Trading Places

TITLE: Trading Spaces 20?

RATING: R (slash warning m/m)

PAIRING: HG/SS, HP/DM, HP/HG (friendship)

A/N: And say hello to the darkness, folks. Here it comes . . .

SUMMARY: Who the crap died! You’ll find out. Also, sadness, ice cream, spider homicide and Snippy and Snarky!

Announcement: First, I would like to thank all the people who offered to beta for me! You are all wonderful people! My three betas will be: Camille Cooreman, Meaghan Baker, and Hekate, that is if they all wish to accept. You guys rock! Last, gratuities are at the end. Thanks!

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Hermione slowly lifted her head, feeling like her brain was wrapped in jello. She looked over at the too still body of Rune, laying not even a foot away from her, a feeling of icy dread rising in her throat.

Snape barely noticed Ron rushing to take Ginny out of his arms as he hurried to Hermione’s side. “Hermione, are you alright? Are you – dear Merlin, you’re still alive.”

Hermione carefully lifted Rune into her arms, cradling her limp body close to her chest. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at Snape. “She’s dead.”

“I know,” he whispered gently, kneeling beside her. “But you’re alright.”

“But she’s not,” Hermione whispered fiercely, suddenly overwhelmed with empathy for the little feathered know-it-all. “She just wanted to help you, just wanted you to like her.”

“Hermione . . . “

“I could have been nicer to her,” she shook her head, before glaring up at him. “You could have been nicer to her.”

“I – “ Snape snapped his mouth shut. The statement was true, and there was a fair amount of guilt nagging at him about his last words to her, dismissing her from his presence as if she was nothing more than an annoying pet. “She saved my life.”

Hermione was now crying openly. “She’s just . . . gone.” She softly stroked one of the eagle’s wing feathers. “No goodbye, no chance to save her, to bring her back . . .just nothing. Like she was never even here.”

“That’s how it happens. Two words and there’s nothing left,” a haunted voice behind her spoke up. Harry put a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “No goodbye, no tears, but no pain, Hermione. I . . . I think there’s no pain.”

“I believe you are correct, Mr. Potter.” Dumbledore appeared as if out of thin air. He looked down at Hermione, who was holding Rune and crying steadily. “Oh dear. You had better give her to me.”

“Can you save her, sir?” Hermione looked up, hope shining in her eyes, as Dumbledore took Rune from her. “Maybe Fawkes – “

“No, Miss Granger. I’m afraid there is nothing we can do. She’s gone,” Dumbledore said gently. “We’ll have a funeral tomorrow.”

Hermione allowed Snape to pull her to her feet. He could not help but draw her close to him, checking her over again and again to prove to himself that she was alive. She held on to him gratefully, feeling shaken to the core.

“Sir, are all the students safe? Did those – did the Death Eaters get away with anyone?” Harry inquired urgently.

“No, Harry, everyone is safe.” Dumbledore looked down at him with speculative eyes. “Thanks to the quick work of you and Mr. Malfoy.”

Harry nodded stiffly, trying not to acknowledge the part of himself that was disappointed there would not be more fighting to do tonight. He felt powerful and full of restless energy. Draco appeared at his side, his eyes on the Headmaster and Rune. He gracefully bowed to Rune, who had always looked out for him because he was Snape’s favorite. Then he turned to Harry. “Alright there, Hero?”

Harry’s eyes flared. He could still feel the magick that was flowing between him and Draco, and when the blond was close to him it was almost overpowering. “Alright, Malfoy.”

“Why don’t you two take a walk around the lake, make sure the perimeters are secure?” Dumbledore asked with a knowing look.

“I’m not sure sending two students to secure the perimeters is the best course of action,” Snape spoke up.

“I’m certain they will be fine,” Dumbledore replied in his ‘this is final’ voice. “Why don’t you take Miss Granger back to the Slytherin Common Room and check on the other students in your house?”

Snape drew himself up taller, not liking the tone in the Headmaster’s voice, but slumped back down in the next minute. He did need to check on his house, and all he wanted in the world was to take Hermione back to his private quarters and assure himself that she was indeed alive and well. He decided to take advantage of Dumbledore’s largesse and do what he had intended to do anyway. “As you wish.”

As soon as Oliver and Dr. Troy had led the last student back into the castle, Dumbledore carried Rune’s body over to the other mascots waiting patiently for him. Carefully he set her down on the ground in front of them. Hazelheart sat down, hung his head and cried.

