(fic) The Worst Intentions (Chapter Ten)
Title: The Worst Intentions
Rating: PG - 13 (this chapter)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Wordcount: 1780
Summary: What if Draco's task was not to repair the Vanishing Cabinet, but instead, to learn Dumbledore's secrets through Harry? Bitter enemies from their first meeting, Draco must find a way to forge a bond with Harry.
Author's Notes: This is an alternative reality fic in which Draco's mission differs from that of J.K Rowling's book. However, some elements of the canon will be used.
Feedback: Yes please!
Disclaimer: None of this is mine as I'm sure you already know
Previous Chapters: Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine
Too many questions would have been asked if Draco purposefully moved to Harry’s side during every Apparition lesson, so he wisely, though unwillingly, kept his distance. That’s not to say he didn’t watch the other boy and was often able to catch Harry’s eye from across the hall.
After three weeks he was able to Apparate a few feet towards the hoop, but found it difficult to keep Twycross’ Three D’s in mind for the rest of the lesson when Harry had surreptitiously given him a thumbs up.
January slid into February with the promise of yet more snow, so Draco spent one of his free periods closeted in the library, searching for the spell to create portable blue flames. He found it, eventually, in a dusty book of obscure charms and inwardly admired Granger’s resourcefulness.
Casting the spell later that day, he proudly carried the jar to his lessons, particularly the ones he shared with Harry. The reactions of the trio were priceless when they noticed: Granger stared in amazement, Weasley scowled and Harry grinned, obviously trying not to make a comment. Draco mimed dropping the jar when Weasley and Granger’s backs were turned, and was amused to see Harry biting his lip so as to prevent himself from laughing out loud.
As pleasurable as these moments of mutual understanding were, Draco realised with increasing clarity that the bond they had developed with each other had become far too precious to be manipulated for Voldemort’s task. Instead, Draco tried to monitor Dumbledore’s behaviour and noted the Headmaster’s absences with great interest.
Where exactly he disappeared to remained a mystery and when Draco dared ask McGonagall, he was rewarded with a lecture on the Headmaster’s right to privacy and a deduction of House points.
As February drew to a close, the coating of snow was transformed into muddy slush which managed to seep unpleasantly through Draco’s shoes whenever he crossed the grounds for Herbology. Another Hogsmeade visit was scheduled for the beginning of March, but this time Draco intended to make the most of the freedom it offered and not carry out a plan which would maim another student, as he had in October.
He told himself continuously that any attempt to gather information for his task would not be possible during the trip as it was unlikely that Dumbledore would join the students for the outing and an attempt to break into the Headmaster’s office would end in failure.
Lying awake at night, as the other boys in his dormitory slowly fell asleep one by one, Draco entertained a half-formed idea of somehow spending the afternoon in Hogsmeade alone with Harry. The news that the trip would be cancelled and all further ones postponed until further notice came as a crushing blow, especially when Draco realised that it was his own ill-conceived plan with the cursed necklace which had put pay to the students’ visit.
****
The first of March dawned grey and miserable, heavy rain clouds obscuring the sun’s pale rays and relentless drizzling rain pattering against the castle’s windows. Draco made his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast in a foul mood and, as had been his custom for the past few months, scanned the Gryffindor table for Harry.
However, neither he nor his faithful sidekick, Weasley, were anywhere to be seen, so Draco assumed that they were taking advantage of the weekend by sleeping late. Stabbing his bacon violently, Draco glared up at the professors’ table and Dumbledore’s absent chair, cursing them for cancelling the Hogsmeade visit.
The whole day was stretched out in front of him, hours upon hours to be filled with either homework or lurking near Dumbledore’s office. He drained his goblet of pumpkin juice and rose from the table, edging around a mass of Gryffindors, all of whom ignored him as he squeezed past.
Unless his ears deceived him, Draco could have sworn he heard Weasley’s name mentioned in connection with a love potion. Grinning broadly at the thought, Draco hoped that it was the work of another student who was so exasperated with Weasley and Granger’s attitudes that they had tried to engineer a way for them to admit their feelings.
He dwelt on the matter just long enough to imagine Harry’s reaction, before turning his attention to the mountainous stack of homework which awaited him in the common room.
****
Around midday, Draco’s stomach began to rumble, so, abandoning his Charms essay, he went in search of lunch. Many of the other students must have also felt a few pangs of hunger because quite a crowd was pushing and shoving its way to the Great Hall.
Draco allowed himself to be swept along and was surprised to see two flame-haired adults with troubled expressions being pressed against the wall. He wondered momentarily why Weasley’s parents had needed to visit the school, though their presence didn’t interest him greatly, when Dumbledore and Snape cut their way through the crowd of students.
