The Inadequate Life

Pansy stared at Harry for a moment, but when she realized he wasn’t joking, she laughed. “Basilisk venom! You’re out of your blood mind! Why would I know where to get that?”

Harry shrugged. “Uh… I just thought that—well, considering your family…” he trailed off embarrassedly.

“Potter, I’m a pureblood, brilliant at potions and bloody gorgeous on top of that, but I can’t deliver the moon!” Pansy retorted while sprinkling some herbs into a simmering cauldron. “Basilisk venom is the rarest magical ingredient in the world! Even an ounce of it would cost thousands of Galleons!”

“Well… that’s not out of range for your family,” Harry pointed out.

“No it’s not,” Pansy agreed, leaning on the counter and glaring at him, “if you can find it. Do you know how many basilisk sightings have been confirmed in the last six hundred years?” Harry shook his head. “One, Potter, and you killed it. And it’s not because people wouldn’t notice—it’s hard to miss a twenty-foot bloody snake that kills you with its stare.”

“It was more like thirty feet,” Harry grumbled.

Pansy’s eyes widened for a moment before she snorted. “Whatever. The point is, if basilisks are that rare, imagine how much more rare a stash of their venom in the hands of a human would be.”

Harry sighed. “Okay, okay. I was just hoping that—I don’t know, maybe that your family had a hidden vault of priceless things…”

“We do,” Pansy interrupted. “Or rather, we did, until the Ministry raided all the Parkinson assets recently, remember? And we didn’t have basilisk venom in there anyway. And the same thing happened to Draco after his father was caught, so you can forget about his vault too, and the vaults of all the proven Death Eaters.”

“What?” Harry frowned. “You mean the Malfoys had some basilisk venom?”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “For Merlin’s sake, Potter, of course not! I only meant that the Malfoys had a secret vault. Although Draco did like to say he had access to the venom, back when he was trying to impress me in order to get in my knickers.”

“Oh… right. Well, if you think of anything that might help us find some venom, let me know.” Pansy rolled her eyes again and went back to her potion without another word.

Harry left the basement and headed up the stairs, deep in thought. Despite what Pansy had said, he wondered if Draco really did have basilisk venom in a hidden vault somewhere. After all, Pansy had willingly given access of her vaults and mansion to the Ministry, so she’d deliberately shown them everything. But the Malfoy assets had been raided unwillingly, so it made sense that they would have omitted mentioning some more private items. In fact, Harry knew they’d done so in the past, although Ron had told Mr. Weasley about the secret chamber under the Malfoys’ drawing room floor.

But where would the Malfoys have gotten basilisk venom, anyway? Harry pondered as he passed through the kitchen and started up the stairs to the bedrooms on the third floor. It’s not like they could buy it at an apothecary. If what Pansy said is true, the only basilisk known to exist in the last six hundred years is the one that I killed in the Chamber of Secrets. And no one had access to that—well, except for me and—

Harry froze halfway down the hall on the second floor. He stood frozen in the middle of the hallway, utterly stunned. Me and Voldemort, he thought with excitement. We’re the only two known living Parseltongues in the kingdom, and anyone else who’d gone down there would have been killed by the basilisk anyway! But Voldemort wouldn’t have passed up the chance to take such a valuable magical ingredient if he had access to it!

But would he have taken it as a student? Harry considered. Maybe not—it would have been far too incriminating if he was caught, and Riddle definitely wasn’t stupid. Could he have gone back to Hogwarts later?

He did! There was that memory Dumbledore showed me, of Voldemort asking for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job—there’s no reason he couldn’t have slipped into the Chamber of Secrets then! And at that point, he was already consolidating power, so it’s not a stretch to think that he would entrust the venom to someone for safekeeping. And there’s no one who he trusted to obey him more than Lucius Malfoy!

So… would Lucius have trusted Draco with the secret? Maybe… he was training Draco to follow in his footsteps.

