Chapter Text
There was something about Harry Potter that infuriated Draco Malfoy.
Harry Bloody Potter, savior of the wizarding world. Of course Draco knew the story of Potter and Neville Longbottom facing the Dark Lord at only 11 years old, a battle which no one witnessed and only Potter survived. He knew that Potter, sole heir to the Sleakeasy's fortune, was incredibly generous with his galleons. He'd also played Potter enough on the quidditch field to begrudgingly admit that Potter was a gifted seeker. Not to mention that Potter was a defense against the dark arts prodigy, he'd heard his mother scoff enough to recognize that it was a real talent, the type of talent that no half-blood should have. (Though, if he were being honest, which Draco rarely did, he would admit that the surprise should have been that a 16 year old was as advanced as Potter was. Everyone knew that Lily Potter was extremely powerful, and Hermione Granger was well documented as one of the top students in Hogwarts- clearly the obsession with blood purity was unfounded. It wasn't their blood that made them powerful, but their culture, their knowledge.)
He knew these things and yet he did not understand. How did everyone miss it? That dark look in Potter's eyes? They were all too happy to gloss over his insistence that the Dark Lord had returned, acting as if the wild claims were endearing and not signs of a manic break. Severus Snape, his head of house and godfather, had once heard Draco's ramblings and concerns about Potter. His response? "With those maniacs raising him, and 11 years hiding from the Dark Lord, it is no wonder Potter is touched in the head."
It was more than that. Hadn't Draco also grown up with the Dark Lord? Hiding from him within his own home, terrified of a man that no one seemed to realize was obviously a sociopath? Yet he was not raving, demanding that everyone accept that the Dark Lord was sure to return. Potter was right, obviously, anyone who thought otherwise was kidding themselves, but there was no reason for Potter to act like he did. To have a shadow in his eyes as if, somehow, there was something that he and only he knew. Absolutely no reason to be such a maniac whenever the topic came up. He was years ahead in DADA, could complete a corporeal patronus, and rumor had it that he was an animagus . An animagus , at 16. Yet he could not maintain that obvious intellect when it came to the Dark Lord. That wasn't normal!
To top it all off, Draco had been sent to Hogwarts that year with a mission. Befriend Potter, get him over to the Malfoy Manor that summer, or else.
Or else what? The fear was there, obviously, but Draco couldn't help that his biggest frustration with the task was the vagueness of it. No why provided, no complete threat, no explanation. How was he expected to act without all of the information on the table? Rushing in blindly was the act of a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin, and frankly he had a hard time believing that there was any justifiable reason to be anywhere near Potter. As far as Draco could tell he was best avoiding the other teen as much as possible.
Mayhem followed Potter. First, the Dark Lord attacked him, Longbottom, and their friends Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley in their first year. Then there was their third year, when Potter had somehow managed to run into Peter Pettigrew of all people. Prodigy or not, Potter and his friends had been lucky to escape alive. It was common knowledge that Pettigrew held a grudge against the Potters, for daring to survive somehow after he betrayed them. Just last year, when everyone else was struggling with their OWLs, Potter had managed to get kidnapped while participating in the Triwizard Tournament (which was a mess in and of itself, since the then fifteen year old was not old enough to participate), dragging along poor Ginerva Weasley, and afterwards claimed that the Death Eaters were 'rising up' again. Girl Weasley hadn't had much to say on the matter, she teared up whenever anyone mentioned it.
What could Draco, or his family for that matter, truly hope to gain from Potter? If the Dark Lord was returning, and that was an inevitable fact, then his best bet was to lay low, stay off of the Dark Lord's radar, and wait for Dumbledore and his merry army of idiots to defeat him for good.
"Have you not made any progress towards befriending the Potter boy?" His father asked, tense, at the Christmas dinner table. "It has been months and I have heard nothing."
"What do we stand to gain from me befriending Potter, of all people?" Draco asked, eating still. "I'm sorry, father, but we are best off staying far away from him and his ilk."
"You will befriend young Potter," Lucius demanded. The cold, abrasive tone surprised Draco, who hadn't thought the request was important. "Or your loyalty to our cause will be questioned."
Draco would have laughed, were he not a Slytherin in a Slytherin household. "Our cause? Father, I highly doubt that befriending Potter will acquire any more peacocks-"
"-Has your time at Hogwarts damaged you in some way? Or is it a failure of myself, as your father, that you are so obtuse?" Lucius snapped. "Do you need me to spell it out for you? Your loyalties to our cause have been questioned, and aligning yourself to young Potter is the only way for you to display your true loyalty."
Draco, despite his father's claim, was not obtuse. He knew his father wasn't suggesting that he sincerely befriend Potter, but instead that he use him as a sacrificial lamb to prove his loyalty to the Dark Lord. He knew better than to ask, to confirm exactly what his father meant. Even with all of the implications, the utterly terrifying implications, Draco knew that in that instant things had changed. Lucius was no longer just his father, but a liability. A man who had placed his bets on the wrong side and, in that, risked their family and their name.