Griff-gruff lifted his head a noble inch. “She was brave in her last moments. She died a hero’s death.”

Snippy and Snarky patted Hazelheart on his back with their tails. Snippy murmured, “It’sss ok, little guy, let it out.”

Snarky sighed, sadly. “She was annoying and too brainy. She threatened usss non-stop – “

“I liked that about her,” Snippy cut in.

“She was in love with Snape, and even joined up with the evil book to get what she wanted,” Snarky continued.

“You have to admire that kind of ambition,” Snippy added.

“But most of all, she was one of us.” Snarky hid the tear that slid down his little face.

“She always looked after her students. And she was always trying to help me learn things.” Hazelheart wiped at his eyes with one fuzzy paw. “Like better ways to grow things, and how much sunlight and water I needed. She was a good friend, man. Loyal through and through. She shouldn’t have gone down like this.” Hazelheart set a paw on her head. “Goodbye, little feathered dudette.”

“Goodbye,” Snippy and Snarky whispered together.

“Goodbye, Rune,” Griff-gruff said solemnly.

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“Yeah, you’re going to see all the baddies coming with your eyes on your toesies,” Draco drawled sarcastically, as they trekked along the lake.

“What?” Harry whispered, not really paying attention.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist, Potter?”

“She’s dead.” Harry continued to walk, staring at the ground before him.

“Rune?” Draco tried to hold back his confusion. “Forgive me, I know it’s sad and all, but I wasn’t under the impression that you were all that attached to her.”

Harry remained silent.

“But this isn’t about attachment, is it? It’s not about Rune, it’s about death.” Draco stated.

Harry nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Death is never easy,” Draco offered.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Harry replied darkly.

“No?”

“No.”

“I suppose you would know.” Draco paused finding himself once more in his father’s shielded place by the lake. “I wonder if he even remembers this place.”

“I doubt it,” Harry replied bitterly, as they came to a stop. “He probably used it for drunken orgies with underage girls.”

“You sounded like me just then,” Draco whispered softly. “Did you mean to?”

“No.”

Harry began walking briskly around the lake again, his arms crossed over his chest. Draco followed just a pace behind him, studying him under lowered lashes. ‘’Alright there, Hero?’’ He asked again.

‘’We should go after them. I can’t believe we just let them go.’’ Harry muttered.

“What did you want to do, Potter? Kill my father?”

Harry didn’t answer.

“I see.” Draco was taken aback. “There is very little love lost between my father and me, but I’m not sure I want him dead.’’

Harry stopped walking. “I’m just so . . . so . . .”

“Angry?”

“Yes.”

“Tense?”

“Yes.”

“In the mood to kill something?”

“Yes,” Harry whispered intensely.

“If I could produce Voldemort for you to kill, I would, Hero,” Draco offered, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Should we look for some hapless spiders instead?”

“I don’t want to kill him,” Harry said softly.

“All evidence to the contrary,” Draco replied mockingly.

“Death is too easy, too quick.” Harry stared off across the lake, his mind lost to a time he could barely remember. “It’s like Hermione said, they’re here and then they’re just gone, in an instant. No long goodbye, no chance to – “

“Save them?”

“To make them suffer. No pain.” Harry said darkly. “Voldemort doesn’t deserve easy death.”

Draco casually sprawled on the bank of the lake, thinking to himself that Harry was just pumped full of adrenaline, that when the time came he would not have the stomach for the kinds of things he was suggesting now. Harry stood in front of him.

“Then you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” Harry’s voice held a heavy sincerity. He was unconcerned with convincing Draco of what he had said. His tone rang with an inevitability that promised to prove his conviction. Soon.

“You can read my thoughts,” Draco stated, instead of confronting the issue that Harry had raised. “I had a suspicion.”

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Change the Topic,” Harry sat down next to Draco, his eyes idly following the path of an ant colony a foot away from him.

“I knew you had a dark side, Hero. I just didn’t expect you to admit it so quickly.” Draco watched as Harry pulled his wand from his pocket and began twirling it in his left hand.

“A dark side? Is that what’s wrong with me? Is that why you and I . . .”

“Is that why you and I what, Potter? Are connected? Are Symmetrius?” Draco questioned. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s our connection that gives you your dark side. Maybe it comes from me.”