Wait—Lucius might not matter. When he was sent to Azkaban, Draco became the head of his family by pureblood rules—he was sixteen, he was old enough, even if he wasn’t of age. So Draco would gain access and control over every Malfoy asset! And something that important, there must have been something to let him know it existed…

But Pansy said that Draco had bragged about having basilisk venom earlier than that. So maybe Lucius did tell him earlier after all…

“Harry?” Harry spun around, startled, and saw Neville peering concernedly at him from the greenhouse door. “Um… is everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry said confusedly. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” Neville replied. “But, um… you’ve been standing there in the hall without moving for over five minutes…”

Harry reddened slightly. “I was just thinking. I’m fine, really.” He considered Neville; the other boy looked considerably less haggard than he had not long ago. “How are things in the greenhouse?” Harry asked. “Are you keeping up okay now?”

Neville flushed slightly. “Yeah, we are, thanks. It’s a lot better now, even if it’s—um…”

“Awkward?” Harry suggested, and Neville nodded, going even more red. “Well, I’m glad it’s better, anyway.”

“Thanks,” Neville said again. “I have to get back, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I am,” Harry said with a smile. “Thanks, Neville.”

“Um, you’re welcome,” Neville said. “Bye.”

After Neville shut the door behind him, Harry turned and quickly climbed the stairs to the third floor. He went straight to his room, but Ginny wasn’t there, so he tried Ron and Hermione’s room next. The two of them were poring over some parchment and arguing lightly, although not heatedly. “Is something wrong?” Hermione asked when she saw Harry’s face. “What did Pansy say?”

“That she has no idea where to find—it,” Harry told them, omitting the phrase “basilisk venom” since the door was still open and they wanted to keep what they were looking for a secret as much as possible. “Listen, could one or both of you come and back me up? I want to ask Draco about it…” he trailed off when he saw the slightly crestfallen looks on Ron and Hermione’s faces. “Er—did I interrupt something?”

“Well—it’s not something we have to do right now, I suppose,” Hermione said with a slight blush, but Harry could tell that she was disappointed.

“What are you working on?”

“Um…” Ron was avoiding Harry’s eyes.

Harry swiftly reached the edge of their bed and snagged one of the parchments before they could stop him. It was a list of names, and Harry saw his and Ginny’s names at the top of it, along with all the Weasleys and the Grangers, pretty much the entire D.A., half of the staff at Hogwarts, and a number of other names, some of which Harry recognized and some he didn’t. “What is this?” Harry asked. “It looks like—”

Harry stopped talking in mid-sentence, and an enormous grin spread across his face. “It’s guests, isn’t it?” he asked. “You’re making a list of people to invite to your wedding!”

Ron and Hermione were both scarlet with embarrassment, although Hermione wore a defiant little smirk. “And what of it?” she asked pointedly. “We’re perfectly within our rights to think of the future…”

“Of course you are,” Harry said, handing the list back to Hermione, who took it with calm dignity. “And it’s a damned good thing me and Ginny are at the top of the list!”

“Well of course you are,” Ron retorted. “You two are the Best Man and Maid of Honor, after all!”

“Matron of Honor,” Harry corrected with a chuckle. “Well, never mind then. Do you know where Ginny is? I’ll ask her to come with me.”

“Do you have good reason to think Draco has… it?” Hermione asked curiously.

”Sort of. I’ll explain my logic later. Right now I want to confront him about it—maybe this can be the way that Draco proves he’s willing to aid our side.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Ron said skeptically.

“I’m not,” Harry insisted, “but it’s worth a shot.”

“Ginny said she was going to find Luna,” Hermione told Harry. “Try Luna and George’s room.”

Harry’s heart tightened a bit—he was jealous. But he had no reason to think Ginny would go against her declaration that she wanted no one but him, ever again. The jealousy was completely irrational. I guess this is how Ginny’s felt all this time, he concluded with a grimace. “Thanks,” he said aloud. “I’ll see you later.”

Harry shut the door and walked down the hall to George’s room. He raised his hand and was about to knock when a voice called out “Harry, don’t!”

Turning, he saw Ginny hurrying toward him. “Hi,” he said with a smile, feeling slightly relieved. “I was looking for you.”

“Oh—oh!” Ginny gasped when Harry grasped her around the waist and pulled her in for a kiss. “What brought that on?” she asked when they broke apart. “Not that I’m complaining, of course…”

“I’m just happy to see you,” Harry said. “Why shouldn’t I knock on George’s door?”

