- Rating:
- R
- House:
- Schnoogle
- Genres:
- Drama
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban
- Stats:
-
Published: 08/25/2001Updated: 12/24/2001Words: 95,561Chapters: 12Hits: 9,501
A Type of Revenge
Myst
- Story Summary:
- Draco returns from his 6th year at Hogwarts to find his world turned upside-down. Is it enough to make him change sides? Will this new trial make him stronger or will he collapse under the strain? A death changes everything, but whose? And why has Draco taken up the habit of playing the piano all hours of the night? In store for Draco over the year is much mental anguish and a number of suprises for everyone.
Chapter 11
- Chapter Summary:
- Someone close to Draco dies, and his revenge takes an unusual twist. Caught up in a tangled web of love and death, honour and betrayal, he and his beloved must fight in a war that could lead them to their ultimate destruction, or a new freedom for their world.
- Posted:
- 12/15/2001
- Hits:
- 399
- Author's Note:
- And another chapter arrives. Give three cheers for the wonderful author.
If you’re lucky, chapter 12 will be out before Christmas. I would call it a Christmas chapter, but considering the timeline in the story is leading up to Easter, I don’t really think that is appropriate.
Thanks go to my wonderful beta readers: Danette, Thurisaz and Rhionae. Slytherin Godess, I am sorry that you are no longer able to beta this for me. Maudlinrose… thanks. The slash is for you – as always. Thank you, too, reviewers. I really enjoy seeing what you think.
Anyways, I think these are required.
WARNINGS: ANGST, ANGST AND MORE ANGST. ALSO, SLASH, TRIADS, HET AND WAR THEMES. The het does have a point. You’ll find out what it is late. Now go read and review.
Chapter Eleven: Set Up
“Severus, what do you mean by testing things on my students?”
“Testing things on your students?” Snape repeated.
“Well, they are yours, too.”
“Testing what on the students?”
Sarainail shrugged. “Some sort of drug, I suppose. Apparently it made Seamus Finnigan act even more hyper than usual.”
“It wouldn’t have been me then. That boy is enough of a nuisance as it is.”
“It could have been meant for someone else,” Sarai said softly.
“Are you accusing me of intending to harm a student?”
“Not at all.”
“I will speak to you later about it,” Severus said abruptly. “I have a class now.”
“In my office.”
“Very well.” He took his head out of the fireplace, and the fire went back to normal. Sarai sighed. She wasn’t sure what she would prefer. If it was Severus who was testing the drug, then she would have to work out something to do with security, since they couldn’t afford for any of the children to get hurt, or for Severus to be discovered. If it wasn’t Severus... she shuddered. Then they had what was either a serious security leak or someone playing a practical joke. Or it could be someone from the Dark Side testing a drug. That was also dangerous. She started pacing from the window to the door and back again. It was at times like this that she really wished they hadn’t chosen to fight the war in such a manner. Sometimes she thought that an open assault would be a lot nicer. Get it over and done with. But then there would be enormous casualties, and they would be more likely to lose. At the current point of time, Voldemort was more powerful than the League of Light and the Ministry combined. They couldn’t afford to lose. At least this way, they had time to build up support in the general wizarding population, and hopefully, she would be able to convince her parents to get Sanctuary to get involved. How likely that was she didn’t really know. Sirius seemed to think they would help, but Remus thought it was far less likely. On reflection, Sarainail had decided that Sirius was just being wishful. Her parents loyalties were to the Crown of England, and the High Council of Sanctuary for her father and mother respectively. Since they were both ambassadors, that actually worked out fairly well. Still, because of those loyalties, they probably wouldn’t interfere, unless she could play on their duty to the people of Asleighin and their duty to the wizarding folk... like her, and her lovers. Hmmm. That might work. Sarainail picked up the third year essays that she needed to mark, and went to her office, thinking intently all the time.
Snape entered Sarainail Grey’s office. He hadn’t had the Slytherin/Gryffindor class today, so he wasn’t entirely sure what Grey was going on about. Seamus Finnigan didn’t need to be any more hyper than he already was. Snape frowned, thinking of Finnigan’s latest antics in the class. He may have done all the set work, but it was with the minimal amount of effort necessary and the maximum amount of disruption to the class. Unfortunately, he had never been able to catch Finnigan in the act of doing anything that stupid. Finnigan was one of the students that teachers prayed never to have. He had so much potential, and it incensed Snape whenever he saw potential being wasted. It was a Slytherin trait, he supposed, hating to see something useful go to waste.
“Severus,” Sarainail stated, looking up from the pile of marking that she was doing. “Thank you for being prompt.”
He waited until the familiar feel of the privacy wards surrounded them before saying anything. “What was all that about, Grey?”
The woman sighed, and ran a hand through her long blond hair. “Either our security is seriously compromised, or you’ve been doing something that you haven’t told either me or the Spymaster.”
“Suppose you tell me what has happened first, before you make any statements like that.”
