To do the Unspeakable

Chapter Four

The next morning, Draco forced his legs to carry him out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. Marty was already sitting down, happily munching on some Muggle breakfast, but he stopped mid-chew when Draco collapsed on a stool beside him.

"Gee Drake, you look like shit."

How Draco loved a Muggle's sense of subtlety.

"Thanks," he replied dryly, covering his mouth as he stifled a yawn. He looked around for something to eat, hoping rather foolishly that food would suddenly appear on the table. It was times like this he missed the presence of his house elves.

Apparently sensing Draco's hunger, Marty pushed over his half eaten cereal to Draco, who hid his disgust. He wasn't quite that desperate yet. "No seriously, did you get any sleep?"

As a matter of fact, Draco hadn't. Last night had been the first night he'd had to go to sleep sober, and his pathetic excuse for a bed had him feeling as though he'd just spent the entire night on the floor of his family's dungeon. Add the effect on his subconscious after seeing Potter - his dreams interspersed with memories much better forgotten - and he'd had an absolute beauty of a night.

"Stupid bed kept me up," Draco grumbled, staring down at the disgusting pieces of food floating at the top of bowl. He poked one with his finger and watched with a disinterested air as it disappeared from the surface then popped back up again.

Marty took back the bowl when it became clear Draco wasn't interested in eating it.

"Well you did get back pretty late," he pointed out. "Where were you anyway?" he asked through a mouthful. "Tyler told me that you skipped all your classes as well."

Thinking back on what he had done after leaving Severus' quarters, Draco decided to tell a half-truth. "I had an emergency with a - a close friend of the family."

"So he or she okay?"

Draco forced his eyes to remain open. Merlin, he was so tired. "Hmm?"

Marty smiled. "Your family friend. They all right now?"

"Uh - yeah. Sort of," he answered, then had a brilliant thought. "Though it could warrant further absences in the near future." That might assuage any suspicions Marty and the muggles might have whenever I suddenly disappear ... which is more than Potter did by the looks of things.

"Oh." Marty's brows creased in concern. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Feeling the slightest twinge of guilt, Draco waved off the concerns and stood up. "Well - I better go get ready for class, or I'll be late."

A mixture of milk and half chewed chunks of food suddenly spewed forth from Marty's mouth.

"Damn," he swore, wiping his mouth as he stood up. "I forgot I was meant to see Lawers about my assignment before class started. I'll see you when you get back from your classes, okay?"

Draco held back a smile. "Sure."

Giving him one last grin, Marty tossed his plate into the already full sink and dashed to the bedroom. Draco didn't even make it to his bedroom before the slightly ruffled looking Muggle hopped back out again; zipping up his pants with one hand, and clumsily buttoning up his untucked shirt with the other.

As Draco was treated to a pleasant view of his roommate's smooth, hairless chest, Marty headed to the front door.

"Bye!" he shouted, grabbing his coat and bag, then exiting the small apartment with a loud slam of the door.

Draco watched him go with a short laugh, and stepped into his bedroom to get ready for the day. But despite what he had told Marty, it wasn't classes that he was preparing for.

He had other business to attend to first.

~*~

The day began quite similar for another wizard in the building.

Although luckily for Harry, by the time he'd emerged from his bedroom, he and his roommate Tyler had only exchanged a few words before his dear Muggle friend had left for class.

In the privacy of his kitchen - like the rest of the student accommodation, a spitting image of Marty's - Harry slumped on a stool, and allowed his face to show the utter exhaustion that the previous night had wrought.

It was hardly a surprise that after the first horrid nightmare he'd endured, he had been unable to close his eyes again, let alone drift back into any sort of slumber.

Lying there in the darkness, staring blankly up at the chipped ceiling, his mind had conjured up a whirlwind of images he'd managed to - for quite some time - hold at bay. Ginny's eyes, as empty and hollow as Harry's heart, blankly staring back up at him; the long, cold hours huddled alone with only throbbing pain and the overwhelming desire for revenge to keep him from succumbing to the darkness; the funeral three weeks later, watching as a wave of red collapsed in front of two tombstones that held nothing but words.