“Because I just told Luna that we can’t—do anything together any more,” Ginny murmured quietly. “And I told her while George was there, so he’d know. And Luna said that she was relieved, because she didn’t know how to tell us that she really preferred being with George and wanted to be exclusive with him.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Really? But what about Luna’s—er—stamina?”

“George asked the same thing,” Ginny said, chortling. “And Luna said that if George couldn’t keep up with her then she’d just wait.”

“But—I mean, with her drive, by the time George is recuperated—”

“Exactly.”

Harry whistled. “Wow. Lucky George!”

Ginny laughed; Harry loved the sound of it, when Ginny laughed fully and without reservation. “That’s true, but poor George as well—he’ll never play Quidditch again, his hips won’t take it. Anyway, when I left about ten minutes ago George and Luna were looking at each other that way, so I didn’t think you’d want to interrupt.”

“Uh, no. Thanks for that. Er—oh yeah,” Harry said, having momentarily forgotten what he was doing. “Come with me, okay? I need to talk to Malfoy.”

“Really?” Ginny said in surprise, walking with Harry to the stairs to the fourth floor, where Draco was sealed in a room. “Why? Did Pansy say something about—er, it?”

On the way up the stairs, Harry gave Ginny a short recap of his conversation with Pansy, and his own reasoning after. Ginny considered Harry’s logic and found it reasonable. “It’s possible,” she cautioned, “but by no means certain. It’s definitely worth a try, though.”

“But I’m not sure what to say to Draco to get him to give it up,” Harry admitted as they reached the door on the fourth floor. “He’s not even going to willingly admit that he has it, let alone give it to us.”

“That’s true,” Ginny agreed. She smirked. “I guess you’ll have to appeal to his better nature.”

Harry snorted. “No such thing,” he retorted. “Come on, let’s get it over with.” Harry raised his hand to knock on the door, but Ginny abruptly grabbed his arm, stopping him. He looked at her in confusion. “Gin? What is it?”

“Harry,” Ginny said soberly, “have you considered that this might be the time to use Veritaserum on Malfoy?”

Harry lowered his arm slowly. “Ginny—”

“Are there any other options left?” Ginny interrupted determinedly. “Do we have any more idea of where we might find—it, that haven’t already proven to be dead ends?” Harry didn’t respond; Ginny knew the answer anyway. “I know you aren’t comfortable using Veritaserum on anyone against their will—we all had the same objections, you, me, Hermione and even Ron. But we’re talking about something that literally may be the difference between winning and losing the war. Doesn’t that justify it? Doesn’t the opportunity to save Merlin only knows how many lives outweigh one questionably immoral act?”

“It would be so easy to say yes,” Harry muttered. “But whatever our reasons, we’ll still have done it—”

“Dumbledore thought so,” Ginny continued as though Harry hadn’t spoken. “He didn’t hesitate for a second to use Veritaserum on Barty Crouch Jr.”

“But that was different!” Harry protested. “Crouch was a proven Death Eater who’d delivered me straight to Voldemort! Draco isn’t that committed to Voldemort—he was only obeying out of fear! He’s right on the edge, and forcing him to give up secrets against his will might destroy any tiny chance we have of convincing him to change sides!”

“No matter what we do from now until the end of the war, we’ll never be able to trust Draco enough to free him,” Ginny countered relentlessly. “His supposedly changing sides wouldn’t matter anyway! We regretted not being able to make better use of Snape, too!”

“And we were wrong about Snape, weren’t we?” Harry practically shouted. “At least partly, anyway! If we’d given him a chance sooner then he might have helped us more, and maybe he wouldn’t be dead now!”

Ginny paled slightly and didn’t respond for a long moment. Harry took a few deep breaths to try an calm himself down. “You’re worried that what happened to Snape will happen to Draco too?” Ginny asked finally.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’ve got enough death on my hands,” he whispered. “And there’ll be more before this is all over. Malfoy may be a vicious, self-centered little git, but I don’t want him to die because of me.”

Ginny knew Harry well enough that she didn’t try to tell him that none of it had been his fault. Instead, she put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “You’re too decent a person to lead a war, Harry,” she said softly.

