THE APPOINTED - C Dumbledore.doc

http://www.thehexfiles.net/viewstory.php?sid=882

Summary: Voldemort appoints 12 students to aid in the planned seige on Hogwarts. Lucius is dead, Draco is Lord Malfoy. The boys get hurt but find.... well, it's a h/d slash after all.

Disclaimer: Little you see here belongs to me. Most of the wonderful characters and the world in which they reside came from the mind of the Goddess JK Rowling. They belong to her and to various agents, publishers and film studios. Not to me. Sigh.
 

A/N: I really appreciate those of you who take the time to review. Face it, none of us is that humble or we wouldn’t be posting this stuff.
 

THE APPOINTED

by: C Dumbledore

 

Chapter 1
Tide and Time

Harry Potter returned to Hogwarts for his sixth year in search of something he could not name. He had never had much, so it was hard for him to imagine why he felt something had been lost. Perhaps it wasn’t something lost so much as something never gained. Whatever the case, he knew there was something out there for him, but not having any idea what it was made it that much more difficult to find. Everyone else’s lives seemed so clear, so defined. Why did his always have to be so difficult?

Summer at the Dursleys’ had been much quieter thanks to the threats made by his friends last year at King’s Cross Station. Although he had continued to cook, clean, and maintain the garden, it was more a matter of choice than necessity. Vernon hadn’t hit him or locked him in his room once. Dudley never brought his friends to the house, and on the few occasions he had run into the thugs outside of the house, his overgrown cousin had manoeuvred the gang toward a different target. Fear was a great motivator. Harry knew; how well he knew.

Dumbledore, or more often a member of the Order, had kept him apprised of Voldemort’s activities, though they had been few. As Malfoy had predicted, his father and the others had been freed. It had happened shortly after Harry’s sixteenth birthday. One Auror and two Death Eaters had died in the breakout. Apart from that and a few small raids on Muggle villages, the summer had been quiet.

He spent the final two weeks of August at the Burrow, and while it was a welcomed change, it had been far less joyous than in past years. Ron, Hermione and Ginny had talked constantly of the night in the Hall of Mysteries. At times, it seemed they had all forgotten how close they had come to dying; at others, it was all they could remember. Although they had recovered, the scars on Ron’s forearms would never completely vanish. He wore long sleeved shirts to cover them as Harry covered his own scar with his hair. Hermione often awoke in the night with a terrible pain in her chest and Ginny, who had been awake and fully conscious throughout the entire incident, relived it every night in her dreams.

Ron and Hermione had grown closer during their stay in the Hospital Wing. Harry saw the signs of change in their relationship. Ginny spent most afternoons writing letters and owling them to Dean Thomas. With so many people in the house, Molly was always occupied with cleaning and cooking. Harry thought she welcomed it as a way to avoid thinking about what her children had endured and how close she had come to losing at least one of them. And so the adopted one, the one who wasn’t really quite one of them, found himself spending a great deal of time alone.

There was, after all, nothing new in that. Harry was used to being alone. He had spent much of his life with no company other than his own. In a way, it made things easier. He could avoid telling his best friends about the prophecy, and no one mentioned Sirius.

The ride on the Hogwarts Express had been surprisingly uneventful. Malfoy had apparently found other transportation or wasn’t returning to Hogwarts at all. Harry was sure his luck couldn’t be that good. Crabbe and Goyle walked about with confused looks on their faces and a Malfoy sized gap between them.

Neville and Luna had joined the four in a compartment, and surprisingly had not talked about the Hall of Mysteries at all. Neville showed off his new wand. Apparently his gran had been so proud of the reports of his actions that she hadn’t even mentioned his father’s wand had been broken. In fact, she had decided it was time he had one of his own. “Something suited to your own power, Neville.” She had said. Luna merely prattled on about her trip to Sweden and how close she and her father had come to seeing a flock of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks only to be disappointed in the end.

Immediately following the sorting and the start-of-term feast, Harry received a summons to the Headmaster’s office. As he approached the gargoyle, it sprung aside without waiting for a password. Lucky that, since he hadn’t realised he didn’t know it until he was almost there. The office looked much the same as it had on his last visit except that there were no broken objects lying about. Dumbledore was seated behind his desk. Beside one of the chintz chairs, stood the one man Harry had least wanted to see tonight.

