693Chapter 11: Worth Twelve of Crabbe
Harry refused to talk to Draco for the rest of the month. Both Ron and Hermione tried to patch the rift that had grown between the two boys, but to no success since they hadn't been told exactly what the two in disagreement about. It surprised Draco that Harry hadn't told them, or at least Ron, about the lies and the argument, but he wasn't about to be the one to confess. Then he would be down another two friends.
By Winter's Break, though, it was almost as if he had already lost them. Hating the silence, Draco had avoided spending time with the Golden Trio in the common room one day. Then it was suddenly two, three, four and he saw Harry laugh again with Ron when he wasn't around. It was better he stay away, if it made the boy happy again. Being around him certainly hadn't.
While Ron and Hermione tried to spend time with him, Draco began making excuses to avoid them as well until they gave up. It hadn't been something he wanted, but they were supposed to be with Harry, not with him. Slowly but surely, Draco was isolating himself all over again. He told himself it was alright, that he was used to it by now. Really, all it did was give him time to think and rest after his weekly sessions with Dumbledore and thrice weekly Quidditch practices.
In his time, Draco had barely earned Harry's friendship before he had lost the man himself. After years of animosity, rivalry, and bullying, it was hard to blame anyone for the grudge they held against him. Despite that, he had always had Harry's trust. This time around, he had gained his friendship only to lose his trust. Of course, he had time to earn it back and he would. He had to, but there were years to prove himself to Harry Potter. As much as he wanted it to be now, he couldn't rush to fix something so personal; it wasn't why he was here.
That was what Draco realized in his weeks alone, that he had been wanting to fix everything that had gone wrong the first time. The fire, his parents death, the werewolf attack, his relationship with The Boy Who Lived. While he had made some concessions to keeping the timeline intact, Quirrel for instance, he hadn't made enough. He should have been in Slytherin, though bullying Harry and the others would have been a tall order.
Yet, there was no way to change what he had already done. There was only what he could do going forward. He had made up his mind to be bitten by the werewolf again, though he couldn't bare to stand by and let his parents die. That would be the only change he would actively strive for, besides finding the traitor and winning that last battle. The rest he would do his best not to change, even if that hadn't worked out so well thus far.
Christmas break went exactly as it had the year before. Narcissa gushed over her son and Lucious discussed classes, subjects, and a training regimen for the summer. The Malfoy's held their annual Christmas Eve Gala and Draco was showered with gifts. It was wonderful and horrible, having to pretend he was just a average eleven year old child. He began to wish whatever accident had sent him back hadn't sent him so far back.
Only two exceptions kept events unfolding exactly as they had the first time. Draco sent three presents by owl and on Christmas morning he awoke to one extra. While it hurt that Harry hadn't sent him a gift - not that he had really expected one - Draco loved the chocolate frogs Hermione had sent. It was more than she sent anything at all, than he actually wanted to eat the chocolate.
As he sat in his room and opened gifts he didn't really care about - since Hermione's was opened already - Draco wondered what Harry thought of his gift. He was sure Hermione would love the set of quills and ink in their decorative box and Ron his new Wizard's chess set, but Harry…
The note had taken Draco four drafts before he was satisfied, the gift he had painstakingly chosen himself. He knew the boy loved obviously enchanted items and objects, so he had bought Harry a crystal ball security set. When the smaller crystal was placed in a room, the larger one could be used to see and hear anything that went on there. He had no idea what actual use Harry could get out of it, but he was fairly sure he would enjoy it.
The note, in the end, had been surprisingly short:
Merry Christmas Harry,
This letter and gift are not my attempt to buy you back. They're just to let you know that, no matter how mad at me you are, I'll always be there for you. As your friend, or just to watch your back. I'm sorry I never stood up for you to Snape.
Draco Malfoy
If he hadn't known it would make Harry angrier, he would have apologized for lying as well. Draco was sorry after all, but his friend had been right, he would do it again. He had too many secrets to keep.
The rest of the break passed without a word from Harry. Both Ron and Hermione owled Draco to thank him for their gifts, but Hedwig never showed up at Draco's window. When he got back to school, he greeted Ron and Hermione warmly enough, but resumed his self-imposed isolation. At least, he tried to.
At breakfast the first day of classes, Harry sat down next to Draco, startling the blonde so badly he dropped his spoon in his oatmeal. Without a word about the gift or the letter, the Boy Who Lived launched into a story for Hermione and Draco about the Mirror of Erised that he and Ron had found over break. Through most of the tale, Draco sat silent, too startled by the sudden change in Harry to comment. Ron and Hermione took the change in stride and just like that, Draco found himself forgiven. Not that Harry expressly said as much and Draco understood. Their friendship was built on a foundation of sand - the lies, secrets, and Dark Arts - and Harry would only tolerate so much crumbling of what little they had.