“That’s not quite what I meant,” Harry muttered. He aimed at one of the ants, whispering “Avada Kedavra.” The ant rolled onto its back, dead. He pointed at the next ant. It met its fate as well. Then another and another.

“What are you trying to say, Hero? That it takes a dark side to lo - to be attracted to me?” Draco was deceptively calm, his eyes fixed on the small pile of dead insects at Harry’s feet.

Harry turned to meet his stormy grey eyes. Draco swallowed, knowing that Harry could tell what he had been about to say. Harry’s verdant green eyes flashed. “You’re a coward, Malfoy.”

“Compared to the golden boy of Gryffindor? That’s hardly an important distinction,” Draco replied dismissively.

“You know what I meant.” Harry continued to stare directly into his eyes. Draco felt his gaze as if it pierced him to the bone. “Admit it.”

“Admit what? That I want you?” Draco leapt to his feet. “It’s not much of a secret, if you couldn’t have figured it out after last night . . .”

“You mean when we blew out the power in Hogwarts last night?” Harry slowly climbed to his feet. “Last summer at the Quidditch World Cup, I got angry. Every light in our tent blew when Hermione and Ron tried to stop me from leaving.”

“I get it Potter, you’re a custodial nightmare for the school,” Draco drawled caustically, his stance guarded.

“Is it the power that draws you to me? Is that all you want from me?” Harry questioned.

“I – I don’t know how to answer that question.” Draco stared back at him.

“You mean you’re not sure which lie to use,” Harry accused bitterly.

“I told you I don’t lie to you, Hero.”

“Then tell me, Malfoy. What are you doing with me?” Harry slowly began circling the blond. “What do you want from me? The strength to get back at your father? Or is it else?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered fiercely.

“You do know.” Harry stopped in front of him, placing his hands on Draco’s shoulders. “You know and you’re afraid to admit it.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? I can almost read it – there in your head, something you don’t want to tell me, something you don’t want to admit to yourself.” Harry’s piercing green eyes captured Draco; it was impossible for him to move away. “What is it? What do you want from me?”

“Would you give it to me if I asked?” Draco said suddenly. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“To which question?”

“Both.”

“You’re lying.”

“You won’t know until you ask, Draco,” Harry’s voice caressed the name as he spoke it. “Ask me.”

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Severus stood in the shadows, a heavy glass goblet in his hand. His hand shook a little as he brought the brandy to his mouth. Not even the sweet fire of the liquor could erase the images in his mind. For several horrific seconds he thought Hermione had died. She had been willing to give up her life in order to save his. Severus couldn’t articulate how that made it him feel. The closest he came was a mixture of pride, anger, and mind numbing fear.

“She’s dead,” Hermione said sadly. “She’s really dead.”

“Yes, she is,” Severus confirmed calmly. “Just like that. “

“I think I’m going to miss her. I mean, she really resented me because she loved you so much, but I can’t hold that against her. Who could be around you and not have a crush on you?”

“You would be surprised,” Severus said, his eyes far away.

“I wish you had been nicer to her. She only decided to work with the book to get your attention. Rune really didn’t mean to—“

“Silence!”

“Severus?” Hermione asked. He hadn’t been able to look at her since they had both retired to his chambers. He seemed to be wrapped up in his own internal drama.

“You are a very stupid girl.”

“What?”

Severus snatched her up and shook her. “You could have died!”

“But I didn’t.”

“You are never, ever to risk yourself for me again! I forbid it.”

Hermione was wide-eyed at his reaction. “I thought if I got there in time, I could—“

“What? You aren’t the annoying bespectacled prodigy of James Potter, you cannot deflect the killing curse.”

“I’m one of those heroic Gryffindor types. We don’t really think that far ahead.”

“Not anymore you’re not,” Severus said gravely. “You are in my House and you will abide by my rules.”

“Or you’ll what?” Hermione shouted, shaking off his hands. “Take away some House points for saving your life? I couldn’t let you die.”

“Even at the expense of your own life? Hermione, I don’t deserve it. If you knew the things I’ve done…”

“I don’t have to. After what I’ve experienced, I can pretty much guess what you did. That isn’t you anymore, Severus. You’ve changed. ”

“Have I?” Severus stalked away from her and into the den. He seized a book from a nearby shelf and tossed it at her. “Then why have I been thinking about using this for the past twenty minutes.”

Hermione’s eyes rounded. “Severus, this book is infamous. There’s a spell in here that would—“

“Completely obliterate a set of people? Simply choose a characteristic and make your potion. A small scale genocide can be relatively simple with this text.”