He swallowed heavily at the last remembrance. Despite all his abilities and powers, he hadn't been able to bring Ginny or Percy's bodies back with him. By the time he had managed to escape the Death Eaters' grasps, their bodies and all the others had been crudely disposed of - never to be seen again.

Damn it all. He slammed a fist down onto the bench, making the rickety thing wobble precariously. If it wasn't for bloody Drake Malloy, I wouldn't even be harping on these stupid memories.

The appearance of the little cretin had been unnerving, to say the least. In this little world away from worlds, he'd encountered hardly anyone from his magical life, and the ones he had were only to be expected.

Until now.

Harry cursed the wizard again. It was lucky he had been trained so efficiently in hiding the most damaging of his emotions, otherwise he knew very well that his face would have mirrored Malfoy's; every facet of his shock and horror being displayed so clearly on that pale, pointy face.

But, truth be told, his gob smacked expression would have been for completely different reasons than Malfoy's. As he had told the smarmy git, Harry was not in the dark towards his occupation at the Ministry. He knew exactly what he was, had known for years.

An Auror.

Harry heaved a great sigh as he wearily pushed himself up from the table. Why they'd sent him, of all Aurors, to investigate anything here was beyond Harry, but there was one thing he was certain of.

There was no way Malfoy was going to ruin the one thing his mind had been so set upon, the one thing that Harry was absolutely determined to obtain no matter how he went about doing so.

Revenge.

~*~

Wand discreetly hidden up his sleeve, Draco slowly weaved his way around the towering buildings of the university. Occasionally, he would stop, bend over to fuss with some bushes or scrub by his feet, and then straighten up again to continue along his way.

To anyone closely watching the blonde-haired man, his actions would have been described as anything but innocent; through thick bushes and over garden barriers he went, making an invisible path of his own as he disregarded the bitumen footpaths and various warning signs ("Keep off gardens,") set metres away.

Fortunately, Draco had become highly skilled over the years in Muggle repelling charms. Any suspicious Muggle looking his way suddenly remembered an assignment that needed to be finished, or another place they ought to be.

Over an hour after he had started his unusual trail, Draco - having just about walked what he hoped had been a perfect oval-shape - finished up on the outskirts of the university, along a row of shabby looking shops.

Wiping a sweaty brow, Draco zipped up his bag, and with his foot, gently nudged the last cleverly camouflaged beacon. When it didn't move a budge from its hiding place - a crack in the cement sidewalk - Draco allowed a satisfied, albeit tired smirk to cross his face.

All done.

Still, there was one important test to see if his long trek had been worth it - to see if they worked.

Pulling out a simple piece of parchment that he'd had linked to each and every beacon he'd placed along the way, Draco gently pressed the tip of his wand on the surface and mumbled the password.

Instantly, a perfect layout of the university grounds and its surroundings began to appear on the parchment ... and at equal intervals, in a perfect elliptical shape, sixteen red dots flashed.

Draco wiped it clean with a smile, not needing any other confirmation. Perfect. Tracking down an old acquaintance of his father's yesterday afternoon hadn't been a waste, after all. Not only did he have in his grasp the perfect dark art tracing system, but now - unlike the useless Ministry - when the next dark activity occurred, he'd know exactly where it was happening - no five mile guesswork - and what was being cast.

The knowledge that it wasn't entirely legal in the Ministry's eyes barely troubled him - especially the way he'd obtained them - and still smiling, he tucked the parchment away in his pocket, and walked back to the unorderly clutter of buildings. He had just one more job for the day, then he'd be well on his way to solving this ridiculous case.

~*~

"-I'll talk to you later, 'kay?"

Harry nodded, and adjusted the tight, almost superman-like grip on his books as he watched Tyler walk away.

He wasn't the least bit surprised that his flatmate had heard his episode from the night before, the walls between their rooms were paper-thin, but he really should have known that it wasn't going to be overlooked anytime soon. It had never been before.

Although his friend hadn't actually approached the matter of hearing Harry's ear splitting screams yet another night, it was clear that he wanted to. Was itching too, in fact. The frequent looks of concern shot in his direction was a dead giveaway, as well as the sudden appearance of his friend outside of all Harry's classes. The day wasn't even half over, yet he'd bumped into Tyler a total of five times, and that wasn't even including their latest meeting, which had Harry coerced into meeting the gang for an impromptu lunch in an hour's time.