“Don’t you know anything?”
“Only what you told me earlier, when you wanted to speak to me.”
“And I would know that how?”
“Stop it, half-breed.”
“Excuse me?” Grey sounded frosty.
“I know that the Sidhe like talking in circles, Grey, but I don’t want to sift out information later.”
She looked startled. “Was I doing that? Sorry, it’s automatic now. I spent too long in exile, I suppose.”
Snape was silent. She would get to the point in time, he supposed.
She sighed again. “I take it that you haven’t had the Gryffindor/Slytherin class today.”
“No, I have not.”
“The Gryffindors were arguing about some kind of drug - I believe it was a drug from what I overheard - that one of the girls had given Seamus Finnigan to eat. Apparently the side effects were less than desirable.”
He frowned. “So why come to me?”
“Please don’t act stupid, Severus. You’re the Potions expert at Hogwarts. If you can’t find out what the stuff is, then no one can.”
“Humph,” Snape snorted, accepting the compliment. “To do that, I need a sample. Do you have one?”
“No. I imagine that I could steal one, however. It wouldn’t be hard.”
Snape nodded his agreement of her assessment of the internal security at Hogwarts. “Is the drug itself what you are concerned about then?”
“No. What I’m concerned about is security. The Spymaster has left the organisation here in my hands, and are you doing something that neither of us knows about?”
“I am not. I would inform you about something that important.”
“And then we’d be able to take control of it.” She sighed. “Well, that means that we have to search for an outside culprit.”
“Quite.”
“Do you know of anyone who has the skills to invent something like that and get it in here, with a spell on it which would make them give it to someone else, and then get that person to eat it, as well as monitor the effects?”
He sat still, and thought intently about it. Sarainail marked another essay. “Not with my level of skills, no. Lesser ones, there may be, but I haven’t been in touch with many of the Potionmakers since the war started.”
“Which one?”
“This one.”
“I see. Can you remember anything about the other Potionmakers?”
“Unfortunately, no. Or rather, I can, but it would be of little use.”
“Oh?”
“Most of them are dead.”
“I see. Do you have any recommendations about what we should do next?”
“You are the one in charge of security.”
“And I am not foolish enough to refuse to seek advice from those with experience.”
“I see. Evidently external security needs to be improved, but have you considered that it may have been a student who planted the drug?”
“No. No, I hadn’t. It should have occurred to me.”
“Quite.”
“You didn’t need to agree quite that fast, Severus.”
“Was that all you wanted to discuss with me?”
“It appears so.” She gave him a tired smile. “I will notify the Spymaster of what has happened, and they can do something about it.”
“Does the Mastermind know anything about it?”
“I will ask.”
“If you find more of the drug, give it to me, and I will test it.”
“Thank you.”
“Professor Grey?”
“Harry. Come in. What is it?”
Harry’s mouth quirked. “I think you’ve forgotten that it’s time for our weekly meeting.”
“Oh....” Sarainail raised her eyes to the heavens, as if searching for words that suitably expressed her anger, and wouldn’t corrupt Harry’s innocent ears too much. “Dammit. I *am* sorry, Harry.” She activated the privacy wards and turned to get the book.
“You have some instructions for me, Sarai? Or information about the Message Crystal?”
“Both. What do you want first?”
“The information on the Message Crystal,” said Harry promptly.
Sarai raised an eyebrow. “Very well. It is acceptable. Remus has made a few changes to the spell components, which should make it a bit less painful-” she broke off, seeing Harry’s look of surprise. “What? You didn’t think that it would hurt?”
“Well, no. Not really.”
She sighed patiently. “Harry, you’re inserting a lump of crystal into your leg. Did
you honestly think that it wouldn’t hurt? That’s why we added those components to the Crystals. Means that it will excrete a numbing substance into your leg as well as an immunosuppressant, because the effect on your body is much the same as if you had an organ transplant. Your immune system won’t go down, because it’s only a local anesthetic and immunosuppressant.”
“Ummm.” Harry felt rather stupid.
“Precisely. Now here are the instructions for the Messaging Crystal. You can congratulate your contact on a brilliant idea, and I would recommend that he register it before someone steals the credit for it, and receives the royalties.” Harry chuckled, thinking of how little Draco needed the money. Sarainail ignored his irreverent humour. She wasn’t going to start nagging Harry about letting the Spymaster know who his contact was until after the Easter break, which was coming up in a week and a half. “We have made changes here, here and here.” She gestured to the places in the instructions where the changes were, and Harry leaned over the instructions spread out over the desk. He asked some questions about the changes that they had made, and Sarainail felt relieved to note that not only were the questions intelligent, they also proved that Harry had studied the plans before giving them to her. “Okay then. Do you think you can explain all these changes to your contact?”
Harry nodded confidently. “Sure.”