“I didn’t even know this existed. I thought it was a myth or a legend. Where did—“

“Does it matter? I acquired that book during my Death Eater days. Do you have any idea what I planned on doing with it? “

“I don’t want to know,” Hermione said quietly. “I think you are missing the point, Severus. You didn’t do anything with it, did you?”

“Only because I never had the opportunity to.”

“You are very quick to point out all of the awful things you’ve done. You’ve always been honest with me. What you fail to point out are the good things you’ve done.”

“Hermione, I’m a very bad man. I’m a danger to you.”

“I don’t think you are. I think you are a good man who’s done some bad things.”

“That’s one rosy hued, naive interpretation of what I’ve done.”

“Will you give over? I’ve had enough of the ‘I’m-such-a-bad-person’ diatribe.”

“You don’t want to test me.”

Hermione gave him the most seductive smile she could. “Don’t I?”

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Snarky slithered nearer to the fireplace in Slytherin House. The mascots were having a meeting called by Griff-gruff who considered himself to be their leader.

“I friggin’ hate this castle,” Snippy bitched. “Big old pervert chasing us with his stick. Death Eaters bustin’ in and kidnapping first years and then killin’ innocent mascots. This place sucks.”

“I don’t think it’s the place as much as those Death Eater dudes,” Hazelheart said sagely. “I mean whoa…have you ever seen such heavy auras?”

“You know what we need?” Snarky asked. “A big honkin’ bodyguard like Rambo or something.”

Griff-gruff sighed. “Can we please focus? I have called us to order so that we may discuss our newest member.”

“Dude, who got fired?” Hazelheart asked. “I mean, I know I like the herbal refreshments and all but I thought that was cool as long as I keep it on the quiet tip.”

“Nobody’s getting fired,” Griff-gruff sighed more heavily.

“Are we talking about the book, cuz he is NOT becoming an official member – “ Snarky started, eyes wide.

“SHUT UP!” Griff-gruff roared. “One of Rune’s cousins is coming to take her place tomorrow!”

“Dude, you don’t have to shout.” Snippy glared at him.

“Yeah, rude much?” Snarky added.

“For Godric’s sake, you two could test the patience of a saint.” Griff-gruff rolled his eyes.

“Do you, like, have a point that you might be getting to soon?” Snarky asked. “Because we’re getting hungry over here.”

Haze quickly produced a bag of Doritos. “Here, try these, my dudes. They hold my munchies off pretty well.”

Snippy and Snarky dived into the bag with gusto, emerging again, mouths ballooned out with chips, a fine coat of orange dust on their scales. “Sweeeet.”

“Now, if the two of you have stuffed your gobs enough, may we please continue? Dumbledore has arranged a welcome feast for tomorrow evening. I would like for us to gather at ten to meet him at the train station.”

“Why are we meeting Dumbledore at the train station?” Snippy asked. “He never brings us enough candy.”

“Not Dumbledore, the new mascot.” Griff-gruff glared at him.

“Wait, we’re meeting him at the train station at ten o’clock at night AFTER the welcome feast? That’s not right.” Snarky commented.

“Oh, well, more feast for us!” Snippy grinned.

“No, ten in the MORNING!” Griff-gruff shouted.

“Dude, that’s like so early.” Haze groaned. “Can we make it say noonish, maybe? I have this whole thing about getting up early.”

“NO!”

“He really does need to work on that whole volume control thing,” Snippy swallowed heavily, licking Dorito dust off his lips.

Snarky rolled his little beady eyes. “We just don’t want to listen to him, we’re not deaf. Geez, learn the difference.”

“Shut up, Snakes!”

“Yeah, cuz we’re the loud ones,” Snarky rolled his eyes. “We outta here.”

Snippy flipped him off with his tail as he snagged the bag of Doritos and followed Snarky to the door. “Uh, Snarky?”

“Yes, Snippy?”

“We live here. This is our House.”

“Oh, right then,” Snarky said. They both turned and looked at the other mascots pointedly. “Ahem.”

“Ahem,” Snippy said, loudly clearing his throat.

Griff-gruff sighed one final time. “Hazelheart, shall we?”

“Dude, I’m uh, staying here.” Haze smiled and whispered, “They have my Doritos.”

Griff-gruff left with his head held high. He might not have won this round, but the snakes were in for a nasty surprise one day soon, just after they got a little too comfortable.

