- Rating:
- PG-13
- House:
- Astronomy Tower
- Characters:
- Draco Malfoy Harry Potter
- Genres:
- Romance Slash
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
- Stats:
-
Published: 03/30/2004Updated: 04/03/2004Words: 34,819Chapters: 23Hits: 78,050
Draco Malfoy and the Heart of Slytherin
Saber ShadowKitten
- Story Summary:
- At the heart of every Slytherin...
Chapter 03
- Posted:
- 03/30/2004
- Hits:
- 3,542
Chapter Three: The Key To Magic
Draco entered the yard and watched for a minute as Harry slowly raised and
lowered himself in the grass, his massive arms bulging with every push-up. It
was hot outside; and sweat plastered his ebony hair to his head and soaked clean
through his sleeveless t-shirt. Draco shook his head at the idiocy. "Why do you
bother, Potter? We're wizards, not Muggle laborers."
"Exercise clears the mind," Harry stated, rising to his feet. He wiped his
forehead with the back of his arm and pushed his glasses into place. They
immediately began to slide down his nose again. "Plus, it gives me an
advantage."
"Yeah, your stench could kill a bloke at twenty paces." Draco waved his hand
in front of his face. "You bloody reek."
"There is that." Harry circled the silver-haired boy. "Draw your wand."
Draco drew his wand, glancing over his shoulder at Harry. "Are you planning
to teach me a deodorant charm?"
"No." Harry struck with the speed of a seeker, sliding his arms under Draco's
and linking his hands behind Draco's head, effectively trapping him. Draco
immediately fought, trying to break out of Harry's hold. When he couldn't, he
aimed his wand as best he could at the larger boy behind him, but Harry caught
the attempt to cast.
"Expelliarmus!" The wand flew from Draco's hand, landing in the
grass several yards away. Harry laughed softly, cruelly. "Now what are you going
to do?"
Draco struggled again, anger heating his face. Sweat beaded on his upper lip.
"Let go, you pillock!"
Harry's breath was hot against Draco's ear as he whispered,
"Titillandus."
Hundreds of invisible fingers suddenly danced along Draco's ribs and other
sensitive parts of his body. He was shortly gasping in laughter, squirming in
Harry's iron hold. "Stop! Stop! Stop!" he begged.
"Stop it yourself," Harry said. "Remember what I've taught: the magic is
inside you. The wand is just a tool."
Draco was going to kill him. "Fin- fin- finite incantatum- um!" The
invisible fingers were still tickling him mercilessly. "Potter!"
"Finite incantatum."
The tickling stopped instantly, and Harry released Draco immediately
thereafter. Draco spun and shot Harry a deadly glare. Harry simply stared back
expectantly.
Draco growled. "Fine! You're right, exercise give you an advantage."
"I'm glad you said so." Harry started for the house. "I want ten push-ups and
ten sit-ups before I return."
"I hate you, Potter!" Draco called after him.
"Ten of each!" Harry yelled back.
*****
Draco's arms felt like jelly and his abdomen hurt like a bugger later that
night, from exercising unused muscles. He was lying in bed, cursing at Potter,
who sat with his bare feet up on the desk across the bedroom, an open book in
his lap. Draco's wand was balanced on Harry's knees, and he expected Draco to
retrieve it by magic.
It had only been five days since Harry had started teaching Draco and already
he expected miracles. Still, if Harry-Bloody-Potter could perform wandless
magic, so could Draco Malfoy, the pale-eyed Slytherin thought. Though it would
be easier to concentrate if his muscles weren't screaming.
The sleeping draught Draco had brewed worked perfectly, but he was damning
himself for making it. A well-rested Potter was three-times as masochistic as a
sleep-deprived one. Draco's own need for perfection only added to his stress,
and he had a feeling he'd soon be taking the draught, too.
"Hmm. I think it moved a bit that time," Harry said, glancing at the wand.
"Oh, nope. I was wrong. It was me that moved."
"Bloody bastard," Draco muttered.
"Aw, you say the sweetest things."
"When I get hold of my wand--"
"If you get hold of your wand," Harry interrupted. He turned the
page in his book. "At this rate, I'll die of old age before you can follow
through on the threat."
Draco felt anger boil inside of him. He wanted his wand so badly at that
moment, he could taste it. "Accio wand!"
THWAP. "Ow!"
Harry clapped. "Not bad, Malfoy. Not bad."
Draco rubbed his face where his wand had smacked him, clutching the offending
object in his other hand. It took him a moment to realize that he'd actually
done it, he'd cast a working spell without his wand. He sat up, ignoring his
protesting stomach muscles, and stared at the length of wood in his hand.
"Wicked."
"What did you feel right before you cast?" Harry inquired, putting his book
aside. He set his feet on the floor and rested his forearms on his knees.
"Anger," Draco replied.
"What else?" Harry prompted.
"I really wanted my wand," Draco said thoughtfully.
"That's the key to magic, Draco," Harry said softly. "You have to really want
the results, beyond question or doubt. Everything else is flair."
Draco lifted his gaze and looked at the teen seated across the room as if
seeing him clearly for the first time. Harry's ebony hair was falling
every-which-way, the lightning bolt scar peeking between the thick strands.
Emerald green eyes stared back with earnestness and a haunted maturity he
shouldn't have yet. "Why aren't we friends, Potter?"
"Because you're a bigoted snob with a mean streak a kilometer wide, and I'm
the goody-goody wonderboy who can do no wrong," Harry replied with a shrug.
