To Play with Fire

Disclaimer: I own only plot and the pleasure of writing. All hail J.K.Rowling!

A/N: The title is kind of inspired by a song “Endlessly”. The band's Muse, they are awesome! The mock name “snake face” is not mine either but, for the love of god, I can't remember where I read it.

Chapter 10

To Hurt Endlessly

Harry was sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor common room doing homework, but Ron was constantly interfering with his studious thought. Harry noticed Ron's strange expression but did not ask. It must be about Hermione being outside the castle doing her 'girl stuff' with Ginny. It did not help, the redhead still started to grumble.

“What 'girl stuff' could she possibly be doing? She never does anything like that! Have you ever seen her doing any girl stuff with Ginny?”

Harry shrugged indifferently. “If it's a girl stuff, I think they would not do it for me to see.”

But it did not appease Ron. He was willing to bet that Hermione knew as much about 'girl stuff' as he did. No, it must be that Hermione didn't want to help them with their homework.

“She said that she had already written it. Can you believe it?” He looked expectantly at him and Harry had to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

“What a crappy excuse!” Ron continued to fume, “All the more reason to help us, if she already knows the material!”

Harry had had enough and silently turned back to his work, but Ron was too distracted, “Do you think he was telling the truth?” Ron gave up the pretence of studying and set his quill aside.

Harry looked up from his work. For a moment he had no idea who Ron was talking about.

“Malfoy?” Harry thought that he'd rather not talk about it again. “I don't know but I think that some of it makes sense. I've always thought that he was a mindless follower of the cause, but it looks that he uses his brain for other than studying after all.” Harry fiddled with his quill.


“No, not about that. I mean the hand, was he telling the truth about the hand?”

Harry didn't even try to mask his irritation. “We've been over that dozens of times already,“ he said.

Ron had this crazy idea that if Draco told them the truth about his injury, then all the other stuff would be true too. Harry had developed a healthy respect for Ron's crazy ideas. Most of them were complete bollocks but some proved to be a spot on. The downside to it was that you never knew which ones were which and they all sounded... well... crazy.

A medi-wizard who couldn't heal a simple fracture? Harry had no clue if it could be possible. Two other possibilities seemed to be much more feasible though - either it was some kind of magical injury an ordinary medi-wizard was not trained to heal or Malfoy simply wasn't one. In both cases he would have been lying.


* * *


“You have to go to Madam Pomfrey!”

Draco groaned, “Why do you even care?” On the one hand he was thrilled that she'd sat at his table in the library while there were plenty of other empty seats, but he was also slightly nervous about it. Gone were the times when he had been afraid for his reputation, if anyone saw him studying with a mudblood. What did it matter what the others of his social circle thought, if he would be a cast out after his true alliances came out later, anyway? Besides he was acting according to his “master's” orders. And everybody were to afraid of him to say anything anyway.

Furthermore, he did not think of her as inferior to him any more. He thought her magnificent, a beautiful, courageous girl with a good character. Though being too brave could be counted as stupid in his book and she had her nose high up in the air half the time and she bloody needed to show her knowledge in every bloody class and... There were some more things he didn't like about her, for sure, but nobody was perfect. If someone was inferior to anyone here, it would be him that was on the lower step looking up at her. Though given their difference in hight maybe they would still see eye to eye... Stop it! You will never have the chance, idiot, better not to torture yourself. Great, he was talking to himself again.

He was looking at her beautiful mouth and suddenly realised that she was talking. Answering his question no less. Draco tried to pay attention.

“- it will only get worse if you don't! Especially if it's something you cannot fix yourself. What if it's something that needs special attention?” She was looking at him in that no-nonsense expression and he almost sighed in relief, he knew exactly what she was talking about. It was his upper left appendage that refused to write properly again. His leg was marginally better fortunately, there was no apparent limp and Draco was sure that the next day it would not even hurt any more.

“A day after the attack a little Malfoy comes asking for help with an injury he cannot really explain? Don't be ridiculous!” He should have gone a long time ago, claimed that it was a Quidditch injury and get it fixed. But at first he'd thought he could handle it, then that it would pass and now it was just too late. However long he waited Pomfrey would still know that he had let the fractured hand to grow together before seeking for help and it would raise a question as to why he had done that.

Draco exhaled resignedly, “I have to break it again.”

Hermione's eyes widened comically, “What? Are you crazy?”

“Publicly, so that no one will question how it happened.” He was amused at Hermione's expression.

All she did was blink. “Won't it hurt?”

Draco laughed. It felt good to be in her presence.

After the surprise wore off Hermione understood the need for it, of course, but the idea still sounded insane to her. She wondered what kind of a man would willingly break his hand? She hoped he really was on the right side, he would be a formidable enemy.

Now that Draco had claimed being a good guy, she had decided to take an opportunity and spend some time with him. But only to try and ascertain if he was telling the truth, of course. Not because she liked him! Still, every time she looked at his shaking and weak hand, those otherwise so long and elegant fingers, something inside her twisted uncomfortably.

About this she was decided – be he an ally or a conspirator, she wanted to help him get that hand better. So they made up a plan.


* * *


They hadn't asked him about the hand that evening after the revel, though Draco thought that at least Potter had noticed it was hurt some time ago. He had caught the guy sending him stealthy looks in some lessons. Draco had even stopped taking notes when he could not hide the tremor in his hand.

The next morning after he had spilled the beans, Hermione had inconspicuously dropped him a tiny letter during Potions class. His heart fluttered for a moment but it was nothing personal - he was only asked to come to a certain unused classroom on the third floor before dinner. Of course, it's not anything personal, you idiot... Draco smirked mirthlessly. Who would have ever thought that Draco Malfoy would be so hung up on a girl? And a Potter's sidekick no less! Certainly not he.

