The Princes of Fire & Ice

The Princes of Fire & Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To know that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

~Fire and Ice, by Robert Frost~

***

CHAPTER VII: The Difference

The only difference that I see is that you are exactly the way you used to be.

~The Wallflowers~

Between the idea

And the reality

Between the motion

And the act

Falls the Shadow.

Between the conception

And the creation

Between the emotion

And the response

Falls the Shadow.

Between the desire

And the spasm

Between the potency

And the existence

Between the essence

And the decent

Falls the Shadow.

~”The Hollow Men”, T.S. Eliot~

The three Gryffindors walked back through the portrait hole silently. Harry barely nodded at Ron and Hermione before briskly ascending the stairs to his dorm.

Ron sullenly made his way over to the couch and lay down, his eyes closed as if in pain. Hermione’s eyes followed Harry’s figure up the stairs sadly, and then rested upon Ron. The knot in her stomach grew. She bit her lip to keep from saying anything and walked over to the couch, where she nimbly perched herself on the armrest above his head. She could see his eyes fluttering under his lids and the stress was almost palpable. Stretching her fingers, she lowered her hands on his shoulders and neck and began giving his shoulders a massage.

Startled, Ron shot up into a sitting position, and Hermione couldn’t restrain a little laugh.

“It’s just me, Ron!”

He turned around and smiled at her guiltily.

“Sorry. I didn’t even hear you come over. You just took me by… surprise.” Their eyes met for a brief second and then he turned back around. Without missing a beat Hermione slid down next to him and resumed her massage.

“Ron, you’re tense!” she said. He sighed wanly.

“You know, I think it’s just everything with Harry and…” he cut himself off as her fingers dug into a particularly sore muscle. Hermione stopped her massage and leaned over so he had to face her.

“Look, Ron, we all know what an incredibly wonderful and loyal friend you are to Harry. I’m worried too, but Harry’s strong. And you, you’re taking on so much of Harry’s stress and worrying about him so much you are worrying me now.” He laughed wearily at this and gave her a doubtful look. “No, really, Ron. I bet you haven’t been concentrating on your own life at all! You look so tired and pale…” she examined the color of his cheek and he swallowed thickly. She didn’t seem to notice as she continued; now resting her head on his shoulder. “And we’ll get through all this together, like always!”

Ron inhaled deeply, breathing in the fresh, clean scent of her hair and trying to think straight. Maybe Hermione was right. He shouldn’t worry too much about Harry; they were all a force to reckon with when together. Of course, as he felt her warm breath on his neck, he considered that it would be hard to disagree on any point with her right now. And considering how often they disagreed with each other, that was saying something.

Suddenly, the portrait hole swung open and Seamus and Dean stepped through. Seamus’ head was turned around, laughing and talking to Dean, so he didn’t notice how sharply Hermione’s head snapped up from Ron’s shoulder.

“Hey Hermione, Ron,” he said cheerfully as he crossed the room.

“Hey,” they answered back in unison.

Seamus smiled broadly and crossed the room quickly, kneeling down in front of Hermione.

“Guess what?”

“What?” she responded, feeling the familiar flush coming to her cheeks and trying to force it down.

“Snape posted the marks.” He flashed her another winning grin and then nodded over at Ron. “I took the opportunity to check all of ours. Would you believe all of us passed?”

“That’s right!” Dean interjected. He glanced at Ron. “We got sixty percent!”

“Really?” Ron mused, a little shocked.

“What did we get?” Hermione asked Seamus, more impatient now that the subject of results had come up.

“Oh, you know…” he replied coyly, toying with her patience.

“Seamus!” she said, in an attempt to scold him, but he just laughed.

“Say ‘please’.”

“Honestly-”

“Say it.”

“Fine. Please.” She gave him a sugary smile. “Now tell me before I have to hurt you.”

“What if I might like that?” Seamus gave a thoughtful look.

“Seamus!” Hermione began to screech, launching herself on him from the couch, and they fell on the floor in a tangled and giggling heap.