"Things probably would be different if I'd been sorted into Slytherin, like the
Sorting Hat wanted to do."
"You don't have the heart of a Slytherin," Draco said coldly.
"Oh, I don't know about that." Harry turned towards the open window with a
slight frown. "A twice murderer would fit right in, don't you think? Heads up,
incoming."
Draco was stunned silent by Harry's casual admission that he'd killed two
people. Draco had heard nothing of the same, unless Potter actually had
killed Cedric Diggory last June.
Hedwig flew into the bedroom, carrying a package by her claws. She was
followed by a Hogwarts school owl, also carrying a package. Both dropped their
parcels onto the desk behind Harry and settled on top of the owl cage.
Draco snapped out of his shock when a tiny owl burst through the window,
clutching a grey motley-looking bird, who in turn was clutching a paper bag. The
grey owl and bag were dropped on the bed beside him, and the tiny bird let out a
sound like a groan of relief before landing on Harry's head.
"What's going on?" Draco asked, prodding the dead-looking bird beside him.
Harry glanced at the digital clock on the desk. "It's my birthday in ten
minutes."
"You mean, you're just turning fifteen now?" Draco picked up the paper bag
and began to open it. "I turned fifteen months ago."
"Hey, shove off, they're my presents." Harry snatched the bag from Draco and
reseated himself at the desk. The bird on Harry's head chirped in annoyance at
the sudden movements.
"You don't have many," Draco noted as another owl flew in, dropped a parcel
in Harry's hands, and immediately left again.
Harry shrugged. "I used to get none, so I count my blessings that I have
friends who care to send gifts now."
"Who would send you a dead owl?" Draco poked at the grey bird again.
"That's Errol, and he's not dead. He's... resting."
At that moment, Errol opened an eye and nipped at Draco's finger. Draco
yanked his hand away and glared at the bird. "I'm going to take a wild guess and
say that Errol belongs to the Weasleys."
"Say anything disparaging about my friends, and I'll turn you into owl
kibble," Harry warned, not raising his eyes from a letter that came from the
bag.
"Very well," Draco sighed. "So, who're the extraordinary number of gifts all
from?"
"The Weasleys, as you know," Harry answered, setting the bag and letter aside
and picking up another. "Hedwig brought Hermione's, I've got one from my
godfather, and the school owl brought Hagrid's and a letter from Dumbledore."
"How exciting for you." Draco shoved Errol off the bed and lay down. "Try not
to make too much noise celebrating. I'm knackered."
"Whatever, Malfoy."
Draco closed his eyes and listened to Harry unwrapping his gifts. He heard no
laughter, no oohs or aahs of excitement or pleasure. If it weren't for the
crinkle of paper, he wouldn't know anyone was in the room.
Draco remembered his own fifteenth birthday was a loud, boisterous gala with
his family and friends at the Manor. He'd gotten more gifts than he had room for
in his bedroom. Even his father had been in a good mood and had shared vintage
Doubletec -- a wizard's cognac -- with him.
The soft flap of wings roused Draco's attention, and he opened his eyes to
find the bedroom empty of both birds and boy. Rising, Draco noticed Harry's
Firebolt was gone, too, and he went to the window. Potter hovered in the yard,
unmoving and looking up at the nearly full moon. The luminous snitch hovered in
the air beside him.
Draco retrieved his own Firebolt and kicked off. Silently, he pulled
alongside Harry and surveyed the Surrey countryside. It was lovely, lush and
green, for a Muggle territory.
"Dumbledore wonders if I've killed you yet," Harry said, not turning away
from the moon.
"You might, with all the bloody exercises you're foisting on me."
"I might," Harry agreed stoically, falling silent again.
Below, Draco could see glowing eyes from nighttime animals, both magical and
non, in the hedges and under the neighbor's back porch. Harry had told him that
the Dursley's property had been magically cloaked by Dumbledore and Professor
McGonnagal at the beginning of the summer, when they had brought advanced
materials for Harry to learn over the holiday. They could practice magic without
fear of being expelled or being investigated by the Ministry of Magic and the
neighboring Muggles would turn a blind eye to anything happening within the
boundaries of the property. The Dursleys themselves ignored any magic that Harry
or Draco did, yet they still treated Harry like dirt.
"Hermione sent me a book, like she does every year," Harry commented,
continuing the conversation as if they hadn't floated silently side-by-side for
five minutes. "Current Events in the Wizarding World. It updates itself
and deletes anything prior to the last twenty years."
"Sounds like something Granger would send," Draco said with a snort.
"I'm in it," Harry said, his voice barely a cracked whisper. "I'm in it
several times, in fact. 'The Boy Who Lived miraculously defeated You-Know-Who
not once, not twice, but three times, before his very own blood brings
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named presumably back to life.'" He glanced at Draco. "I saw
your father's name in the last few pages, but I didn't read it."
"You can if you want." Draco shrugged. "I don't care." Though he did care,
because he shared the Malfoy name. He could easily imagine the pity he would
receive once others read what his father had done. There'd also be the whispers
of wonder if he'd follow in Lucius' footsteps, and the wariness of true Light
Wizards towards him. He silently cursed his father again for putting him into
this predicament.
Enough brooding, Draco decided. He cast a sidelong glance at the other teen.
"Up for a game, birthday boy?"
"I suppose I am," Harry said with a fast exhale of breath. "I've not played
against anyone in a bit, so this should be a laugh."
With a flick of his wrist, the luminous snitch flew off. A few seconds later,
the boys flew off after it.