And it wasn't an innocent lunch his friends had in mind. By now, Tyler had already informed Marty about the reappearance of his nightmares, and the two had taken it upon themselves to psychoanalyse every titbit of his life he'd inadvertently revealed to them over the year and a half he'd been there.

Harry sighed, feeling unusually high-strung as he strode down the hallway. The stress of Malfoy's untimely presence and now this was wreaking havoc on his already frayed nerves. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so ... off-balanced. In his literature class, he'd been so out of it that his lecturer had called upon his name no less than three times to get a reply - which had been incoherent and incorrect to say the least.

What was worse was the fact that things hadn't even begun to heat up.

Some things that even Harry could never have begun to imagine.

~*~

"Hi, how can I help you?"

Draco refrained from wincing at the overly cheerful tone of the perky receptionist. "Good afternoon, I was just wondering where all the student records are placed," he answered smartly.

The young woman's expression changed into one of dismay. "Oh - I can't be disclosing any information like that."

Undeterred, Draco leant forward onto the high desk to see the woman's nametag, then flashed one of his most charming smiles.

"Of course, of course," he said easily. "What I meant to say, dear Lola, was who do I have to see about modifying my school records? I'm new here, you see, and I haven't really had anyone to give me a grand tour."

A blush infused Lola's cheeks, and her sickeningly sweet doe-eyes dropped to the ground. "Um - t-that would be Martha Lewis," she replied shyly. "She manages all the records in her office, which is just down the hall." She pointed a finger to her right.

Draco's smile grew wider and he pushed himself off the counter. "Thank you, Lola. You've been most helpful."

He turned to leave, but Lola called out to him. "Wait - I forgot to say that she is at lunch right now."

Even better.

"You're a godsend, Lola." He winked at her, before walking down to the office she had pointed. He could hear her giggles as he walked away.

It didn't take long to locate the office Lola had pointed out, and true to the woman's word, the office seemed to be empty as he peered through a small crack in the door.

Just to be safe, he knocked first.

When no answer came, Draco cautiously looked around the hallway before unlocking the door with his wand, and quickly stepping inside.

The office itself was hardly worth mentioning. The Weasel's father had had more space in his old office than this pitiful one, and less clutter too ... which was saying something.

His eyes roamed around what mess lay in front of him, at a complete loss as to where to start. In the end, he decided to head towards the overflowing filing cabinets. Hopefully, those would be arranged in some sort of order.

He struck success in the second drawer.

Student Records.

Draco rifled through the many files, his fingers growing more impatient in their motions. "E ... E ... E ... where is the E file?" And come to think of it, where are all the files from A-M? He looked again, but only found files from Matthews onwards.

Stopping, as he realised the futility of continuing for something that wasn't there, Draco collapsed on a nearby chair.

Thwarted again!

Unless ...

Catching sight of a very familiar looking box, Draco drew his body up with a snap.

A computer!

They'd only spent half a day pouring through "PC for dummies," but Draco had a brief idea of what a computer was useful for ... including for storing information. Perhaps they were in the process of moving the files onto the computer. At least that would explain why only N-Z could be found by hand.

Pushing the fascinating rolling chair over to the computer, Draco excitedly sat himself down in front of it.

The screen was black, but Draco didn't let it deter him. He quickly pulled out his wand and started to prod the odd button.

Nothing happened.

He scowled. "Activus," he commanded the computer.

His reflection continued to stare back at him.

Well, Draco threw back his head in annoyance, obviously this dratted Muggle invention is defective. He went back to prodding the board in front of him.

Eventually, he struck lucky, finding an odd round button that instantly whirred the computer to life.

He jiggled one leg impatiently as he waited for it to finish starting up.

'Welcome M. Lewis,' it said in big letters. 'Please fill in your password.'

Draco's face fell. "Password ... password..." How on earth was he going to guess at a Muggle's password?

He decided to try anyway, typing in the first thing that came to mind "Uhh - Martha ...'

Invalid.