“Okay, okay!” Seamus cried out in surrender as Hermione pinched him. “We received the generous marks of ninety percent from the honorable Severus Snape.”

Ron watched them in a daze while Dean looked on and laughed as Hermione put Seamus in a rather decent headlock. Seamus broke free and leaped onto the couch, escaping Hermione’s grasp and Ron felt sick.

What have I done to deserve this? he wondered listlessly. This can’t be happening.

Just then Neville came into the room with a stack of books, and took a seat by the fireplace.

“Wow, looks like you have a lot of reading to get done,” Seamus said, catching his breath and gazing over the stack of books.

“Yes, unfortunately I do. Though I don’t suppose it will help me any,” Neville replied doubtfully.

“Nonsense,” Hermione said, getting up from the floor and brushing off her clothes. “There’s nothing a little studying can’t improve.”

“Is that a hint?” Seamus said with mock indignation.

“Only if you’re satisfied with ninety percent,” Hermione said, turning towards him with a sly smile.

“From Snape? Are you joking? I’m over the moon!”

“Typical,” Hermione muttered, though there was a twinkle in her eyes as she took the seat on the couch next to him. “I don’t suppose you’ve done your Transfiguration homework then?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have the faintest clue what you are talking about,” Seamus said, faking indifference. Hermione made at face as she reached over him to grab her textbook and wand, which were on top of the side table. Ron felt like gagging just watching them, but thankfully his thoughts were interrupted.

“Game of chess, Ron?” Dean asked with a grin. Ron surveyed the scene: Seamus and Hermione deep in conversation, laughing at his jokes. Neville was huddled in a chair pouring over one of the books and Dean was setting up the chessboard.

“Sure – in a minute,” Ron answered. He headed for the boy’s dorm. “Let me just go speak to Harry.”

Dean nodded automatically, concentrating on setting up the board, and Ron made his way up the stairs. He paused at the door, listening, but all he heard was silence. Slowly, he turned the doorknob and entered.

“Harry?” he whispered, not wanting to take his friend by surprise. He found Harry lying on his bed; curtains open, staring blankly at the ceiling. His eyes wandered over to Ron but he didn’t say anything. “Are you okay?” Ron asked, awkwardly approaching the bed. Again, Harry didn’t say anything, but instead moved over to one side of the bed. Ron took the cue and sat down next to him.

Harry regarded his best friend silently as Ron sat down. It momentarily took his mind off of Malfoy – no, Draco – and how much he hated him now… and how much he still wanted him.

Ron looked back at him, his deep brown eyes filled with concern. Harry new his friend worried about him, but he wasn’t sure how much he could tell him.

“Don’t worry about me, Ron. Malfoy’s an insufferable git, but I think I fancy him a bit so I think I’ll just let this insult go…”

Harry gave a rueful smile, which probably was confusing Ron further.

Dammit, he thought wryly, I am attracted to Draco.

He opened his eyes lazily and realized he should probably say something to Ron.

“Hey, Ron.”

Ron’s frown of concern, which had been deepening in the ensuing silence, relaxed slightly.

“I know you are upset about Malfoy being a prick, but… what’s new about that?” Ron muttered. “He isn’t worth the energy.”

“I never thought I’d hear you, of all people, say that,” Harry said with a faint grin.

“Well, it’s worth the energy to beat him to a pulp, but not to brood about it when he’s not in hitting range,” Ron corrected with a matching grin. “All those things he said, they aren’t worth caring about. You shouldn’t care what that prat says.”

But I do care, Harry thought. That’s what new about the way he’s behaving; now I care when he hurts me on purpose.

This realization being stated so clearly, even if it was just in his head, was enough to jolt Harry quickly into a sitting position.

“Harry,” Ron exclaimed, surprised. “What is it?”

Harry’s mind was racing. Why would he think something like that? He didn’t care about Draco that much – or even at all.

“Oh – uh – nothing,” he mumbled in weak explanation.

“Look, Malfoy’s a bastard. Don’t let him get to you – I should know,” Ron continued.

