Incendium

CHAPTER ONE: Veritaserum

Harry's footsteps echoed loudly in the wide, empty hallway. He silently cursed himself for not having had enough foresight to leave the Gryffindor Tower without his shoes. Without his prized Invisibility Cloak, which he was sure Seamus had hidden in his trunk somewhere, Harry was only armed with the Marauder's Map and a loud pair of shoes. The chill of the Slytherin Dungeons sent a shiver down Harry's spine, and he held back a sneeze. He felt in his pocket for the small vial of clear liquid that Hermione had mixed together for him earlier that evening. Good, it's still there, Harry thought to himself.

Harry rounded the next corner, checking the map again for Filch or Mrs. Norris. The coast was clear, and he inched down the silent hall on his toes. He was nearing his destination, and his heart raced at thrice its normal rate. Harry stopped at the third door on his right and paused with his hand on the doorknob, checking for one last time the inhabitants of the room he was about to enter.

He slipped through the door into the office waiting room quickly and quietly, breathing a small sigh of relief as the dark room engulfed his conspicuous figure. Without his Invisibility Cloak, Harry was beginning to notice, he felt strangely vulnerable and almost naked as he crept around the deserted Hogwarts hallways. However, now that he was cloaked in darkness, he could relax and concentrate on the task at hand.

The task at hand was one that Harry had taken on a dare from the collective voices of Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and his best friend Ron Weasley. They had all been engrossed in one of their usual anti-Slytherin conversations, and someone unfortunately got Ron started on the topic of Draco Malfoy. "Draco is the biggest git Hogwarts has ever had the stupidity to enroll," Ron had begun. He would have continued all night if the others hadn't cut in helpfully. They all agreed that Malfoy was a thorn in all of their sides, and wondered what they could possibly do to turn the tables for once. They tossed around silly ideas for a while, like turning him into a chicken and presenting him to the Hogwarts kitchen as a token of their gratitude, or locking him in one of the Astronomy Tower's disused rooms with Parvati Patil. They finally found their favourite method of torture, though: a dose of Veritaserum. They toyed with the idea of all sauntering up to him one morning and offering him a laced mug of Butterbeer under the pretence of a ceasefire, but decided against it in case he didn't buy into it. Instead, they grabbed Harry and insisted that he feed Draco the Veritaserum, by any means possible, and report back on what he had said. Harry had agreed, because even though he wasn't too excited to be caught wandering the Slytherin Dungeons after hours, he desperately needed to distract himself from his Potions assignment sitting formidably on his bedside table.

The boys had then somehow coerced Hermione, with all her backup Potions supplies for various extra-credit assignments she was completing, into creating a concoction similar to Veritaserum. Considering the restrictions on Veritaserum, and the rarity of most of the ingredients, Hermione convinced the boys into accepting a Loose-Tongue potion mixed carefully with some of the prime ingredients of Veritaserum. Hopefully, Hermione said, the mixture would be just enough of a kick to jolt some revealing secrets from Draco's mouth.

Harry rolled up the Marauder's Map and hid it neatly in the deep inner pocket of his robes. After taking a moment to pause and catch his breath, Harry approached the door that concealed Draco Malfoy in the abandoned office. The boy, according to the map, had been pacing back and forth in the abandoned office for the past hour or more, occasionally pausing at what seemed to be a desk. Thankfully, Malfoy had left the door slightly ajar - just enough for Harry to be able to stick his head in unobtrusively and scope out the room before Malfoy whisked around for another pace. Malfoy's voice floated through the door, and Harry wrinkled his nose in confusion. Malfoy? Talking to himself? No wonder he's hiding from everyone...

"... You wouldn't believe it ... lowering my grade ... never seen such an insufferable b- ... doesn't even hold a candle to ..." Harry thought it sounded as though Malfoy was talking to someone, though the map hadn't shown anyone to be in the room with him. As he heard Malfoy spin on his heel once more, he stood on his toes to get a better view of the room. On the table were a piece of parchment and a quill. The quill, however, was not at its usual stationary position next to the parchment, but standing upright and scribbling furiously to keep up with Malfoy's free-flowing words. Harry wondered to himself whether it was necessary to have even included the Loose-Tongue potion in Hermione's Veritaserum substitute.

From Malfoy's haughty tone of voice, which was something Harry heard quite often, he could tell exactly whom Malfoy was talking to. Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, was a prominent figure in the Ministry of Magic, and a proud and haughty tone always crept into Draco's voice whenever he was talking of his father - the exact same tone he was talking to himself in at the moment. Harry deduced that he must have been dictating a letter to his father, being altogether too lazy to actually pick up a quill for once in his life. Although, Harry had to admit, it was rather clever of him to enchant his quill so usefully.