'Lewis.'

Invalid.

'Files.'

Invalid.

'IamastupidMuggle ...'

Invalid.

Frustration starting to build, Draco swept his eyes over the room, hoping that something in the room would just stand out.

A couple of seconds later, they stopped at a large billboard, where it seemed the only vestiges of this pathetic Muggle's life lay. He had to groan at the sight of the two pinned up photos of a positively hideous looking cat snarling back at him.

Squinting, his eyes tried to make out the name engraved on the disgustingly pink studded collar in one of the photos, but the letters were too small for him to guess.

Taking another cautious look at the door, Draco pointed his wand at the picture. "Engorgio."

The name easily came into view. Surely, it couldn't be that. A snort passed his lips, but figuring it couldn't hurt, Draco turned back to the computer and slowly typed it in.

"W-h-i-s-k-e-r-s."

An anxious moment passed. Then two words flashed in front of his eyes.

Access Given.

He made a noise between relief and incredulity.

It never ceased to amaze Draco how absolutely clueless Muggles were. What was the point of a password when literally anyone could guess it? A personal ward was much more effective, and in most cases were nigh unbreakable. Draco personally preferred the wards with a little bite. The ones around his family mansion had been devilishly delightful, temporarily turning any idiotic trespassers into garden gnomes. It had never been clear to Draco just how long they remained as garden gnomes, but he'd always enjoyed watching the house elves as they threw them over the back hedge.

It was a pity Granger had expanded her S.P.E.W. wealth into gnome welfare a year ago, and had outlawed such treatment.

With a snicker, Draco set himself to work on the computer.

~*~

Fifteen minutes later, he encountered another problem, though this one proved to be much more difficult to solve.

Draco scratched his chin in thought. Now, how to get the file out of this box ... He'd already pressed a few random buttons, and moved around the weird mousey looking object, but nothing had seemed to work.

Irritated, Draco stood up to look at the back of the computer. It did no use though. All he could see were a bunch of complicated looking - not to mention tangled - chords plugged into his favourite Muggle invention ... the outlet.

It was a given that Draco gave the evil outlet a wide berth, and he sat back down again with an annoyed grunt. His wand pressed uncomfortably into his side as he leant back against the seat, but it provided him with an idea.

Maybe, he could cheat a little ... maybe he could just wave his wand over the screen, and use that nifty little copying charm he'd seen in a book he'd read in Severus's extensive library.

Surely, it couldn't hurt if he tried, he thought, a bit impatiently. And he really was wasting his time there if he couldn't get what he came for.

His mind already decided, Draco's wand was swiftly seized from his sleeve, and pointed directly at the computer. He waved it carefully, with the required sweep of the object (as the book had said), and spoke the incantation.

"Aemulari imago."

At first, nothing happened. Then ...

Bang!

Amidst the billowing clouds of black smoke that suddenly filled the room, Draco sat in stunned disbelief. Grey ash made its gentle descent from above, softly landing on his face, and on his still upraised wand arm.

Draco blinked them away from his eyes, pulling himself together enough to extinguish his smouldering pants. As an afterthought, he shot another charm to clear away the smoke that filled the room.

Without the thick cloud of smoke present to disguise the true extent of what Draco had done, he was now faced with the unpleasant, burnt mess that used to be the Muggle's computer.

There was no doubt about it. The computer was completely destroyed.

Cursing himself, Draco dropped his wand in his lap, and lowered his head in his hands in hopelessness. He'd sunk to a new low.

A shriek unexpectedly came from behind him. "What are you doing back here?"

Draco snapped his head up in horror. There, standing in the doorway, was a very old, and very cross-looking woman. Too slow to conceal his wand, or hide the mess he'd made, he could only watch in growing dread as the woman's gaze first took in his presence, then followed the trail of debris over to her still smouldering mess of a computer.

The woman's reaction was nothing if not shrill. "And what have you done to my computer?"

"Well - uh - I-" Draco desperately searched his mind for an excuse, any excuse. Seconds passed where he couldn't find one, and the woman watched him sceptically. "Uh - you see, I was just - er..." The woman inched for the telly phone by the door, and Draco's tenuous patience snapped. "Oh for cripes sake. Obliviate."