“Er… yeah… I just thought, you know, for a second there that he had changed,” Harry stuttered lamely.

“Humph,” Ron snorted. “Malfoy will never change. He may have worked with you to get back here from his father’s estate, but I’m sure he was still being selfish. He’s still just looking out for himself. What did he do immediately afterwards? Made you take that truth serum! Kissed my sister! Somehow convinced you not to turn him in to Dumbledore…” Ron trailed off.

Harry closed his eyes again as Ron spoke, remembering when Malfoy had accosted him in the hallway on the way to Dumbledore’s office.

Oh, Malfoy – Draco – anytime you want to do that again –

Harry forced himself to stop thinking about that, because if he didn’t he would soon have a lot of explaining to do to Ron. He tried to swallow the flush creeping through his body and took a deep breath.

“You’re right, Ron. Malfoy will be Malfoy and I should just ignore him. I’m sure Dumbledore knows quite a bit already and… surely I’m safe from Lucius Malfoy here, even if he is working for Voldemort.” Harry spoke quickly, not believing anything he was saying, but it didn’t matter.

“Exactly,” Ron replied. “Don’t worry about Malfoy. If worst comes to worst, let him deal with me.” He clenched his fists as Harry looked on.

Maybe I want to ‘deal with him’…

Harry again had to force those thoughts to stop. Was the thought of fighting with Draco turning him on? Was that even healthy? He squirmed visibly as he pondered this. He never could have imagined himself in this situation, the conflicting emotions – not to mention signals – he was getting because of and from Draco. He hadn’t expected a smile or a kiss at the meeting, but such coldness and harsh words had not been expected either. And, seeing into those cold silver eyes, Harry hadn’t seen any sign that Draco didn’t mean every word of it. So where the hell did that leave him? Lusting after Draco? Hating Draco? Both?

“Anyway,” Ron said, forcing Harry out of his confused thoughts. “I’m going back downstairs to beat Dean in a game of chess. Want to come?”

“Uh…” Harry began. In truth he didn’t really want to, but then again, he couldn’t trust himself alone in his bed with his mind set on Draco. “Yeah… okay.”

Ron gave him another faint smile.

“Okay, good. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“For now, yeah.”

Ron’s grin broadened and he gave a sigh of relief that caught Harry’s attention.   

“Hey, Ron, are you okay?” As he watched the emotions flicker across his friend’s face, Harry felt guilty that he hadn’t noticed the change earlier.

“Yeah… I… uh, you know,” Ron mumbled.

“What?” Harry asked, smiling. “Come on, you can tell me.”

“Well, I guess I was just really worried when you disappeared; and now you’re still worried and unhappy and I’m nervous about what’s coming next.” Ron said this all very quickly, staring at his hands that were playing with the corner of the duvet.

“Oh, Ron!” Harry exclaimed. “I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?” Harry grinned and saw Ron relax for a moment, but then he turned to look in Harry’s eyes.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think there’s something between Hermione and Seamus?”

Harry started. This was not what he had been expecting at all.

“Um, there was a Potions project, wasn’t there?” He watched Ron’s face intently. “But I haven’t really been paying, er, too much attention.” 

Ron nodded faintly and stood up from the bed.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly. Harry quickly slid off the bed and grabbed Ron’s arm.

“Wait – is this about Hermione?”

“No, no, just…” Ron looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Just forget I said anything.”

Harry watched Ron for a moment before nodding his head. Ron liked Hermione? Or at least, was jealous of the time she was spending with Seamus? This was an interesting development. Of course, he’d suspected some things after the Yule Ball, but…

As they walked to the door, Ron sent Harry a smile, obviously trying to forget what he had just said. Harry smiled back, trying to reassure Ron. But, Harry recognized the look in Ron’s eyes. He was sure his eyes betrayed it as well every time his thoughts drifted to Draco.

***

Draco Malfoy awoke from yet another restless night of sleep with a groan. Was it morning already? For an instant he wanted nothing better than to close his eyes and go back into a dreamless sleep, forgetting everything that had happened, could happen and would have to happen.

