(fic) The Worst Intentions (Chapter Thirteen)
Title: The Worst Intentions
Rating: PG - 13 (this chapter)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Wordcount: 2400
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 / Chapter Ten / Chapter Eleven / Chapter Twelve
One year later
It was cruelly ironic how Hogwarts; a stronghold against Dark magic for centuries, was to play host to the second great battle of the age. As he fled through the forest, Draco had been certain that he would never cross the threshold of the school again, but on Lucius’ release from Azkaban, Narcissa had insisted that he return, especially as Voldemort was using their manor as his headquarters.
‘The safest place to be,’ they had called it, though Draco reflected that this claim no longer rang true seeing as the seemingly omnipotent headmaster had been usurped by his murderer. While his parents refused to speak of Dumbledore, Draco thought of him frequently and had felt terribly uneasy as he travelled aboard the Hogwarts Express to a school no longer protected by one of the greatest sorcerers to date.
Hogwarts itself had changed beyond recognition as along with a different headmaster, a wave of new professors had infiltrated the school.
‘Professors,’ Draco contemplated as a child’s scream rose from the dungeons, was far too loose a term. They were more like ‘licensed torturers’ who fully exploited their position of power.
All year Draco had been trying to fade into the background, observing without participating in Snape’s reign of terror, and he was largely successful. Despite his efforts last year, the Malfoy name had been metaphorically trampled into the mud and even his former victim, Longbottom, regarded him with contempt.
If the year had retained any degree of normality, the summer term would have been crammed with intensive revision, but it seemed that Voldemort was abolishing all ministry-approved exams as he gave the Death Eaters a free reign to instruct the students in the finer points of muggle torture. Without the NEWTs to occupy him, Draco had a great deal of free time on his hands, though he often remained closeted in the common room.
The Slytherin dungeon was one of the few place that had been unaffected by the school’s upheaval and from there Draco could almost fool himself that the corruption outside was only the product of an overactive imagination coupled with a tendency for vivid nightmares. Of course, whenever he set foot in the corridors, it became inescapably apparent that Hogwarts was no longer the same castle he had entered as a nervous, excited first year.
However, regardless of the school’s revolution, the kitchen seemed unchanged as the house elves continued to serve their usual delicious food at meal times. Draco stared around the Great Hall one morning and wondered why no one thought to tell the elves that there were scarcely enough students to finish even a quarter of the food.
The numbers had started to diminish at the start of the autumn term and with each holiday there were more disappearances. The Gryffindor table was particularly depleted, though Draco was astute enough to realise that the remnants of Dumbledore’s Army would not have abandoned the school to the Death Eaters in order to save their own skin.
Despite their absence, Longbottom, Weasley’s sister and the others were still managing to wreak havoc with their graffiti and sabotage, so Draco could only assume that they had found a secure place to hide within the school. He was careful to keep this thought out of mind when in the presence of other Death Eaters, especially Snape, because although he was unable to aid the resistance, the idea of causing more harm to his fellow students was too terrible to contemplate.
****
When the ugly, black mark on his forearm began to burn Draco had been considering leaving the common room for his dormitory and at least attempt to rest, even if he couldn’t sleep. Voldemort had left clear instructions for the Death Eaters to control the school and only Summon him if it was a matter of undeniable importance. They had been left in no doubt as to the severity of punishment they would all face if he was called for a trivial matter.
As Draco pulled his sleeve down over his arm, trying to ignore the hideous snake-tongued skull, Slughorn burst into the dungeon. His chest heaving beneath his green silk pyjamas, the Potions master wheezed before clearing his throat and shouting,
“All students are to make their way to the Great Hall for evacuation. Take only what you can carry.”
The dormitory doors were flung open with a crash as the Slytherins, many yawning and rubbing their eyes, poured into the common room. The instructions had to be repeated several times for the message to sink in until, eventually, everyone had grabbed their cloaks and pushed their way out of the concealed entrance.