Her hand halfway to the telly phone, the woman froze; her face going blank for the briefest of moments.

But it was long enough for Draco to successfully modify her memory, and quickly slink away from the office. Oh well, he sighed dishearteningly, faking a smile for Lolly as he walked past. I can always come back later ...

~*~

Despite the days that passed, the disastrous computer incident was not quick to leave Draco's conscience. For one thing, he did not revel in nor accept any sort of failure on his part. Malfoys' had and would never take too well with mistakes. The other thing was much worse. Somebody had started an annoying little rumour about the mishap, and it had quickly spread around the entire university.

If there was anything worse than screwing up, it was having no choice but to be constantly reminded of that screw-up.

And Potter was only too willing to be the one to remind him. Ever since the infuriating man had caught wind of the rumour, he'd been sending knowing looks Draco's way at every possible opportunity.

That was why it took exactly one week for Draco to swallow his pride and accept defeat. It was excruciating admitting that he was slightly clueless about something, but nonetheless, for one afternoon, he subjected himself to a few hours of torture at the Ministry of Magic's Muggle Department, where he had a more detailed crash course on computers.

Not that it had done much good in the end. Draco had grown so sick of their useless teaching that whilst his instructors had turned their backs on him, he'd quietly snuck out of the room with the Department's copy of 'PC for dummies.'

The book safely tucked under his arm, Draco rushed towards the elevators. He had a class to attend in less than an hour, and the last thing he needed was to miss yet another class.

His pace quickened when he saw an elevator opening just ahead, dodging other Ministry workers as they walked past. As a result, Draco completely failed to notice the person emerging from a nearby adjacent hallway whose movements were just as hurried.

They collided rather harshly in their haste, both flying backwards in spectacular fashion. Draco landed heavily on his prized rear, and the other went stumbling backwards into a wall although somehow managing to remain upright.

When no hand was offered to help him back up again, and no apology spoken, Draco looked up furiously, immediately recognising the person standing in front of him.

"Parkins," Draco hissed at the familiar face. They'd never had reason to talk before, but clearly this was where that ended. He had a bone to pick with him. "Why don't you watch where you're going?"

Parkins sneered viciously, flicking his wand at the fallen files he must have been holding prior to the collision. They all flew neatly into his hands, and he aimed a triumphant leer at Draco.

Draco looked down to see his book by his feet, and muttered his own levitating charm, putting slightly more force into the wave of his wand than was necessary. Instantly, the book shot off the ground and up towards Draco. However, with the extra force given to the spell, it didn't land in his hands, but ricocheted smartly off his chest.

Too slow to catch it, Draco's fingertips just grazed the spine, before it went falling back down to the ground to land with a thud at his feet.

Staring at the book, the moment irrationally reminded Draco of every Quidditch match he'd ever played against Potter.

Parkins snickered, making Draco realise the Unspeakable was still there.

"Never quite there, were you Malfoy?" he remarked airily when Draco looked up.

Draco scowled. It was as though the Unspeakable had just read his mind. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about." He levitated his book, this time successfully, then moved to brush past the infuriating man, wanting nothing more than to leave now. "If you'll excuse me."

Parkins allowed Draco to pass, his nose high in the air. "By all means, Malfoy," he replied, his voice saccharine sweet. "You always did run when the going got tough."

Draco stopped short.

"What did you just say?" he asked, voice deadly. Slowly, he turned around, two pale hands clenching into tight fists.

"You've heard of the old Muggle saying, haven't you? 'When the going gets tough, the tough get going'?" A smirk appeared on Parkins' face. "I think we both know that you were never one of the tough ones ..." he trailed off suggestively.

"How dare you imply that I ran!"

Draco hadn't been this angry for a long time. He advanced towards the smug Unspeakable, face drawn in raw fury. "I risked my life and my - family's to save your bloody saviour - to win the war. I didn't see your pathetic arse anywhere in that war. From what I heard, all you non-Order members were too cowardly to even leave the Ministry grounds that day."

