693Chapter 10: Dumbledore Knows
"Where have you been?!" Harry's voice demanded from the door to the boy's 1st year dormitory. Glancing up, Draco saw the green eyed boy striding across the room, looking both annoyed and - excited? Behind him, Ron also looked pleased, blue eyes gleaming with a look Draco remembered well. They knew something new, but why was Harry angry?
"I've been here," Draco said, confusion writ on his features as he suppressed any anxiety that Harry had seen him cause the fire. "Where've you been?"
Ron was positively bouncing in place, "Hagrid's. We found out about Fluffy."
"And Nicholas Flammel," Harry added, his satisfaction outweighing his annoyance, "Whatever it is Fluffy - that's the three headed dog - is guarding, it's got to do with Nicholas Flammel."
Draco wasn't sure what to say, "Um, okay?"
"Okay? That's all you've got to say?" Ron scowled and plopped down onto his bed, helping himself to some chocolate. "Mind?" Draco shook his head; the sweet was already in Ron's mouth and he really didn't want it back. "Hermione says that if we can figure out who Nicholas Flammel is, we'll know what Fluffy is guarding."
Apparently Draco didn't hide his expression quickly enough, because Harry pounced, excitement lacing his voice, "You know who he is!"
"No," Draco started, but quickly realized that wouldn't work. Harry had seen his expression so he'd have to dodge instead. "Well, okay, the name's familiar. Doesn't he have a Chocolate Frog card?"
Of course he didn't, he was mentioned on Dumbledore's card. Not that he was going to admit that. They needed to find this information on their own, like the first time.
"No," Ron said slowly, "I have most of the cards and his isn't one of them."
"Are you sure?" Draco got his expression down perfectly this time, puzzled and uncertain, "I could have sworn he was on a card."
"Maybe," the redhead shrugged, "I'll have my mum owl them up. Take another look."
"Hermione is already in the library," Harry said, "so she'll figure it out. You can tell us where you got off to while we wait."
"I told you, I've been here," Draco repeated, again having to suppress a jolt of anxiety.
"Yeah, why weren't you with us? We won, mate, and you were...no where."
"There was a fire," the guilt on the two boys' faces said they had forgotten, "I was making sure no one was hurt."
"Is anyone?"
"A little, but nothing serious. Madame Pomphrey is healing the burns now and they should be back in class in a few days."
"Days?!" Ron's eyes had gone wide. "Blimey, Harry, do you think Snape had something to do with that, too?"
The warning look Harry shot Ron was far too late, Draco's grey eyes flashing with anger as he rounded on the redhead, blood pounding in his ears. "Snape had nothing to do with the fire and what do you mean, 'that, too?' Are you trying to say he was responsible for the curse on Harry's broom? Because he wasn't, Weasley. None of you know him, he would never do something like that!"
"He hates me!" Harry shouted back, defending a startled Ron. "And Hermione saw him sitting, unblinking, staring at me and muttering when my broom went haywire! She says you have to make and hold direct eye contact when casting a curse like that."
"You also have to do that to cast a counter curse, Potter," Draco snapped, "Granger is very, very smart, but she's still just a first year. She doesn't know a damned thing about the Dark Arts."
The way Harry's face sobered, his green eyes growing distant, should have been warning enough. "And you do?" he asked quietly. Draco's eyes flashed and he opened mouth to say, "Yes, I do," but snapped his teeth shut on the words before they could escape him. Wary now, he leaned away from his friends, knowing Harry had lead him into this trap. If he said no, he was lying, if he said yes…
"Get out," Draco drawled quietly.
"This is our room, too," Harry said calmly. "It's okay, Draco. I'm not going to tell anyone."
Draco cursed himself silently, but held that green gaze; he knew, or had seen, or guessed. There didn't appear to be any judgement there, any condemnation even though he had badly hurt two students. He had done it to save Harry's life, but the Boy Who Lived he had known wouldn't have thought that was worth it.
"Tell anyone what?" Ron blurted, looking between his two best friends at a complete loss.
The confusion broke the staring contest, making Draco smile. "I believe you," he said softly, "I had to do something-"
"I know," Harry interrupted, "You don't have to explain."
"Yes, you do!" Ron nearly shouted. "What the hell are you two on about?"
Draco didn't reply, looking down and studying his fingernails. "He started that fire," Harry explained. "He made Sna- the person casting the curse break eye contact. He saved my life."
"You...but people got hurt," Ron looked troubled, staring at Draco now like he didn't know who he was. It hurt, surprisingly. He had really been starting to like Ron.
"Hurt, yeah, but they're not dead. You think I would have survived that fall? I don't."
Biting his lip, the confliction rolled in Ron until he let out a long breath. "Yeah, okay, just...Dark Arts, Draco?"
"My father-" the blonde paused and looked down. He didn't want to lie, but this wasn't exactly a lie, right? "Look, I can't tell you anything. So don't ask, alright?"
"We won't," Harry promised and thankfully Ron nodded along. "And we won't tell Hermione. She's been great, but I don't think she'd understand."
"Definitely wouldn't understand," the redhead agreed emphatically, "So it's our secret? I like that sound of that."