“Good evening, Professor Dumbledore. Professor Snape.”

“Good evening, Harry. Please have a seat. Would you care for tea? Or, maybe hot chocolate?”

Snape said nothing, but stood rigidly in place with a look akin to that of a man on a mission he definitely would have preferred to avoid. Harry asked for chocolate, knowing that to say no would simply be to postpone the inevitable. The Headmaster was determined to be a gracious host, sometimes despite the wishes of his guests.

Finally, after all of the conjuring of cups and trays of sweets, the old man got to business. “Harry, due to events at the end of last term and over the summer, there will be some changes at Hogwarts this year. Some of them will involve you directly, others tangentially and some not at all, but none-the-less, you should be aware of them.

“To begin, Professor Snape is here for two reasons. The first of these I shall let him explain himself. Severus?”

“Potter, er, Harry, may I call you Harry? Privately, of course.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you. Harry, I expect that you are quite angry with me, and that it is likely you even feel you hate me. I want you to know that I have thought very hard about several situations over the summer and that I have come to believe you have a right to be angry.”

Harry was stunned. “At the risk of losing points before the term has even begun, sir, who are you and what have you done with Professor Snape?”

The corners of Snape’s mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, “Clever boy. To begin, I wish to apologise to you for having stopped your Occlumency lessons. I realise now that my anger was caused by shame, a feeling with which I believe we are both too well acquainted. I was embarrassed by your knowledge of how weak I had been in my youth. My reactions, while not totally unwarranted, contributed to the endangerment and injury of many as well as the death of another.

“You are aware that Sirius Black and I were not friends....”

“Don’t you dare speak ill of my godfather....”

“Harry, please allow the professor to finish,” Dumbledore admonished.

Harry’s face was dark, but he sat in silence.

“The fact that your godfather and I were never friends does not diminish the fact that he was a brave man and a good man. Whether you choose to believe it or not, I am greatly saddened by his loss.”

“But....”

“Please Harry, this is most difficult for me. I will answer any questions you may have, but you must hear me out first.”

“Sorry, Professor.”

“My treatment by the so called ‘Marauders’ was, at best, less than acceptable, as you yourself have agreed. I, however, held onto my resentment until it became a very unhealthy thing. And I, in turn, behaved unacceptably by taking it out on you. For this I apologise. It is a bit late, but it is the best I can do at this juncture.”

Harry was stunned. These were words he had never believed he would hear, especially from this man. He quickly looked to Dumbledore to see what the old man’s reactions were, but his face was blank. “Sir, I.... well, I don’t know what to say.”

“You need say nothing, Harry. I’m merely speaking the truth. I do not expect you to accept my apology. I only wanted you to be aware of it.”

“But, I do accept it. I want it to be over.”

Snape looked relieved. “Thank you for that, Harry. But I must warn you that publicly things will not change between us.”

“You mean you’ll still....”

“...unfairly take points from Gryffindor and unjustly favor Slytherin? Yes, Harry, that’s exactly what he means,” Dumbledore said.

Snape looked a bit chagrinned, “It simply would not do for my behaviour toward you to suddenly change after five years.”

“Yes, that would compromise your position. I understand. Still, it will be easier to accept knowing that you don’t really mean it. At least not all of the time,” he replied with a grin.

“We will need to meet at least once a week for Occlumency lessons. Professor McGonagall will be informing you, with witnesses present, that although you barely missed achieving a high enough score on your Potions OWL to be accepted into Advanced Potions, the circumstances created by that dreadful Umbridge woman have been taken into account and you will be given an opportunity to redeem yourself. I shall be providing private tutelage to you on Thursday evenings. I shall, of course, behave as though I am outraged by having my decisions overruled by the Headmaster.”

“I understand, sir. Thank you. But I thought Professor Dumbledore was going to teach me Occlumency this year.”

“Severus and I have discussed it, Harry, and we both feel that his specific experience in blocking Voldemort will be greatly beneficial to you. However, we have also agreed that it would benefit everyone if you began to learn Legilimency. Had you been able to see that it was Delores Umbridge who had sent Dementors to Little Whinging last year, you would no doubt have informed a member of the Order and things might have gone quite differently.”