“Right then.” She unlocked a drawer, and pulled out two silver cases. Opening one, she revealed two clear crystals on black velvet. “These are the actual Crystals that you will be using once you have done the blood part of the spell. They each cost about as much as your Firebolt did Sirius, so lose one, and you may find yourself a great deal of pain, if not actually dead.” Harry nodded, wide-eyed, and Sarai waited until the threat had sank in before continuing. “The blood is withdrawn from your bodies with the needles and syringes that you will find beneath the cloth in the case. We do try and keep everything sanitary and disease free, and according to both our research and the wizards research, the muggles are best at that sort of thing.”
“Our research?” asked Harry softly, interrupting.
“Sidhe research. Atlantis is focused on medicine, because their Princess insists, and the Lady Taranquil gets their latest information because she’s the Ambassador for Faerie, and that sort of information is useful to trade. She gives me some of it.”
“I see. So you think of the Sidhe as your people, then?”
“Some of them. That does not mean that I am any less human. Both species are my people. So, to prevent either of you from getting any diseases, please follow the instructions included.” Sarainail returned to the topic at hand. She opened the other case. “These are for you to practice on.”
“Practice?”
“You honestly don’t think that with the cost involved, we’d let you get away without practicing do you?” Harry shrugged. “Yes, we can afford to replace the Crystals, but one reason why they cost so much is that they are very rare. So breaking them, or letting someone else touch them would not be a good idea. They imprint the people who touch them, so only you and your contact can touch them, unless you want someone else picking up when you need to meet or something like that. These practice ones will also insert into your leg, behind the knee without doing any damage. They are easily removable, so they won’t get stuck. I think that’s everything about the Crystals.” She closed both cases and handed them to Harry. “Did you have any questions about them?”
“There were no problems about the blood magic?”
Sarainail shrugged. “I don’t have any problems with this type, and neither do the Four that I know of. Remus and Sirius expressed some concerns, but they were easily dealt with.”
“Oh. All right then.”
“We’ve run simulations in the Tower, and as far as we can tell there should be no unexpected side effects. However, as you know, simulations are not really exact, and there can be side effects that don’t show up until it’s tested, and this isn’t precisely the sort of thing that a test run can be done on, and there wasn’t enough time to send it to Atlantis to be tested. If you can’t handle the side effects, you’ll have to notify the Spymaster and they’ll sort out something that will fix it.”
Harry nodded, processing the information. “That makes sense. What happens if my contact doesn’t like the changes?”
“Have your contact owl the Spymaster... wait, they don’t know the code yet, so that won’t work. You contact the Spymaster, and the Spymaster will sort something out.”
“I’ll do that then.”
“Okay. Easter break starts in a week and a half. Most of the seventh years will be staying because that means that they should be able to study in peace and quiet.”
“Are you intending to increase my training?”
“No. What I want you to do is to tell Ron, Hermione and Seamus to find a deserted classroom in which to study. You can study there too, to make it look less suspicious. It has to be out of the way, and preferably already soundproofed to save me having to do it later. Their training will commence once the Easter break starts, so the habit of studying in that classroom already needs to be formed. You will be spending time with your contact, going over basic self-defence mechanisms for hand to hand combat and tel’an’sjial, since they are both useful to know.”
Harry looked taken aback at the amount of information that he had just received. “But Tel’an’sjial takes years to learn - I mean you’ve been learning it since you could walk and you say that you’re not that good at it-”
“I’m not,” Sarainail interposed calmly, “And you don’t have anywhere near my level of skill. Still, if you can teach your contact the first few moves that I taught you, I would appreciate it. Because it’s a Sidhe form of self-defence, and looks a lot like dancing, it is not easily countered by those who don’t know it, and thus your contact may find it useful.”
“I think my contact would be more concerned about learning more magical defences,” muttered Harry.
“You can tell your contact that if you do it right, a knife kills a lot more quietly than magic, and is also harder to trace - especially if the knife you use is removed when you leave the body.”
“Speaking from experience, Sarai?”
Her expression iced over. That was a forbidden topic. “Quite,” she said glacially. “Now do you have any questions?”
Harry thought for a moment. “My contact and I will activate the Message Crystals over the break, to give us enough time to get used to them. I gather you had no objections to the self-destruct mechanism in them.”
“No objections were made, although the Mastermind has commented that they will probably amputate your leg if their security is compromised.”
Harry winced. “Well, I’ll just have to do my best not to get caught then.”
“Absolutely. Did your contact have anything interesting to report?”
“No. Nothing that they know of this week so far.”
“Right. Thank you.” She made a note in the leather-bound book. Somewhere in the distance, the bells chimed for 8 o’ clock. “We have some time left before you are normally back in the common room. We can go over some of the tel’an’sjial moves if you want.”