Dinner, and indeed the remainder of Draco's Christmas holiday, concluded quietly with little conversation. His mother attempted to talk to him, though she knew he was somewhat taken aback; he doubted she understood exactly what was going through his mind. Good. Treasonous thoughts should be private.
And treasonous thoughts were had. Draco thought of little else than his plans to almost immediately ensure the safety of himself and his mother. He would, of course, prefer to include his father but he knew better than to save someone who would not want to be saved. He might have considered that his father was simply choosing what he deemed to be the best option, willing to consider another, if it were not for the conversation they had almost immediately prior to Draco returning to Hogwarts.
"Draco, there is a time for subtlety and tact," His father said, with the obvious conclusion that now was not that time. "Your ambivalence towards our cause has been noted, and you cannot lie to the Dark Lord. He is a master legilimens. However, if you can provide Potter for him and prove you have changed your mind then you will have a chance among his ranks."
The thought of serving the Dark Lord, of pledging himself to him, turned Draco's stomach but he could not let that show. Not if he was going to escape, and certainly not if he was going to get his mother out as well. He let his father believe he was mulling things over, something the other Slytherin would appreciate as long as Draco came to a conclusion he liked.
The problem, as Draco continued to think over the next few weeks, was that Draco would not be 17 until early June, just before his 6th Hogwarts school year ended. He would not have the capacity to make a safe house without the ministry immediately coming to take his wand prior to leaving school. It meant that any charms he attempted for security would have never been practiced outside of Hogwarts. Which meant that he couldn't use the fideous charm, couldn't really even try, because a charm like that was something that adult witches and wizards struggled with. It wasn't something you succeeded with in your first attempt.
He could ask his mother for assistance, it was well known that Narcissa Malfoy nee Black was an accomplished witch, but she was a wild card of sorts so he wouldn't be placing his bets on her. His extended family consisted only of Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black and he knew better than to hope she might help anyone but herself and the Dark Lord. Your average first year and actual rocks knew this- Bellatrix's maniacal loyalty was that well known.
Technically, Sirius Black was his cousin. Technically . Draco had only ever met the black sheep of the Black family in passing, and knew instinctively that Black would never trust a Slytherin. Draco could never trust him regardless, knowing that his priority was not his own safety but the ‘cause’. The bloody cause that Draco's father was so insistent he blatantly oppose.
Snape, as his godfather, was of course a potential choice however Draco could never be sure of the man's loyalties. Which was the mark of a good spy. Bellatrix hated the man, but she vehemently insisted that the Dark Lord would not be fooled. Draco supposed, of course, that the Dark Lord was fiercely powerful and knew, for a fact, that no one man could destroy him. Snape wasn't strong enough. However, strong enough to oppose him..? There was a reason that Dumbledore trusted him, and a reason that the Dark Lord feared Dumbledore. It wasn't because Dumbledore was a fool, no. So obviously Snape's famous ocumously skills weren't a lie.
Draco had been working on his own ocumously skills, knowing the power of his secrets and the danger of being found out. His father had loaned (though Draco fully intended to not return them to the Malfoy library until it was his) him a few books on the mind arts, assuming that Draco intended to protect his mind from the Potter family and the not-so-secret Order of the Phoenix.
Theo nudged him moments before the professor asked him a question, saving him from looking surprised and losing Slytherin points for not paying attention.
Now that was an idea. He could reach out to his friends. Not Crabbe and Goyle, he couldn't consider them friends. They were better described as lackeys that his father really wanted him to have. He supposed, in another life, he may have appreciated being followed around by the two brutes, using them to intimidate others, but he had grown up watching the Dark Lord be followed around by mindless myrmidons who could never hope to overpower him. He knew it wasn't a sign of power, it represented the mindless followers as imbeciles more than anything else.
So not Crabbe and Goyle, but Theo, Blaise, Daphne... maybe even Pansy. He was the youngest among his friend group and he knew that at least some of them would be of the same mind as him once they realized that war was inevitable. If they weren't... Well, he would have to be sure not to reveal anything to them until the time was right.
Simply put, it was impossible to think that his dorm room was an incredible space where everyone was naive and safe. His father would not be the only parent trying to save their children or, more accurately, align them to what they viewed as the right side. Assuming that his house mates, or even his friends, wouldn't turn him over the second it benefited them was ignorance at its worst. So as he mused and studied, Draco was sure to keep up a front. He interacted with Potter just enough that he could spin a tale for his father that no one would refute. Nothing obvious- he'd asked the other teen about homework once or twice, walked close enough to him that some might think they were walking together from time to time. He doubted that Potter noticed, as a Gryffindor through and through, Potter was unnaturally obtuse.
Draco doubted it so much that he hadn't even noticed something was awry before Potter grabbed his arm, yanked him into a woman's toilet, and demanded answers.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Potter growled, wand pointed at Draco with such practiced calm that Draco's fight or flight began to react.
"I've no idea what you're talking about Potter, now if you haven't noticed this is a ladies loo and-" But Draco's dismissal didn't seem to work and Potter yanked him back in before he got a chance to leave. "Bloody hell, Potter!"