“What happened to her, sir?”

“Once it was determined that it was she who had sent Dementors into a Muggle neighborhood and that she had used dark magic to punish students – yes, Harry, I do know about that – she was brought for trial before the Wizengamot. Her wand was snapped and she came very close to being sent to Azkaban. However, leniency was granted. She is prohibited from ever practicing magic again, and she is currently employed as a file clerk at the Ministry. That position is usually reserved for squibs. She also reports weekly to the Aurors to ensure her whereabouts.”

“Perhaps I’ll run into her one day at the Ministry. That could be almost fun.”

“Yes, I’m sure it would. Now, as to the second point for which I have requested Professor Snape’s presence,” Dumbledore continued. “As you are aware more Death Eaters were liberated from Azkaban a month ago. Among them was Lucius Malfoy. What is not as well known is that Lucius Malfoy died one week ago today.”

Harry’s head snapped up, “Wh....what? How?”

Dumbledore held up a hand, “It would appear to have been an accident. Lucius returned to Malfoy Manor, according to his wife, to gather some articles he would need in order to remain in hiding. At he was rushing to leave he lost his balance at the top of the grand staircase. His wand flew out of his hand and Mrs Malfoy did not have hers on hand. So there was nothing and no one to prevent his fall. His neck was broken.”

Harry was silent for a moment, then gave vent to his feelings, “Not to sound uncharitable, sir, but if you ask me, that’s just one less Death Eater to worry about. Not that I wish anyone dead, but I’ll sleep better knowing he’s not out there trying to kill me.”

“Which brings me to the second point,” said Snape picking up the thread. “You may have noticed that Draco Malfoy is absent from Hogwarts at the moment.”

“And there’s another thing to be grateful for.”

Snape seemed ready to snap at that, but held himself in check. “Mr Potter!”

“So much for ‘Harry’ then?”

“Harry!” Dumbledore said with no twinkle in his eye. “That was unnecessary. You will mind yourself or I will personally take points.”

“Sorry, Professor.... Professors.”

Snape continued, “A private funereal ritual was held for Lucius four days ago. Draco Malfoy is now the Lord of Malfoy Manor and responsible for a great many things for which he was ill prepared. He will not gain control of his wealth until his seventeenth birthday. Until that time, his mother will act as his trustee along with a representative from Gringott’s and the Malfoy family solicitor.

“I have tried to speak with Draco several times in the last week, but he has remained quite uncommunicative. Harry, I know that you have been arch-rivals for the past five years, but I am going to ask you to do something which I know from personal experience is going to be difficult. I am going to ask you to try to separate the father from the son.”

While Snape’s meaning was not lost on Harry, he still was not prepared to make such a difficult promise. “But, sir, my dislike for Malfoy started long before I knew his father or anything about Death Eaters. He calls my friends ugly names. He makes fun of my parents’ deaths and acts as though he’s better than anyone.”

“I am aware of that Harry. He is a Slytherin. It is to be expected. But you are a Gryffindor and I expect better of you.”

“Sir?”

“I will not repeat what I said, nor will you. If you do, I will deny it and you will suffer the consequences. Am I clear.”

“Um, yes sir,” Harry replied with a small grin. Had Snape just said what he thought he had?

“Slytherins are expected to behave in a specified manner, as are Malfoys. Draco is both. If his behaviour were different, it would disrupt entire social constructs. Do you understand?”

“Sort of.”

“What would happen, Harry, if you were to suddenly start hexing first years in the hallways and demanding attention from all of the other students?”

“Well, I’m not sure exactly, but probably Ron and Hermione would cart me off to St. Mungo’s.”

“And similarly, Draco’s friends would report any unusual behaviour on his part to their parents who, in a few cases, would report them to the Dark Lord. Draco Malfoy is driven by both his training and by the social paradigm to which he belongs.”

“But he wants to join Voldemort. He wants to take the Dark Mark.”

“Does he? I wonder. But in any case, if he does wish to follow in his father’s footsteps you will know it soon enough and nothing will have been lost. If, however, he does not, there may be much to be gained.”

“But, what do you want me to do? I can’t exactly walk up to him and ask if he wants to be friends.”