Harry laughed mirthlessly and hugged her back. “So only a bastard can win a war?”

“I didn’t say you wouldn’t win,” Ginny corrected. “But maybe only a bastard could win and come away undamaged.”

“Well,” Harry answered after a moment, “I knew from the beginning that I wouldn’t get through this undamaged. So nothing new there.”

“True.” Ginny held onto Harry for a while longer before letting go. “All right—let’s try to talk Malfoy into helping. But Harry, consider it, okay? If nothing else works and we’ve decided there really aren’t any other options?”

Harry nodded reluctantly. “All right, but I won’t promise anything.”

“Fair enough.” Ginny smiled. “All right,” she said, drawing her wand. “Let’s do it.”

“Right,” Harry agreed. He reached in his pocket and produced an envelope. “Minerva just sent me this,” he said in response to Ginny’s quizzical look. “It might help.” He knocked on the door to give Draco warning that they were coming in, and then Ginny cast the release spell to open the protections enough to admit them.

Draco was sitting on the bed doing nothing when Harry and Ginny stepped in; he looked up and glared at them, but said nothing until Ginny had closed the door behind her. “What?” He grumbled sullenly.

“I’ve brought you something,” Harry said, holding up the envelope. When Draco didn’t move or react, Harry walked a little closer and tossed the envelope on the bed. “A message from your mother,” he added.

Draco’s eyes widened, and he lunged forward and snatched up the letter. Turning it over like he’d never seen a letter before, he looked up and stared accusatorially. “You haven’t opened it and read it?” he asked, making it clear that he wouldn’t put it past them.

Harry bristled. “Of course not! I wouldn’t open other people’s personal messages!”

Draco snorted. “You’re such a Gryffindor,” he sneered. “You’ll never win a war like that.”

“We’ll see,” Harry said wryly.

“Yeah,” Draco agreed nastily. “We will.” He sat there for a moment scowling at them before snapping “Well? Are you going to leave me to read this or not?”

“We’re not just here to bring you the letter,” Harry replied. “Either we can talk now, or we’ll wait while you read that.”

Draco’s jaw tightened, and he struggled with himself for a moment, his desire to get right of Harry and Ginny warring with his urge to read the letter from his mother. “Wait, then!” he ordered finally, and ripped open the letter’s seal.

Harry and Ginny went and sat at the table nearby, and called on Dobby to bring them all some tea and biscuits. They pretended to busy themselves with arranging the table, all the while keeping half an eye on Draco. Harry was pleased to note that Draco was clearly choked up by the letter—whatever else Draco was, his mother was obviously very important to him. Finally Draco folded the letter up carefully, slipped it back into the envelope and put it inside the breast pocket of his robes. He stood and walked slowly over to the table, and sat down across from Ginny to Harry’s left. He stared blankly at the table for a long time before eventually speaking; “Thank you,” he muttered. “She’s… really okay. I kind of didn’t believe it before.”

“I wouldn’t have in your position,” Harry admitted.

“Yeah, well,” Draco retorted, looking up and curling his lip, “if you were in my position, it’d be the Death Eaters your mother was turned over to—if she wasn’t dead, that is.”

Harry, who’d been expecting a comment along those lines, managed to keep from reacting to the cruel words. “Good thing for you that the Order of the Phoenix isn’t anything like the Death Eaters, then,” he replied calmly. “If they were, who knows what they’d be doing to your mum right now. Fenrir Greyback isn’t the only werewolf around, you know.”

Draco paled, and Ginny gaped at Harry in shock that he’d say something like that. She didn’t reply, though, which was good—Harry was trying to make a point.

Evidently Draco got the point. “Y-yeah,” he stammered slightly, “she said that she’s been treated well. Although they’re keeping her in a positively provincial hovel,” he added with a wrinkle of his nose. “I shudder to think what the food’s like—well, probably something like what you’ve got here—”

“You’re welcome,” Harry interrupted pointedly. “Tea?”

Draco served himself, evidently unwilling to let Harry too near anything he was going to ingest. “So,” Draco said as he selected a biscuit, “you really think you’re going to win the war?”