"You've been cagey since Christmas hols," Potter said. His eyes were cold and calculating and in that moment Draco realized what a mistake he had made in underestimating the defense prodigy. Potter, just like him, had grown up smack in the middle of the war. Except Potter had grown up on what everyone thought would be the losing side. He had grown up as the inexplicable target of the most dangerous man in the wizarding world. That sort of paranoia couldn't be taught , it was a survival instinct. "And don't think I haven't noticed you following me around the halls, sneaking to the library late at night. What are you planning?"
How very Gryffindor- to finally notice something and immediately demand answers.
"And now Sirius is making me act as an owl?" Potter demanded, surprising Draco. Maybe Potter wasn't as observant as it seemed, maybe he had been tipped off. That, of course, led to the question of what did Black know, and how?
"He is my cousin, you know," Draco said casually. "It is possible he just wishes to speak to me."
Harry laughed, though the laugh certainly wasn't free or happy. "Then he can send you an owl, I'm too busy for this."
Draco couldn't help but agree, he too was too busy to be yanked into the woman's loo by an angry teenager. "Well?"
"Well what?" Potter demanded right back.
"I presume there is a letter somewhere on your person for me." Draco drawled, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
"Oh, no," Potter said. "Sirius asked me to invite you to Grimmauld Place for Easter hols."
"What?" Draco couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. Why would Black want him to visit his home? It was one step closer to Potter, a large step, something that Draco had been staunchly avoiding.
"You heard me," Potter complained. "He also said that Cissy says hello, what does that mean anyway?"
Cissy was his mother's childhood nickname, but Draco wasn't about to tell that to Potter. "None of your business. Now, are you done here? I will need to owl my father."
Potter looked exceptionally surprised, enough that Draco had to fight the urge to tell him to stop gaping his mouth. "You're actually going to do it?"
"Yes," Draco answered. He tried to move around Potter but the other teen seemed insistent that he stay.
"And your father is going to say yes?" Potter asked.
In that moment, Draco wished he knew Potter better. He was confident that Potter wouldn't intentionally turn him over to the Dark Lord, but he didn't know for sure if the Gryffindor could keep a secret. The only potential secret that Draco knew Potter had was that he was an animagus and everyone had heard that rumor. So as far as he knew, Potter couldn't keep a secret to save his life.
"Yes," Draco said simply. "And before you ask why, I hardly see how that is any of your business. Now, I have class to attend so if you don't mind..."
"Your mum is going to kill you," Ron pointed out as Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room after another late detention with Umbridge. "Why do you keep mouthing off to Umbridge?"
"Someone ought to," Hermione said, surprising no one. The muggleborn witch had grown up in hiding in a world that thought she was lower than mud, leaving her with a strict sense of justice, yes, but also a stubborn refusal to blend into the sidelines. She was lucky to be alive, as the only muggleborn of their generation that the Order had managed to save when the Death Eaters got ahold of the Hogwarts muggleborn registry. "And it keeps that wretched toad's attention off of the DA."
Harry couldn't argue with that, but his reasoning for arguing with Umbridge was much more straightforward than that. In fact, he honestly wasn't sure he could call it reasoning so much as instinct. Umbridge was wrong and if people didn't know how to protect themselves they were going to die. Allowing someone like her to spread hate without protest is what led to people like Voldemort having the support they needed to really hurt people.
"Mum doesn't like Umbridge," Harry pointed out. He couldn't focus on that conversation for long, however, and found himself quickly placing a silencing charm around them before telling them about Sirius' request and Malfoy's response.
"If that git thinks I am sharing mum's Easter ham-"
"-Ronald, I hardly think this is a conspiracy to steal Mrs. Weasley's ham, no matter how good."
"I don't know," Harry mused with a grin. "Her ham is delicious."
Hermione laughed but it didn't stop her from rolling her eyes, "Honestly, you two. If Sirius is reaching out to Malfoy it is to help him."
Harry and Ron both shared a moment of feeling incredibly dense.
"I bet Narcissa asked him to," Hermione continued. "Everyone knows she detested Voldemort, even if she wouldn't say a thing against her husband."
"Hermione, how do you know all of the pureblood gossip?" Ron asked, "I don't even know and I'm the only one who is actually a pureblood."
Hermione harrumphed and rolled her eyes, not providing any answer. Ron had been asking since their 4th year, but Harry had never bothered. If Hermione didn't want to tell them, she had a good reason and she had Harry's trust. Ron's curiosity, of course, wasn't a lack of trust but a sincere curiosity at the absurdity of it all. Somehow Hermione, a muggleborn without any family, had managed to tap into the historically elusive elite pureblood society. She knew more about the sacred 28 than some of the members. Who was her source and what had she done to them to get their cooperation?
Harry had a feeling that if Ron knew about the muggle concept of "plausible deniability" he wouldn't be looking into Hermione's actions any more than he had to. Which was not at all.
"Malfoy has been... cagey since Christmas." Harry thought out loud, rolling his eyes when Hermione and Ron groaned. "What? I was right ."
"You are obsessive , you're bound to eventually find something." Hermione pointed out, "And it isn't any of your business. If Malfoy is in enough danger that his mum owled Sirius we should stay out of it."