Draco was swept along with the crowd and found a seat at the end of the Slytherin table as McGonagall laid out the plan to help the students out of the castle. Those who were of age were granted permission to stay for the battle and Draco noticed Harry, unaccompanied by either Weasley or Granger, trying unsuccessfully to creep through the hall.
The thought that it was Harry’s return to Hogwarts which had triggered all this activity had briefly crossed Draco’s mind, but he had refused to seriously entertain the idea. He barely had time to marvel at Harry’s stupidity for walking right into a trap when a high voice, cold and clear, began to speak,
“I know you are preparing to fight.” Many of the students screamed and Draco shivered, feeling as if Voldemort was standing right behind him, breathing down his neck. “You cannot fight me and I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. You have until midnight.”
The silence that followed was unbearably heavy as no one dared to so much as breathe. Draco stared over at Harry, who was standing rooted to the spot as all eyes fixed on him, when Pansy’s shrill voice screeched,
“But he’s there! Potter’s there! Someone grab him!”
Hot, bubbling rage coursed through Draco’s veins at her cowardice and he had half risen from his seat when almost the entire student body stood and pointed their wands at the Slytherins.
With obvious disgust, McGonagall spoke in a clipped voice,
“Thank you, Miss Parkinson. You will leave the hall first with Mr Filch. If the rest of your House could follow.”
As one the Slytherin table rose, trooping out of the doors behind the caretaker and Draco found himself buffeted along with them. He tried to force his way back, but soon many other students, most of them underage, were clamouring to escape.
McGonagall gave further instructions to those staying to fight and her voice carried over the cacophony of noise,
“Potter, aren’t you supposed to be looking for something?”
Draco caught sight of Harry rushing out of the hall and gave up his struggle to return to the group of students being organised into a battle plan. It was extremely unlikely that they would accept him into their ranks anyway, not with his close connection with Voldemort, so he hurried out of the hall in the same direction as Harry.
Crabbe and Goyle managed to extract themselves from the stampede of students and followed hot on his heels. To Draco’s surprise, they soon overtook him and hurtled after Harry with their wands drawn.
“What are you doing? Crabbe, Goyle, wait!”
Goyle yelled over his shoulder,
“We’re gonna catch Potter!”
Draco knew with a horrible certainty that Crabbe and Goyle would easily be able to catch up with Harry, so he hurled a volley of curses and jinxes at them, hoping to waylay them enough for the other boy to escape. The distraction worked because Crabbe and Goyle skidded to a halt and raised their wands to fight back.
With his mother’s wand feeling so uncomfortable in his hands, Draco’s spells had less of an impact than they usually would, but he was able to parry most of the curses aimed in his direction. From further down the corridor there was a great crash of shattering glass and through one of the nearby windows, Draco caught a glimpse of an enormous giant peering into the school.
Taking the opportunity to continue their pursuit, Crabbe and Goyle sped off. Draco panted and ran after them, though the distance was growing with every step. He paused for moment, leaning against the wall as he mopped his brow.
Harry was desperately searching for something, though what exactly Draco had no idea. He could only be certain that whatever it was, it had to be hidden somewhere impenetrable. He ticked off various possible locations in his head: the headmaster’s office, the Chamber of Secrets, when it suddenly came to him in a flash of inspiration. With a surge of energy, he set off again, but now with a definite purpose.
Under Umbridge’s tyrannical regime, Harry and his friends had been forced to take their activities undercover and had hidden in the Room of Requirement. Draco had watched them enter easily enough, but it had been impossible to break in. Surely this would be the ideal place to hide something of great importance, so that would be where Harry was heading.
He had no idea what he was going to do when he reached the place, but he sped up in time to see Crabbe and Goyle casting Disillusionment Charms on themselves and slipping into the room. Draco was just in time to dart in behind them as the door sealed and stood frozen in awe at the magnitude of the place.
Compared to the chaos in the rest of the school, the musty atmosphere in there was deadly calm and Draco hovered uncertainly by a shelf of cracked glass bottles. He could have been the only person inside the vast chamber as he cautiously walked down an aisle, the sound of his footsteps swallowed by layers of collected dust.