The queue to the Great Hall had come to a standstill, so while Draco waited for it to move on, he observed the professors out of idle curiosity. Dumbledore greeted the Weasleys, but not with his customary benign smile, and pointed to Snape. Being only a few feet away, Draco could eavesdrop easily on most of their conversation.
They were speaking in urgent, low-pitched tones, but he caught the words, ‘accident’ and ‘Slughorn,’ when the Potions master himself forced his way through the crowd. Unlike the professors, Slughorn didn’t attempt to lower his voice, but even if he had, Draco would have been able to tell that something serious had happened by their grave expressions.
“There was something in the mead I offered them, but I had no idea --”
Dumbledore must have realised that the entire student body was listening attentively and forcefully steered Slughorn in the direction of the hospital wing, before he could continue. The crowd parted respectfully to allow the Headmaster to pass, followed by Slughorn, Snape and the Weasleys, who were looking even more distressed.
Draco’s mouth went dry, Slughorn’s booming voice rang in his ears and he didn’t notice the queue moving until someone pushed him forward.
****
The day dragged on and as the sky darkened, Draco let Pansy take his hand and accompany him to the hall for their evening meal. His eyes flicked unconsciously towards the Gryffindor table, but this time he was able to find Harry easily amongst the other students. Their heads bent together, Harry and Granger looked to be discussing something of great importance, whilst further down the table, the Brown girl’s eyes were reddened as if she’d been crying recently.
Feeling the bottom drop out of his stomach, Draco searched the rest of the table frantically for any sign of Weasley, terrified that what he had been worrying about all afternoon was true. Harry didn’t show any sign of looking over at the Slytherins, so Draco abandoned his meal and rushed out of the Great Hall.
He should have known that his quick exit would not have gone unnoticed by all and, sure enough, Snape must have made some excuse to the other professors because he left his own place and slipped out.
Outside the hall, he grabbed Draco’s arm and pinned him against the wall, hissing,
“It was you, wasn’t it? You planted the poisoned mead in Slughorn’s office. You’re lucky that he’s too embarrassed to admit where the bottle came from, but because of your rash, foolish actions, a boy nearly died today!”
Draco’s hands clenched, his chest tightening and he stammered,
“It wasn’t for him......not Slughorn.......Dumbledore.......”
This only served to increase Snape’s fury further.
“Your arrogant, childish behaviour has made the success of the Dark Lord’s task almost impossible and now, Ronald Weasley is lying close to death in the hospital wing!”
He couldn’t stand the livid glare, the pincer-like grip on his shoulder any longer and, with bile rising in his throat, Draco wrenched himself away from Snape’s grasp. Sprinting down a corridor, he burst into the nearest bathroom, hurtling into an empty cubicle. With the door securely locked, Draco sank down onto the toilet seat, his chest heaving.
Snape’s words resounded painfully in his head, the stabbing guilt that had plagued him since Katie Bell had been cursed rose to the surface. His carelessness, his pathetic attempts to complete the task had once again mortally injured another student, only this time it was Harry’s best friend.
As selfish as it unquestionably was, Draco felt ten times worse about Weasley’s poisoning because of his close connection with Harry.
He imagined the scene in vivid detail, horrific though it was, as Weasley somehow managed to consume a love potion. Harry would have noticed something was wrong, perhaps taken him to Slughorn for an antidote, and there........
Draco squeezed his eyes shut, but couldn’t stop the images flashing through his mind.
Slughorn would have poured out the mead for some reason Draco couldn’t fathom and Weasley would have taken a sip.
What if it had been Harry?
Would Weasley have acted as quickly as his friend?
It could have so easily been Harry’s murder on his hands and -
“Boys aren’t allowed him here, you know.”
Draco raised his head to see the pearly white form of Moaning Myrtle floating in front of him. It dawned him that in his haste to flee from Snape, he had inadvertently entered the girls’ bathroom, though fortunately, it was the one most students avoided because of the ghost.
Seeing as he hadn’t responded and only stared in shock at her, Myrtle spoke again,
“Why have you come here? Have you been bullied, too?”
Draco shook his head, the lump in his throat making it impossible to speak. Myrtle eyed him with interest and pointed out with undisguised glee,
“You’ve been crying!”
Touching his face, Draco found his cheeks damp with tears he hadn’t knowingly shed. The ghost glided closer towards him, eagerness transforming her usual glum expression.
“You can confide in me; I won’t tell anyone. Have you done something awful?”
Her words carried far more truth than she could possible imagine and Draco stood up, unlocking the cubicle door. As he left he was unable to avoid bushing past her translucent body, the sensation of being plunged into icy water increasing when she tried to stop him. Ignoring her pleas for him to stay in her company, Draco hurried out of the bathroom, the feeling of spine tingling chills persisting long after he had returned to the common room.
Chapter Eleven