"I'm not keen to help the bloke, but we could invite him to DA." Ron pointed out, "What?"
"It's..." Hermione paused, searching for the right word to communicate but not insult Ron. "Unlike you - to want to help Malfoy, I mean."
"It's not- alright, fine," Ron admitted. He wasn't a fan of Malfoy, never had been, their feud was older than they were, but Ron had never had the privilege of immaturity. "I don't think we should . I just- well we're not 13 'Mione, we can help people."
"You're right," Harry said. His words comforted Ron for about 10 seconds before he continued. "We should invite Malfoy to the DA."
"Harry!" Hermione protested loudly, the only one of them that was opposed to the idea. Harry couldn't help his surprise, Hermione was so kind, and yet Malfoy was an exception. "It is not just you that you would be risking by inviting him to the DA, and I don't fancy having to censor our talks there because we cannot absolutely trust everyone in the room."
"Just because you can doesn't mean you should, mate." Ron pointed out, seeming to be swayed by Hermione's words. "I think she’s right, we can't trust him enough to tell him everything."
"Fine," Harry said. He couldn't blame them, most everyone in the DA was a part of the Order they had all grown up with. They'd all known each other, at least casually, for almost their entire lives. Inviting someone new was a big step, even if the DA was more of a study group than anything else. It was a sanctuary, a place where teens who were not yet allowed to defend themselves, prepared for the day that they could. That they would have to. Once again Ron felt comfort for only 10 seconds before Harry continued to speak. "Then I will teach him myself."
As time passed, Hermione seemed content to let Harry waste his time. In fact, she had a little grin on her face whenever he brought it up, as if she knew something he didn't. Harry thought it must have something to do with the pureblood gossip she knew all about and decided it was best not to pry into it. He was just glad that she was no longer opposed to the idea.
Instead he focused on how to get a hold of Malfoy, who seemed to be avoiding him at the moment. Luckily for Harry, however, he knew exactly the person to confide in.
To say that Sirius had been unhelpful was the understatement of the century. Instead of offering advice on how to get Malfoy to let him help him, Sirius had sent Harry a book titled How Wizards Woo Wizards, A Practical Guide . Sirius had, of course, assured him that he wouldn't tell James and Lily about it but Remus found out and sent him an incredibly mortifying letter about boys from pureblood families. Harry didn't have a crush on Malfoy but, loathe as he was to admit it, the letter from Remus was helpful.
'Absolutely, under no circumstances,' Remus had written. 'Are you to embarrass a child from a pureblood family. They use embarrassment as punishment from a young age and, as such, react poorly to it. Instead, get them alone to discuss embarrassing topics that cannot, or should not, be avoided.'
"Malfoy!" Harry yelled across the Great Hall the morning he received Remus' letter. If embarrassment was something that would get a rise out of Malfoy, Harry would do everything he could to embarrass him. He got up and walked over to the Slytherin table, climbing over the tables between them and getting a proper level of attention from nearly everyone in the Great Hall. Except Malfoy, who was staunchly ignoring him. "Oi! Malfoy!"
"James Pot- Harry Potter!" McGonagall yelled, quickly rushing from the professor's table to stop the mayhem Harry was causing.
Harry only smirked, filled slightly with pride at being mistaken for his father. It was sort of a game with McGonagall and his mother, to see if he could make them so frustrated they called him by his father's name. To have won without even trying was especially nice.
Harry sat down next to Malfoy, not surprised at all when the Slytherin (Harry thought it might be Theodore Nott, but he wasn't paying attention) next to Malfoy gave way for him to do so. Slytherins teased their friends as much as Gryffindors, it seemed.
"I just thought we ought to get used to eating together," Harry said, taking a piece of toast from the center of the table. "You know, I think the house elves toast your bread just a little- oh, yes? Professor McGonagall?"
McGonagall's eyes were fueled with the barely controlled rage that even her Gryffindors, the ones who caused her the most strife (though her NEWT Ravenclaws were a close second), rarely ever saw. "Get back to your table. Mr. Potter, and see me after the meal."
"Of course, Professor McGonagall," Harry said, smiling widely. He then proceeded to walk over the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables again to get back to his own. Only after her made it across the hall did he once more yell out. "See ya, Malfoy!"
"I can't believe you did that," Ron muttered, scared to catch the ire of McGonagall.
Malfoy hadn't even looked at him, something Harry took to mean success. "He won't be avoiding me now, will he?"
Ron's surprise had nothing on Harry's when he went to McGonagall for his hastily assigned detention, going through and repairing the second hand transfiguration books.
"You know, if you'd just asked, I probably would have done this without detention." Harry said, looking at McGonagall and reminding her of not James, but Lily.
"You are the perfect amalgamation of your father, mother, and father's friends." McGonagall observed, instead of responding clearly. "In fact, as you were climbing over those tables and making a scene for young Malfoy, I nearly forgot you were not your father. He used to make similar strides to attract the attention of your mother."
Harry, who had nothing in his mouth, managed to choke at the insinuation.