“We don’t expect you to. We don’t even expect you to change your views. All we ask is that you exercise a bit more restraint in retaliation; that you pay very close attention to what is happening during any confrontations; and, that you give things a chance. In short, learn to respond rather than react. And be a Gryffindor.” Snape was looking almost kindly now.

“I’ll do my best. But what about Ron and Hermione? They’re going to think I’ve gone barmy if I change much.”

“I trust you to handle this very delicately, my boy,” Dumbledore said. “The entire school will know of Draco’s loss before he returns. It was not announced this evening as we thought it proper that Slytherin House know first. I believe that Miss Granger will, despite her personal experiences, be a bit more sympathetic to Mr Malfoy’s loss than Mr Weasley will be.

“And I must emphasize, Harry, that no one is expecting you to change your opinions or totally change your behaviour. All we are asking is that you keep an open mind and, as Moody would say, ‘constant vigilance, boy’.”

“I’ll do my best sirs.”

“Good. Well, then, Severus, I think that is all. I should like a few minutes alone with Harry.”

“Yes, Headmaster. Thank you. Good night, gentlemen.” And with a flourish of robes, he went to the stairway and disappeared.

Chapter 2
Draco Malfoy

Draco Malfoy sat alone behind the large mahogany desk in his father’s study. His study now, he realised. His desk. He glanced at the signet ring on his finger. It had not appeared so heavy when his father had worn it. The pile in front of him had diminished as he had scrutinised each document and asked countless questions of his advisors. Still there remained a day’s worth, or maybe two. It seemed it would never end.

School had started today. His sixth year. It was the first Sorting he had missed. The first start-of-term feast. The first train ride on the Hogwarts Express. He hadn’t realised he would miss the little things so much. He wondered how his friends were faring, and if they knew about his father yet. And, if so, how much they knew.

The Manor was quiet. Even the house-elves seemed to be hiding. Mother was in bed. Mother had been in bed most of the week. And in two days, she would leave for Italy for an extended holiday. To grieve, she insisted. And what of him? Did he not deserve to grieve too? But he was born a Malfoy and Malfoys did not grieve.

Tomorrow the Dark Lord himself would visit the Manor. In part, Draco knew, to insure the continued support of the Malfoy fortune; in part, he suspected, to talk to him about taking the Mark; in part, he feared, to ask him to spy on Dumbledore, or worse, kill Potter. It wouldn’t do to dwell on it now. Some answers could not be formulated until the questions were asked. He would, of course, pledge financial support. To do otherwise would be suicide. He thought he could postpone being marked until the end of his seventh year, or at least until he was seventeen. As to the third....

He wished he had learned Occlumency. Severus had left him a potion to block his mind in the event Aurors questioned him. He hadn’t used it yet. It probably wouldn’t be strong enough for the Dark Lord, but there was no way to test it in advance. There were things he couldn’t afford to be made known. Uneasily, he fingered the journal in which he had been writing.

He wished he were at Hogwarts.

With a soft pop, a house-elf appeared at his side. “Master Malfoy sir?”

“Yes, what is it?”

“The house-elves is wishing to know, sir, if there is changes being made in our duties. They is asking Nobbey to inquire,” the elf’s squeaky voice trembled. She had obviously drawn the short straw and was terrified by the possible repercussions.

“I don’t understand. What kind of changes are you talking about?”

“If sir does not mind, you is the new master of Malfoy Manor. It is for you to be instructing us what to do. We can not even obey Mrs Malfoy if you is telling us not to.”

Draco’s shoulders drooped. One more thing to deal with. One more responsibility. How had he ever believed his father a man of leisure? “No, Nobbey. No changes for now. Mother will continue to run the household. Inform me of the arrival of any unexpected guests.”

“Yes, sir. Would Mister Malfoy care for any refreshment?”

“I would like to have a bath drawn. And yes, a brandy on the bath ledge would be nice.”

When the elf had gone, Draco read his last journal entry. With a soft sigh, he closed the book and placed it in a drawer that could only be opened by one with Malfoy blood. For now, at least, he was the only one.

Oddly, he found himself wondering what Potter was doing. Probably sitting with his little friends around a cosy fire in their shabby common room. He could almost see them laughing at some poor joke that smug Weasley had brought from home. Gods he was a hateful bastard. And Granger would be bragging about having finished all of the required reading for the coming term. Why did she have to be so infuriatingly bright? He wondered if they had even noticed that he was missing. Most of all, he wondered if Potter had noticed.

