The Society for the Admiration of Harry Potter

Monday morning, their first lesson was Potions with the Gryffindors. As much as Draco loved and respected Snape, he was not exactly a teacher you wanted to have first thing in the morning--he hissed and snapped and growled and hurt Draco's ears when he would rather be sleeping.

And so Draco was in a state of confusion when they started to work on their potions. Obviously. Because otherwise he would have grabbed Pansy or Gregory or somebody and gotten the ingredients and make sure they didn't mess up the potion too much but otherwise relaxed for an hour.

Instead, there was this.

"Hey, Malfoy," Potter said. "Erm. Would you like to work together? On the potion?"

And Draco would have said no. Really, he would have. Except for he wondered, suddenly, if Potter was scared at all to walk across the classroom and ask him that; and if he actually wanted to be friends of all things, and if it would really be that bad to work with Harry Potter.

"Okay," he said, to the scandalized looks of his friends and a smirk from Millicent.

After a few hasty promises to his friends--"Yes, Blaise, I swear I'll make him miserable. No, Pansy, I don't like him better than you. Yes, I mean it. Vince, please don't cry. No, really. I meant that too."--he found himself, suddenly, on the other side of the classroom, surrounded by glares and Gryffindors.

"Here," Potter said. "We can use my cauldron."

Well, that was good, because Draco wasn't about to lug his all the way across the room.

"What have you done to him?" the Gryffindor-Patil shrieked shrilly. Draco wondered if she knew what Padma did in her spare time.

Ron Weasley looked as if he agreed with Patil.

Draco was not off to a great start.

It didn't get much better from there. Snape, it turned out, liked to lurk on the Gryffindor side of the room and criticize people while they worked. It had seemed funny enough while Draco was on the Slytherin side of the room, but from over here it only drove him to distraction--he would have forgotten to grind the bat claws before putting them in, if Granger hadn't stopped him just in time.

"Not much fun over here, huh?" Potter laughed.

Snape was torn between his urge to criticize Potter--a right and valid urge, Draco reminded himself--and one to help Draco.

He settled for glaring at them both.

"No, it's not. Of course, you can't blame him--you stupid Gryffindor, you--" Draco said, gritting his teeth. Potter either didn't hear him, or chose to ignore him; Draco, from the slight smile on his face, suspected the latter.

"I've never liked Potions," Potter said absently, stirring their bright pink mixture counter-clockwise.

"I did. I do," Draco said loyally. "It's fun. And so easy--you just chop up a bunch of stuff and stick it in a pot. What's not to like?"

Potter's eyes darted furtively up to the front of the classroom, where Snape was stalking towards the supply cabinet, and Draco wanted to laugh. Potter was genuinely afraid of the man. Draco had known Snape since before he could remember--Lucius Malfoy had needed a contact in Hogwarts, after all--and he'd never been afraid of him.

"It's not as bad as History of Magic," Potter grumbled.

Draco shuddered. "Oh, I know. But sometimes," he added. "Pansy and I like to throw things at Binns while he's talking. You get points depending on where you hit him, and if he notices you lose."

Potter stared at him incredulously for a moment, then burst into laughter; attracting stares from both sides of the room. Weasley looked ready to pounce.

"That's horrible," Potter said, once he'd recovered his breath. "I'll have to try that sometime."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I can't believe you've never done that before. What do Gryffindors do for fun?"

"Lots of things!" Potter said defensively. "Like, er. We play chess. And I've joined--um, a club. Recently. And Exploding Snap. And the Weasley twins turn people into canaries, sometime." He must have noticed Draco's blank look, because he hurried to explain himself. "And, er--we go to Hogsmeade, sometimes."

Draco pretended to gasp. "What makes you think I won't tell Snape?"

Potter seemed to be realizing for the first time exactly what he'd said. "Don't you dare, Malfoy," he said, his face turning red. "If you don't, I'll--I'll--"

"You'll what, Potter? Say it."

Potter glowered. "Please, Malfoy," he said. "If you don't I'll--well, I could show you how to get into Hogsmeade. Through the secret passage," he explained in a low voice, checking to see that no one had heard him.

Ah. Now that was something Draco could use.

"When?"

"I don't know," Potter said, looking over his shoulder at Snape, who was busily praising Pansy. "Like I said, I joined a club a few weeks ago, and it's keeping me busier than usual. Maybe this weekend or something. I'll tell you when."

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

They didn't go on the weekend, and Potter never really got around to planning anything before they finally ended up going. In fact, they ran into each other the very next evening. Literally.

Draco had decided to forego the library. He was falling behind on his homework, between SAPHAP meetings and essentially stalking Potter. He planned to spread his books out in the common room and work until dinner, and after dinner until bed.

That, unfortunately, never happened.

As soon as he put his bag down, Pansy burst out of the girls' dorm and threw her arms around him.