Like his apology to Harry at breakfast.

Fake apology.

Or was it a real apology disguised as a fake apology?

Whatever.

He sat up in bed and swung his legs over the side, testing his legs on the floor. It was cold and unappealing, but he strode off to the showers anyway. The sooner he got this day started the sooner he could stop dreading it.

***

“The mail’s here,” Draco heard Blaise mutter as the dozens of owls began their morning ritual of flooding the air of the Great Hall and delivering various letters and packages.

“Perfect,” Draco muttered, taking a quick swig of his pumpkin juice and wishing he had something a little bit stronger. Whatever was going on between his father and Lord Voldemort had obviously just begun, and it seemed that he was crucial to their plans.

Then again, how important am I if they don’t care that I ran away from my own father, taking such a valued prisoner with me?

He heard his father’s voice from his dream echoing back in his mind.

“No matter what, this holds you to us. You cannot escape your destiny, my son. You are meant to serve our Master. And you will.”

Draco had always prided himself on being sharp and intelligent, so being befuddled by what was going on was unfamiliar to him and made him very nervous. Normally, his father would not have taken his blatant act of disloyalty so lightly. He wouldn’t have chalked it up to Draco “testing” or “proving” himself. On the contrary, there would be hell to pay.

So why wasn’t there?

If anything his father would not still be including him in any devious plans; he would put Draco on a sort of probation if he didn’t simply lock him in his room forever. But again, none of this had happened. Only cryptic meanings and clipped words in letters that suggested that Draco was still expected to serve his purpose. More than that: he was fated to do it. 

But what? And how? And…to who?

Just then something fluttered down past his ear and cheek and rested on the table next to him, but he didn’t notice because at that exact moment Harry Potter entered the dining hall with Weasley and Granger. Draco watched Harry as if in a trance as the dark haired Gryffindor made his way calmly towards his table and took a seat, his back to Draco.

Ah, Harry Potter. The bane of my existence, Draco thought with grim humor. It had been so much easier to hate Harry before that dastardly Potions pairing courtesy of Professor Snape. Before the Portkey, and the escape from Malfoy Estate… not to mention the near snogging under the bed. Oh, and the kiss on the train. And…

Whatever the hell I did to him in the hallway.

You were manipulating him, said a small voice in his head.

You were enjoying it, spoke up another.

 

Oh, but that wasn’t the point.

Congratulations, Draco, he muttered to himself. You’ve down a splendid job of fucking up. You have betrayed your father and your loyalties, not to mention yourself, by giving into am attraction for your nemesis.

Draco chewed on his bottom lip, trying to convince himself he simply was being rebellious. That was why he had taken Harry with him from the estate. That was why he was lying to his father, pretending he was sorry only to get more information out of him.

But, power, glory, importance… isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?

Draco swallowed as another voice started whispering in his head.

It is, isn’t it? Ever since you were little? You’ve admired your father and longed to impress him. You’ve never been ashamed of dubious activities before. You knew all along what was coming, what had to. It was inevitable. And you relished it when your father finally gave you that amulet and let you know you were central to the plot. Why would you let that all go? Your loyalties? Your chance of getting power…? All for what? Potter? Potter, who has stopped you at every turn? Who has rejected you from the beginning without even bothering to get to know you?

But…

But, nothing! You had a moment of weakness. You didn’t like being in the dungeons of your own estate – it was Malfoy pride. And Potter… that was hormones. Just silly hormones. You know the way to being great, and Potter has no part of it. He is the obstacle that you must defeat – you will defeat.

“Are you going to open that?”

Blaise’s voice snapped Draco into attention and he spun towards his fellow Slytherin.

“What?”

“That,” Blaise said, indicating the envelope, which was resting next to Draco’s arm by his plate. He saw the shiny, fresh wax seal on the flap, complete with the Malfoy family crest.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, picking it up numbly. It was then he noticed Blaise was still gazing at him, with a look of… concern? No, it had to be nosiness. Finally Draco’s instincts kicked in and he scowled at Blaise and turned pointedly away to open the letter.

