Potter vs Malfoy: War's End

Hayden Malfoy glared down at the seventh year standing before him.

Rather than answer, Tristan Potter made a dramatic show of pushing her round-framed, silver glasses high up onto her head, and squinted her intense eyes at him, as though studying him closely.

Hayden ground his teeth as several of the Slytherin girls standing around behind her sniggered into their hands.

After a long moment, Tristy lowered her glasses back onto her small nose and ran a hand through her long, untidy black hair, in an unconscious effort to neaten it.

"You really want me answer that?" she asked at last, one dark brow rising mockingly.

Hayden felt his upper lip curl despite his best efforts to remain detached. Tristy had always known just what to say to get under his usually impenetrable skin - even when they were little kids it had been an unconscious knack of hers. It was no wonder that he had eventually learnt to loathe her.

He stared into her bright green eyes and felt his hands fist at his sides as he fought the urge to wrap them around her scrawny neck. Her next comment certainly did nothing to improve his mood.

"Oh, is ickle Malfoy having a hard time using his tongue? Seems to be your only halfway decent weapon, doesn't it?" she taunted, eyeing his thin figure with condescension.

"Too bad you'll never know, Potter," he threw back, smirking and running the offending appendage across his teeth. This particular expression was known by girls throughout Hogwarts to cause swooning fits at a distance of twenty paces.

And, sure enough, every one of Tristy's friends began to drool. The raven-haired young woman was, in fact, the only girl within Hogwarts who would willingly rip his tongue out, rather than invitingly open her mouth.

As if to remind him of this, she rolled her eyes, grabbed a fistful of his robes, and frog-marched him out of earshot of her leering housemates.

"That's right, Tris - there's a broom cupboard at the other end of the hall - we've got at least ten minutes before double Potions," Amber Higgs called after them, with a leer. The other girls tittered.

"Tristy likes 'em best when they put up a bit of a fight, Malfoy," Hilary Baddock added with a suggestive hitch of her penciled-on eyebrow.

Hayden saw Tristy's jaw tense. Other than that she gave no sign that she heard or cared what her housemates were saying. Leaning toward him so that she was speaking into his ear, she whispered, "Just meet me outside Snape's classroom before Potions, Malfoy - it's really important - to me, anyway. Look, just be there, right?" She whirled around and stalked away with her entourage of friends.

Hayden could only gaze after her suspiciously as she disappeared, her long black hair drifting like a soft cloud behind her. What was she playing at?

A large, heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder, but he continued to watch after Tristy, his frown deepening.

"I hate to say it, mate - but you've got it so bad for that girl," a deep, heavily accented voice said from behind him in obvious amusement.

Hayden's vaguely violent expression swiftly changed to one of mild annoyance. "Are you mental, Ian? At the risk of sounding like I think you're daft or something, I can't bloody stand her," he drawled in his best approximation of his father's cold, snobby tone that had no discernable effect on his friend.

Dorian Weasley stepped around in front of his best friend to look down at him from his superior height. He stared down his long, freckled nose at Hayden and grinned, crossing his arms and visibly flexing them.

Hayden narrowed his icy gray eyes as he was forced to tilt his head back slightly to look up at Dorian.

In their sixth year at Hogwarts, they'd both been lanky and of equal height. Somehow during the summer before their seventh year, Dorian had managed to shoot up a full eight centimeters and, with little or no effort, developed several additional pounds of lean, solid muscle.

The tall redhead knew it annoyed his friend no end to have to look up at him - Malfoys did not look up to anyone - and he took great pleasure in making this one do so.

"Come on, Hayden - you know you want to shag her - I still say you take advantage of the fact that your dad and Uncle Harry are mates and make the beast with two backs next time you spend a holiday at their manor." Dorian grinned even wider, his blue eyes twinkling, deep dimples appearing in his freckled cheeks. He was, of course, another of Hogwarts' resident swoon-inducers. "Reckon you just need to relieve the tension and everything'll be spiffing."

Hayden felt his eyebrows shoot up in disgust, though suddenly the idea didn't seem quite so abhorrent - he shook his head vehemently. "No chance. The girl's a bleeding nuisance. Look at her! That ratty hair - does she ever brush it? Looks like a sodding puffskein gone wrong! And those specs of hers - can she get any dorkier?"