Draco told them that he had hurt his hand by accident in his dorm a long ago, but was too embarrassed to go to Madam Pomfrey. Besides, it didn't seem to be serious at first. He wasn't sure if they had believed him, but it was immaterial since it was the only explanation they were going to get. They had probably thought that he had hurt it in some other Death Eater outing. It was just as well, they were never going to trust him unless he drank Veritaserum anyway. If they would even decide to offer him. If not, he'd just have to make something up for the next Council meeting too. Draco wondered how long he would be able to fool snake face until they discovered that he had failed the mission.


* * *


“If it's true, I think you should start dating him.” Ron was relentless, making plans, cultivating his “ideas” and suggesting nonsense for two days in a row but Hermione thought that now she had heard everything.

“What?!” She stared at him bewildered but when it was obvious that Ron was perfectly serious and was opening his “gob” to continue, Hermione cut him off, “I've have had it with Slytherin boyfriends, thank you very much, Ron!”

“No, what I meant is that if Voldemort wants Malfoy to hang out with us it would be the only logical way really. Unless we can stage him saving Harry's or either of our lives, which would be a little too hard to carry out anyway.” He thought for a moment, “Well, I mean that if Malfoy is really on our side, that is...”

Harry didn't say anything, as he was living in the same dorm with Ron, he had already had the privilege to hear all about it. Although this time Ron even made sense and if he didn't think this kind of plan too weird, he'd back his best friend up. If Hermione would go for it then... But no! Harry rather suspected that Malfoy looked at Hermione funnily enough already. And maybe this kind of game would not be safe for either of them.

“You really think that pretending to go out would be a good strategy at this point?” Hermione suddenly found herself thinking about it. Well, it certainly would make things easier for Draco being a “spy” but would she be able to act as if she was in love with him? “Maybe I'll think about it when we actually know that he is what he says he is.” She grinned. “But I don't think Malfoy will be too pleased about the proposition.” They laughed imagining the blond's incredulous expression.

They had gotten hold of the serum and decided to use it that night, it was just a matter of getting Malfoy there. Who new, maybe he would actually back out?


* * *


The next morning was not a good one for Draco but was there any that was, any more? Lately, he had found himself staying up until he was completely exhausted. Then were the few hours he allowed himself in bed hopefully dreamless.

Draco refrained from snorting. He reached the breakfast table and sat next to a pillar not looking about too much. Someone stood fast and disappeared to the other side of the table. Blaise, of course.

Not for the first time Draco thought that he might have overdone it. The Italian was now so afraid of him that it was painfully obvious to everyone, and other people tended to stay clear of Draco too. He had gained respect but lost in mates. In a way it pleased him, but at the same time he was now even more lonely than before. Decent conversation was scarce. The few guys that weren't afraid of him or at least had guts enough not to show it, were sons of Death Eaters like him, or those who had already joined.

The up side was that the situation had undoubtedly been reported to Voldemort who had started to see him as a valued follower. On the other hand though, Draco was now afraid to receive orders he wouldn't be willing to go through with. Despite the seeming cool he was sick to his stomach every time he remembered the night he'd become a criminal. He wasn't sure he'd be able to do something like that again.

He shot glances towards the main entrance every time someone came in and finally the trio entered. Both boys looked at him but Hermione did not. Draco sighed; he was crushed once again. Draco really did not understand how he managed to be disappointed every single time she showed her total indifference in him. He fisted the cutlery in his hands, but forced himself to relax the next moment.

Draco ate in silence. Now that Pansy was not all over him he spent his meals more or less pleasantly. A conversation was going on around him, he joined in at times and everybody listened, someone told a joke and when Draco chose to find it amusing others laughed harder too. Some people chatted pleasantly and others gossiped. Everything was normal up until the mail came.

Draco didn't have any letters or packages this time, just The Prophet. He set the paper aside without unfolding it. Draco was in habit of reading it while he drank coffee, and he was yet to finish the porridge. He was thinking about what Hermione was doing. Without looking at her he imagined how she opened her paper – she was a daily subscriber – and blindly reached for a bun with her left hand while the right was busy unfolding The Prophet. He glanced over to determine if he were right.

He saw immediately that something was wrong. Hermione was looking at the front page, her posture still, both hands clutching the paper. Then she abruptly raised her eyes and looked straight at him. A shiver ran through the blond. It wasn't a simple stare or a glance of curiosity. Draco couldn't decipher her gaze – it was intense, serious, tragic and full of... compassion?

“Draco?” He turned to Theo, “I think you should look at your Prophet.” Nott was looking at him, his facial expression guarded and Draco's insides turned into lead, he somehow knew that his whole world was about to change. He took his paper and looked at the front page. His father's picture was next to some unknown wizard's.

The Notorious Death Eater Dead

Draco read. And then read it again just to make sure. The hall had suddenly gone completely quiet, but Draco barely noticed it. For a moment he couldn’t breathe, all he saw was the article. As the surroundings slowly came back into focus again, he was deeply shocked at the feeling coursing through his veins.

Draco put the paper aside carefully and drank the last of his coffee. Then he rose as if to leave but as he was passing the pillar, he stopped and facing it ran his left fist straight into the stone pillar with everything he had.

Needless to say, the bones crushed just as he intended them to.

It felt so good! Draco welcomed the pain and at that moment he suddenly knew why he hadn't been able to heal himself or even seek help about it.

To Be Continued...





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