Draco recognized his father’s fluid scrawl instantly. He had half-expected another letter this morning, it was true, but now that it was here he feared to read it.

Fear? Ridiculous!

Draco unfolded the letter all the way and began reading.

Draco,

            It seems you have returned to your senses. Though its method was unsuitable, your insulting of Potter demonstrates that you are not a lost cause. It seems pride and arrogance prompted your flight from here, and you took Potter along to prove yourself. This was foolish and stupid.

            However, taking into account your complaints about the amulet, it was been modified for your weaker constitution and will be sent again. Do not underestimate its powers nor waste the opportunity.

            All is proceeding according to the plans – not that you will be told every detail. Obey the instructions as they come to you. Remember your loyalties.

                                                            Sincerely,

                                                            Your Father

Hmmmm…so, did he have his answer? Draco cast his eyes surreptitiously around the table, from Vincent and Gregory over to Pansy and Malcolm and back to Blaise as the letter self-destructed and turned to ashes in his hand. One of them seemed to have a direct line to his father if news of the prefects’ meeting had already reached him. Draco certainly hadn’t mentioned it yet. Not that he was surprised; occasionally his father had requested information about his classmates and he had eagerly supplied it. Not to mention that was what he had been counting on with his verbal assault on Harry. He needed to demonstrate that he hadn’t gone all soft on Harry and he needed to convince his father that…

That what? You aren’t completely insane and have started having other feelings for Harry Potter?

The point was, he had been right about that and his plan seemed to be working – so far. The point was not about Harry and what would happen next where he was concerned. Draco didn’t want to think about Harry Potter anymore right now.

“Malfoy, have you talked to Potter yet?”

Shit.

Malfoy looked up to see Professor Snape looking down at him testily. Snape nodded in the direction of the staff table where Professor McGonagall was sitting and glancing over at Draco.

“You might as well do the apology now so McGonagall is satisfied and lets it drop,” Snape said.

“Oh, this is so pointless,” Draco muttered. “It’ll be a forced apology, and Potter will know it’s not sincere.”

 

Snape shrugged. “Gryffindors.”

“Fine, screw it,” Draco snapped, momentarily forgetting he was still in the presence of a professor. Rather sheepishly he glanced up at Snape’s face, but instead of the scowl of disapproval he thought he saw a small smirk and perhaps a glimmer of sympathy for what he was about to have to do.

“Just get it over with,” Snape said as he began to walk away. “And don’t embarrass us.”

Biting his lip again, Draco stood up and slowly strolled towards the center of the hallway, getting as close to the Gryffindor table as he dared. A few eyes turned to watch him, but they turned back to their own friends after he simply stood there doing nothing. Well, he wasn’t doing “nothing” per se. His eyes were boring into the back of Harry’s head, willing him to turn around. And suddenly, a few seconds later, to Draco’s surprise he found Harry staring back at him. Harry leaned over to whisper something to Hermione, and then rose from the table and approached Draco slowly.

Draco smirked as Harry approached and watched the Gryffindor’s face intently. For a second there was a glimmer of hope in Harry’s open green eyes before the flicker passed and his expression clouded. That first moment intrigued Draco, and his instinctual habit of observing other people’s actions to use against them later kicked in.

Harry’s first reaction to me was not one of intense dislike or hatred. Interesting… very interesting…

“Malfoy, I don’t have anything to say to you,” Harry said coldly.

“Likewise, Potter. However, she wants me to apologize to you,” Draco said disdainfully as he nodded his head in McGonagall’s direction. Harry gave his professor a cursory glance and then turned his attention back to Draco.

“It’s meaningless.”

“Yes, it is,” Draco said quite matter-of-factly. “I’m not sure why I have to apologize for the fact that you are a git – and an oversensitive git at that.”

“Wow, Malfoy, you must have practiced that little speech all morning,” Harry spat back as scathingly as he could. Draco gave a thin smiled.