Draco went to see Professor Snape that night, though he didn't know what he was going to say even as his too small hand knocked on the man's door. After long moments, in which Draco was convinced the man was asleep and not going to answer, the door creaked open and Severus peered down his nose at the young Malfoy heir.
"Draco?" the Professor looked up and down the hall, then scowled and pulled Draco inside his room. "What are you doing about this late? It's passed curfew."
"I needed to talk to you," he started, then promptly interrupted himself, "Thank you for the Christmas present. It was very nice."
Snape snorted, "As if you need more potions books. Is that what you had to discuss with me?"
"No, I-" Draco hesitated, fidgeting with his robes until the Potions Master skewered him with a disapproving look, "Sorry, I...I wanted to ask you to please stop picking on Harry."
The look of outrage on Snape's face had Draco fidgeting once more. "How dare you imply-" he began, but Draco wasn't about to let him get defensive.
"He's not his father," the boy blurted and winced at how pale his mentor became. "I'm sorry, sir, honestly I am. I respect you, more than any other teacher and not just because you're a friend of my father's. That's why this is so hard for me, but Harry's my friend and you...you pick on him. Because he looks like his dad, but he's not and...and he looks like his mother, too."
Draco hadn't thought Snape could get any paler, but he was wrong. "How dare you come here and say such things to me? And who has been spouting such nonsense? Your father? Narcissa? I'll-"
"No, sir, I just...I just know," Draco was fidgeting worse than ever, his hands pulling at his robes and his tie, leaving both askew. "Hermione," he withered under Snape's renewed glare, "Granger thinks I'm a seer. I don't know, but I know this. I know you're picking on him because his father picked on you. I know you were friends with his mother and...and I figured if you remembered he was hers too, you'd stop. And if not for her, for me."
"For you?" Snape was now so off his guard, he didn't know quite what to say about any of Draco's statements. He didn't even try to deny them again.
"Yes, sir. Like I said, Harry's my friend and I respect you a lot, so you two hating each other puts me in the middle. I can't talk back to you in front of the other students, but you keep picking on him and then when he bad mouths you and I defend you it makes him really angry with me. And he should be, because I never stand up for him to you. So that's what I'm doing. Standing up for Harry."
"What you're doing, Draco, is babbling," Snape said cooly, having finally recovered from his earlier shock. He paced to the bookcase in his room, then spoke without looking back at the blonde. "As you have asked me privately and not publicly, as you pointed out, I will no longer...pick on...Mister Potter. However, I will insist that you not discuss this...knowledge you have come into with anyone, especially Mister Potter, is that clear?"
Relief flooded through Draco, his knees going weak with it, and he finally stopped fidgeting. "Yes sir, I would never discuss your personal life with anyone. Really, I didn't want to discuss it with you."
"I'm sure," the Professor drawled, drawing a smirk from Draco. "Now run back to your common room. It is past your curfew."
It was Hermione who noticed that Snape was being nice - well, nicer - to Harry. At first, neither Harry nor Ron believed it, but soon enough they had to admit he had stopped pointing out all of Harry's flaws. Of course, he hadn't stopped picking Gryffindor as a whole, but Draco thought that was too much to ask. He was a Slytherin, after all, and Head of House on top of that.
No one asked if he had anything to do with Snape's sudden change in behavior - why would they? - but Harry's grateful smile once he believed it told Draco the boy had figured it out. That alone was enough to dismiss Draco's worry that he had again changed events.
By now, however, he was starting to think that changing little things wouldn't impact the timeline so much as long as he was vigilant. The worst change so far had only been Hermione tripping over Katie Bell and he had taken care of that, though Dumbledore couldn't help mentioning how excessive his work had been every chance he had. If he was careful, he could handle whatever changes were thrown his way. If he couldn't, why would he have been sent back? Besides, if he didn't relax about each little ripple effect, Draco was going to give himself an ulcer by the time he was twelve.
That is, if Harry, Ron and Hermione didn't drive him crazy before then. The first weeks of school, all their time was spent searching every book they could get their hands on for Nicholas Flammel. Draco refused to join in the search, calling the three of them crazy and insisting Dumbledore had everything under control. Of course they ignored him, as he knew they would. They also left him out of the search for the maker of the Sorcerer's Stone, thankfully, since he was afraid he would give something away. Besides, between that, Dumbledore's lessons, and Wood's insane practice schedule, he didn't have time to look for a guy he didn't want to find in an entire library of books.