But Dorian was only shaking his shaggy head. "Give over. Can't you just see the two of you together? That'd be a lark - a Slytherin and a Gryffindor hooking up. You two could be, like, single-handedly responsible for improving inter-house relations!"

"My parents were a Gryff and a Slytherin, in case you've forgotten. So were hers. House rivalry hasn't been affected by the 'power of love', has it?"

Dorian grinned again. "Real shame, too. Amber Higgs, man. What an eyeful!"

"Amber Higgs? You disgust me, you know that?" Hayden said, still mildly annoyed. Dorian was his best friend and he really liked the guy, but sometimes his libido was too much, even for Hayden. Amber Higgs - honestly! "Anyway, I thought we were discussing Potter."

"Right - sorry to tear you away from your favorite subject," his friend chortled. Ignoring Hayden's deepening scowl, he went on. "Like I was saying, Tristy Potter's got every bloke in this school drooling in his pudding, even with those specs. She's definitely shag-able. Hell, I even broke down and gave her my best shot over the summer when she and Uncle Harry came to the house." His eyes glazed in memory, even as his best friend's widened in horror. "Caught her on the stairs and snogged her like crazy. You know she actually blushed? I bet you anything she's still a virgin."

"Yeah - pure as the driven snow," Hayden muttered sarcastically. "Especially with all those pro Quidditch players around the manor when her daddy's not home. Go on, mate - you've seen the leather she hangs around in."

But Dorian wasn't listening. His eyes were still far away, and he was looking rather rueful. "Never in my life have I had a girl tell me my kiss felt 'brotherly.'"

Hayden made a sound of revulsion. "Well, we have known her practically since birth, you ill-mannered clod. What did you think she was going to say? We're all practically siblings! You can't just walk up and plant one on her. Even the likes of Tristy Potter take exception to that."

"Why?" Dorian was grinning again, cheekily. "If I were her, I'd be thrilled to be snogged by me."

They both paused a minute, trying to figure out what he'd just said.

"I think you've been spending more time than is good for you with our great-godfather," Hayden commented dryly a moment later.

"Hey, Uncle Sirius knows what he's about!"

"He knows, all right. How many women do you see staying with Uncle Sirius, eh?"

Dorian looked confused. "Since when do we want 'em to stay?"

Hayden shook his head again, reached up to smooth his hair back, and dusted off the gleaming gold prefect's badge pinned to his chest above the Gryffindor patch on his expensive black robes. "Come on - we're going to be late for double Potions."

"Perish the thought," Dorian mumbled roughly under his breath as he reluctantly fell into step beside his friend.

()

Hayden waved Dorian on as they approached the Potions classroom in the dungeons. Tristy was there, waiting outside the door - presumably for him - her foot tapping and her arms crossed in an attitude that suggested he was the worst sort of time-waster.

Schooling his features into a cool, careless expression, Hayden stepped nearer to Tristy, noting the lines of strain in her pale features. Maybe she'd been telling the truth in that stupid note she had owled him yesterday . . . he'd never really known her to lie outright, anyway.

He examined her full pink lips and wide, troubled green eyes and was forced to admit that Dorian was right. She was shag-able in the extreme - he bit the inside of his cheek hard to clear his head of the disturbing thought. The odds of him willingly laying hands on her in a sexual manner were about as good as a snowball's chance in hell.

Not that he wanted to in the first place.

"What's so sodding important, Potter?"

()

Unable to stand the suspense, and Snape being handily tardy to class that day, Dorian rose from his seat amongst his fellow Gryffindors and stuck his head out of the door to take a peek at Hayden's progress with Tristy.

To his disappointment, they were neither conversing decently, nor snogging - they were arguing.

As usual.

The eldest Weasley scowled in frustration at their stubborn, mutual refusal to get together. He didn't know why they wouldn't just get a move on. Well - actually he did, but it was so petty, so stupid that he really couldn't count it.

"Dad? Hey, Dad's home!"

Hayden and Dorian had been jumping on Hayden's monstrous new bed, while Tristy lay sprawled across the floor with her new broomstick and an "I Can Read" book entitled, The Young Quidditch Star: A Guide to Not Doing Anything a Stupid Little Kid Might Normally Do. Uncle Harry had been reluctant to get it, as it seemed a bit tricky, but Tristy's nose had been buried in it since they'd left Quality Quidditch Supplies and Dorian assumed this meant that she could read it.