“All right.” Harry didn’t sound very enthusiastic, but as he had explained to Sarainail when she had first started teaching him this form of self-defence, the only place where he felt truly comfortable moving was in the air. Sarai flicked her wand a few times, and the furniture flew to the walls and stacked itself neatly. Harry never tired of seeing this simple and practical piece of magic in action. He wished there wasn’t a restriction on underage wizardry, because life at the Dursleys would be so much simpler without it. He’d seen a lot of housework done by magic during his stay at the Tower over the previous summer. When Sarainail was busy or wrapped up in something, she either completely forgot about the housework or used magic because she didn’t have enough time to do it by hand. Remus or Sirius would do it if they were around, but the Ministry knew of Sarai’s liaison with Sirius, and disliked having a werewolf around the Boy Who Lived, so Remus also tended to wander in and out, and Sirius only made flying visits.
Sarainail pulled off her faded green outer robes and placed them neatly on a chair then followed suit with her shoes. Harry had never quite worked out why she insisted on wearing them when she could easily afford to buy much nicer ones, with her ‘hobby’ of designing the best racing brooms. He took off his own black school robes, which almost needed replacing, and chucked them onto the nearest flat surface by the wall, followed by his shoes. They moved into the centre of the room. “Well,” said Sarainail softly, “Shall we dance?”
He bowed awkwardly to her, and she echoed his actions - only she bowed with a lot more grace than he ever would. They circled each other in the warm room, socked feet whispering softly over the bare boards of the floor, watching each other intently for that break in concentration that would enable a move to be made, and the dance to start. Predictably, Harry blinked first. Sarainail had grown up learning this form of combat, and even if she wasn’t as proficient at it as her Sidhe cousins, she remained far better than any human - especially one who had only been learning it since the previous summer. She moved in, arm lightly slashing down to jar on his neck - or it would have if instinct and training hadn’t taken over, and he whirled lightly out of reach, taking care not to leave his back exposed. It was his turn to attack now, as they returned to circling each other. Sarainail dropped her guard slightly on one arm, leaving him a hole in which to attack. He refused the obvious trap, and went for her other side, only to find that she had anticipated that reaction, and that was the trap. The dance picked up pace now, Sarainail easily beating Harry, until he was covered in sweat, and she wasn’t even breathing hard.
He looked up at her from where he was comfortably sprawled out on the floor. “Enough, Sarai. I yield.”
Sarainail sank down onto the floor beside him, with a rustle of skirts. “You did well,” she observed dispassionately. “You only tripped twice.”
“I thought I fell more than that.”
“You did. The other times were the result of my attacking you, not your own clumsiness.”
Harry sighed. “And you think that I can teach my contact.”
“Only show them the moves that you know off by heart. Stand up.” Harry stood, and Sarainail made an abrupt move. He slid into the counter automatically. “Like that.”
“I could do better.”
“Compared to the Lady Taranquil,” Sarai said mildly, “I am even less graceful than you, and she is not even the best in Rockholme, let alone Sanctuary.”
“That just makes me feel so much better, Sarai,” Harry said sarcastically.
“I’m glad,” she said peaceably. He muttered something rude under his breath about Seleighe Sidhe who didn’t know what sarcasm was which she ignored. There was no need to get into an argument now. They sat there in silence for a while, cooling down. “Any questions?”
“You mean relating to what we talked about this evening, or something else?”
“Anything.”
“Dangerous offer.”
“I didn’t promise that I would answer - let alone answer truthfully.”
“Okay. Um. Er. How’s your new broom coming along, Sarai?”
“The details are classified, but I’m field-testing it shortly. And the Auror contract one is nearly finished too.”
“That good.... Sarai, did you really make my Firebolt?”
“It has my signature, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Actually, it means a lot,” Sarainail contradicted him. “I am one of the premier broom designers in my field. No one would dare counterfeit my signature.”
“Explain to me again why you chose Gracie as the signature?”
“Sometime later. You should be heading back now.”
“Okay. Thanks, Sarai.”
“Thank you, Harry. I would’ve forgotten otherwise.”
“Right then. See ya.” He shoved his feet into his shoes, and walked out, putting on his robe as he went. Sarainail tidied up as soon as he was out of the door.
At breakfast the following morning, Draco received a message from one of You-Know-Who’s minions. It wasn’t his father or it would have been signed. It wasn’t from You-Know-Who for exactly the same reason. They both had enough arrogance to sign the bloody thing. With an internal sigh and a bored look on his face he cracked the seal.
~Draco,
You have been training Pansy Parkinson in the rites and duties of a Death Eater for our Dread Lord.
So I was right after all, Draco thought with a small amount of glee. It isn’t from You-Know-Who. He enjoyed the game of guessing who had sent him the message purely from the seal and the handwriting that addressed the envelope.
He is pleased with your efforts in this direction, and given the amount of progress that the girl has made in such a short time, He has decided to initiate her over the coming Easter break. It is your duty to inform her of the fact, and make sure that she is completely ready for the ceremony. You are forbidden to tell her of the latter parts of the ceremony, as there must be some surprises in store for the candidate.~
What was not stated, but implied, was that it was Draco’s life on the line if Pansy failed. Well, he would have to schedule an extra practice for her that made the previous ones seem like a walk in the park in comparison.