"I'm not going to marry Malfoy," Harry was quick to defend himself. He and Ginny had just broken up, why was everyone so quick to assume he moved on? "I just needed his bloody attention, he's been ignoring me."
McGonagall raised her eyebrows but didn't say anything about the language. Then again, she did assign him another grade's worth of second hand transfiguration texts, so she really didn't need to.
Unfortunately, his blatant grab for Malfoy's attention did not rattle the other wizard enough to result in conversation. If anything, Malfoy seemed to be avoiding him further and with more success. Not to mention that his mother had mentioned the event to his father, who had mentioned it to his best friends, which resulted in an owl from Remus about how disappointed he was. That would have been fine, because Harry decided he'd rather Remus believe he was mooning over Malfoy than grieving the loss of his relationship with Ginny, except that Sirius followed up. Sirius explained that it was brilliant and suggested Harry ask his father for advice.
Which Harry wouldn't usually do but after another dinner with his mum and dad where he was told to 'buck up' and 'find someone else' he decided that he had absolutely nothing to lose and everything to gain. His father was, after all, the absolute best at irritating people.
"Dad," Harry asked only a few days before Easter break. He sat in his parents' Hogwarts quarters, where they lived during the school year while his mother taught potions. "Can I ask your advice about something?"
James, still dressed in his auror robes, lit up at the prospect of giving Harry advice. Which Harry knew he would do, given that James gave the worst advice and was rarely asked for it. "Of course! What is it?"
"Malfoy is avoiding me," Harry said. "I need to get his attention, and mum told me about all of the things you used to do for her..."
Lily snorted, "Harry, if you don't want to argue with Malfoy then I'd suggest staying away from your father's methods. I love the man, but he's an acquired taste."
"I'm not trying to seduce him," Harry protested. He knew his parents wouldn't believe it, and was alright with that if only it meant they stopped bothering him about Ginny, but he felt the need to protest regardless.
"You climbed over two tables and sat next to him," Lily reminded him. "The entire school knows about it."
"Which was sweet," James rushed to say. "But Malfoy probably doesn't think you meant anything by it."
"Except to annoy him." Lily said. "Harry, why don't you try being nice to Malfoy? Wait for an opportunity to help him when he drops something, or try talking to his friends."
"You know, I did a lot of things for Lily in the common room," James said thoughtfully. He completely ignored his wife, which only seemed to endear her to him further. "Why don't you go to Slytherin?"
Go to Slytherin he did, immediately after leaving his parent's quarters. He found the entry in the dungeons and hit the door loudly, yelling as he did. "Oi! Malfoy!"
Though he did manage to annoy quite a few Slytherin students returning to their dorms, Harry was unsuccessful in actually getting to Malfoy. So he returned the next day, this time under his invisibility cloak, and snuck into the common room alongside a small group of first years. The problem was clear when he actually made it in- Malfoy was already in his dorm, and Harry had no way of knowing which one. It was as a group of seventh years made their way into the common room that Harry realized he didn't need to know.
Being sure to do so in the corner, where no one would notice, Harry ripped off his invisibility cloak. It would do him no good for the whole school to learn he had it. Once visible again he stepped forward.
"Oi! Malfoy!" Harry yelled, heading up the first hallway he saw. "Get your arse out here you bastard!" Malfoy didn't appear so Harry continued along, "My mum reckons I should talk to your friends. Any Malfoy fanatics around? I'd settle for Parkinson, even." People started yelling at Harry but still, no Malfoy. "Bloody hell, the least you could do is welcome me! I'm a guest you know!"
"Mr. Potter!"
"Oh! Hullo, Professor Snape!" Harry exclaimed, grinning madly. Snape hated him, of course, and the smart move would be to shut up, take his detention, and return to his dorms but he needed to create a spectacle . He knew that Snape would go straight to his mother, their friendship was not one that Harry would ever understand, but also knew it was worth it. This would work, it had to. "You haven't seen Malfoy, have you? He's been right difficult to get a hold of lately."
"Mr. Potter, it is after curfew and this is not the Gryffindor tower." Snape all but growled, his voice icy. "I shall return you to your own dorms at once and you will report for detention-"
"But sir," Harry said. "I desperately need to talk to Malfoy." His hand was in his pocket, alongside a small Weasley's Wizard Wheezes product. He snapped the small stick in half and felt tears immediately fall. "He's been a-avoiding me and-"
Snape didn't seem to know what to do with the crying teen and, for a moment, stood in shock. He wasn't the only one, the hallway of what had apparently at least been the boys dormitory was filled with onlookers who couldn't believe what they were seeing. Was... was Potter in their dorms? Yelling for Malfoy? Crying for Malfoy? It was perhaps the most absurd thing that had happened all year.
"Mr. Potter, stop that this instant!" Snape snapped, reaching for the sleeve of Harry's cloak and pulling him down the hallway. Harry himself would have laughed (Was Snape's response to a crying student to yell at them always or just when it was him?) except the product wouldn't let him do much else but cry for the next 30 minutes or so.