“Shove off, Potter. I’m sorry. There, I said it. You know what it means: absolutely nothing. But you Gryffindors always were ones to insist upon meaningless words and trite manners.”

“Yes, and Slytherins were always pros at twisting words and their meanings,” Harry retorted through clenched teeth. His eyes turned back to McGonagall and he gave her a slight nod, signaling that the “apology” had been given. He turned back to Draco sharply and gave him a curt nod. “Apology accepted.”

With that, he turned and strode away from Draco, back to his place next to Weasley and Granger.

Draco stood there for a moment stunned.

Harry just walked away and ignored me.

He felt a headache coming on.

He really fucking ignored me. Sure, there was some nice verbal tension there – a few good insults. But ultimately he ‘accepted’ my fake apology just so he could walk away from me looking like the winner.

Bastard.

I should have done that.

But it didn’t matter now anyway; he was through thinking about Harry for the day. He had to figure out what it was his father and Voldemort had in mind. And what exactly he was expected to do.

***

Much to Draco’s annoyance, it was quite difficult to think of anything but Harry. Not that they were… untoward thoughts. Not at all; he wanted – needed to avoid those at all cost. Unfortunately, any dwelling on his father’s latest letter or thinking about the affair in general always led him back to Harry. Because Harry was certainly top on Voldemort’s list. And, from the moment Draco had first been given his instructions with the amulet his job had always revolved around Harry. Draco had a pretty good idea that in the eyes of Voldemort and his father, he was the inside man for the job on spying on Harry. Not to mention sabotage and the order to mortally wound on the Quidditch pitch… the order that Voldemort had known Draco would not fulfill and had not wanted him to do in the first place.

What the fuck is going on here?

Listlessly, Draco dragged his eyes up in time to avoid walking right through a group of students crowded around a post. His eyes flicked over the parchment long enough to discern that it was a result of the botched prefects’ meeting. There was a short description of a very, very simplified murder mystery dinner and then a ballot for which time period the students would like as their theme. Draco scoffed irritably and moved on down the hallway. He didn’t really think it would be a good idea to be late for detention with Snape. How many bloody detentions had he been given? Oh yes, six. Lovely. Well, one down…

“Ah, Mr. Malfoy.”

It was Snape’s voice, crisp and clear from inside his office.

“Yes, Professor?” Draco inquired, making his way to the open door.

“How did it go with Potter?”

Draco was almost positive Snape was sneering.

“It went.”

“Oh?”

Draco sighed. Always Potter. Even Snape wouldn’t let up on it.

A disturbing thought crossed his mind just then – that there had been a reason for Snape’s pairing but… no… that was a bad train of thought.

“Insults, sarcasm and the like; the usual, actually. I think I said the words ‘I’m sorry’ and I think he accepted it as he was telling me to ‘stuff it’ and that was it really.”

Snape nodded and then motioned with a sweep of his hands to the potion cabinet.

“I’m sure you were looking forward to another night of cleaning out my cabinet, but I think I have something else for you to do.”

Draco’s eyebrows rose in interest. “Really?”

“Yes, your Veritaserum was quite impressive.”

“Thank you,” Draco said modestly.

“I’m sure you know you received full marks?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately Potter received them as well by default.”

“I understand. Actually, no, I don’t. Sir,” Draco started, “about you pairing him with

me-”

“Sometimes it pays to team up with your enemy,” Snape cut in quietly. “You can accomplish greater things.”

“Sir?” Draco was feeling his headache returning. He was recalling yet another scene from his unsettling dream…

“They didn’t count on us,” Harry said simply. “Together we are stronger.”

“Don’t be dense, Malfoy. Potter is a spoiled, arrogant Gryffindor, but his abilities cannot be denied. It took more than luck to escape from Voldemort in his fourth year, and he has talent when it comes to Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Draco cleared his voice.

“Well, I understand but-”

“These are dangerous times,” Snape continued darkly. “All past and sometimes petty grievances aside, you are going to have to make a choice. Where will you stand and with who? If I can put childish grudges aside, then you can as well.”