Suddenly, to his right he heard a shout and rushed round the corner to see Crabbe and Goyle pointing their wands directly at Harry. Unseen, Draco crept forward as Harry asked,
“So, why aren’t you two with Voldemort?”
With gloating pride, Crabbe smiled and answered in an unnervingly soft voice,
“We’re gonna be rewarded. We ‘ung back, Potter. We decided not to go. Decided to bring you to ‘im.”
Draco could see Harry’s eyes flicking between Crabbe and Goyle, obviously trying to find an escape as he spoke casually,
“Good plan. How did you get in here?”
“We can do Diss-lusion Charms now and we followed you. You said you were looking for a die-dum. What’s a die-dum?”
Goyle’s question had clearly wrong footed Harry, but he didn’t reply because Weasley’s voice echoed around the room.
“Harry? Are you talking to someone?”
Immediately, Crabbe turned his wand on a mountain of old furniture and made it collapse into the aisle where Weasley was. Harry bellowed a spell to steady the tottering pile of objects when Crabbe raised his wand again.
Draco leapt forward and grabbed Crabbe’s arm, shouting,
“No! If you wreck the room, you might bury this diedem thing!”
He felt Harry’s eyes on him and hoped that the other boy would realise that he was trying to help, not take the diedem for himself.
Roughly pushing him aside, Crabbe stepped forward and sneered with undisguised ferocity,
“I don’t take your orders no more, Draco. You an’ your dad are finished.”
Both Crabbe and Goyle advanced on Harry, who lunged for a rusty old tiara. To Draco’s horror, Crabbe shot a Killing Curse at the Gryffindor and he screamed,
“Don’t kill him! DON’T KILL HIM!”
Harry had dodged the Unforgivable, but Crabbed laughed before igniting the nearest shelf of objects. The fire began to spread with unnatural speed and Draco lost sight of Harry as a stack of cauldrons collapsed. Grabbing Goyle’s arm he raced down an aisle, the cursed fire devouring the contents of the room.
An unstable tower of desks reared into view and he hauled himself onto it, climbing higher and higher as the cruel tongues of flame licked at his ankles. Finally, he reached the very last desk and perched unsteadily on top of it. Black smoke rose from the fire, choking him as the heat burned his eyes.
He screamed without restraint as a few desks below him caught fire and out of nowhere a hand stretched down to him. He stared up, hardly able to see through the smoke, and saw with an overwhelming wave of emotion that Harry had not deserted him. Pulling himself onto the broom, he wrapped his arms tightly around Harry’s waist and they shot through the smoke in the direction of the doorway.
Harry dived to catch something and Draco felt a searing heat of the flames scorch his skin. His throat was raw and painful, but he screamed until his lungs nearly burst and squeezed Harry’s body so tightly he must have been restricting the other boy’s breathing.
Without warning, the wondrously clear air of the corridor washed over them and they toppled off the broom, fortunately only a foot above the ground. Draco still had his arms clenched around Harry, who wheezed and coughed, but showed no sign of moving away.
Weasley had deposited Goyle nearby and was standing beside Granger, both of them bearing traces of soot and a little blood. Reaching out his hand, Weasley grasped Harry’s arm and heaved him up and away from Draco. The trio stared down at the rusty tiara in Harry’s hand and exhaled what sounded like a sign of relief.
Draco remained slumped against the wall, the inside of his mouth coated with ash and his breathing ragged. His mind reeled as he realised that one of his own trio hadn’t made it out of the room and he stammered, his voice hoarse,
“C - Crabbe.......C - Crabbe......”
There wasn’t a shred of sympathy in Weasley’s voice as he spoke harshly,
“He’s dead.”
Together, Granger and Weasley set off down the corridor, discussing something of great importance in urgent tones. Harry only paused long enough to spare Draco a brief glance, but there was a peculiar look in his eye, almost as if he was struggling with an inner conflict. He made up his mind quickly as Weasley called his name and glanced over his shoulder once more as he hurried after his friends.