However, at Hayden's exclamation, she jumped to her feet.

"Uncle Draco!" she giggled and clapped her little hands, as she was prone to do whenever her handsome uncle was about.

"Don't do that," Hayden rolled his eyes, jumped into the air, and landed on the floor beside her. "That's my dad, Tris!"

"So? I think he's lovely!" she sighed.

"Can we go?" Dorian demanded, frowning impatiently at them. Tristy and Hayden both grinned sheepishly at him, and each of the boys grabbed one of Tristy's hands. For some reason, the three friends (or cousins, as they insisted, despite the fact that Tristy wasn't a blood relative) always moved around holding hands, which made transportation a bit tricky at times. But they wouldn't have it any other way.

They dashed down the long corridors of the Malfoys' manor, down a winding staircase, and into the entrance hall, where Draco was just kissing his wife hello.

"Disgusting! Make it stop!" Hayden wailed, burying his face in Dorian's sleeve. But Tristy was grinning. Only five, and already the concept of knights in shining armor made her giggle.

"Hi, Uncle Draco," she said happily, dashing over and flinging her short arms around his middle (Aunt Ginny only just moving away in time to avoid being sandwiched).

"Sweetheart," he returned simply, lifting the tiny girl into his arms.

"Hey, no fair!" Hayden cried, hurrying over and giving Tristy's dangling foot a solid yank. "He's my dad!"

"Steady on, mate," his father chided mildly, setting Tristy back down and lifting a pale brow at his indignant heir.

Tristy's big green eyes were filling with tears behind her glasses.

"That was mean," she sniffled, glaring angrily at him.

"It was mean to try and steal my dad," Hayden retorted. Dorian remembered thinking, even at the time, how horribly silly the whole discussion was.

"I wasn't trying to steal him!" Tristy wailed, stomping her foot. All at once, she flung herself at Hayden and threw her arms around his neck. "I'm sorry, Den. Didn't mean to do anything wrong."

Hayden returned the hug readily, kissing her cheek in a cute-little-friends type of way.

" 's okay," he said stoutly, his expression sober. "I forgive you." Dorian noticed Aunt Gin rolling her eyes.

It had always amused Dorian that Hayden would forgive Tristy anything under the sun if she asked him to.

Except the one time when it made all the difference.

Though a small smile lingered over his lips at the reverie, Dorian felt a familiar, niggling frustration at his friends. Hayden's stubborn insistence that nothing was ever his fault as indulged by Tristy's always being the one to apologize was what had led to the last straw.

When it had come time for the three of them to begin at Hogwarts, they had gone about in an ecstasy of impatient excitement. They had been anticipating going since they were very young - since Uncle Bill's son had graduated, in fact, and did all their shopping and planning together. They had been inseparable the entire summer, and Uncle Harry had joked that they'd better just spend the summer together, lest they use up all the parchment in England.

It was at Uncle Harry's mansion that they had vowed to be in Gryffindor together.

"We have to swear," Hayden said, glaring threateningly at the other two.

"But it's not our choice, Den," Tristy pointed out. "Suppose that the Sorting Hat put you in Slytherin, 'cause your dad was there?"

"What if it put you there?" Hayden retorted heatedly. "Your mum was -" Dorian kicked him very hard in the shin to keep him from blundering on about Tristy's mother and making her upset. Hayden looked sheepish, then finished lamely with, "Well, you're just as likely to end up there as I am."

"I suppose," she admitted, probably to avoid an argument. "Fine, let's promise."

They shook on it and had all felt better for sealing their own fates.

All through the train ride they had discussed Quidditch, houses, and Uncle Draco's friend Professor Snape (whom Tristy said her father often called a "slimy git").

Dorian remembered how nervous they'd all been upon entering the Great Hall. Hayden was called up first.

"Malfoy, Hayden," Professor McGonagall read from her parchment. Dorian patted him reassuringly on the back and Tristy hugged his arm.

"Go get 'em, Den," she whispered.

And he had, though it had been a near miss. He sat up there a whole minute before the hat finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

When McGonagall called, "Potter, Tristan," Tristy's entire form frozen up.