Harry had expected the inevitable detention and the incredibly awkward talk with his mum and dad. If those had been the only consequences he would have never looked back, but by the end of the next day he found himself cornered by none other than Ginny Weasley. Whom he had been avoiding staunchly since she had broken up with him at the end of the tournament in the previous year. (Who would have known having your girlfriend be the "one you would most sorely miss" would in fact be the breaking point for said girlfriend?) It had been difficult, given that he was such close friends with Ron and Hermione, who both lived with Ginny at the Burrow, and that Ginny and Harry were both on the quidditch team, but he had managed. After a while Ginny had stopped trying to talk to him during quidditch practice outside of necessary communication.
Getting Malfoy's attention was absolutely not worth running into Ginny again.
"Are you really dating Malfoy ?" Ginny asked him when she found him, alone, in the owlery after dinner. "What happened to 'I love you Ginny'? To 'I'll wait for you, Ginny'?"
Harry actually had a lot of thoughts about both of those statements, most of which would get him detention just for daring to voice, but in that moment he couldn't help but stare. No matter how hurt and angry he was, Harry had to admit that Ginny was beautiful. He hadn't been alone with her in quite a while and, suddenly, he couldn't help but replay all of the things he used to do when he was alone with her.
"Well?" Ginny snapped, putting her hands on her hips and continuing to glare at him.
"Firstly," Harry snapped right back, drawn out of his awe by her anger. How was he the bad guy here? "It's none of your bloody business. You broke up with me, and if I can find someone who isn't a bloody coward-"
"-Coward, because I don't want to be used as a pawn for Voldemort to attack you with?" Ginny snapped, "We're in bloody Hogwarts, none of this is worth dying over."
Which was, perhaps, the worst part of it all. Because Harry, who always wore a single-passenger permanent portkey on his hand, had risked his life for Ginny. He had sent her back, leaving himself alone and surrounded by some of Voldemort's strongest supporters. He would die for any of his friends, for his enemies even, and couldn't wrap his head around the concept of saying no . Of putting his foot down and disassociating with someone he loved just to make his life easier, his life safer.
"Secondly," Harry snapped, unwilling to go into it all. "I'm not dating Malfoy . And thirdly-" He said this last part in a random and spontaneous fit of rage, unable to properly handle the reality of Ginny having the nerve to demand that he wait for her when he knew damn well she wasn't waiting for him. "I think you know you're not worth waiting for."
It was a lie and it wasn't, but Harry didn't have the time or energy to argue with Ginny about it. He wasn't even sure he wanted to. The land surrounding Ginny's family home served as a refuge run by the Order of the Phoenix for muggle borns like Hermione. She knew as well as he did, or almost as well, that Voldemort was going to return. That he would hunt for Harry when he did so, but what she didn't seem to realize was that it wouldn't end. The fame Harry already had from surviving in his first year wouldn't go down if he managed to survive another war with Voldemort. (A situation that Harry knew better than to hope for, the chances of him surviving the war at all were so incredibly slim that he didn't consider it a real possibility.) There would be no marvelous after the war where no one would hunt Harry any more. There was no moment to wait for, no time that Ginny could be with Harry without risk.
It was thanks to his parents that Harry held out hope that there would be someone out there that would take on the unique challenge that it was to be romantically involved with him. He wasn't so certain that he really deserved it, if he was being honest which he tried to do, but he knew he wanted it. He'd grown up watching his mum and dad, Remus and Sirius, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Mr. and Mrs. Bones, and even the lovely Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom who, while completely out of their minds, clearly loved each other. He'd always anticipated that mutual love as a part of his future and for a brief and wild moment he'd thought he had found that with Ginny. Then she dumped him at the first sign of danger and even though he knew, rationally, that it was a rational thing for her to do he still felt terribly betrayed by her.
It was while ruminating over the loss of Ginny that Harry ran into none other than Blaise Zabini, one of Malfoy's friends. He fell in step with Blaise without thought, knowing that if he started following Malfoy's friends around he was likely to run into the blonde eventually. As an added bonus, it served to distract him from the painful memories of Ginny.
"Do you need something, Potter?" Blaise asked, his tone dry and clearly perturbed. "I have somewhere I need to be."
"I'm looking for Malfoy," Harry said. He smiled evenly, not in the slightest bothered that he was annoying Blaise.
"I noticed," Blaise said. "Unfortunately for you, Draco is not eager to spend his time around those with maladies of the mind."
Harry nodded, "It does make his maladies more obvious."
Blaise grinned, which Harry supposed was the closest he would get to a laugh.
"If I keep bothering you he will eventually have to talk to me." Harry pointed out.
"Or curse you." Blaise said, "Which I will do if you don't stop following me."
They had made it to, of all places, the quidditch pitch locker rooms. Which reminded Harry that the Slytherin quidditch team had gotten the coveted Friday night field time. Malfoy was likely in there. (Team members typically did not want Friday nights, but captains had a reputation of wanting the night because it allowed for them to keep their team until curfew without the excuse of an early class the next day.)
"Good day."
Harry barely even waved goodbye to Blaise before entering the locker room. It seemed that no one was in there until he noticed steam coming from the showers.