Draco bowed his head for a moment and closed his eyes. A choice. Well, that was easier said then done.

“My father-”

“It doesn’t matter. What he tells you, what I tell you, what Dumbledore tells you – none of that matters. It is your choice, you have to make it.” Snape regarded his prize pupil with an unreadable expression. “I think you know the stakes better then most. Perhaps only Potter could see the gravity of your situation as well.”

Draco flinched. The mention of Harry’s name in this context reminded him of Harry on the train, when he had been worried about Draco. Worried about what Lucius would do with him. And then later worried when he wouldn’t tell Dumbledore. Ironically, it seems Harry’s worries were easily forgotten with a few kisses. 

Ah! Stop it! Stop it!

But Malfoy family pride wouldn’t let him give in so easily. He tried to shrug casually.

“I’ll know when the time comes,” he said cryptically. Snape almost seemed to chuckle.

“No need to dissemble with me, Malfoy. I know of your family loyalties,” he said leaning towards Draco with his greasy hair falling forward in his face. “But I also know you are a highly intelligent and independent individual. I would hate to be your enemy someday.”

Draco shuddered and then nodded imperceptibly. He wished for a second that he could stop thinking about all of this. It was too much for one day!

“Anyway,” Snape continued in a more familiar tone. “Why don’t you take a seat over there at the table and help me with some potions.”

Finally.

“Yes, sir!” Draco said and made his way to the table. He was actually looking forward to the rest of this detention.

***

“I cannot believe you bloody volunteered for this,” Ron moaned, grabbing a handful of parchment slips from the box.

“It’s not that bad, Ron,” Hermione replied huffily. “Noel Summers gave me a charm which basically has the slips separate themselves.”

“Erm, I think this is everything,” Seamus’ voice said from the other side of the room where he was depositing the two empty ballot boxes. “I hope this charm thing is bleedin’ quick, Hermione. I love to keep you company and all, but,” he rolled his eyes with Ron, “this is horrible.”

“Oh, just give me a minute, you two. Honestly!” she huffed, double-checking the charm Summers had written down for her. She pulled out her wand and muttered the words carefully. All three of them watched as the papers suddenly swirled around on the floor and a select few began randomly flying up and falling back down into piles. “There, it’s working,” Hermione said with smug satisfaction.

“Yeah, this is delightful,” Seamus mused with mock enthusiasm.

“Biggest thrill of my life,” Ron agreed. Hermione scowled at them both and then turned her attentions back to the neat piles on the floor now surrounding them. Quickly she performed another charm – this time a simple counting spell - and approached the winner.

“Well, if either of you is interested, the theme of our Halloween Dance is… the period of the Hogwarts’ Ghosts.”

Ron groaned and Seamus laughed.

“Well, that’ll be a hoot,” he smiled.

“Oh, come on, I think it’ll be fun,” Hermione said. She had always wanted to learn a bit more about the ghosts and this would be the perfect opportunity.

“Whatever you say,” Ron countered and began heading towards the door. “I think we should go find Harry now.”

“Okay,” Hermione said with a sly smile. “We can drop these off to Summers of the way.”

Ron walked out first and then came Hermione followed. Then Seamus came to walk beside her. He rested his hand gently on her arm for a moment and leaned in casually.

“So, Hermione,” he flashed her a winning smile, “would you like to accompany me to this little ghost dance?”

Hermione giggled and then, after forcing herself to shut up, she nodded quickly. “Sure, Seamus. I’d love to. I fear for my nerves on Halloween with you around, but I’d love to go.”

Seamus gave a wicked grin.

“So then, does this qualify as our first night out?” He winked at her. Hermione gave a thoughtful pause.

“Yes,” she said bemusedly. “I guess this does.”

A few feet in front Ron clenched his fists and cursed himself. He’d lost his chance again.

***

Draco entered his room rather late after completing his detention with Snape. Once again he gave silent thanks that he had been allowed to serve his detentions with Snape instead of McGonagall – or anyone else, for that matter. Snape let him leave early, or used the time for extra potion lessons, which Draco didn’t mind. He was the best potions student because he was good at it, and he was good at it because he enjoyed it. The chemistry of the various ingredients made sense to him.