Harry also managed to notice quickly a glass of water placed on the desk next to the piece of parchment. There were no large objects for Harry to hide behind to physically reach the glass of water, so once he had concealed himself as Malfoy came around again, he pulled the vial from his pocket and unplugged it. Setting it carefully down on the floor next to him, Harry pulled out his wand from yet another pocket and kneeled so that he could get a straight shot at the vial.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Harry whispered, raising his wand ever so slightly. The vial hovered in midair for a moment, before Harry heard Malfoy spin again on his heel, and he sent the vial speeding into the room. He dexterously turned his wand so that the clear contents of the vial were poured neatly and silently into the glass of water. Harry peered into the room, and Malfoy was nearly at the end of his pace. With a quick flick of his wand, Harry sent the vial speeding back towards him. It hit Harry in the nose with such force that Harry was thrown backwards with a soft thud, and the glass vial tinkled as it rolled onto the floor next to him. Malfoy's feet scraped to an abrupt halt, as did his monologue, and Harry's heart skipped a beat. He closed his eyes and scrunched up his nose, hoping that Malfoy's footsteps would not move any further. Malfoy seemed to disregard the noise and continue in his stride.

Harry picked up the vial and shoved it angrily into his pocket again, along with his wand. He crept on his knees to the door and peered through the door curiously, hoping desperately that Malfoy would talk his throat dry soon so that he could get back to the Gryffindor dormitories before he fell asleep. As if answering his silent prayer, Malfoy wandered over to the desk and picked up the glass of water. He held it up to the light for a moment, inspecting its contents. Harry's heart lurched with fear. If Malfoy threw the water out, all his efforts would be for nil. Despite the intensely suspicious glint in Malfoy's pale grey eyes, the boy gulped the water down in one deft wrist movement.

A mischievous smile spread across Harry's face. He couldn't help but grin at Malfoy's ignorance as to what he was ingesting. Draco coughed lightly as he set the glass down on the desk and took a deep breath. Harry nudged the door open ever so slightly to facilitate his hearing. This was where his eavesdropping began.

"As I said, father, you absolutely must buy me the new Vitesse. My poor old Nimbus is looking nearly obsolete next to Potter's new Firebolt II," The way Malfoy spat his name made Harry twitch with anger. "And you wouldn't want your son, star and captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, looking like a dolt next to that of the Gryffindors." Draco paused and coughed again, harder this time, and Harry wondered whether the faux-Veritaserum was going to make Malfoy throw up. Instead, Malfoy shook his head and continued in his pacing.

"Although, you know, I never really wanted to be a Seeker. I'm barely even interested in Quidditch. It's all your doing. Just because you were a Slytherin Seeker and led the House to victory every year you attended doesn't mean that I have to. It's all your fault." Malfoy turned around and Harry saw a confused but faintly dejected look on the usually stony face. "You pushed me into this position. And it's not just the Quidditch, father, it's everything. You and your... this damned family puts me through so much shit sometimes I wish I was born to a family more like the Weasley's." Harry's eyes bulged out at the confession, as did Malfoy's. Draco Malfoy was the last person Harry would attribute to the Weasley family, mostly for the fact that he was constantly insulting Ron and his younger sister, Ginny for their heritage.

"The pressure I feel every day is so intense I wonder how I've lasted this long. Not only am I expected to be the model Quidditch player, my family - your family - has thrust me onto a pedestal so high I nearly get vertigo. People respect me, but only for my name. They could know nothing about me, and then as soon as I introduce myself they practically fall to their knees and kiss my boots. It's ridiculous. I've never made any friends. Sure, Crabbe and Goyle follow me around like little lemmings, but they're not my friends. I feel so unloved. I have no friends, and you're never a comfort for me. You reprimand me for defiance, but that's all you've ever taught me.

"I miss the times when I was younger, when you used to take me on endless broom rides, following the path of a rainbow. Everything was so much simpler then. Nothing was expected of me but childhood. As soon as I entered Hogwarts, though, I was expected to uphold a family name, a family tradition, and a family pride. Your expectations are so arbitrary; sometimes I wonder if I'll ever please you - if I'll ever make you proud. You never tell me you're proud of me or that you love me. Not even when I managed to bring in 50 points for Slytherin for the best essay in Astronomy class did you say you were proud. You looked at me and said in a contemptuous snarl, 'Who cares about a stupid Astronomy essay when you can't even beat Potter at Quidditch.'" Harry winced reflexively at Draco's dead-on impression of his father's steely, level voice.