Chapter Fourteen
Rating: PG - 13 (this chapter)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Wordcount: 2400
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 / Chapter Ten / Chapter Eleven / Chapter Twelve
One year later
It was cruelly ironic how Hogwarts; a stronghold against Dark magic for centuries, was to play host to the second great battle of the age. As he fled through the forest, Draco had been certain that he would never cross the threshold of the school again, but on Lucius’ release from Azkaban, Narcissa had insisted that he return, especially as Voldemort was using their manor as his headquarters.
‘The safest place to be,’ they had called it, though Draco reflected that this claim no longer rang true seeing as the seemingly omnipotent headmaster had been usurped by his murderer. While his parents refused to speak of Dumbledore, Draco thought of him frequently and had felt terribly uneasy as he travelled aboard the Hogwarts Express to a school no longer protected by one of the greatest sorcerers to date.
Hogwarts itself had changed beyond recognition as along with a different headmaster, a wave of new professors had infiltrated the school.
‘Professors,’ Draco contemplated as a child’s scream rose from the dungeons, was far too loose a term. They were more like ‘licensed torturers’ who fully exploited their position of power.
All year Draco had been trying to fade into the background, observing without participating in Snape’s reign of terror, and he was largely successful. Despite his efforts last year, the Malfoy name had been metaphorically trampled into the mud and even his former victim, Longbottom, regarded him with contempt.
If the year had retained any degree of normality, the summer term would have been crammed with intensive revision, but it seemed that Voldemort was abolishing all ministry-approved exams as he gave the Death Eaters a free reign to instruct the students in the finer points of muggle torture. Without the NEWTs to occupy him, Draco had a great deal of free time on his hands, though he often remained closeted in the common room.
The Slytherin dungeon was one of the few place that had been unaffected by the school’s upheaval and from there Draco could almost fool himself that the corruption outside was only the product of an overactive imagination coupled with a tendency for vivid nightmares. Of course, whenever he set foot in the corridors, it became inescapably apparent that Hogwarts was no longer the same castle he had entered as a nervous, excited first year.
However, regardless of the school’s revolution, the kitchen seemed unchanged as the house elves continued to serve their usual delicious food at meal times. Draco stared around the Great Hall one morning and wondered why no one thought to tell the elves that there were scarcely enough students to finish even a quarter of the food.
The numbers had started to diminish at the start of the autumn term and with each holiday there were more disappearances. The Gryffindor table was particularly depleted, though Draco was astute enough to realise that the remnants of Dumbledore’s Army would not have abandoned the school to the Death Eaters in order to save their own skin.
Despite their absence, Longbottom, Weasley’s sister and the others were still managing to wreak havoc with their graffiti and sabotage, so Draco could only assume that they had found a secure place to hide within the school. He was careful to keep this thought out of mind when in the presence of other Death Eaters, especially Snape, because although he was unable to aid the resistance, the idea of causing more harm to his fellow students was too terrible to contemplate.
****
When the ugly, black mark on his forearm began to burn Draco had been considering leaving the common room for his dormitory and at least attempt to rest, even if he couldn’t sleep. Voldemort had left clear instructions for the Death Eaters to control the school and only Summon him if it was a matter of undeniable importance. They had been left in no doubt as to the severity of punishment they would all face if he was called for a trivial matter.
As Draco pulled his sleeve down over his arm, trying to ignore the hideous snake-tongued skull, Slughorn burst into the dungeon. His chest heaving beneath his green silk pyjamas, the Potions master wheezed before clearing his throat and shouting,
“All students are to make their way to the Great Hall for evacuation. Take only what you can carry.”
The dormitory doors were flung open with a crash as the Slytherins, many yawning and rubbing their eyes, poured into the common room. The instructions had to be repeated several times for the message to sink in until, eventually, everyone had grabbed their cloaks and pushed their way out of the concealed entrance.