~You are not required to attend the ceremony.
XXXXX, Death Eater.~
Draco frowned at the signature, and wondered whether both sides were getting into the whole spy thing a bit too seriously. He examined the letter again to see if he could tell who it was from. It was covered in ink blotches, but fortunately, not too badly spelt, even if the handwriting was atrocious. Looking at the blotch above the XXXXX more closely, he was eventually able to discern a letter. Well, that makes sense. He is a Death Eater after all.
He now had some information to pass to Potter. He wasn’t looking forward to this meeting. Potter would still be under the delusion that they had shared some meaningful moments on the balcony that day. [Which you did] Shut up, he snarled at the voice, and that it still meant something, which it also didn’t. [Liar] muttered that voice again, although he steadfastly ignored it.
Harry waited impatiently for the weekly meeting with Draco. He shivered at the thought. Perhaps once their discussion was over they would be able to spend some time talking or - otherwise. Maybe this time he would actually have some control over what happened. It wasn’t that he hadn’t enjoyed their kisses, it was just that he would like to be feeling a bit less out of it when they were kissing, so he could actually focus on what they were doing.
He needed to think about the consequences a bit more. They were both good at masks, so keeping up the pretence shouldn’t be too hard, and after school finished they wouldn’t see very much of each other, because they were supposed to be on opposite sides of the war, and so the pretence wouldn’t be as hard to keep up when they were far away from each other, and if they were lucky, they would be able to see each other during that time, and if neither of them died, they could look up each other then. But that was thinking too far ahead - for neither of them knew if they would survive.
He had given Ron, Hermione and Seamus their instructions, and the four of them had searched out a suitable room for them to use as a study. Hermione had asked permission of Professor McGonagall to use it, and once permission had been given, she had worked on soundproofing the room so Sarainail wouldn’t have to do it later. They rapidly found that it was a lot easier to study there than in the common room.
Ron looked over at him and yawned. “Time for bed?”
They had ended up in the common room tonight - he couldn’t be bothered going all the way to the fourth floor, as he was still kinda tired after helping Hermione with the silencing spells on the wall. Ron and Seamus had cried off to do something with each other, and they hadn’t wanted Hermione’s company. The two of them decided that Ron and Seamus would be doing the rest of the silencing spells that were needed to soundproof the walls.
“Yeah.” Harry started packing up his stuff.
“Are you going now?” Seamus asked, looking up from where Hermione was explaining the Twenty-seven rules of Monderei to him for their Arithmancy exam.
“Yes.”
“Well, we’ll just stay here for while before going to bed. Seamus needs to understand this for the exam.”
“It’s not till next term, Hermione,” Seamus protested good naturedly, although Harry noted that he didn’t move.
“So? They’re really really important, and we should’ve started studying ages ago.”
“You need to learn how to have fun.”
“Goodnight.” Harry and Ron excused themselves, and as they were leaving they heard Hermione say to Seamus:
“Now, they’re equivalences. Each rule has two parts. One part of the rule exactly matches the other. There is a sign in the middle which looks like an equals sign but has an extra bar in the middle - “
“What could we do to make this fun, Hermione?” Seamus checked to see that Ron and Harry - especially Ron - were gone, and that the common room was mainly deserted.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” she replied primly, “The three bars literally mean that the first half of the rule is materially equivalent to the second half and vice ver - what are you doing?”
“What does it feel like?”
“Seamus, we’re studying, not maki... oooh, I like that.”
“Good. Go on with what you were saying...” Seamus continued kissing his way slowly down her neck.
“And vice versa... What they do is help you break down....” Seamus gently moved her until she was sitting on his lap. “Seamus!”
“Yes?” He flashed her a wicked grin. “I study better this way.”
“With me on your *lap*?”
“Yes. But then, I wasn’t really thinking that we needed to do any more study.”
“Oh?” Hermione leaned in close to him as retaliation for the kisses on her neck earlier, and let her hands wander up and down his chest.
“Oh... um... keep doing that. I know what the Twenty-seven rules of Monderai are.”
“Good.” Hermione smiled smugly and snuggled in even closer. She trusted Seamus in this manner for some reason, as she would trust Ron, only Ron was so slow at getting hints about what she felt. They would go so far, and no further. “Tell me what they are.”
Seamus groaned. “Do I have to?”
“Yes.” She let her hands still. “Or I stop doing this.”
He ducked his head down and kissed her firmly. “I don’t mind. That means that I can do this,” he eventually said when they eventually came up for air.
“Actually,” Hermione said firmly, “It means that I hop off your lap.” She made as if to do so. Seamus groaned and anchored her firmly in place, with his hands on her hips. “I can still get away, you realise.”
“I know. Very well, the rules.” He started telling her them, punctuating them with little kisses to her neck and face. For her part, each completed rule that he told her, he got a proper kiss on the lips. Finally, when Seamus’ hands were starting to wander a bit further than she liked, and they had got to rule eighteen, she drew back.