The snakes stuck their little forked tongues out at him.

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“Ask you what, Potter? When you lost your mind? Because that’s the only question I can think of right now.” Draco bit back waspishly.

“You can pretend all you like, Draco,” Harry whispered. “But I know better.”

“Do you?” Draco stared back at him imperiously. “You think you know me that well?”

Harry smiled lazily and his voice sounded in Draco’s head. ‘I do.’

Draco fought the inclination to gasp. The sound of Harry’s voice inside his mind on purpose had a wholly different feel than the thoughts he had gleaned from him. “What are you expecting, Potter? Hearts and roses?”

“The only thing I ever really expect from you – the truth,” Harry stated honestly. “I know that you want something from me.”

“If you think I’m in love with you, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment,” Draco sneered. “I’m not the type.”

“No, you’re not.” Harry said softly.

“So, what – you’re in love with me now, is that it?” Draco asked harshly, his voice barely betraying a twinge of vulnerability.

“You want me to be.” Harry replied evenly. “You want me to love you.”

“Is that so? You sure that’s what I want from you?” Draco asked softly, dangerously. “You think I care how you feel about me?”

“I do.”

“Do what?’

Harry smiled enigmatically. “You figure it out.”

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From the moment she saw it, Hermione had been fascinated by Severus’ bedchamber. The room was decadent and seemed custom made for seduction scene.

“Kiss me,” she begged, tilting her head back.

Severus was mesmerized by the glinting firelight reflected in her eyes. “You look beautiful,” he said hoarsely. “Far too beautiful to be real.”

“I’m all too real, Severus.” He seemed darker in this room, somehow, as though all the magic and mayhem that Salazar Slytherin had started had concentrated in this very room.

Severus took her mouth with his. He felt as if he’d been anticipating this moment forever. Trying to pull together the last vestiges of his restraint, he pushed away, his breath coming in harsh pants. She could see him struggling with his composure. “I love you, Hermione. Too much to do this with you.”

Her breath caught. “I love you, too. And I warned you that I’m done with this former Death Eater stuff. We love and want each other, we’re both consenting adults, and you aren’t pulling the proverbial wool over my eyes. I know who and what you are and what you’ve done. I accept it and I love you anyway.”

“And I want you.” Severus smiled at her. “Come here, I want to undress you.”

“I’m glad you finally came to your senses.”

“You’re about to take leave of yours.” Severus prowled closer. “Lay back on the bed.”

With a carnal smile on her face, she complied.

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Biting her lip, Hermione eased out of Severus’ big bed. He was curled on his side, with the covers wrapped around his waist. She thought this might be the best night of her life. Only one thing would make it more perfect.

She had a wicked craving for something fattening, but didn’t want to disturb him. He looked beatific, as though somehow she’d made him whole, washed away his sins with her love. A fanciful notion, perhaps, but it made her footfalls lighter as she carefully made her way to the kitchens.

Hermione sat at a table in the middle of the kitchen. A tub of Bertie Bott’s every flavor bean ice cream was placed directly in front of her. She held a spoon in one hand, which she stabbed into the tub of sweets and brought to her mouth to lick on distractedly. In between bites, she hummed a jaunty tune. She thought she’d gotten the trick to avoiding the earwax, sardine, and vomit jellybeans. Basically, she avoided all suspicious looking colors and the ice cream in the beans immediate vicinity.

The double doors to the kitchen area banged open and in walked Harry and Draco. Both young men were silent, with slightly stony expressions. Their bodies radiated a tight tension that was easy to read. Hermione waved her spoon airily at them. “Boys.”

“Hey Hermione,” Harry sighed wearily. “That ice cream?”

“It’s not salad,” she smiled lazily. “Can I conjure you a spoon?”

Harry briefly met Draco’s eyes. “Two, please.”

Slowly the boys sat down around the table, Harry across from Hermione, Draco at the head of the table. Draco picked up a spoon. “Thanks, Granger.”

“You made out with me in the middle of Gryffindor Common Room. You can call me Hermione,” she suggested. “And you’re welcome.”

“You seem rather . . . mellow.” Harry looked at her. “Have you been hanging out with Haze again?”

“Harry, please.” She protested. “Long day, I’m drained.”

“Yeah, you look pretty spent,” Draco commented, raising an eyebrow. “What have you been up to?”