Laughing, Draco had to admit he liked the sound of that too, for many different reasons.
The next few days passed in a blur of fear and anger. No one, besides Harry, had seen him cast the spell that set the fire in the stands, though the school was abuzz with rumors. Most of the student body was convinced the attack on the Boy Who Lived and the teachers in the stands was related, which it was. Draco, Harry and Ron knew, however, that it wasn't the same culprit. Unfortunately, Harry, Ron and Hermione were convinced the attack on Harry was made by Snape and no amount of convincing on Draco's part could sway their opinion.
"So who did do it then?" Hermione had finally demanded in exasperation. Since he couldn't tell them, he had finally let the subject drop. Sooner or later Harry and Ron would ask who he had aimed the spell at and he couldn't tell them. That didn't stop him from shooting the lot of them dirty looks when ever they brought it up.
Draco was brooding on how he would answer the eventual questions as they left Transfiguration when he ran smack into Ron who was walking in front of him. Stumbling back, he bit back a retort and looked around to see just what had caused his friend to stop short like that. His wand had already slid into his hand when the blonde realized the cause; Dumbledore stood in the hallway, looking patient and wizened as always. Draco couldn't stop his scowl.
"Head Master," Hermione greeted the older wizard pleasantly, "Can we help you with anything?"
"No, dear, no," Dumbledore smiled at her, but Draco's blood ran cold as his blue eyes turned and fixed on him. "I'm here to see if Mister Malfoy will stop avoiding me."
Immediately, Draco protested the accusation as he tried to get his Occlumency shields in place, "I haven't been avoiding you, there's just been so much going on what with Quidditch and lessons-"
"Lessons that you have continued to not pay attention to." How the Head Master looked amused and disappointed all at the same time Draco could never figure out. "Come with me, Mister Malfoy. We have private lessons to start and many missed sessions to catch up on."
Frowning, Draco glanced at his friends and immediately knew he was in trouble at the look Harry was giving him. Wounded, confused...suspicious? What had he done to earn such an expression from his former mate? Draco didn't know and there was no time to find out. A wrinkled, but shockingly strong, hand gripped his shoulder and propelled his eleven year old body through the halls. He didn't fight, of course. Not even as an adult had Draco thought himself the equal of Albus Dumbledore. Hell, not even Voldemort was the man's equal.
Down hall after all, they finally stopped on the third floor at a particularly ugly gargoyle statue. "Sherbet Lemon," Dumbledore murmured and the circular staircase was revealed behind the stone creature. Trying to ignore the dread in his stomach, Draco walked up the steps to the Head Master's office. All around him the paintings of previous Hogwarts Head Masters and Mistresses lined the walls, feigning sleep or absent, but Draco wasn't fooled. These paintings were spyies for the head of Hogwarts and always had been.
"Take a seat, Draco," Dumbledore motioned to the chair across from his massive desk. Frowning, Draco did as he was told; he didn't like that the Professor was still using that soft murmur. Was he in trouble or was this really a lesson?
Silence settled between them, strained on Draco's end, though Dumbledore didn't appear phased. Finally, Fawkes the phoenix squawked and made the boy jump. This, apparently, was the Professor's cue to drop the floor out from underneath the former werewolf.
"I should suspend you."
Draco's world spun, dizzying and sickening as the implications of such an outcome flashed through his head. Suspended? Sent to Durmstrang by his father...He wouldn't be here during sixth year when Harry needed him. No, when he would need Harry. His mate. And seventh year? How could he not be here for the worst part of the war when the Boy Who Lived lost so many people close to him? He had nearly broken, then; Draco and Ron had barely kept him together.
"I'm not going to." The words brought Draco back to the present and he swallowed hard as his grey eyes met solemn blue. His Occlumency shields had fallen. "It seems that I cannot."
Leaning back, Dumbledore watched Draco thoughtfully. For his part, the youngest Malfoy was at a loss for words. What do you say to a man whose death you watched? Thankfully, Dumbledore didn't make him speak first.
"Don't explain, perhaps it is best if I do not know what has sent you back in time," the Professor mused aloud, or so it felt to Draco. "You fight for Harry Potter and that is all I can ask. Though...against what, I wonder."
The blonde merely blinked, struggling not to unburden himself to the man who had affected so much of his previous life. He would be able to help, to guide things how they needed to proceed. He would also change so much that the future could no longer be depended upon. It seemed Dumbledore had reached the same conclusions in a moment that had taken Draco weeks. Oh, how he could use the man's help.
"You will take lessons with me, Draco," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled once more, "Perhaps, I can prepare you for the future. Just, tell me this, how old are you?"
"Twenty," Draco answered softly and watched the man's beard swing two and fro as he shook his head.
"Nine years. There's a lot I can teach you in nine years." Dumbledore must have seen something on Draco's face, but his smile only grew wider. "Less, I see. Well, no time like the present, then. Stand, please, and we will begin. I need to know where to start."
It was late when Draco dragged himself back to his dorm room. The duels, the training, had sapped his energy, not to mention left his limbs feeling strange. They always did after a jinx was removed, but Draco had to admit that Dumbledore had gone relatively easy on him. Certainly, his father would be much, much, harder on him that summer.