"Go, Tris!" Dorian actually had to shove her toward the stool. She dragged her feet getting there, though no one in the watching crowd except Hayden and Dorian noticed, as they were too busy muttering about Harry Potter's daughter.

The real shocker, Dorian realized months later, was that the hat had barely been on her head ten seconds before it hollered, "SLYTHERIN!"

The entire hall went deadly quiet. Tristan's face was rigid, her eyes unfocused. Then it collapsed. She didn't burst into tears or beg to be switched, but her expression was so sad, so disappointed that Dorian wanted to run forward and hug her.

He, of course, was also sorted into Gryffindor (he was a Weasley through and through, after all).

It wasn't until the next day that they saw Tristy again. Hayden had been unnaturally quiet about the whole thing and that worried Dorian. Usually his friend would have been overly vocal about his opinion on the matter.

Dorian was just digging his fork into his pancakes when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Ian." Tristy's voice was timid, and still held a painful sadness. Her eyes were red, and he thought he could see the trails of tears that couldn't be more than an hour old.

"Hi, Tris." He grinned reassuringly up at her. Hayden, to both their surprise, pretended not to hear the exchange.

"Hi, Den," Tristy tried. No response. "Er - could I speak to both of you - outside, maybe?"

Dorian nodded firmly and pulled Hayden with him.

Out in the deserted Entrance Hall, Tristy turned to both of them.

"Are you okay?" Dorian asked. Tristy broke down instantly.

"Of course not!" she cried, fresh tears in her eyes. "The stupid hat was wrong!"

"What did it say to you?" Dorian asked.

"It told me I was perfect for Gryffindor," she sobbed, tears dribbling down her front.

"So why -?"

"'Cause it said things would be too easy for me there," she sniffled miserably. "Said I'd be good for Slytherin, like my - like other people in my family." She then noticed Hayden's dead expression.

"Please say something, Den," she begged.

"You lied," he said stonily.

"What?"

"You promised!" he snapped, icy expression replaced by angry scowl. "You promised you'd be in Gryffindor with us!"

"It's not my fault!" she retorted, getting angry. "What was I supposed to do? I begged the hat to reconsider. I told it it had made a mistake - it wouldn't take it back! I swear!"

"You swore you'd be in Gryffindor with us, too - but then, Slytherins are usually lying, cheating scum." Hayden's harsh words surprised Dorian. Usually, he didn't resort to name-calling. This probably meant he was waiting for her to go down on bended knee and beg for forgiveness. He had another thing coming.

Tristy's small hand whipped out of nowhere, cracking against his pale face with a sound like a shot.

"That was the most horrible thing I've ever heard, you selfish beast!" she hollered, cheeks flushed and eyes still streaming. "How do you think I feel? A Potter in stinking Slytherin! You have no idea the teasing and stuff that I had to put up with yesterday from my own housemates. I could have peeled Amber Higgs' sneer off with my fingernails! I have no friends in my own house, or apparently anywhere else!" And she turned and stalked away, head held high.

"She hit me!" Hayden said in wonder.

"You deserved it," Dorian stated flatly. "That lying, cheating scum bit was a low blow."

Dorian snorted in disgust at his friend's immaturity. He, Dorian, had gone after Tristy and assured her that he was still her friend and they could still hang out, but things changed as they got older. He and Tristy were still friends, but his admittedly foolish action the previous summer coupled with the distance of their houses made it tenuous, at best.

And, however Dorian looked at it, it really was Hayden's fault. Speaking of . . .

He was about to shout some rude advice to his friend when he saw Tristy dig something small, golden, and sparkling on a chain from beneath her robes.

Frowning, Dorian watched, feeling a dark sense of foreboding prickle the hairs on the back of his neck as his reveries were pushed quickly from his mind.

Hayden seemed surprised, and then hesitant. Finally, he gave a short nod, and Tristy looped the long gold chain around his neck as well. The action brought the two closer together, and Dorian watched them tense at each other's nearness, before Tristy dropped her eyes, and began doing something with the object on the chain. Dorian strained to see, but he was too far away to be able to tell -

Suddenly, the two figures, shadowed in the dim light of the dungeon corridor, vanished.

Taken aback, and feeling the blood drain from his face, Dorian ran out into the hall, panicked, and skidded to a stop right where his two closest friends had been standing.

But they were gone without a trace . . .

()

TBC