“Enough.”
“What?” Seamus looked at her, dazed, and Hermione thrilled inwardly to the knowledge that she had made him look that way.
“I said enough.”
“Why?”
“It’s late, and I don’t want to go any further,” she said, sounding remarkably coherent for the way her insides were fluttering. She indicated his hands, which rested slightly above her waist and below her breasts. That wouldn’t have been a problem save that they were under her shirt, and she didn’t want to go any further. Seamus sighed and withdrew his hands.
“We’ll have to do this again sometime.”
“Or with Ron,” she said unguardedly.
“You mean both of us?” Seamus arched a sandy eyebrow at her as she started packing up her books. “My, my Hermione, I never knew that you felt that way.”
“Yes. No. Oh stop confusing me.”
He pouted. “But it’s fun.”
“I am going to bed now. No, you cannot come with me. I will see you in the morning.” It took more willpower than she had thought it would to leave him, and go up the staircase to the girls’ dormitories, but she managed it. Once Hermione had gone, Seamus sat there for a few minutes before packing up his own stuff and going to bed.
Draco was playing the piano when Harry entered the music room that night. He had waited until Seamus had gone to bed - finally - before going to meet Draco. There was nothing unusual in the fact that Draco was playing. It would have been more unusual if he hadn’t been playing. Harry considered going and sitting on the cushions, but decided against it. Instead, he went over to Draco and lightly placed his hand on the back of Draco’s neck, almost on his shoulder. “Draco?” he murmured.
The body under his hand tensed perceptibly. “Yes?” Harry had never imagined that Draco’s voice could sound so cold. His hand dropped away from his neck and at the removal of the light pressure, Draco swivelled around on the piano stool until he was facing Harry. Harry froze at the look on the other boy’s face. It was so... empty. He could feel all the warmth and joy that he’d felt upon coming here to meet Draco leach out of him into that void which currently inhabited those silver eyes that he loved looking at so much. He took a step back, unaccountably nervous. He promptly lost track of what he was going to say as Draco stood up and looked... through him. Harry felt his face smooth out into the mask he used.
“Is something wrong?” he asked softly.
Draco didn’t respond to that, but continued looking through him.
Harry was momentarily taken aback. Then, gathering up his rather formidable courage, he stepped around him and began to massage his neck. Draco softened imperceptibly before stiffening again. “If you could refrain from that I would appreciate it, Potter.”
Harry let his hands fall away. “I believe I asked you to call me Harry,” he said softly. “Or have you forgotten....”
“I have thought it over, Potter, and I believe that it is best for us to return to our working relationship.”
Harry looked confused. “You don’t think that we can manage to be friends and work together at the same time?” He felt dismayed. He’d had such plans for what they could do together. Draco challenged him, mentally, emotionally and physically. Especially physically. Harry shivered, thinking of what it would be like to have their bodies entwine and surrender to each other. Draco just looked at him with those empty eyes.
“It would not be appropriate.”
“Why?” Harry demanded, starting to get angry, which was better than those mixed feelings of lust [love] and concern. “Why don’t you think it would work? Don’t you think you’re good enough?”
If he hadn’t been watching Draco so closely he would have missed the flash of hurt in the other’s eyes, quickly masked with indifference. It was gone so quickly that he wasn’t even sure if he’d seen it at all. “It’s not really your concern, Potter. It is what I have decided, and I would prefer it if you respected that decision.”
“And don’t I get a say in it? I’m the other half of this relationship,” said Harry, “And I happen to think that we could manage it.”
“What you say is irrelevant to me, Potter. I am doing this so that I may avenge my sister. Everything else is irrelevant.”
“Rubbish,” snorted Harry. “Are you telling me that what happened on the balcony the other day is irrelevant and should have never happened and you never want it to happen again?”
“Precisely,” said Draco coldly. “Now if you are done with this useless questioning, perhaps we should turn our attention to what we are supposed to be discussing.”
Harry backed off. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into Draco since the last time they had spoken, but he was sure the strange offer of friendship that Draco had made earlier that week had something to do with it. Or maybe that offer of friendship that he’d had to reject for the sake of their cover had been because of the way Draco was behaving. “It isn’t finished,” he warned Draco calmly. “I can’t work well with you if I don’t trust you. And this change in behaviour makes me less inclined to trust you than I would normally. So, do you have anything to report?”
Draco leaned against the wall, and Harry thought that he looked like a marble statue, cool and beautiful and utterly untouchable. “Yes. Pansy Parkinson is going to be initiated as a Death Eater over the Easter break.”
“Indeed. Thank you. Is there anything else? The raids seem to have died down lately.”
“There are no raids planned that I know of at this stage. What of you? Have you received word from your contact about the Message Crystal?”