"Draco!" she squealed. "You're here."

Draco patted her back awkwardly and attempted to extricate his arms. "Yes," he said. "Um. This is my common room, Pansy."

Blaise peered up at him from where he was lounging on a sofa. "Well, yes," he said. "But we haven't actually seen you in here for a few days."

"Stupid Gryffindors," Gregory chimed in.

Pansy smiled up at him, glowing, and finally released him (though she kept an arm tightly around his waist). "Come on, Draco," she said. "Play Gobstones with me."

Draco stared at her blankly. "When have we ever played Gobstones?"

Blaise frowned. "Aren't you in the Gobstones club? With that Gryffindor? Colin Creepy, or whatever his name is?"

Draco must have looked confused, before his lie of a few days earlier finally returned to him. "Ah. Yes. Gobstones. Mmm. My favorite."

Pansy had bought a thirty Galleon Gobstone set. Draco didn't have the heart to tell her the truth.

"Can we come?" Vincent asked awkwardly.

Blaise stood up and began prowling towards Draco and Pansy. "Yeah, Draco," he said. "Me, Pansy, Greg, and Vince thought we'd come with you tonight. We can't let you be the only Slytherin."

Draco stared at them in abject horror. "There's a meeting tonight?"

Pansy pulled a sheet of parchment out of her robes. "I got the schedule from Professor Flitwick," she said. "Aren't you proud of me, Draco?"

Draco felt nauseous. He sank to the couch with his head in his hands. "Yes, Pansy," he mumbled.

And that was how he found himself, just after dinner that evening, being frog-marched down to the Charms classroom for Gobstones. Obviously, he did not have any intention of going. That was the hard part.

"I think I forgot my wand back in the dorms," he told Blaise desperately. "Just let me slip off--"

Blaise grinned and pulled two wands out of his back pocket. "I thought that might happen," he said.

"Pansy!" Draco appealed. "I think I forgot my medicine on the table. I'd better run--"

"You don't take medicine," Pansy said severely. They were two doors away at this point. Draco stopped short, and Pansy, pushing him from behind, tripped over the back of his feet.

"Ooohhhh," Draco moaned, clutching his stomach. "Pansy...I think I'm going to be sick."

Pansy turned white and stepped away quickly. "Er--Blaise? A little help?"

Blaise laughed. "No way."

Draco fell to the ground. "Ooooh, it hurts so much."

Pansy knelt beside him and touched his forehead gingerly. "Step back, Pansy," Draco warned. "I think something's going to come up...any second now..."

Pansy backed up hastily. "I'm going for Madame Pomfrey," she said shrilly, turning and sprinting away.

Blaise studied Draco hastily. Draco allowed a little bit of drool to dribble out the edges of his lips. "I think I'll go with Pansy," Blaise said, and hurried after her.

That left only Vince and Greg. And they were no trouble. They would do anything he said. Draco jumped to his feet and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Don't you two say anything," he warned sternly. They both nodded.

"Yes, Draco."

"Course we won't, Draco."

He left without another word; only a backwards smile over his shoulder at Vince and Greg, still staring at the place where he had been only a few seconds before. Of course, now he was left with the interesting problem of where to go. Pansy, especially, would raise hell when she couldn't find him. Blaise would laugh, but of course he would worry.

So Draco, as had been his habit lately, set off for the library. He just never really got there.

He ran headlong into Harry Potter on the third floor.

Potter was walking with his head bent, and his shoulders hunched, muttering angrily to himself. Draco was so distracted, staring at him and wondering, that he forgot to stop walking.

When they collided, Draco felt sure he was about to take a tumble. But to his surprise, not only did Potter manage to grab onto the wall to support himself, he also reached out to catch Draco's hand.

"Watch it, Malfoy," he snapped.

Draco looked up at him, startled. Potter's eyes seemed to soften marginally when he remembered the silent truce of the past few weeks. Simultaneously, he realized he was still holding Draco's hand, and dropped it as if it were on fire. Draco clutched it to himself possessively.

"What are you doing out, Potter?"

Potter looked up at him miserably. "Oh, I don't know," he said. "It's not as if anyone wants me in the dorms. Half of them still don't believe me about Voldemort--"

"The Dark Lord?" Draco looked up in surprise, as Potter frowned. "Your own housemates?" Draco knew that whatever he said, most of his housemates would stand beside him--not that most of them had any choice, but--weren't Gryffindors supposed to be brave and true and all those nice things.

Potter scowled deeply. "Do you believe me, Malfoy?"

Draco hesitated, as Potter examined him keenly. Of course, Draco knew it was true--the Dark Lord was back, and everything was going to change. But he didn't believe it on Potter's word.

He also couldn't imagine Potter lying. Ever.

"I believe you, Potter," Draco said, and Potter sighed deeply and smiled.