*****

Once Snape had left the room, Dumbledore refreshed Harry’s chocolate and his own tea. Rather than return to the chair behind his desk, he sat in the armchair next to Harry and remained silent as they both gathered their thoughts.

“Well, my boy, I suppose the real question is, how are you doing?”

“All right, I guess. Everything feels different somehow, but I really can’t explain that.”

“Have you been having any nightmares?”

“Yes, but not the usual ones. Not about Voldemort. It’s like he’s intentionally keeping himself hidden from me.”

“I am not surprised. He obviously knew he was broadcasting his feelings and thoughts to you or he wouldn’t have lured you to the Ministry. Perhaps with a bit of Legilimency you can, in time, go after him.”

“I rather like that thought. The Muggles have a saying about payback you know.”

“Yes, I am familiar with it. What are your nightmares about then?”

“Sirius mostly.”

“Ah.”

“I keep seeing him falling through the veil over and over. I hear Bellatrix Lestrange taunting me. I just....” he felt himself choking up again and fell silent.

“It may be of little consolation to you now, Harry, but I want you to remember that Sirius died as he would have wanted to die - protecting the one he loved most and fighting for the good.”

“But he spent 12 years in Azkaban and two years hiding out. We would have found Wormtail one day and he would have been free. It just isn’t fair. It seems like everyone I love dies. It’s like I’m some kind of cursed object.”

“Harry, where you go, Voldemort is certain to follow. Your friends know this, yet they continue to choose to be near you. You must remember that it is their choice. It is as important as understanding that Voldemort and Bellatrix and the others are causing these deaths, not you.”

“I just don’t dare allow myself to care anymore. But it hurts to be alone. I feel like I’m damned either way. At least if I don’t allow anyone to get close, I’m the only one who suffers.”

“That’s not true, Harry. Your friends suffer when you shut them out. They think it is because of something they have done. You must let people make their own choices, Harry. You have quite enough on your shoulders without taking on responsibility for the wellbeing of others. Suppose it were Hermione or Ron who found themselves surrounded by death. What would you do?”

“I’d want to help them and protect them. I’d want to try to make it better for them.”

“Would it please you to do so?”

“Yes, because they’re my friends and helping them makes me feel good.”

“Then how can you deny them the pleasure of wanting to help you and protect you? Of trying to make it better for you?”

“I never thought of it like that.”

“We seldom do. That’s part of being human.”

An hour later, Harry left the Headmaster’s office feeling tired and no more settled than he had when he had arrived. Dumbledore could have that effect on people. He had wanted to tell the man about his emptiness. He had wanted to ask for guidance in figuring out this feeling of being somehow incomplete. But he had not. Instead, they had discussed training and planning. They had talked about the Order and changes in Harry’s timetable, about how he would have to be different from the other students and yet the same. It was all very confusing and somehow very impersonal.

Dumbledore might be his mentor in some respects, but when it came to moving into adulthood, and Harry suspected that was where his problem lay, the old man was not the person to open up to. He just wished he knew who was.

When he reached the common room, he found Ron and Hermione waiting for him. He smiled thinking of Dumbledore’s words about letting his friends in. He told them about the lessons and that he had more freedom to be out and about in the castle. But how could he really let them in when most of what he had learned was secret? It was just another riddle in the life of Harry Potter.

*****

Draco Malfoy lay in the pool of hot frothing water desperately trying to rid himself of weeks of tension and fatigue. Some dirt just wouldn’t wash off.

He had been caught between elation and trepidation at the news of his father’s liberation. Lucius Malfoy, Lord Malfoy, was coming home. Things would change. Father would be more powerful than ever. After all, the Dark Lord needed him. Draco knew his own certainty in the right path would be strengthened by his father’s presence. When Lucius was there, Draco knew exactly what to believe. It was easier. Every thing was clear.

One week following the breakout, Lucius Malfoy had indeed returned to the Manor. At least a part of him had. The part that had been Voldemort’s right hand – that part was there. The part that had been a father and husband, the part that had taught his son to fly and had danced and laughed with his wife had died in Azkaban. Even without the Dementors, Azkaban had taken that part, and without it Draco was forced to see the things to which he had so carefully blinded himself for sixteen years.