That seemed to strike a sour note with Parkins, who scowled for the first time. "We were never privy to the information the Order had." Clearly, he thought little of the Order. "Otherwise, the Ministry would have been responsible for the Dark Lord's death, and not dear old Potter and his Order minions."

"I was not Potter's minion," Draco snapped.

"Lapdog then. I hear you weren't too trusted with the more valuable missions." Parkins stopped to brush a hand against his nose. "From what I hear, you were constantly given the scraps that Potter and his friends left behind."

Draco bristled with anger, when one was wont to do when past failures were brought to light and compared to his worst enemies. "I'll have you know the reason Potter and his friends had the preferential treatment, was because the Head of the Order was that Gryffindor-loving McGonagall. She always spoilt her stupid Gryffindors rotten."

Something flashed in Parkins' eyes, but it was quickly extinguished.

"So that's your excuse? That you were a poor, misunderstood Slytherin?" He laughed. "That really is pathetic, Malfoy. You're a grown adult who still can't accept that he is just a waste of space."

He leant closer to a steaming Draco. "You were useless in school, Malfoy," he said slowly, vindictively, "and you are useless now ... It's just this time there is no Potter to remind you."

If a small group of Ministry workers hadn't stumbled upon their altercation, Draco would have sent an Unforgivable at Parkins for that remark. With his chest burning with red-hot anger, he wasn't even sure which one it would have been.

But, unfortunately, they did, and still smirking, Parkins took the chance to slip away with them.

Draco made a noise of rage. That damned bastard! How dare he have the nerve to bring up something that nobody else had done before! Huffing angrily, he set off the elevator. It wasn't until he'd reached the exit, and suppressed the urge to go back for Parkins' blood, did he realise something slightly odd.

Parkins had never gone to Hogwarts.

~*~

Much to Draco's exasperation, the next weeks that followed were depressingly dull. As he sat on the couch, watching television with the gang, Draco thought back to what had happened with the case.

It had taken another week to wait for the replacement computer, but he'd finally been successful in acquiring what he needed from that Muggle's computer. It hadn't really been worth the effort it had taken, but the first of many (hopefully) incriminating files now lay safely in his warded trunk. Already, he was sure he had more information than the pathetic Ministry had scrambled to find.

Much to Draco's disappointment though, any suspicion towards Potter was growing less and less likely by the day. The innovative Dark Arts tracing system that had been discreetly placed around the grounds had remained completely inactive, offering nary a bleep to indicate any magic was being used, let alone dark magic.

Potter too, had even been acting like the boring Muggle he was supposed to be. Draco had been carefully tailing Potter whenever he could and not once had he encountered anything unusual. There had been no disappearances, no unusual trips off campus, and no meeting up with any of his other so-called friends - the ones Dan had briefly mentioned that first night.

In fact, Draco's suspicions that this whole situation had just been created to get rid of him for a while were beginning to mount. The only thing that kept Draco from just throwing in the towel was the niggling feeling that Potter was acting too normal. Watching the wizard for over seven years, that was a suspicion in itself, because Potter always attracted some semblance of trouble. It was in his nature.

Still, it was only a shaky speculation, not nearly enough to have Potter's name disgraced.

Draco shifted on the couch, allowing Sam to slip in beside him with another bowl of popcorn. From the floor, Potter flicked a superior look his way, before turning his attention back to the television.

Even though Potter couldn't see it, Draco scowled.

Although he had tried to go out of his way to avoid spending time with Potter and the gang - other than the spying - it wasn't an entirely infallible plan. There had been many occasions, such as that very night, where Draco had had to endure hours and hours of Potter's company because Marty insisted that he join the whole 'gang'.

It had been difficult - so many times Draco wished he could have whipped out his wand to curse the infuriating bugger - but he and Potter had managed to keep the hostilities towards one another at the bare minimum, leaving the Muggles none the wiser towards any past history between them.

Nevertheless, for all of his efforts, absolutely nobody had missed the underlying tension between the two. To Draco's annoyance, Sam repeatedly referred to it as being tension at its most basic level.

"Sexual," he had bluntly stated one evening, when Draco and Potter had been forced to sit beside one another on the tiny couch. Sam had watched on whilst the two tried unsuccessfully to find a comfortable place in their limited space and not touch each other at the same time. "You want in each other's pants."

