The Rise and Fall of Lieutenant Malfoy

George did not lift his head at the trio's approach, but Lee looked up at them pleadingly. Harry wasn't quite sure what to do or say, and looked at Ron for guidance, but Ron was just staring helplessly at the top of his brother's head.

"They didn't even mention him," George's muffled voice drifted up to them. "And Lupin keeps telling me there's nobody they can spare for a search party." He finally raised his head and stared around with bleary eyes. "They're acting like he's dead now, just because they don't know where he is. You know, it wasn't that long ago that we'd look for any lost student until we found them. Knew what had happened to them. They even found Dennis Creevey inside that Muggle prison laundry." He shook his head slowly, talking more to himself than to the friends grouped around him. "Now there are sixty-three people on the 'missing' list that haven't even been looked for. What the hell has happened to this place?" His words were angry, but his tone was flat. Fred had gone out on a sortie nearly a week ago with a few other former Hogwarts students, and had not regrouped at the meeting point when things started to go sour. George had been injured the week before and had not gone with his twin on this particular outing; working on finding Fred seemed to be all that had kept him going since.

"Try not to worry, George, the current intelligence reports say that the people who've disappeared are being held as hostages for bargaining, not killed, " Hermione said, though Harry didn't think this was particularly reassuring information. "And we'll all be looking for him tomorrow. Anybody we capture, we're going to be grilling immediately for information on the missing," she continued, but George was shaking his head.

"Thanks, Hermione, but I don't think it's very likely they'll be able to help us," Lee said, eyeing George worriedly as the redhead stared blankly at the table again. "Fred's group was up against what later turned out to be Malfoy's squad. None of our captured informants has been able to tell us a thing about any of his victims." His voice dropped to a whisper and he beckoned them away from George, who seemed to have forgotten they were there. "Apparently, there's some kind of... special treatment he gives them. Nobody knows what it is for sure, but the rumors--they're just -" he trailed off, shaking his head and turning back to his friend.

Harry felt a bitter emotional cocktail of betrayal and rage bubbling up from his heart, creeping in poisonous tendrils out to his fingertips. Fists clenched, he turned away from George's bent form and glared at the Slytherin snake still hanging over the far table. This was unacceptable. He was just going to have to master his emotions and fight as he knew he could. As he stared at the snake he wondered if it was possible to cast curses in Parseltongue, as it would spare him having to hear the words as he hurled destruction at Malfoy. Then he remembered that Parseltongue had always just turned Draco on. This led to a less productive line of thought.

His reverie was interrupted as Hannah Abbott came racing up to them, her bandaged arm bouncing in its sling. "Did you see which way Professor Lupin went?" she panted. "He's needed for another emergency meeting in Dumbledore's office."

"Another one? Do we have to go?" asked Ron, one eye still on George.

"No, just the teachers this time. But it's more serious than before," Hannah added breathlessly. "Hogsmeade is gone."

***

"I like calling you Potter. Nobody else calls you that but me."

"Professor Snape does. Actually, now that you mention it, most of the teachers--"

"You know what I mean."

"Anyway, you called me Harry a minute ago."

"I was under duress."

"And I think I might have let a 'Draco' slip, too, so I guess that makes us even."

"Believe me, we will never be even, on any scale you can imagine. And frankly, you could have called me 'Severus' at that point and I wouldn't have noticed, Potter.... Well, all right, I'd have noticed, and I'd have broken every bone in your scrawny body two minutes later..."

"I will NEVER call you Severus."

"See that you don't." An evil look that would have made the Dark Lord proud crept over Draco's features as he thought about this and continued, "...Unless you want to play Potions Master & Naughty Student sometime--" His words were cut short by Harry's howl of disgust.

"Don't even joke about that. Please. In the name of all that is sacred, we're in a war zone, we could be killed at any moment and I don't want Snape in a kinky rubber bondage corset to be the last image processed by my dying brain."

There was a weighty pause, during which Harry discovered that despite his status as Wizarding World Hero, he was unable to perform a spell which would allow him to vanish into the floor.

"Dear lord, I think I've just had some kind of hemorrhage. You're scaring me, Potter. Have you actually given this some thought?"

"...Urgl."

"For the sake of my fractured sanity, I'll take that as a no."

***

Marching across the school lawns towards the battle next morning, it was not difficult to see where the source of the trouble was concentrated. A large volume of football-sized hailstones were showering down on the current defensive ranks. They fell back as they conjured semi-effective deflective materials to protect their heads, including normal umbrellas, Muggle automobiles, and large saucepans.

"Main force to the fore!" cried the General. "Injured reserves, circle left! Remember our attack patterns, everyone, stay focused, and may we wreak destruction on the attackers with the might of Merlin! Now CHARGE!" Most of their company ran forward with a battle cry, aerial formations swooping down on broomsticks to drop Confundus charms on their attackers. Harry had been relegated to the reserves due to his lingering rib injury, which of course he thought was ridiculous, especially since Ron and his mostly-healed leg had been placed with the main attacking body. When Harry had imagined Ron going up against the forces of Voldemort alone, he'd begged McGonagall to let him fight with the rest, but she had been adamant. So he'd spent that last sleepless night staring at the canopy over his bed while terrible, guilty anxiety for alternately Ron and Draco ate through his consciousness.

Finally, in desperation, he'd formed his own plan for his part of the battle. Now as he watched his friend charging across the grass, rage and fear written in flickering contrast across his freckled face, his resolve hardened. He'd stick with the reserves until he found a way to break off, and then he was going after the Dark Lord.