“Yes, I have. They’ve looked at the Crystal plans, and have given me the components for it. However, some changes were made to the plans to prevent damage and that sort of thing. They seem logical to me, but as you were the one who created the plans for the Message Crystals, we thought that you should go over them to check that everything is still how you want it, and that sort of thing.” He walked over to the door and picked up the scrolls that he’d set down there when he had arrived. He tossed them to Draco. “Don’t worry, I won’t look over your shoulder while you study them. My contact made sure that I understood what all the changes were, and why they were made, so just ask me if you have any questions.”
Draco nodded and spread the plans out on the piano, it being one of the few items with flat surfaces above the floor level. Harry sighed and went to stretch out on the cushions. What was it with the other boy? How had they managed to come to two completely different conclusions from the same set of circumstances? He didn’t even know what to think of Draco any more. Was this Draco’s way of telling him that their security had been compromised, and he was being constantly watched, and therefore couldn’t tell him personally? Or was it that Draco had decided to change sides and not avenge his sister after all? He didn’t know what to think any more. So he sat there and fretted while Draco looked over the plans for the Message Crystal.
“It will work,” said Draco abruptly.
“But are you happy with the changes?”
“They seem suitable.”
“Draco.” Harry waited until he had the other boy’s attention. “I know they’re suitable. What I don’t know is if you’re happy with them.”
Draco merely nodded and turned his attention back to the plans. “I am... satisfied with the changes,” he said eventually, voice soft and cautious.
“But....” pressed Harry.
“It is nothing.”
“If it affects our partnership then it is not nothing.”
Draco met Harry’s gaze squarely. “It is nothing.”
Harry nodded, accepting the statement. “I have the equipment hidden safely.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes... no, wait, there was something else. My contact... I’ve been learning this form of hand to hand fighting dance thing from my contact, and they want me to teach a little of it to you. Is that acceptable?”
“Can’t I just have more spells?”
“What you’d learn is harder to trace, Draco, and a lot cleaner too. Said that knives were really good for silent killings if you were good enough.”
“I see. And when is this learning to take place?”
“Easter, same as the Message Crystals.”
“Very well. I believe that this concludes this meeting.” Draco turned to leave.
“Wait - Draco - can you explain why you don’t want us to be friends in private? And why did you make that offer of friendship in front of all the seventh year Gryffindors and Slytherins? It was so... out of character for you? And if we don’t want anyone to get suspicious, we need some form of damage control. So, what are you planning on telling the Slytherins?”
“I wasn’t planning to tell them anything, Potter. They don’t need to know why I did that.”
“Not the real reason,” said Harry impatiently, “Which you still haven’t told me, by the way, but a reason.”
Silver eyes almost looked amused, and the cold facade softened slightly. “Are you suggesting that I lie to them... Gryffindor?”
“Yes,” said Harry blandly.
“Why?”
“It is an acceptable tactic. No doubt I will lie to the other Gryffindors about your real motives when I find out what they were.”
“Lying is acceptable? I’d expect that from a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor.”
“It’s a tool,” said Harry wearily. “Of course, if we could fool everyone with the truth that would be even better.”
Draco snorted involuntarily, and Harry laughed in surprise. “Not bloody likely, Potter. I’ll tell Pansy at her next lesson that I received more than orders to have her ready by Easter in the last missive that I got from the Death Eaters. She’ll believe me, and will probably spread it around, in which case I will receive lots of pity for having to do such a thankless task. What will you tell your friends?”
“The same thing.”
“What?”
“Well, it’s obvious, you know. I humiliated you so badly in our first year by turning down your offer of friendship then that the only way that you’d ever do something like that again was if you were ordered to by someone. I’ll probably cast all sorts of nasty aspirations on your character and that of your parents, and they’ll believe me, since they don’t know about Salem, and think you’re a right bastard.”
“And since both of us are saying the same thing, only in different ways, it must be true,” Draco said slowly, the cold mask returning. “Is that all now, Potter?”
“Not quite. You haven’t explained your reasoning as to why you’re acting like at stubborn, stuck up, uncommunicative...”
“Bastard?” asked Draco wryly.
“Yes,” said Harry in frustration.
“Do I have to explain?”
“Yes. Draco, I need to be able to trust you. I need to be able to tell my contact, ‘no, there is no chance of contamination, we can trust my informer.’ I need to be able to do that, Draco. I can’t ask them to trust where I can’t. So, why?”
“Sit down, Potter. This could take some time.” Harry obediently seated himself on the piano stool and listened as Draco explained his reasoning, pacing the length of the music room all the while. “So, that’s why. I can’t risk failing Salem.”
“And what about us?” asked Harry. “You’ll give what we shared up just like that?”
“I have to.”
“I thought about it too. I think we’re both good enough at masks to carry it off for the rest of the school year, and once that’s over we’re not likely to see each other very frequently, so the pretence would be easier to keep up. I liked what we were doing the other day, and I want to explore that option.”
“I’m not saying that I wouldn’t like to,” said Draco quietly, “Just that I can’t. I can’t afford the risk, Potter.”