Predictably, the whole group thought it was hilarious, bar one Draco Malfoy. He couldn't help but glare spitefully at the wizarding saviour, who'd laughed if off as easily as one of Sam's hopeless pick up lines.

Whilst a small part of him had laughed at the ridiculousness of such an idea, the larger, more rational side of Draco had been steaming. It was utterly debasing and insulting to have their years' long enmity described as nothing more than unbridled sexual attraction. He'd invested years and years of hatred to their ongoing feud; always preparing something for their next, fierce confrontation, whether it be a thinly veiled insult, or a new hex he'd learnt.

He certainly hadn't thought of getting into Potter's pants on those many instances they'd found themselves butting heads ... and he didn't mean it in the nefarious way he'd just said that either! During Hogwarts and after, he could honestly say that he had never imagined himself and Potter in any compromising position - other than the one reoccurring fantasy in sixth year where he had had his hands tightly wound around Potter's throat.

In fact, although he had switched sides after his sixth year, his animosity towards Potter hadn't lessened. If anything, during the war, it had increased, because the extenuating circumstances of a certain life-changing event were partly due to the bloody Boy-who-lived and his penchant for trouble.

"Popcorn?"

A bowl of popcorn bumped his thigh, and Draco looked up to smile at the person offering it. There was no denying the attraction towards other members of the gang, he thought, hiding his reaction as their fingers brushed against each other in a not so accidental way.

Sam grinned back at him, then settled back into the couch, this time his shoulders inches closer to Draco than they were before.

He inwardly sighed, willing his interest away with an image of Millicent Bulstrode naked. It was too bad he wasn't able to act on said attraction. The ever-looming possibility of a Ministry employee catching wind of his actions whilst on a case would mean his position as an Auror would be jeopardised. He needn't add his status in society too.

Snuggling deeper into the lumpy couch, Draco forcibly pushed aside those thoughts. For now he would have another offered handful of popcorn, and content himself in watching the movie they were playing - Lord of the Rung or something of the sort.

Besides the pointy ears, and the way he practically threw himself at that dirty blooded mortal, he rather fancied himself as the elf, Legolas.

~*~

Harry couldn't help sniggering as he rested his head comfortably against the back of the couch, enjoying the scowl on Malfoy's face. He never realised how amusing it was to annoy his old school nemesis.

Surprisingly, for Harry, the time in which Malfoy had been present at the university had passed by quite quickly. He certainly hadn't expected it to be that way, especially after the first week of Malfoy's antics, freaky outlet power surge, my foot, but surprisingly, the sight of Malfoy bumbling his way through Muggleville had almost become a second nature to him.

He wasn't stupid though. Harry knew very well that Malfoy was tailing his every move. It was weird in a way, but at times, it felt like his sixth year all over again, except this time, the roles were reversed, and it was Malfoy who was the obsessive one trying to find out what was going on. The ex-Slytherin really wasn't any good at it though; so far, Harry knew that Malfoy had found nothing out of the ordinary despite all his snooping around.

Of course, that wasn't a complete insult to Malfoy's Auror training. Harry had had many years to master both his Gryffindor and Slytherin sides, and had been extremely careful with everything he had done over the past few weeks. He'd attended all his university courses and 'gang' nights, kept his wand safely tucked in his cupboard, completely unused, and had even made sure not to meet up with his old friends on campus grounds ... so far.

He couldn't help laughing inwardly at the name that Dan had given to the people he met up with. It sounded too innocent for who they really were.

Malfoy would know all about that, Harry thought darkly, frowning at the unwatched television, that's for sure.

It was amazing they hadn't noticed Malfoy's annoying presence yet. Of course Harry had done everything he could to keep it that way, but he thought for sure that being on campus so much, somebody would have recognised the pompous wizard by now.

But they hadn't.

Although Malfoy might not know it, he was extremely lucky in that regards.

~*~

In the middle of September, one night strayed from Harry's semblance of normalcy.

Harry hid in his bedroom, hunched dejectedly at the end of his bed. Since lunch, which had been hours before, he'd avoided all human civilisation; unable to forget what he would have to do later that very night.