A silence fell. Draco scuffed his shoes at the wall.

"And Ron and Hermione," Potter blurted suddenly. "Well--they've suddenly decided to start dating or whatever," he said, wrinkling his nose. "Not that I'm not happy for them," he added hastily. "It's just. Hey, you wouldn't happen to know where your friends Crabbe and Goyle are, would you? Because they were supposed to be--"

Draco stared. "Why do you care about Vince and Greg?"

"I don't, it's just--" Potter sighed. "Anyway, Malfoy. What are you doing here?"

Draco laughed awkwardly. "Oh. Nothing as interesting as you. Just avoiding my friends."

Potter heaved a sigh and slid down the wall, clutching his knees to his chest. He looked up at Draco expectantly, and Draco sat down beside him.

"You want to go to Hogsmeade?" Potter said suddenly.

Draco blinked at him. "I didn't think you were actually serious about that. You honestly know the way in? I wouldn't have thought that a Gryffindor would be smart enough to--"

Potter laughed. "Oh, yes. How about it, Malfoy?"

Well, of course he did.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

For all that he was in Hogsmeade--with Harry Potter, who he generally would have rather cursed than spoken to--Draco surprised himself by having a good time. Hogsmeade was different on a weeknight than on a weekend in the middle of the afternoon. Witches and wizards pushed carts down the street--he and Potter bought popcorn balls and a soft, honey flavored drink.

It was Draco's idea to send anonymous owls to Dumbledore.

"What else," he said. "Is the post office for?"

"Not this," said a horrified Harry Potter, as Draco finished a sentence with a flourish. "What does that say? Let me read it!"

Draco held it out of his grasp. He was still, he was pleased to notice, a half-inch taller than Potter. "I just give him a few suggestions," Draco said placidly. "I've seen food in his beard, you know. That is not the sort of man we need running our school."

Potter stared at him, dumbstruck, then pulled a quill out of his own pocket. "If you're sending one, I am too," he said aggressively.

"To whom?" Draco asked, mildly curious.

"Snape," Potter said viciously. "I think he could use some shampoo."

Dervish and Banges was their next stop. Draco liked the dung bombs. "It's so fun to set these off around Gryffindors!" he cackled delightedly. "You all get so horribly red. I'm so glad I have a Slytherin complexion," he added, though privately he told himself that Potter's own complexion wasn't that bad.

Potter wasn't quite sure how to react to that. Instead, he started scooping dung bombs into his own robe. "Do unto others as you want them to do unto you," he said sanctimoniously.

"Never heard that one," Draco said. "Slytherin, remember?"

They bought the whole stock. The cashier was delighted, and gave them fifteen percent off.

"We've been trying to get rid of this lot for ages," she said. "Worthless rubbish. If you ask me," she added, scooping them into paper bags for them. "You blokes are wasting your money."

They set off all the dung bombs outside the store and sprinted away, laughing.

When they stopped, several streets away, they weren't laughing. Draco breathed heavily, and rested his forehead on a shop window. Beside him, Potter was in much the same condition, leaning on his knees.

"Let's go for a butterbeer, shall we?" Potter suggested bracingly.

And so, for the second time in one week, Draco found himself in the Three Broomsticks with Harry Potter.

"Is this the only place you know in here?" Draco asked doubtfully. "You know, there are plenty of other places to eat in Hogsmeade. Wizards have to eat somewhere, you know."

"I like it here," Potter said stoutly, signaling to Rosmerta that they needed butterbeers.

"Yes, I do too," Draco said. "But I also like other places. Next time we come here, I'm taking you somewhere else."

Potter raised his brow. "Next time?" he asked skeptically, so that Draco was almost embarrassed. But he was grinning, an appealing sight, and he didn't look upset at all. "Yeah, I'd like that," he said.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

Draco was relieved to have a few days off from SAPHAP. The meetings were very draining, recently. Ginny didn't seem to like him much, anymore, and Colin had followed suit. As for the rest of them--well, Millicent was ambivalent as ever, Luna didn't seem to have much of an idea of what was going on, and he suspected Padma had a crush on him.

Normally, he would have been happy about this. It was Potter's fan club, after all, and one by one they were all falling head-over-heels for Draco. Someone, he thought, should start a Draco Malfoy fan club. There would probably be loads of people wanting to join. And Padma was pretty and smart and Ravenclaw--normally someone Draco would have at least considered. But recently, Draco hadn't been able to force interest in much of anybody. And the reason for that, he admitted quietly to himself, was his recent absorption in Harry Potter.

It was just that, after four and a half years of loathing Potter on principle, he had somehow come to the conclusion that he was actually an okay person.

That didn't mean he was jumping on the fan club bandwagon. He was allowed to have friends from other Houses. Even Gryffindor.