Draco was swept along with the crowd and found a seat at the end of the Slytherin table as McGonagall laid out the plan to help the students out of the castle. Those who were of age were granted permission to stay for the battle and Draco noticed Harry, unaccompanied by either Weasley or Granger, trying unsuccessfully to creep through the hall.
The thought that it was Harry’s return to Hogwarts which had triggered all this activity had briefly crossed Draco’s mind, but he had refused to seriously entertain the idea. He barely had time to marvel at Harry’s stupidity for walking right into a trap when a high voice, cold and clear, began to speak,
“I know you are preparing to fight.” Many of the students screamed and Draco shivered, feeling as if Voldemort was standing right behind him, breathing down his neck. “You cannot fight me and I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. You have until midnight.”
The silence that followed was unbearably heavy as no one dared to so much as breathe. Draco stared over at Harry, who was standing rooted to the spot as all eyes fixed on him, when Pansy’s shrill voice screeched,
“But he’s there! Potter’s there! Someone grab him!”
Hot, bubbling rage coursed through Draco’s veins at her cowardice and he had half risen from his seat when almost the entire student body stood and pointed their wands at the Slytherins.
With obvious disgust, McGonagall spoke in a clipped voice,
“Thank you, Miss Parkinson. You will leave the hall first with Mr Filch. If the rest of your House could follow.”
As one the Slytherin table rose, trooping out of the doors behind the caretaker and Draco found himself buffeted along with them. He tried to force his way back, but soon many other students, most of them underage, were clamouring to escape.
McGonagall gave further instructions to those staying to fight and her voice carried over the cacophony of noise,
“Potter, aren’t you supposed to be looking for something?”
Draco caught sight of Harry rushing out of the hall and gave up his struggle to return to the group of students being organised into a battle plan. It was extremely unlikely that they would accept him into their ranks anyway, not with his close connection with Voldemort, so he hurried out of the hall in the same direction as Harry.
Crabbe and Goyle managed to extract themselves from the stampede of students and followed hot on his heels. To Draco’s surprise, they soon overtook him and hurtled after Harry with their wands drawn.
“What are you doing? Crabbe, Goyle, wait!”
Goyle yelled over his shoulder,
“We’re gonna catch Potter!”
Draco knew with a horrible certainty that Crabbe and Goyle would easily be able to catch up with Harry, so he hurled a volley of curses and jinxes at them, hoping to waylay them enough for the other boy to escape. The distraction worked because Crabbe and Goyle skidded to a halt and raised their wands to fight back.
With his mother’s wand feeling so uncomfortable in his hands, Draco’s spells had less of an impact than they usually would, but he was able to parry most of the curses aimed in his direction. From further down the corridor there was a great crash of shattering glass and through one of the nearby windows, Draco caught a glimpse of an enormous giant peering into the school.
Taking the opportunity to continue their pursuit, Crabbe and Goyle sped off. Draco panted and ran after them, though the distance was growing with every step. He paused for moment, leaning against the wall as he mopped his brow.
Harry was desperately searching for something, though what exactly Draco had no idea. He could only be certain that whatever it was, it had to be hidden somewhere impenetrable. He ticked off various possible locations in his head: the headmaster’s office, the Chamber of Secrets, when it suddenly came to him in a flash of inspiration. With a surge of energy, he set off again, but now with a definite purpose.
Under Umbridge’s tyrannical regime, Harry and his friends had been forced to take their activities undercover and had hidden in the Room of Requirement. Draco had watched them enter easily enough, but it had been impossible to break in. Surely this would be the ideal place to hide something of great importance, so that would be where Harry was heading.
He had no idea what he was going to do when he reached the place, but he sped up in time to see Crabbe and Goyle casting Disillusionment Charms on themselves and slipping into the room. Draco was just in time to dart in behind them as the door sealed and stood frozen in awe at the magnitude of the place.
Compared to the chaos in the rest of the school, the musty atmosphere in there was deadly calm and Draco hovered uncertainly by a shelf of cracked glass bottles. He could have been the only person inside the vast chamber as he cautiously walked down an aisle, the sound of his footsteps swallowed by layers of collected dust.