“You’d better hope we do,” Harry retorted. “If we don’t, you’re trapped in this room forever.”

Draco paused for just a second before reaching for the jam. “Not very Gryffindor of you, to threaten a person with starvation,” he pointed out lightly.

“In war,” Harry replied instantly, “those who fight fair are destined to lose.”

Ginny snorted, recognizing something she had said to Harry some time ago. Draco glared across the table at her. “If you’re not going to say anything, Weasleyette,” he snapped, “why the bloody hell are you here?”

“It’s Potter, thank you very much,” Ginny answered sweetly. “And I’m here to keep my wand trained on your crotch at all times in case you get any smart ideas.”

Ginny’s left hand was, in fact, hidden under the table as she used her right hand to calmly go about eating her tea and biscuit, and Harry had no doubt that her wand had been pointed at Draco’s privates since they’d entered the room. Draco was momentarily stunned into silence, so Harry took the opportunity to speak; “We need something.”

“Is that so?” Draco sneered.

“Yes, it is. Tell us where your family hid its stash of basilisk venom.”

Draco stared at Harry incredulously for a long moment. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” he scoffed finally. “You mean to tell me that Pansy actually believed all that rubbish I used to feed her about having basilisk venom? It was a lie, Potter—ever heard of them? I was trying to impress Pansy so she’d let me shag her, and it worked, I might add! My family’s never had any—”

“I’m not talking about anything Pansy told us,” Harry interrupted, “so stop lying. We know that Voldemort gave your father the venom for safe-keeping.”

Draco flinched at the name Voldemort. “That’s just absurd—”

Harry noticed Draco’s eyes shifting about slightly, and his heart leapt. He does have it! “I said, stop lying! You have it, and you know exactly where it is!”

“Even if I did,” Draco snarled, “why would I tell you?”

Bargaining, Harry thought triumphantly. “Because you want us to win, Draco,” he answered.

“No, I don’t! I want The Dark Lord to rip out your spine and play it like a xylophone!”

“That’s what you want to happen to me,” Harry said in stride, “not the outcome of the war you want. You know what would happen if we lost the war right now? You wouldn’t actually die here. See, I’ve instructed my house-elves that, if I die and the Fidelius Charm on this house fades away, they’re to grab anyone still here, including you, and take them away from here—to the Order if that’s an option, but if not, just away so that Voldemort can’t find them. If that happens, then what’s Voldemort going to think when he gets his hands on your mother?”

Draco went pale again. “You wouldn’t do that,” he croaked.

“Wouldn’t I?” Harry replied. “I’ve given my house-elves some simple instructions to follow—it had to be simple, you know they’re not that bright—in order to save the lives that I can. But then, if Voldemort defeats the Order and gets his hands on his mother while he still thinks you’ve turned on him…”

Harry didn’t finish the thought, but Draco was obviously following. “You have to tell your house-elves to take my Mother too!” he insisted.

“Your mother’s safety is out of my hands now,” Harry said with a shrug. “The truth is that I don’t even have the slightest idea where she is.” Draco looked sick. “look Draco, you’ve seen what it means to be Voldemort’s lackey—if you ignore your loathing of me, and your opinion of pureblooded superiority, you’d realize that he’s just a power-hungry monster. Even if he wins, every decision he makes is going to be to benefit him—not his side, no his followers, just himself. Even if you got back in his good graces, his winning the war wouldn’t get you what you wanted.”

“Neither would your winning the war!” Draco retorted.

Harry had to fight down a happy smirk—Draco had just admitted that he didn’t want Voldemort to win. And he didn’t even seem to have realized that he’d done so. That, in and of itself, was an enormous victory. “Not the societal changes, no,” he admitted. “So if neither side will get you the outcome you want, doesn’t it make sense to support the side that would enable you, and your mother, to go on living?”

Draco was silent for a long time, but he was clearly thinking about what Harry had said—Harry was fairly surprised by that. He wondered if the letter from Narcissa had affected Draco more than Harry had expected.

Harry and Ginny waited for Draco to resume the conversation. Eventually he murmured “If you won, I’d go to Azkaban. Probably forever.”

Harry grimaced. “There’s not much I could do about that,” he admitted. “But I could speak on your behalf—if we win, my word will be worth something.”