For two weeks Lucius had stayed, usually hidden in the darkened room beneath the drawing room floor. Sometimes at night, he wandered the Manor, ranting and laughing and tearing things from the walls. He was insane. And Draco had been forced to endure the insanity. Day after day, he sat in that small room surrounded by the darkest of artifacts listening to a man he no longer knew rave about his plans for the future and the part he expected his son to play in them.

He raged as he recounted the events in the Department of Mysteries. He damned Dumbledore and his white knights for interfering and swore that Potter would never escape him again. But all Draco could hear was that six students had staved off twelve Death Eaters until reinforcements had arrived. He hoped one day he would know how that was possible.

The man beamed with pride as he regaled his son with stories of last year’s raids and of the destruction Muggle villages. He spoke with delight of forcing a young Mudblood wizard to disembowel his own parents while under the Imperius Curse, then of holding the young man under Cruciatus until his body had simply stopped functioning. “It’s what they deserve,” he had said with a fanatical gleam in his eyes. “Filthy Mudbloods, they will be exterminated completely. And you, my son, will be instrumental in the greatest feat of all. You will be responsible for the end of the Mudbloods, half-bloods, and traitors that infest Hogwarts.”

He grinned maniacally as he detailed his plan. He named twelve students, Voldemort’s Appointed, who would be receiving training during the Christmas Holiday. Draco recalled being surprised that only half of them were Slytherin. In this plan, the students would allow the Death Eaters into the castle. It would be Draco’s reward, as their leader, to suspend “that Granger bitch” from a wall in the Great Hall and open her up. As her intestines lay on the floor, she would only be able to watch as he performed the same acts on the blood traitor Weasley. It was only fair, as they had caused a Malfoy to be ridiculed. After that, he would be free to rape, torture, kill or do as he pleased with the other captives.

Potter, of course, belonged to the Dark Lord. Oh, a little torture was acceptable, though nothing would compare to watching his friends die like the vermin they were. And those who were interested might even be allowed to rape the boy. Rodolphus would enjoy that. Even Lucius might have a go.

It had been surreal. Every day he climbed out of the room hoping he would awaken and find it all a dream. He had barely slept at night wondering how he would do those things, and sick with the knowledge that he had no choice. The only alternative was a slow and painful death, and that simply was not an option.

Two weeks could be an eternity in the right circumstances. But finally word came that Lucius was to be moved to a safer location where he would be able to meet again with the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters. He had waited until nightfall then gone into his study and placed a number of articles in a satchel with artifacts from the hidden room. He had then gone up to his suite to gather suitable robes and personal effects for his journey and time in hiding.

And then he had fallen. And now he was dead. And Draco Malfoy found that things were both better and worse. And he still felt dirty. But the water was turning cold and there was nothing more to be done tonight.

Chapter 3
Changing Times

Two weeks into the term, Draco Malfoy had returned to Hogwarts. Dumbledore had explained the reason for his absence to the school, so no one was surprised that he seemed withdrawn and unusually quiet. Harry noticed that he was frequently absent from meals and that whenever he was seen in public he was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle and rarely looked up from the floor. Even the insults had stopped. It seemed as though he had lost his spirit.

It wasn’t until the following Friday that the two trios came face to face. It had almost been a disaster. Ron, Hermione and Harry were walking toward the Potions classroom when Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy had rounded a corner from the other direction.

“Well, if it isn’t Lord Malfoy,” Ron sneered. “But I guess that isn’t so bad, seeing how it means there’s one less Death Eater to foul the world.”

Malfoy blanched, Hermione gasped, and Crabbe and Goyle prepared to attack. Surprisingly, it was Harry who stepped in. “Ron! That was totally uncalled for.”

“What do you mean uncalled for? His father was a bastard and we’re better off without him.”

“Ron,” Harry said, his voice even, “I believe you owe Malfoy an apology.”

“What!? I’m not apologising to that git. What’s the matter with you, Harry? Hermione, did you hear....”

“Yes I heard, Ron. And I agree.”

Ron’s mouth gaped. “You’re both gone round the twist. This is Malfoy.”