"Sometimes I wish that I could just break free of what you call 'family obligations', but I'm frightened of what you might do. What would you have done if I hadn't been sorted into Slytherin? Imagine, Draco Malfoy... a Hufflepuff." The room fell eerily silent, and Malfoy stopped in mid-pace in the middle of the room. Harry's eyes were fixed intently on the boy, who was looking frail and worn for the first time in Harry's presence. Draco slumped his shoulders and sighed deeply, his eyes cast wearily to the ground. Harry had never seen Malfoy so vulnerable in his entire six years at Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy always wore a starched, defiant veneer that held him upright, straight and tall. The figure now standing in the middle of the room was a mere shadow of that boy.

As Draco's mind dwelled on his last statement, tears began to form and shine in the corners of his pale grey eyes. Harry's heart leapt to his throat and he desperately hoped that Malfoy wouldn't start to cry. As Draco lifted his head, Harry saw something entirely unexpected. Despite the wetness around Malfoy's eyes, the boy's face was set in a determined, unyielding expression, not a quiver to be seen. Malfoy began to cough again, and hurriedly wiped the unshed tears from his eyes. Harry released his held breath and shuffled quietly away from the doorway. He could tell there was nothing else to hear - or, at least, nothing else he wanted to hear. What Malfoy had revealed in a mere ten minutes was food enough for Harry's mind to chew on for a year.

++++++++++

Harry trudged unceremoniously into the Gryffindor common room, shoving the Marauder's Map back into his cloak pocket. Ron, Dean, and Seamus all rushed over to him with eager expressions on their faces, and even Hermione looked up in interest as he walked in.

"What did you find out?" "What did he say?" "Did he say anything about a girl?" "Come on, Harry, this is important stuff." "Spill it, boy!" "What did the bastard have to say for himself?" The three impatient boys bombarded him with questions, and Harry could only sigh in reply. He couldn't possibly tell them what Malfoy had really said. His confession was far too personal, too private to relay to anyone.

"He didn't say anything."

"What?!" Hermione's voice rose over that of the three deflated boys. She stormed up to Harry and stood with her hands on her hips. "How could the Loose-Tongue potion possibly have failed? I did everything perfectly! If he didn't even say a word..." She said threateningly, poking a finger at Harry's chest. Harry took a step back at her ferocity and held up his hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay, he was talking; but he was talking to begin with. He just didn't say anything interesting." Hermione eyed Harry warily and walked back to her homework, which was spread all over the table and the big couch. "He was dictating a letter to his father."

"Oh God, I bet he just raved about himself for the whole time."

"Yeah, occasionally dropping in an anecdote about how he knocked off Hufflepuff Chasers from their brooms last week."

"No wonder you weren't gone long."

Harry nodded. "He talked about Quidditch, actually. He said he hated being the Seeker."

"Hah! I bet he'd rather be a Beater."

"Yeah, I can just see the evil glint in his eye as he sent the Bludgers hurtling towards anyone who had the misfortune of being in his path."

"Sorry we submitted you to that, Harry."

Harry shrugged his shoulders and headed towards the staircase. "It wasn't so bad. At least I got some exercise." The other boys grinned in reply. "I've got to finish that damned Potions homework, so I'll see you guys in the morning."

"G'night, Harry," His three friends chorused, returning to their spots around a magical chess set in front of the fire.

"'Night, Hermione." The only reply Harry got from Hermione was a small smile and wave before she turned voraciously back to her homework. Harry trudged up the stairs heavily, removing his cloak at the same time. Malfoy's confession weighed heavily on his mind, and he felt no more relieved as he entered the empty boy's dormitory. Malfoy had managed to gather every thought Harry had ever privately had and express them in his own words. The pressure that Harry felt to always be his best just by being The Boy Who Lived was sometimes excruciating. He felt as though all people saw was the scar on his head, and nothing of whom he really was. Though he didn't have a father like Lucius Malfoy, he had always felt abandoned by his parents when he was living with the Dursleys - people who barely acknowledged his existence let alone felt love or pride for him.

This realization left Harry in the unfortunate position of being on a strong level of understanding with the Slytherin. Harry had never felt anything but contempt for Draco Malfoy, but now that he saw a common thread between them, his steely-eyed counterpart seemed almost human. Harry couldn't possibly endure the confession that had tumbled from Malfoy without sparing him some compassion, but the experience of doing so left Harry feeling drained and very, very confused. He was so used to hating, despising, and fighting Draco that compassion came with an inherent feeling that he was doing something wrong.

Harry flopped backwards heavily onto his bed and let out a resigned 'oomph'. How am I supposed to treat Malfoy? He's still an insufferable git that makes fun of my friends and I, and yet... he's just like me. Harry covered his eyes and let out a frustrated growl. I'll just pretend it never happened, he decided hopefully to himself, though he sounded dubious even in his head.