Draco snorted. “What could you possibly tell the Wizengamot that would exonerate me?” he demanded.

“A lot,” Harry replied. “I was there on the Tower that night, remember? I saw everything. You had the opportunity to kill Dumbledore and didn’t—you were even lowering your wand. You all but admitted that you were only following Voldemort’s orders to protect your mother. I could tell them that. I could tell them that you gave us information about how badly Voldemort had been injured by Wormtail—they don’t have to know that you gave up the information accidentally.” Draco didn’t respond. “I could also tell them,” Harry added, “that you’d helped us by giving us your stash of basilisk venom.”

Draco scowled. “Basilisk venom is illegal,” he pointed out darkly. “You’d make it even worse!”

“Well then, I wouldn’t have to name it,” Harry suggested. “I could just say that you gave us something from your family stores that’s very hard to come by, but was essential to winning.”

“It wouldn’t be enough,” Draco said stubbornly. “I’d still go to Azkaban.”

“But it would be less time. And the Ministry’s never going to allow Dementors to guard Azkaban again, so it wouldn’t be as bad as it’s been in the past.”

Draco shuddered violently at the mention of Dementors, which he had a severe—though not unwarranted—fear of. Harry recognized the reaction, and pressed his advantage. “If Voldemort wins, there’s no guarantee that you or my house-elves will be able to keep the Dementors from finding you.”

Draco leapt up suddenly from the table. Ginny’s wand was above the table in a heartbeat, but her hex died on her lips when she realized that Draco was only pacing agitatedly. “Look,” he said sharply, “if I’m caught, and The Dark Lord reads my thoughts, he’ll know that I helped you!”

If it gets that far,” Harry replied, “then he’ll find out that you were only obeying out of fear anyway, and that you don’t want to follow him. I think the results would be about the same.”

Draco looked very green, and for a moment, Harry really thought he was going to throw up. But he stood stock still for a long moment before turning and walking slowly and stiltedly over to his desk and pulling out a quill and a blank piece of parchment. Muttering to himself, still looking green, Draco began haltedly scratching something out, his hands shaking rather badly. “Draco?” Harry said nervously. “Er—what are you doing?”

“I’m writing down instructions for how to get to the venom,” Draco snarled. “Now shut up and let me concentrate, if you do it wrong any number of protections will kill you.”

*****

“It seems straightforward enough,” Harry said. He was studying the parchment Draco had given him as he and Ginny headed downstairs to find Ron and Hermione, tell them the good news and plan out the excursion to get the basilisk venom, which was in a property that the Malfoys owned through a solicitor. “It’s dangerous, though. There’s a couple Charms and Curses that have to be broken—I think Hermione knows how to do this one, she’ll have to come along. Oh, wait… how much do you want to bet that there’s—yeah,” he said grimly, pointing at a line on the parchment. “There’s a protection that only safely admits purebloods. Do you think we should try to break it? I don’t fancy not having me or Hermione along.” When he didn’t get a response, he realized that Ginny has stopped a few stairs back and was looking down at him with a very strange expression. “Er—Gin?”

Ginny slowly walked down the steps until she was right in front of Harry, and then suddenly threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Harry,” she whispered thickly in his ear, “that was amazing.”

Harry flushed slightly. “Not really. I mean, I lied to him—I did read his letter and then re-sealed it, just to make sure his mum wasn’t passing him information. And I practically threatened him, that’s not so amazing.”

“No you didn’t,” Ginny said, shaking her head. “You could have, but you didn’t. You just—pointed out to Draco the truth of the situation. You put aside your own prejudice, and managed to convince Draco to do it too. You made him see that the only benefit for him was to help us, and that no good could be achieved by helping Voldemort.” She sniffed. “Admittedly, he’s only done it out of self-interest, but like Neville said: isn’t that why we’re all doing it? To help the people we love?” She pulled back, and Harry saw that there were tear streaks on her cheeks. “Draco obviously loves his mother very much, as weird as that is to admit. He managed to look past his grudge against you and see the truth in what you were saying. And he did that because you gave him the chance. You were right, Harry. You believed when no one else did—and you were right.”