But then there was some chemistry he just didn’t understand.

Harry.

What was going on with him and Harry?

The usual: animosity.

No, there is something different. Something has changed.

Of course it has, there was the cooperation down the Malfoy dungeons. There was casual banter, there was a hint of trust, there was…sexual tension.

And then came the snogging.

Manipulation.

Whatever.

And then the denial. Oh, denial came easy to Malfoys, Draco had to admit. It was easier to hate Harry because that was in line with everything he had been taught since birth.

Hormones, that was all the two kisses had been. Hormones and stupidity. And now he had to forget all that and decide what he was going to do about his father and his supposed destiny.

His destiny.

Draco scoffed aloud. He was skeptical when it came to destiny and fate, but in the Malfoy family library he had read tales of stranger things. And his dream, what did that mean? Was it some premonition of what would happen, or was it merely the creation of his overactive imagination and stress?

Did it even matter now, because either way he had to continue to follow the instructions of his father? Whether it would be to gather information or because he really… believed…

No, believed wasn’t the right word.

Draco approached his bed and gave a tired sigh as he plopped down. What had it been before he had touched the Portkey with Harry?

Blind obedience.

Perhaps. But only because he agreed, right?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Perhaps because he knew it was the way to power.

Ah, that was his destiny then.

He rolled over on the bed and was startled to feel something roll beneath him. He sat up and felt for the object, pulling out a small wrapped package. He had a feeling of what it was before he untied the string but he still held his breath as he did so. Inside the outer wrappings was the Amulet of Alexandria, wrapped lightly in tissue paper. A small card fluttered out with it.

The breath caught in Draco’s throat as his fingers lightly touched the chain of the necklace, feeling the familiar spark of magic that radiated from it. It sent a shudder down his spine and he let it slide out of his palm onto the duvet.

He picked up the card and read it quickly.

I suggest you put this back on immediately. Its powers have been muted; it will augment your physical abilities only. Practice your Quidditch skills as well as your fencing techniques. Use it as a training tool, to excel where you have failed or lacked before. It will no longer interfere with your memory or learning skills; for that you are on your own.

He smiled grimly as the card went up in flames and the ashes scattered across his bed sheet. The necklace was back, the necklace that had started it all. His enthusiasm for being involved finally, a sign from his father that he was important in the scheme of things and worthy to do the tasks he was asked to do. The necklace that let him out-smart Hermione and catch the Snitch before Harry. The necklace that had kept him up late that one night when he had run into Harry, and the Gryffindor had first become suspicious.

The necklace he had grown to hate and resent because it was manipulating and using him. And Draco liked using people and manipulating them, but he didn’t appreciate the same thing being done to himself. It was the necklace he had been unable to take off, but Potter could.

And now it was his again.

He twirled and interlaced the chain with his slender, pale fingers and stared into the emerald green of the charmed stone. Did he have to do it again? What was so important about him working on his fencing skills? That was a gentlemen’s sport, an activity that he did with his father occasionally. What did it have to do with the plans of his father?  

Then again, what did it matter? What could a little extra strength and talent hurt? The amulet in itself was not inherently evil.

Not that power and ambition were by any means evil. The means to achieve those ends, however, could take some questionable turns.

He wondered briefly why Potter had been able to take it off and he hadn’t. But it didn’t really make a difference. Maybe everyone but him could, it wouldn’t change the fact that he had very little choice in the matter. Perhaps that was the point.

Taking a deep breath he undid the clasp and placed it over his neck. He then closed the clasp and felt a tiny shock as though the chain was now locked around his neck. He suddenly didn’t feel so tired.

In fact, lying back on his bed reluctantly, he felt like he could run a few laps around the grounds.

But he didn’t. There would be plenty of time for exercising later.

He smiled to himself as he felt the charm’s light weight on his chest. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be after all. Maybe he could go through with it.