Suddenly, to his right he heard a shout and rushed round the corner to see Crabbe and Goyle pointing their wands directly at Harry. Unseen, Draco crept forward as Harry asked,
“So, why aren’t you two with Voldemort?”
With gloating pride, Crabbe smiled and answered in an unnervingly soft voice,
“We’re gonna be rewarded. We ‘ung back, Potter. We decided not to go. Decided to bring you to ‘im.”
Draco could see Harry’s eyes flicking between Crabbe and Goyle, obviously trying to find an escape as he spoke casually,
“Good plan. How did you get in here?”
“We can do Diss-lusion Charms now and we followed you. You said you were looking for a die-dum. What’s a die-dum?”
Goyle’s question had clearly wrong footed Harry, but he didn’t reply because Weasley’s voice echoed around the room.
“Harry? Are you talking to someone?”
Immediately, Crabbe turned his wand on a mountain of old furniture and made it collapse into the aisle where Weasley was. Harry bellowed a spell to steady the tottering pile of objects when Crabbe raised his wand again.
Draco leapt forward and grabbed Crabbe’s arm, shouting,
“No! If you wreck the room, you might bury this diedem thing!”
He felt Harry’s eyes on him and hoped that the other boy would realise that he was trying to help, not take the diedem for himself.
Roughly pushing him aside, Crabbe stepped forward and sneered with undisguised ferocity,
“I don’t take your orders no more, Draco. You an’ your dad are finished.”
Both Crabbe and Goyle advanced on Harry, who lunged for a rusty old tiara. To Draco’s horror, Crabbe shot a Killing Curse at the Gryffindor and he screamed,
“Don’t kill him! DON’T KILL HIM!”
Harry had dodged the Unforgivable, but Crabbed laughed before igniting the nearest shelf of objects. The fire began to spread with unnatural speed and Draco lost sight of Harry as a stack of cauldrons collapsed. Grabbing Goyle’s arm he raced down an aisle, the cursed fire devouring the contents of the room.
An unstable tower of desks reared into view and he hauled himself onto it, climbing higher and higher as the cruel tongues of flame licked at his ankles. Finally, he reached the very last desk and perched unsteadily on top of it. Black smoke rose from the fire, choking him as the heat burned his eyes.
He screamed without restraint as a few desks below him caught fire and out of nowhere a hand stretched down to him. He stared up, hardly able to see through the smoke, and saw with an overwhelming wave of emotion that Harry had not deserted him. Pulling himself onto the broom, he wrapped his arms tightly around Harry’s waist and they shot through the smoke in the direction of the doorway.
Harry dived to catch something and Draco felt a searing heat of the flames scorch his skin. His throat was raw and painful, but he screamed until his lungs nearly burst and squeezed Harry’s body so tightly he must have been restricting the other boy’s breathing.
Without warning, the wondrously clear air of the corridor washed over them and they toppled off the broom, fortunately only a foot above the ground. Draco still had his arms clenched around Harry, who wheezed and coughed, but showed no sign of moving away.
Weasley had deposited Goyle nearby and was standing beside Granger, both of them bearing traces of soot and a little blood. Reaching out his hand, Weasley grasped Harry’s arm and heaved him up and away from Draco. The trio stared down at the rusty tiara in Harry’s hand and exhaled what sounded like a sign of relief.
Draco remained slumped against the wall, the inside of his mouth coated with ash and his breathing ragged. His mind reeled as he realised that one of his own trio hadn’t made it out of the room and he stammered, his voice hoarse,
“C - Crabbe.......C - Crabbe......”
There wasn’t a shred of sympathy in Weasley’s voice as he spoke harshly,
“He’s dead.”
Together, Granger and Weasley set off down the corridor, discussing something of great importance in urgent tones. Harry only paused long enough to spare Draco a brief glance, but there was a peculiar look in his eye, almost as if he was struggling with an inner conflict. He made up his mind quickly as Weasley called his name and glanced over his shoulder once more as he hurried after his friends.
Chapter Fourteen