fortune."

"That I can understand now," said Malfoy. "But you live with Black now."

"What's your point?" said Harry with frustration.

Malfoy gestured at the cabinet and Harry looked back at it. He reached out and touched the smooth surface of the door.

"Just tell it to open, Potter," said Malfoy.

Harry sent him a glance. "Open," said Harry.

The doors sprung open wide, revealing a vast amount of robes, cloaks, trousers, shirts and jumpers hanging in an orderly fashion.

Harry stared at it.

"It's a wardrobe, you git," said Malfoy.

"I can see that," said Harry, reaching out to touch one of the shirts. The softest material he ever felt slid through his fingers. "What's it doing here?" said Harry softly.

"Well obviously because it's yours."

"Mine?" said Harry with doubt as he touched another shirt. "This is more like the stuff you wear, Malfoy."

"Noticed, did you?" said Malfoy. "You possess quite possible the worst fashion sense imaginable."

Harry said nothing to that because he felt the burn on his head. He looked up as Voldemort stopped behind Malfoy. He met the red gaze.

"Why?" said Harry.

Malfoy looked confused.

"Harry," said Voldemort, startling Malfoy who looked about to fall over at seeing Voldemort behind him. "You are the most powerful boy in the world. I won't have my son dressing like a peasant."

"But-"

"Harry," interrupted Voldemort. "Don't you like them?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Very good," said Voldemort with a smile. "What pleases you, pleases me, my son. I will see you both at dinner."

With that, he turned and left.

Harry stared after him, his fists had clenched, his jaw locked.

He turned back to the cabinet and reached out. Very slowly and carefully, he closed the doors and turned away from them.

"Potter?"

Harry looked up at Malfoy. He had almost forgotten about him.

"So now you know," said Harry.

Malfoy looked puzzled.

"Voldemort can't kill me," said Harry in a soft voice. "So he's driven me to insanity instead."

Malfoy smiled but it looked forced. "Well, if it's any consolation, he's gone off the deep end where you're concerned as well."

"It's not," muttered Harry as he fell into a chair.

"Well shake it off," said Malfoy. He opened Harry's wardrobe and pulled out some clothes. Tossing them on the bed, he said, "Wear that."

"Malfoy?"

He turned back. "What?"

"What kind of dinner is it?"

"Just dinner," said Malfoy. "There aren't many Death Eaters here yet."

"I don't dine with Death Eaters," said Harry tonelessly.

"So high and mighty are we," said Malfoy. "Fine, piss off the Dark Lord if you want to."

"Ask me if I care," said Harry, staring at the far wall, feeling alone again.

"Do you care?" said Malfoy.

The question shocked the hell out of Harry. Damn it if it did.

"Don't know which is worse, do you, Potter," said Malfoy. "The internal anguish or the external torture."

Harry's gaze shot up to stare at Malfoy. That was exactly one of the problems.

Malfoy crossed his arms again and nodded. "He's getting to you, isn't he?"

Harry looked away. "I'd rather have the physical torture."

"Maybe," said Malfoy. "But you still have choices."

"What do you mean?"

"He can't force you to do anything but visit him, right," said Malfoy. "You can chose to wear the clothes he's given you or not. You can accept his fortune or not. You can use the tent he has provided for you, or not. You can eat with his Death Eaters or not and he won't do a damn thing to you either way. I bet you could even lose your temper and he wouldn't punish you."

Harry blinked at him.

"I on the other hand am forced."

"How is he forcing you?" said Harry.

Malfoy sighed and moved back into the room.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," said Harry.

"No, I think I should," said Malfoy. "Mind if I sit down?"

Harry nodded his permission and Malfoy sat on the end of the bed.

"First off, I don't have half the tolerance for pain that you or my father have."

"Fear of torture?" said Harry.

"For starters," said Malfoy. "You've seen him torture with the Cruciatus Curse, I know." Malfoy went on, "But have you ever seen him punish anyone with the Dark Mark?"

"No," said Harry. "I didn't know he could."

Malfoy nodded. "With the Dark Mark, he has almost complete domination over the Death Eaters. He can punish and reward with it."

Harry listened with interest.

"You come when he calls, or you're punished. You do what he says when he says it, or you're punished. You don't do it to his satisfaction, you're punished. You please him and you're rewarded. You betray him and you're dead."

Malfoy rubbed the back of his neck as if a knot had formed there.

"Go on," said Harry softly.

"My father is a very powerful wizard," said Malfoy without his usual arrogance. "And he has an exorbitant amount of pride. He was forced to publicly renounce his master once for my mother and I and to spare the family name, but he will not do it again. He's sworn it to Lord Voldemort and to my mother and me. Thusly, he will do the Dark Lord's bidding or take the consequences."

Harry could see where this was going and he met Malfoy's gaze. The sadness was back and Draco didn't try to conceal it.

"He want's you," said Harry. "Doesn't he?"

Malfoy nodded. "If I don't do what I'm told, it's my father's fault." Malfoy looked away. "Ever watch someone you love tortured because of something you did or didn't do?"

"No," admitted Harry. "But he's used that-"

"Exactly, which is why I knew you would understand why I'm here."

Harry lowered his voice. "But what about Dumbledore?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I lead a double life."

Harry slumped back in his chair.

"Which is exactly what you're doing," said Malfoy. "Sneaking to visit without the Ministry finding out."

Harry stared at Draco Malfoy. Who was this boy? He was very different than the swaggering arrogant son of a bitch he knew from school. Then it hit him. He knows how it feels.

"You do understand," said Harry softly.

Malfoy nodded and stood up. "So now you know," said Malfoy.