“Call me Harry. I though Slytherins weren’t afraid of risks?”
“We’re not. We know not to take stupid risks however... Potter.”
“Okay.” He thought for a couple of minutes while Draco waited without showing any signs of impatience. “How about this. We do it your way for a while and then we reassess the situation - together - once we’ve activated the Message Crystals.”
It was Harry’s turn to be silent while he waited for the other boy to think the idea through. “That is acceptable.”
“Okay.”
“I believe that is all.”
“No,” said Harry, putting his hand on Draco’s arm to hold him there. “Can the change wait? I just want to test something.”
Draco arched an eyebrow. “What?”
“This, said Harry, and reached up to pull Draco down on the piano stool beside him. He kissed Draco, softly and gently to start off with, but with increasing passion. This time he would remember each move that Draco made, each gentle touch on his skin, all the moans that he caught in his mouth... he wanted to remember everything about this time. Their tongues duelled with each other and their hands ran up and down each other’s body, rediscovering some of what they had learned the previous week. Harry moaned happily into Draco’s mouth. There was something about this that made him loose all control, and he just wanted to stay with Draco forever at this stage. But the moan broke through the web of desire that was holding Draco in place, and with a muffled cry, he broke free of Harry’s arms and fled the room, leaving Harry alone, panting for breath with only a piano and some parchment for company. “Well,” he said sardonically to the empty room when his breathing had calmed and he’d found his glasses - they’d ended up on the other side of the room for some reason - “That was a success.”
Draco slipped silently into the Slytherin common room, and headed towards his dorm. No one was awake which was good, because then he didn’t have to put a memory charm on them, to prevent them from remembering him like he was now - all hot and flushed and shaking slightly from the force of his emotions. How could he? How could he just give into Potter like that after all his fine words and good intentions. He vaguely recalled a saying someone had said once in his presence. Something about road to hell and good intentions. He wasn’t calm enough to go to bed right now. He’d wake one of the others up for sure. And he didn’t need to deal with Crabbe and Goyle’s well-meaning but stupid questions. Even less did he need to deal with Blaise Zabini, who was incredibly curious about other people’s lives and had the lock-picking skills to support his obsession.
He paced impatiently in front of the fire, waiting for his body to relax enough for him to sleep. He would have to say something to Potter about this, too. Panicking in the middle of a really hot kiss was not something that he normally did, and never wanted to do again. But what could he tell Potter? [The truth?] The truth was too embarrassing. He’d just panicked when he heard Potter moan because it was too intense. Oh, that’s right, he thought in relief. We’re not going to be doing anything like that again. The knowledge that he didn’t have to deal with an amorous Harry Potter again for a while - something that would bring despair to many girls - managed to relax him, and Draco hastily went to bed before he fell asleep in front of the fire.
Harry stared around the music room with a vague sense of shock. He’d been in the middle of a fantastic kiss, and suddenly the other participant in the kiss wasn’t there any more. He would have to apologise to Draco the next time they met. He hadn’t meant to scare him like that with the strength of his desire for the other boy.
“Idiot,” he muttered to himself, getting up and pacing the width of the room. “You want a kiss - one kiss - to prove that the other day wasn’t a fluke and you end up scaring him out of the room.” Harry banged his head against the wall gently. “How could I do that to him. I know what he’s been through, I know I should take it slowly.” He sighed suddenly in defeat, accepting the fact that he’d never met anyone who made him feel like Draco did - hot and bothered and completely out of control. “Face it, Potter,” he muttered to himself. “If Draco decided to kiss you at dinner time in the great hall, not only would you not object, you’d probably join in and not think about security until later. A lot later.”
Maybe if he waited here Draco would come back. Draco had forgotten the plans for the Message Crystal - oops. I forgot to tell him that that was his copy if there were no changes to be made - and maybe he would come here to play the piano. Draco seemed to like playing the piano. Claimed that it calmed him down. Harry couldn’t say anything about playing it, but he knew that listening to Draco playing calmed him down and made him relax.
He sighed again and settled down on the cushions. Yes, he would just wait here and see if Draco did come back. In the meantime, though, he would stop thinking about that kiss - that wonderful, marvellous, incredibly heated kiss, and start thinking about... something else. Anything else. He glanced down at his body ruefully, feeling glad for one of the few times in his life that robes were so concealing. He didn’t want to scare Draco away again if he came back.
So, what could he think about? Harry leaned back and tried to relax. Music? No, that would lead him into thinking about Draco again. So would looking at the night sky through the small windows set high in the wall. He tried another topic, and that came back to Draco. And another, and that did too. After the fifth such happening, Harry gave up and thought determinedly about nothing until he fell asleep.
He was woken by the cold light of pre-dawn falling across his face. Draco had not come back, and since it was daylight, it was unlikely that he would. Sighing, Harry stood up, rubbed the crick out of his neck and went back to his own bed in the Gryffindor Tower.
* ** * ** *