Draco found it ironic that, just as he was beginning to enjoy Potter's company, he was being edged out of the fan club. Which he had not wanted to join in the first place.

"What news do you have for us, Malfoy?" Ginny asked coldly at the next meeting, peering at her clipboard rather than his face.

Draco thought of what he'd learned of Potter over the last week--that Cho was too female and that Potter felt isolated from his best friends and that he dropped dungbombs outside of stores.

"Oh, not much," Draco said lightly. "He likes butterbeer more than Firewhiskey."

Colin looked horrified. "Students aren't supposed to have firewhiskey."

Everyone ignored him. Ginny nudged her fingers at the bridge of her nose as if she was pushing up a pair of glasses.

"That's not good enough, Malfoy," she said, and around her Padma and Millicent were nodding in agreement. "What else do you have?"

But Draco had promised, and he hardly ever made promises and he didn't want to break the few he had made, and even to himself he sounded disturbingly like Harry Potter.

"Nothing," he said shortly. "I'm sorry to let you down."

Ginny sighed heavily and crossed her legs. "Okay. Here's the thing, Malfoy. I think we need to find someone else to keep tabs on Harry."

"But you can't," Draco blurted before he could stop himself. "I've got plans to see him tomorrow night."

Luna looked sympathetic. "You can talk to me, Draco," she offered generously.

Ginny was not nearly as sympathetic. "No," she said sternly. "Your month is almost over anyway. You can be more useful elsewhere."

Or they could just let him out of the whole club business. That was a definite option. Right?

"Like you can file our pictures of him," Ginny plowed on obliviously. "Or help Luna compose a song about why we love him so much."

"I'd really rather just keep...watching Potter," Draco said, cringing as the words came out of his mouth. Ginny smiled, looking vindicated.

"Well, yes, that is the best job, isn't it?" she said. "That's why we have to give someone else a turn."

"I'll do it!" Padma volunteered.

Ginny checked a chart she was holding in her lap.

"Yes, I think that that would work."

There was no vote this time. Draco didn't have a chance, though Luna and Millicent looked sorry for him. Just Ginny made him give Padma the notebook he'd used to take notes on Potter, and made a little mark on her clipboard, and it was done.

He ripped out all the notes before he gave the notebook to Padma. He had some interesting sketches in there. Potter being hit in the head by bludgers from early on and general doodles from later. He wanted to keep them.

"Right," Ginny said. "To business. I talked to Hermione. She wants us to move Harry's party back a little. She says June is too close to OWLs."

"It's also very close to Potter's birthday," Draco said, mostly just to be obstinate.

"We're doing what Hermione says," Ginny said firmly. "The party will be in March. Do you have anything to contribute?"

Draco glared at her. "Probably not," he said, and so they continued to plan and buzz and hum around him.

Padma, it was decided would bring decorations. Ginny would be in charge of food and snacks. Colin was bringing the collage he was making. Millicent was in charge of getting the word out to Potter's friend. Luna was in charge of keeping the staff from finding out.

"And, Malfoy," Ginny added, with a sideways glance at Luna. "It would be great if you could help with that too. Just because--well, you know. Just in case. And then of course you'll be bringing the games--"

"Wait," Draco interrupted hastily. "What do you mean?"

Ginny quirked her eyebrow at him. "Well, it was your idea to play wizarding games, after all," she pointed out matter-of-factly. "I thought of course you would bring them."

"I'm not coming to the party," Draco pointed out. "I thought that was obvious. Potter won't want me there."

"Oh, don't be stupid...Draco," Ginny said, reddening as she reverted to his first name. "You're planning this. You'll be there. Just don't say anything obnoxious, and I don't see any reason why we shouldn't all get along."

"Your brother will kill me," Draco said faintly, realizing she was serious.

"I'll talk to him," she promised. "But you need to be there."

"Harry won't mind," Colin chirped up. "I've--um--overheard him--talking in the Common Room to his friends. About you. He doesn't hate you anymore."

Which, honestly, disturbed Draco more than anything.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

He didn't sleep well that night, and that was the reason he was not prepared for Harry Potter to say hello to him in the Great Hall at breakfast that morning.

"Hello, Malfoy," he chirped quite civilly as Draco attempted to swallow a boiled egg whole.

Draco gulped and glared at him.

"Are we still on for tonight?" Potter asked, seemingly innocent of the way fifty Slytherins and most of his Gryffindors were glaring daggers at him.

Draco took a swig of pumpkin juice to give himself time to consider. Now that he'd officially been relieved of his spying duties by the Saphaprodites, there was no real reason to do anything with Potter but fight and argue. And, he admitted, there was some appeal to that idea.

But then--there was Potter, with his wrinkled cloak and his hat lopsided over his ear and his hopeful smile and his tapping foot. And--

Draco didn't want to fight him. He wanted to say yes.

So he did.