“What are you implying?” She responded, though she couldn’t quite call up the energy to sound as offended as she’d like to. Draco merely smirked at her in response. Harry looked from Draco to Hermione and then back again, suspicion suddenly clouding his gaze.

“Hermione!” He gasped. “No, please tell me you did not!”

“Didn’t what?” Hermione asked with a false wide-eyed expression.

“Didn’t – didn’t – “ Harry eyes widened. “You know – with Snape.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She smirked lazily and licked the back of her spoon.

“No, you couldn’t have – “ Harry shook his head. “You wouldn’t! Sure, I know that you two were big on the inappropriate flirting and the requisite touching, but I thought you’d hold out until you graduated or at least until you came to your senses. My brain won’t accept that.”

“That’s called denial, Potter.” Draco shot a look over at Hermione. “It’s usually followed by anger.”

“Shut up, Malfoy!”

“Anger,” Draco nodded at Hermione. “Was it good for you?”

“Don’t you dare answer that question.” Harry warned, taking a big scoop of ice cream.

“So where is Professor Snape?” Draco asked, emphasizing the title to provoke Hermione.

“Gosh, I don’t know,” Hermione simpered. “In his bed?”

“Where you left him?” Draco leered at her, enjoying her playful mood. “You know, Granger, you’re rather pleasant post-coital.”

“Just stop!” Harry begged.

“Aren’t you presumptuous?” Hermione shot back. “May I inquire into your nocturnal activities, or need I bother? Tell me, just how long does it take to patrol the perimeter?”

Draco and Harry shot half guilty-half amused looks at each other, answering as one, “’Bout an hour and fifty-seven minutes.”

She raised her eyebrows and smiled at them. “And if I told you that you were gone three hours and fifty-four minutes?”

“Twice,” Draco smirked wickedly.

“Oh,” Hermione blushed. “My.” She looked at Draco. “That was rather forthcoming.”

Draco opened his mouth to reply and Harry stopped him. “Do NOT go there.” Draco simply smirked wider and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.

For a moment, the three teenagers sat in silence, eating quietly, content for the moment to be hungry and not alone. The door banged open and Ginny and Ron walked through the door this time. Harry and Hermione each raised a hand. “Guys!”

“Weasleys,” Draco offered.

Ginny and Ron nodded in greeting and quickly joined the table. Ron sat next to Harry and Ginny sat across from Draco at the other end of the table. Ginny looked at the blond. “Spoons?”

Draco waved a hand and two spoons appeared. The youngest Weasleys wasted no time in digging in. Living with so many siblings had taught them expediency.

“So . . . what’s going on?” Ron asked.

“Ice-cream,” mumbled Harry.

“Draco and Harry patrolled the perimeter.” Hermione offered.

“Really?” Ginny asked around a mouthful of ice cream.

“Twice,” Draco replied, stabbing his spoon in the tub again.

Ron looked shrewdly between Draco and Harry, and then narrowing his eyes, shook his head at them. Resolutely, he refused to examine the comment. “We just got back from the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey says Ginny’s fine.”

“Yeah, aside from a lingering sense of the creeps from being felt up by that blond slimeball, Malfoy, I’m peachy with a side of keen.”

Draco winced a little, “Sorry my father tried to abduct you and molest you on a broom.”

She glared at him, but conceded, “Not your fault.”

“Well, that’s a nice change, isn’t it?” Draco smiled cheerfully, taking another bite. For another moment, they lapsed again into companionable silence. They weren’t quite all friends. But they were all a little sad. A little tense. And all in it together. And that was enough.

“What have you been doing Hermione?” Ron asked, ignoring Malfoy.

“Snape,” Draco grinned.

“Tattler.” She spit back.

“Tramp,” he grinned.

“Pot. Kettle.” She pointed at him. “Black.”

Draco gasped as if in outrage. “Me?” She should get laid more often, she was actually kind of funny when she relaxed.

“Twice,” Harry smirked.

“Please,” Ron pleaded, putting his hand over his eyes.

“Eat,” Ginny commanded, handing him his spoon and hiding a smile.

Draco examined the near empty tub and waved his hand. Two more appeared. “More?”

The group smiled back eagerly. “More!”

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Harry turned toward the dungeons, his mind swimming with two many half-formed thoughts, too many emotions to understand, his stomach so full of ice cream that he kept shivering, his body struggling to get warm again.

“Oi, Potter! Wait up!” Draco called, exiting the kitchens a moment after him.