"Malfoy! Get out here you git!" Harry said, storming towards the showers. Instead of a showering Malfoy, however, Harry was greeted with the sight of Theodore Nott and- was that Hermione? "Gross! Bloody- Hermione put some clothes on!"
Hermione's screech wasn't really Harry's name because it wasn't really a word. Not in English or any other language. She quickly found coverage by turning around to face Nott, who may have been appropriately embarrassed. Harry didn't know, as he was refusing to look back there.
"Don't look!" Hermione said.
Harry could hear shuffling and water turning off, "I don't want to!"
"Yes, you were expecting Draco, weren't you?" Theodore asked. The tone in his question made it clear what he was alluding to, but Harry ignored it.
"You can look, now," Hermione said.
Harry turned to see Theodore and Hermione both dressed in their Hogwarts uniform, still damp. He tried to look at Hermione but kept flashing back to seeing her have sex with Nott and couldn't, so instead he looked at the space directly to the right of her head.
"What- er- how long-" Harry wasn't sure what to say. Until he was. " This is how you know all of the pureblood gossip! Hermione! You don't have to- I know things are serious-"
"-Shut your bloody mouth!" Nott snapped.
"I'm not talking to you!" Harry yelled, suddenly defensive of his friend. "Hermione-"
"-Harry, I'm not... seducing him for information." Hermione spoke slowly, as if trying to be gentle. "You don't need to worry about me. Theo and I are- we've been dating for quite some time now and-"
"-Why didn't you tell me?" Harry asked, hurt. "I thought we were friends-"
"-You called her a prostitute!" Nott protested. "That's not friends ."
"Theo, please," Hermione said, gently placing her hand on his chest. To Harry, who remembered Ginny expressing herself in the same way to him, the moment was exponentially more intimate than the actual sex he had walked in on only moments before. "Harry I- I was going to tell you, but then, with Pettigrew... Harry, this has to be a secret, Theo's father can't find out and... Well you're not very good at keeping secrets, are you? Harry, I love him... Please, please don't tell anyone."
Hermione was tearing up and Nott was wrapping his arms around her and all Harry could think was that they had been together for three years . They had been 3rd years when they got together, not long before Harry's parents told him about everything and he'd realized that the best way to keep a secret was to ensure that everyone, everyone thought he couldn't.
In that moment Harry felt the almost undeniable urge to spill his secret. To prove that he could bloody well keep a secret, he had been since he was thirteen, but he couldn't. It was too important to mess up, no one could know. Least of all his friends.
"I can keep a secret when it's important," Harry said. "No one knows I'm an animagus."
" Everyone knows you're an animagus, Potter." Nott said, sounding amused, bored, and irritated all at the same time. "My father would have killed her if he found out, this isn't a game."
"Oh, isn't it?" Harry bit back sarcastically. "When my brother died I just assumed we were playing hopscotch."
Nott clearly didn't recognize the muggle game but understood what Harry was trying to say. He frowned and didn't respond, likely having heard the story from Hermione. Nott probably knew the novel of Harry's life, having been with Hermione for years and doubtlessly hearing about it through her.
"That's why you scooted over," Harry said as realization dawned on him. "So I could sit next to Malfoy." Nott nodded, "Can you just tell him I want to help?"
"Why do you think he is avoiding you?" Nott asked, "And if you had the unfortunate luck to actually find him in the showers, though I assure you Draco has never used the locker room showers in his life, he would have hexed you out of the room. If you really want Draco to like you-"
"-I really don't care if Malfoy likes me." Harry corrected, "I just need to help him."
"Why?" Nott asked.
"Don't bother asking, Theo," Hermione asked. "There isn't a good reason." She stepped forward towards Harry, "Please tell me you can keep this secret?"
"Yeah," Harry said, hating that Hermione felt the need to ask. "Are you going to tell Ron?" Hermione frowned and Harry got his answer, turning to leave the room. "Well, I'll leave you two to it."
Harry's detention for breaking into the Slytherin common rooms was worth it. Of that he was certain, because in less than 24 hours Malfoy had yanked him into the same girls loo from the other day and started yelling at him.
"What the bloody hell is your problem, Potter!" Malfoy demanded. "I have made it exceptionally clear that one message from Black doesn't make us friends!"
"I don't particularly want to be your friend, Malfoy." Harry said, shrugging. People would assume he had gotten callousness from his father, they assumed all of his negative traits came from the school bully turned war hero, but it was from his mother. He'd never been able to lie and, more than that, unless he saw a specific reason to keep a secret, he didn't. (Of course, Harry could keep a secret better than anyone, but no one knew that. Because he kept the secret .) "You're irritating and I think we would murder each other but I want to offer you help ."
"I don't need your help," Malfoy said. It must have been out of instinct, because even as he spoke Harry could see Malfoy was surprised by his offer. "Furthermore, I fail to see what assistance I could possibly need from you, were I to need such a thing."