“Ron, you can apologise to Malfoy or go off and sulk, but I’m not changing my mind.” Harry continued, feeling his anger rising.

“Fine then,” and with that, he stormed off down the hall, red head bobbing above the other students.

Harry turned back to find three surprised faces staring at him. “Malfoy, I’m sorry Ron said that. And I’m sorry about your father. I know a little about losing people you love and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

“Even me?” Draco responded, a note of sarcasm seeping into his voice.

Harry sighed, “Yes, Malfoy, even you.” Draco thought he detected sincerity in that voice. He wondered what that was about.

“Thanks, Potter.”

*****

Both Harry and Hermione knew it was not over. Not by a long shot. Not with Ron Weasley involved. Their friend wasn’t in Advanced Potions so they didn’t see him again until supper. Even then, he sat between Ginny and Seamus discussing the upcoming Quidditch season. After that he had gone to his room alone and left the others to study in the common room. An hour later the dorm door opened and Harry came in. When he saw that there was no one but Ron in the room he beckoned to Hermione who was waiting in the hall.

“Hey,” Ron cried. “This is the boys dorm. What’s she doing here?”

“I came to talk to you, Ron, and I’d appreciate your not speaking about me as though I weren’t in the room.”

“I’m not sure I have anything to say to either of you. You’re supposed to be my friends. You’re supposed to back me up.”

“I won’t back you up when you’re wrong, Ron, and I hope you’re a good enough friend that you would do the same for me,” Harry said.

“But Hermione, we’re.... well we’re....”

“Dating?” Harry said. “Look, it’s not like I don’t know. I’m not that thick. You were practically snogging in the common room last night.”

Ron turned an even deeper shade of red than he had been. “Oh, uh, well, we were going to tell you, mate, but you seemed so off in your own world.”

“S’alright, Ron.”

“But, Hermione, you’re my girlfriend. You’re supposed to agree with me.”

“Ronald Weasley, if you want to date someone who is going to agree with you all the time, I would suggest you ask Lavender out.”

“Hermione,” both boys said in shock.

“Well, it’s true. Ron I care very much for you, but I’m not some giggly idiot who’s not going to think for herself. I mean, really, does your mother always agree with your father?”

“Hardly.”

“Well then, do you want someone with less character than your own mother?”

Trapped. He was trapped. There was no getting around it. “Course not, 'Mione, but I was embarrassed.”

“Ron, we weren’t trying to embarrass you. We just think you were wrong.”

“But he’s a foul pure-blood son of a Death Eater.”

“And Sirius was a pure-blood brother of a Death Eater, or had you forgotten? And you’re a pureblood too Ron,” Harry countered.

“So, you and Malfoy going to be friends now?” Ron spat. “You suddenly like him?”

“No, Ron, I don’t ‘suddenly like him’. But the reason I don’t like him is that he’s an arrogant, foul little wanker, not because of his blood or his father’s relationship to Voldemort.”

“It’s in their blood, Harry.”

“No it isn’t Ron. If that were true, Pettigrew would have been good and Sirius would have been bad. If that were true, Percy wouldn’t be such a git.”

Ron’s mouth opened and closed, then opened and closed again. “What’s Percy got to do with this?” was all he could think to say.

“Ron, Draco Malfoy may join the dark. We don’t know. But the real point is, his father just died and you were rude and spiteful about it.”

“If it had been my dad he would have said something worse.”

“But it wasn’t your dad, Ron. And you’re not Malfoy. Even if you do act like him sometimes.”

“I never....” Ron started, but then saw that Harry was smiling at him. “Well, maybe sometimes. I’ll have to think about that.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah.”

“All right then, but you still owe him an apology.”

*****

It had been a strange week for Draco Malfoy, perhaps not as strange as the past few had been, but strange nonetheless. At breakfast the morning after the Weasley incident, Neville Longbottom had strode, not shuffled or stumbled mind you, but strode to the Slytherin table and stopped in front of him. Without a trace of fear or concern, he had extended his condolences and offered his hand. Neville Longbottom, for Merlin’s sake. And he had been so shocked that he had taken it.

Then later in the day, Weasley himself had approached him after potions and apologised. The Weasel had actually apologised. What was the world coming to?

...