He did not really have a plan beyond this. He hoped one would not really be necessary. The best he could come up with was an assumption that Voldemort would be enough of a coward to stay back from the fighting and let others take on the brunt of the Order's attack, so Harry intended to circle around to the enemy's rear guard and hopefully find their leader isolated from the powerful soldiers at the front. Maybe he could surprise him, and finally take his revenge. Maybe his mysterious resistance to the Killing Curse would still protect him. Maybe he'd be permanently transfigured into a stylish handbag, but at least he'd be doing something.

The reserve party ducked back inside the castle courtyard and skirted its edge, watching purplish smoke rise beyond the wall. Harry was just wondering what had caused it that could have led to such horrified screams, when a roar comparable to an approaching tornado rose up on the other side of the thick stone. The smoke grew thicker, as did the screaming, but they still couldn't see what was causing such panic. Just as he was considering asking someone to levitate him up to take a look, Harry felt Hannah grab his cloak from behind and drag him to a sudden halt.

Whipping around, Harry saw the nightmare he'd feared from the moment Draco had disappeared grinning at him jauntily from the top of the wall behind them. He was still wearing his leather cloak, complete with strangely placed buckles and a high, pointed collar. His silvery hair glinted brightly through the remaining smoke, and his eyes had taken on an unnatural, opalescent glow. Damn, he's sexy, thought Harry before he could stop himself.

"I thought they might have sent out an ambush," Draco said, his voice reverberating strangely in the open courtyard. "Very naughty."

Instantly the sound of panicked curses shot from trembling wands filled the air as the fifteen or so reserve troops (minus Harry, who was still gaping at the figure's fluttering cloak) tried their luck with everything from Stunning spells to the Imperius curse. None of them worked. Malfoy still stood calmly on the wall, smirking slightly as the volley of curses and shouts came to an abrupt halt. Harry looked around in alarm and saw that each of his companions stood frozen to the spot, clearly unable to move, the determination on their faces changing slowly to terror... and one by one their roving eyes came to rest despairingly on Harry.

"Damn it," Harry muttered, "I knew this was going to happen."

***

"I really don't think we should try this in the library again, Potter. My spine and that of--ow-- Cruciatus for Beginners are irrevocably woven together."

"It's your fault for knocking it all on the floor. And what are we doing on top of half the restricted section, anyway? I thought you were looking for texts on slow-acting poisons for Snape."

"I was. Restricted ones. They're over there by your shoe."

"Mmm. Well, maybe we can find someplace more comfortable when I'm taken off evening guard duty next week." Draco's arm resting under Harry's head stiffened almost imperceptibly.

"Next week?" he repeated carefully.

"Well... tomorrow if you can't wait, you deviant. Technically later today, I suppose. Unless you want more immediate..." he leaned in to kiss Draco but the blond turned his head away at the last moment, disentangling his limbs to face awkwardly in Harry's direction without actually looking at him.

"Harry, if-- if I. Went somewhere. You know, in the war." He hesitated, eyes unfocused and wandering vaguely toward Harry's left ear.

"Went somewhere - like that scouting party tomorrow?" Harry took a moment to consider. "Well, I did one last week, it was ok. Everyone came back fine, we just looked at their peripheral defenses, nothing..." he trailed off at the look on Draco's face. It was hard and tender all at once, and it made him feel a bit sick to look at it.

"No. Not like that." Harry swallowed convulsively. Surely Draco didn't mean what it sounded like he meant.

"What, would I wait for you and never love another? Take up knitting and tie yellow ribbons on the whomping willow?" Harry kept his voice light, which surprised him considering the coil of foreboding winding itself around his lungs. Trying not to sound as needy and pathetic as he felt, he forced about half a breath in and managed, "Could I go with you?"

"No," Draco said quickly, suddenly fully focused on Harry's face. "No, never mind. You can't come with me... you know where I'm going." Harry felt the air go out of him in a whoosh as the coil contracted. It almost sounded like a laugh, and felt completely the opposite.

"You aren't. N-not after this--" he stammered. Draco looked at him in surprise.

"If you really believe that, you don't...." He shook his head. "Don't you think you're giving yourself a bit too much credit?" Harry's mouth moved but no sound came out. He felt like he'd been kicked in the head.

"I'm one of theirs," Draco continued, half-muttering to himself. "I knew I'd left this too long...it was insane for us to get this involved, it's only made things worse. No, look, there's no point trying to talk me out of it, you knew this was going to happen eventually. Better now than later, when it might be even worse."

"I thought-- You--"

"You've thought what you wanted to think from the start, Potter," he snapped. "You saw what you wanted to see. Surely your memory isn't that short. I'm your nemesis, the spawn of your enemies, and accordingly that makes me a not very nice person. Start getting used to the idea. You've had six years already, for Merlin's sake. It's not like it was ever a secret." He scrambled to his feet and collected his scattered books with hands that were almost unnaturally steady.

Harry finally found his voice, wobbly but still serviceable. "You're going to call me your lover for two solid weeks and then... just run off to join the Death Eaters? Don't you think a little more of an explanation would-- would be called for? Under the circumstances?" Draco turned back to consider him for a moment. He looked mildly remorseful, as though he'd kicked his house-elf one too many times and now it couldn't remember how to sew buttons on straight.

"I haven't killed you yet. I don't see that I owe you anything else."

He walked out, and Harry did not see him in the castle again.