"Defense training, obviously," Harry said, rolling his eyes at Malfoy. This, the confidence in himself, was something that could be attributed equally to both of his parents. (Also Remus, but no one got to know the well-known werewolf enough to know that he was the most confident, without being arrogant, of the Marauders.) "It isn't arrogance, before you say that. I know more about defense than you, and when Voldemort returns-"
"-Bloody hell, Potter!" Malfoy yelled, stepping away from him but not attempting to leave the room. "You cannot talk about things like that."
"What? Voldemort?" Harry frowned. "You should know as well as me that he is returning. It is no secret what your father is among the Death Eaters."
"As always, your tact is overwhelming." Malfoy said sarcastically. He waved his wand and performed a spell Harry wasn't familiar with before continuing. "To believe that two 11 year olds successfully defeated the darkest wizard in our ministry's history is ignorant at best. So, yes, I am aware that the Dark Lord will return, but that does not mean I intend to join your merry band of Gryffindors."
"What was that?" Harry asked, every instinct and fibre of training within him knew better than to let an unknown spell go without clarification. "What did you do?"
Malfoy looked scared for a moment before he composed himself. "A privacy spell, Potter. Muffliato. Anyone walking by will hear buzzing, instead of us."
"Oh," Harry said, surprised. "Where did you learn that?"
"My godfather, now, can you leave me be?" Malfoy asked, clearly back to feeling more irritated than scared. "I don't fancy joining-"
"-I wasn't inviting you to join." There it was again, Harry's blunt dedication to telling the truth. To make sure everyone knew exactly what he meant. "This would be separate."
Malfoy seemed to take a moment to assess Harry, narrowing his eyes and looking at him in a way that made him feel uncomfortably like he could see right through him. "Why?"
"What do you mean why ?" Harry asked, incredulous. "So you can defend yourself. It's defense."
"I understand the concept," Malfoy said. "But for you to help me, when you don't trust me enough to allow me to join your half-baked army, is absurd. What do you get out of it?"
"A warm fuzzy feeling?" Harry said. It wasn't often that Harry ran into any problems because of his half-blood status, but at that moment it was obvious that he'd used a muggle phrase and Malfoy had taken it the worst way possible. "NOT LIKE THAT! Bloody hell, why does everyone assume I want to- well-"
At first, Draco had assumed that Potter was talking about something rather lewd, but when he watched the messy-haired wizard turn as red as Dumbledore's phoenix he realized that not only was Potter not saying anything lewd but he was a prude .
"Does everyone assume you want to ..?" Draco asked impatiently, letting his voice adopt a drawl to hide his amusement. After all, Potter had been embarrassing him mercilessly, it was about time he returned the favor.
"Oh- bloody hell, Malfoy, do I really need to spell it out for you?" Potter exclaimed, his face only turning more red.
"I haven't the foggiest," Draco lied. He was careful not to show it, but it was exciting to rile Potter up like this. His green eyes were wide, his plump lips were open in shock, his hair even seemed to grow wilder as he grew more uncomfortable. It hadn't even taken much, just a question.
"My mum and dad, and uncles, all think I have a crush on you." Potter said. If possible, his face turned more red and his hair somehow grew messier. "To be honest-"
"-Of course-" Draco interjected, smirking.
Potter continued as if he hadn't said anything, "Mooney's advice on how to woo you gave me the idea to climb over the tables, and my dad told me to meet you in your common room."
"So you're encouraging this fantasy of theirs?" Draco asked, starting to get frustrated rather than amused. The stakes were too high, no one could actually think he was associated with Harry-Fucking-Potter. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for me to be associated with you? As a romantic interest? In your attempt to help me you have damned me and yourself."
"First of all, it isn't so horrible to be associated with me romantically. I am a bloody great boyfriend!" Potter exclaimed, "And I could give a rats arse if it hurts my reputation somehow to be associated with you. Not to mention that we aren't bloody well dating, we aren't even friends."
"You-" Draco nearly growled. If only Potter knew! Of course, hadn't he been frustrated at his father for the same reason? Over the expectation that he knew better without actually being given the information required to do that.
He stood there quietly for a beat, musing, considering his options. If there was one thing that he could be confident Potter would never do, it was turn him into the Dark Lord. He couldn't be so confident about anyone else. Not Professor Potter, not Auror Potter, not even his cousin, Sirius. No one survived in the war as long as they had without bending their principles. No one, not even Gryffindors. Except, well, except Potter, because despite that shadow in his eye as if he knew something bloody terrible he still did things like this. Like follow and annoy Draco until he finally cornered him, just to offer him help. Even though he didn't trust him enough to let him into whatever group he had. Except Potter because Potter, as maddening as it was to admit, was a good person . The type of good person that only came once in a century, the type of good person who would probably both get himself killed and win this bloody war in one fell swoop.
"I have been tasked with befriending you and bringing you to the Dark Lord this summer, to make up for my... inconsistent support as of late." Draco said the words before he could think better of it. "So associating yourself with me is not only mad, but dangerous. For both of us, but mostly you."
He could admit that was the case, because while his life and mum would certainly be at risk, Potter would be killed, there was no debate.
Draco never could have predicted Potter's particularly daft and entirely sincere response, especially considering that Potter did not even take a breath before saying it. "Let's do it. Take me to Voldemort."