Harry nodded back.

"Malfoy," said Harry. "I know you took out that book on prophesies. Have you read the prophesies?"

"Of course," said Malfoy. "Required reading for a Death Eater."

"You're - er - I mean, you're not one yet, are you?"

Malfoy pulled up his sleeve. His skin was unmarked.

"Not yet," said Malfoy, a shadow of a smile surfaced. "That's going to be one hell of a fight between my parents when that day arrives." He looked at Harry. "So what about the prophesies?"

"Do you think I'm supposed to join Voldemort?" said Harry.

"Are you asking me my opinion, Potter?" said Malfoy.

"Yes," said Harry.

Malfoy stared hard at him for a moment then paced a few steps.

"Well," said Malfoy, "if you believe in all that destiny and fate crap, than I'd say you were screwed."

"Great," muttered Harry.

Malfoy snorted. "But if you look at it more symbolically, then the fact is that you've already 'united.'"

Harry sat up. "What do you mean?"

Malfoy continued to pace as if he'd already done some thinking on this and it gave Harry some comfort to know that he, Ron and Hermione weren't the only ones racking their brains over what was supposed to happen.

"Well," said Malfoy. "You two have been sucking power off each other for a couple of years now. He's given you powers beyond belief. You're both a part of each other now - which is what is tearing you apart and which is frustrating Voldemort."

"What?"

"You've gotten to him, Potter," said Malfoy. "He didn't expect it to happen but it has. When you don't visit, he goes berserk. When you are here, he's totally different, relaxed, confident, even happy." Malfoy looked at Harry again. "And you, as much as you hate it, you find the need to come back here."

Harry closed his eyes.

"It's like you've magically bonded, Potter," said Malfoy. "And there is nothing either one of you can do about it."

Having Harry's deepest fears spoken out loud by a sort of neutral party made Harry's chest clench up. He opened his eyes. Malfoy was looking at him from across the room. Harry swallowed.

"And," Harry prompted.

"And," said Malfoy with an odd grin, "if I were you, which I'm glad I'm not."

Harry grimaced.

"I'd enjoy all this." Malfoy gestured around the room. "Accept all his gifts and enjoy it while you can. Then," said Malfoy. "When it comes down to the ultimate choice..." he trailed off.

"What," said Harry, desperately hoping Malfoy may have the answer that kept eluding him and his friends.

"Only you can answer that," said Malfoy too seriously for Harry.

"That's encouraging, Malfoy," muttered Harry. "Thanks a lot."

Malfoy sighed and Harry lifted his gaze to meet his again.

"Oh don't be so pathetic, Potter," said Malfoy. "The world doesn't need anymore tragic heroes." He glanced at his watch. "Dinner is in half an hour, and it's a free menu meal, which are usually good." He glanced at the clothes he had thrown on Harry's bed. "Test my theory, Potter," said Malfoy. "See how pleased he is when you show up at dinner dressed to kill."

With that, Malfoy strolled out.

Harry automatically got up and moved to the bathroom. He showered quickly, pondering Malfoy's words. Strange. Malfoy did know what Harry was feeling. Whereas he couldn't explain (didn't know how) to Ron, Draco Malfoy knew and not only knew but had felt some of it first hand.

Draco didn't want to be a Death Eater, that much was obvious, but rather than see his father suffer, he went through the motions. No wonder he was distancing himself from the other Slytherins.

Harry guessed, as bad as Lucius was, he was still Draco's father and Draco must love him. Harry had seen Lucius do as much for Draco as well. How far would Lucius let Draco go? Harry wondered.

He moved back to the bedroom, drying his hair and looked at the clothes Malfoy had told him to wear.

Enjoy it while you can.

"Why not."

Harry put them on and almost sighed as he pulled the red silk shirt around him. Not only did the clothes fit him to perfection but the feel against his skin was almost sinful.

He stepped in front of the mirror as he tucked in the shirt and was surprised at his reflection. The sadness in his expression was gone. Also gone was the skinny boy in hand me down-oversized clothes. Gone was the repressed, beaten boy lied to until his 11^th birthday. Before him was a 17 year old young man, looking almost self confident.

Harry glanced at his watch. Five minutes. On a whim, he raised his hand.

"Commentary," said Harry.

Mr. Padfoot agrees that Harry should enjoy it while he can.

Mr. Mooney thinks Mr. Padfoot is taking this too lightly and Harry should proceed with caution.

Mr. Prongs knows that his son will do what he has to do.

Mr. Wormtail suggests that Master Harry hurry. The master is waiting.

Harry smirked at the watch. Sometimes those four were absolutely no help. He looked back at the mirror and eyed his hair. Grabbing a brush, he attacked the untidy mass until it looked almost the same as the way Sirius wore his.

Harry grinned then frowned. Voldemort would hate it. He shook his head and his bangs fell naturally over his forehead. His scar wasn't completely covered but his hair looked more like the way Harry normally wore it.

He turned to the wardrobe and searched the contents for a cloak. Damn Malfoy. He hadn't picked one out. Harry had never had so many clothes to chose from in his life. Ultimately, he pulled out a black one. Since his trousers were black, he guessed it should do.

Harry fastened the gold clasp at his shoulder and spied the small box within the wardrobe. Opening it, he found a vast display of jewelry: rings, watches, chains.

This must have cost a fortune.

Enjoy it while you can.

Harry sighed and picked out a gold chain with a medallion in the shape of a phoenix with gem stone eyes, one red and one green, and clasped it around his neck.

He moved through the tent and out into the compound. He'd say one thing about Voldemort's gifts - he spared no expense and he had excellent taste.