Everything was going wonderfully, as far as Draco was concerned (if he ignored the search for Nicholas Flammel). That is, until Wood told them Snape would referee their next Quidditch match and made George Weasley fall off his broom.
"Snape's refereeing?" he spluttered with mud in his mouth. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."
The rest of the team landed to complain, too, but there was nothing anyone could do about it. Practice turned depressed as everyone tried not to think of all the penalties Snape was going to give Gryffindor to keep them from winning their match. Draco knew, though, that this was only the beginning of another argument between him and Harry.
Sure enough, as soon as practice ended, Harry sped off toward the common room with Draco at his heels. Ron was playing Hermione in a game a Wizard's chess and hardly looked up as Harry sat down next to him.
"Don't talk to me for a moment," the redhead said, "I need to concen-" He caught sight of Harry's face. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."
Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the two about Snape's sudden, supposedly sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee while Draco sat on the other side of Ron with his arms crossed.
"Don't play," said Hermione at once.
"Say you're ill," said Ron.
"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggested.
"Really break your leg," said Ron.
"I can't," said Harry. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."
"Draco can be seeker," Ron insisted, "and Katie can be Chaser. Don't play."
"He could just be trying to protect you, you know," Draco drawled, anger flashing in his grey eyes and mirroring the anger that flashed in Harry's green.
Before an all out fight could begin, Neville chose that moment to topple into the common room. Someone had used a Leg-Locker Curse on him, so Draco wasn't exactly sure how he had managed to get through the portrait hole in the first place. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to the Gryffindor tower.
Draco couldn't help a smirk as the common room burst into laughter. This had been his prank, the time before, though he imagined it was Crabbe's now. The only one who didn't think it was funny was Hermione, who jumped up to free Neville with the countercurse and help him to his feet.
"What happened?" Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with Harry and Ron.
"Crabbe," said Neville shakily, confirming Draco's suspicions. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."
"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report him!"
Neville shook his head.
"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.
"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" said Ron. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."
"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Crabbe's already done that," Neville choked out, making Draco frown. He hadn't remembered making the fat boy cry.
Harry felt in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he really might cry, alarming Draco more than ever. Why had he ever said that to the kid?
"You're worth twelve of Crabbe," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you to Griffindor, didn't' it? And where's Crabbe? In stinking Slytherin."
Even as Neville's lips twitched in a smile, Draco's world went mute. Worth twelve of Crabbe? What had he said the first time around? Worth twelve of Malfoy? Of him? No wonder Harry had held a grudge against him for so long. No wonder Ron and Hermione and Neville never really stopped hating him. He was a complete git, cruel and mean and yet six years after this, Neville would save his life. Only a Gryffindor would save the life of the worst person he knew.
Except, Draco wasn't that person any more, was he? He wasn't the one making Neville cry. He wasn't the one the Gryffindors hated so much. For once, he was one of them and he didn't have to work for it. When the werewolf bit him in five years, he wouldn't have so-called friends stabbing him in the back. He wouldn't have to fight for a new place in life because he was already there.
"Draco? Draco, didn't you hear?"
Blinking slowly, the blonde focused on his friends and tried to remember why they were so excited. And where did that huge book come from?
"Draco?"
Now the three looked concerned, Hermione pressing her hand to the back of his head. "I'm fine, 'Mione," he protested, pushing her hand away. "What did I miss?"
The three exchanged a look, but apparently whatever it was they had been talking about was far more important than his lapse in attention. "Nicholas Flammel," Ron said as if he had been the one to figure it out, "is the creator of the Sorcerer's Stone!"
Draco blinked, remembering he was supposed to look surprised. "The thing that gives you eternal life and wealth? No wonder I'd heard of him before," he sighed, "Not on a chocolate frog then."
"No, he is," Harry said, "He's mentioned on Dumbledore's card. You were right."
"See?" said Hermione, when the boys had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"
"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Harry. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."
"You know," Draco said stiffly, the anger back, but muted after his recent moment of clarity, "I did as you asked, stood up for you, because you were right. About what it means to be friends. You know else it means? You stop insisting someone I look up to is a murderer."
"Draco," Harry started heatedly, but paused as the blonde merely got up and collected his bag. "Wait, you can't just walk off after saying something like that."
"Yes, I can," Draco said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "You're my friend. I care about Snape. You both hate each other and have left me with exactly one option; I won't be around when either of you are treating the other like scum stuck to your shoe."
Without another word, Draco swept up the stairs to the first years dormitory. Maybe he had been rash, but he couldn't stand hearing them talk about Severus that way. The man had died for Harry, for Lilly,and for him. Draco wouldn't sit quietly and listen. He had to trust that his friendship with Harry could stand up to this test.