Pulling the curtain open on his bed, Draco barely registered the figure sitting on his comforter. Before he could register Harry's face, his wand was in hand and leveled at The Boy Who Lived. "Going to try to kill me again?" his friend asked coldly.
Draco felt like the wind had been knocked completely out of him. "What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, trying for angry, but too tired to put more than anxiousness into his voice.
"Hold on," he demanded, crawling onto the bed as well and pulling the curtains shut. With two muttered cantations, he had them sealed and silenced. "There. What are you doing here? And what do you mean try to kill you?"
The coldness on Harry's face cut into Draco's heart. "You lied to me," he said bluntly, "You haven't been seeing Dumbledore for lessons."
"N-no, but that doesn't mean I lied to you. I said-"
"You said that was how you learned that transfiguration spell for your scarf. You said you learned Dark Arts from your father. You said you were trying to save my life. You say a lot of things, Draco."
The air seemed to have vanished from inside the curtains. "Please, Harry, let me explain-"
"You knew who I was the first day we met." This new accusation hit Draco from the side and left him speechless. "No quick answers for that one? No, I didn't think so." Harry was so distant, so cold; it was like sixth year all over again. "So is it your father who wants me dead, or was this your own initiative? He was one of Voldemort's supporters, right? Ron told me. So, has it all been an act? Befriending me, sorting into Gryffindor, the howler, those 'bad feelings.' You really had me fooled, Draco. I never thought you would try to kill me."
"Harry!" Draco's expression must have shown the horror at this line of thinking because Harry's hard mask cracked. He was, after all, just a boy. A lonely boy without a family who was trying to hurt him as much as he was hurting. This Draco could work with and he leapt at the opportunity he had; it could be his last. "Please Harry, I would never do anything to hurt you. You, Ron and Hermione are my best friends. I would never do anything to jeopardize that."
"Then why are you protecting Snape?"
"Protecting…?" Draco was at a loss again, but it only took him a moment to see this from Harry's view. Or rather, the view of an eleven year old boy whose best friend had lied to him. Snape, as far as Harry was concerned, had tried to kill him, had tried to steal whatever it was Professor Dumbledore was trying to protect. Severus did hate him, passionately, and the feeling was mutual. And the entire time, Draco had been letting Snape spit acid at a boy he called friend and would, hopefully, call his mate one day. Yet, he couldn't betray his mentor, even to sooth Harry's feelings.
"I'm not protecting him," Draco tried to say as gently as he could, "I know him. He's a family friend; a good friend. I look up to him."
"With how he treats me?!" The hurt was clear now in Harry's eyes. "Fine, maybe you didn't try to kill me, but you're still a- a jerk for sticking up for him. And not me. And lying to me on top of that...We're not friends anymore, Draco. I don't know if we ever were."
A pit formed in the blonde's stomach and he reached for Harry even as the boy reached for the curtains. The sealing spell kept them firmly in place and Draco caught his friend's arm. "Please, I'm sorry. I won't lie to you again."
"Yes you will." Draco's mouth opened, then shut, startled by the fierceness in Harry's eyes. "It's who you are. You have secrets; I know that."
"Then why-"
"Why am I mad at you?" Harry laughed humorlessly as Draco nodded. "Because it still hurts when you lie. Because you never stick up for me with your 'close family friend.' It's not how friends treat each other."
"Harry…" Draco said weakly, not sure what to do. "Please, I'm sorry."
Nothing changed in those green eyes as they met his grey ones. Not the hurt, the anger, or the sadness. "I believe you, but I don't forgive you."
"What do I have to do? I'll do anything, Harry, please."
"How did you know who I was when we met the first time?"
Draco blinked, trying to wrap his mind around what was bothering Harry so much .The rapid change in questions and accusations was making that more than difficult. "Everyone knows who you are," he replied blankly, "You're the Boy Who Lived. You have," he motioned vaguely to Harry's forehead, "the scar. It's hard to miss."
"That's it?" The silence between them was apparently enough of an answer for Harry. "How do you know so much magic? Such advanced magic? Even Hermione can't do the things you can." Again, Draco didn't know how to answer without lying and the disgust showed on Harry's face. "At least you didn't try to lie to me again," he snapped. "Let me out of here."
Draco almost didn't. He almost demanded that Harry forgive him first, but he knew that it wouldn't help. Wordlessly, aching in all too familiar ways, he removed the sealing charm and let his former rival/mate/friend storm out of his bed. It took all his concentration not to cry, to lay down and shut his eyes as though he could sleep. He hadn't hurt this badly since Harry revealed he had known Draco's wolf had chosen him as a lifemate and had simply been ignoring the pain he was in. Revenge was best served cold, after all. Of course, Harry had then kissed him and Draco hadn't much cared what the man had ignored for the past four years, he was there for one night. Except, this time, Harry wasn't there. Perhaps, he wouldn't ever be there again.
"What have I done?" Draco whispered, the sound swallowed by the silencing spell around his bed. For once, in a long time, he cried himself to sleep.