As he always did with things involving this particular touchy part of his life, Harry had put it off to the very last second, hoping that somehow it would be called off, or he'd have a valid excuse for not going.

However, it was only an hour to go until his fateful meeting, and he knew that he had to go, whether he liked it or not.

Oh god. Harry dropped his head into his hands, his eyes stinging. I can't do this. I'm-

"James!"

His door opened abruptly, and snapping his head up, he quickly forced a smile onto his face just as Tyler popped his head through the doorway.

"Whatcha doing in the dark?" his roommate asked, his outline looking around the room, until coming to rest by the bed.

Harry made a non-committal noise at the back of his throat, but reached out to switch the light on. He was surprised by the startled intake from Tyler.

"Geez, you look terrible. Don't tell me it's that time again?" It was hardly a question, but Harry nodded anyway.

"I- I'm meeting them again ... tonight actually, for her birthday," he explained, and then groaned. "What am I doing? I'm such a - a wreck."

Tyler sighed and moved from his position in the doorway to settle beside Harry. He wrapped an arm around him and pulled Harry close enough that his head rested on a warm, comforting shoulder. "I know that you can't tell me everything that's going on," he said softly, "and that Marty's the only one you usually confide in - but just know that you can always come to me, all right?" He squeezed Harry's shoulder reassuringly.

Harry managed a weak grin, looking back at his friend. "Yeah I know," he replied thickly. Tyler reminded him so much of Ron sometimes - not in looks, like Ally, but in his kind and generous spirit. "Thanks."

Tyler returned his grin, and then jumped up. "Well, we better get you dressed for the occasion then. How about that pink striped shirt I bought for your birthday?"

Harry snatched said disgusting shirt from Tyler's grips, some of his good spirits returning. "Definitely not," he argued.

~*~

Apparating into a deserted alleyway an hour later, Harry's bad mood had swiftly returned, settling into the pit of his stomach like one of Hagrid's rock cakes.

He stood still for a moment, to shake off the peculiar feeling he always had when Apparating, then took off in the direction of the nearest and brightest lit building. Thankfully, the busy restaurant he'd be dining at that night was a Muggle one.

Even better, it had been at her suggestion. Then again, Harry had never been able to fault her seemingly flawless sense of perception about the people around her. She knew he wouldn't have considered anywhere else, even though she might not know the exact reasons why.

Reaching the main desk, he held his breath as he gave his name - the real one - to the maitre de, but she waved him on uneventfully; no dreaded look of awe crossing her face, or telltale glance up at his forehead. She merely told him what table he'd been allocated, and that his guests were already waiting for him.

He thanked her politely, that ever familiar twist in his gut as the guilt and shame made their unpleasant return at the news.

You can do this, Harry, he told himself firmly, pushing them back as he neared the main dining room. Act happy for them. Be happy for them. They don't deserve to have their evening ruined because of your own petty problems.

Nervously adjusting his uncomfortably tight collar, he took a deep breath before stepping forward into the loud and crowded room.

A cold, tingling sensation that ran down the length of his spine indicated that he'd immediately been spotted. It only took him a brief second before his own eyes picked out the two unforgettable heads that had popped up from the far corner of the room, and swivelled around to look in his direction.

Taking one last, deep breath to reassure himself, he pasted a smile on his face, and made the weaving journey over to them.

As he stopped in front of their table, the figure on his left, a woman with thick, brown hair gracefully stood up first; pushing back her chair and offering him a small, but genuine smile.

"It's good to see you, Harry," she said softly, outstretching her arms, and before Harry knew it, she had engulfed him in a warm embrace.

It took everything he had to return her hug, and even more to not cling on when she moved away seconds later. Oh, how he'd missed this ... how he wished he deserved it.

"It's good to see you too," he said thickly, and shakily pulled out a small wrapped present from his back pocket. "And of course, Happy Birthday." He carefully placed it in her dainty hands.

At her squeals of delight, he took the opportunity to turn his attention towards the red-headed man, who had only just followed his girlfriend's actions to rise from his seat. Holding out a hand, Harry's words were guarded; wary of the response he would get.

"Hello Ron."

~*~