“Yes, Draco?” Harry smirked, turning to lean casually against the wall.

Draco quickly caught up with him, leaning into the angle between the wall and Harry. His gray eyes swirled with heat like molten steel. “Care for some company . . . to escort you home?”

“Not tonight,” Harry smiled gently, though his eyes were too distracted to for the comfort to portray more than casual civility.

“Why? You got something better to do, Hero?” Draco asked lazily, his calmness masking the icy sting of rejection. He had never been told ‘no’ before. Not really. “Kill some insects are something?”

“I need to be alone for awhile.”

“You know, those sort of activities are actually better with company,” Draco was on the verge of pouty now.

“Good evening, Draco,” Harry dismissed him and continued on his way to his rooms. Draco glared after him mulishly for a moment, before setting his jaw and striding towards the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.

Harry took his time along the way, walking slowly, his head bowed in contemplation. Methodically he twirled his wand through his fingers. There was a large black ball of tension lodged in his stomach. It twisted and turned spasmodically. The outer layer was filled with anger and resentment. Anger at Fate that made him the golden boy; anger at Voldemort for taking away everything that might have made the first ten years of his life something other than a hell of misery and loneliness. Anger at Lucius Malfoy for being a Death Eater and treating his son the way he did.

Under that was a layer of need. Hunger for power to exact the revenge his anger howled for. And under that was a layer of fear and disquiet; terror, that if he received the power he so hungered for, the power that seemed to lay in wait somewhere inside him, that he would lose control. He would kill Voldemort, his followers, then his sympathizers, then his distant cousins, his gardener and so forth until he was Voldemort. And even deeper still, the core of his tension was a part of him that simply did not give a damn. The part of him that knew how powerful he would be, how destructive he could be, and gloried in every moment of it, relished it, anticipated it.

As he entered the Slythering Common Room, Harry saw something scamper behind him, he pivoted, pulling his wand and whispering, “Avada Kedavra.”

A small spider lay dead at his feet.

“Watch it there, Harry!” Snippy poked his head out from behind a large vase. “You could have gotten some poor, hapless, innocent snake there!”

“Yeah, no more mascots should be exposed to crosss-fire,” hissed Snarky, poking his head up through the vase he had been curled in.

“Why, you’ve seen some innocent snakes around here somewhere, have you?” Harry smirked.

“Uh, hello! We’re standing right here.” Snippy rolled his eyes, and turned to Snarky.

“And I suppose you two weren’t just terrorizing that poor little spider to death?” Harry asked.

“Well, actually we were just terrorizing it. The ‘to death’ part was all yours,” Snippy beamed at him. “Sssanks.”

“S’up Harry? What’s with you casting death curses all over the halls in the middle of the night?” Snarky requested. “Cuz, dude, that’s not cool.”

But Harry was already gone, the door leading to the Prefects chamber closing with an ominous click.

“You think he’s okay?” Snippy queried.

“Okay? Sure, if by okay, you mean slightly homicidal and completely friggin’ bonkers. Then he’s the definition of ok.” Snarky commented.

“Oh, man. You think he’s going to do something incredibly Gryffindor?” Snippy asked. “You know, something really, really – “

“Stupid?” Snarky interrupted.

“Exactly.”

“With Gryffindors, stupidity is inevitable. The question is, when?” Snarky sniffed. “And what?”

“Think we should tell the candy man?”

“He won’t understand us.” Snarky said sadly.

“I know! We’ll tell the sex-god! He’ll keep Harry busy!” Snippy nodded. Then he shuddered. “Maybe we can get them to do that in Gryffindor House.”

“We can only hope.”

“Well, c’mon, time to go to the Headmaster’s office.”

“For what?”

“Candy.” Snarky shook his head. “Duh.”

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Harry quietly closed the door behind him. Heaving a sigh, he fell back on his bed. And promptly hit his head on something solid.

“Ow.” He glared at the small volume he pulled out from under his pillow. Draco’s Journal. “Hmmm.”

Harry had been locked in his own head for awhile. He decided to talk a walk in someone else’s. He smiled as he flipped past the childish scrawl he had started to read earlier. Many pages had been filled with diatribes about how much he hated Harry, how much he was disgusted by Crabbe and Goyle and how great and mean his father was. With interest Harry skipped ahead to some of the later years, as Draco became a full-fledged teen. Here again he found descriptions of how much Draco hated Harry, but now they were interspersed with comments on what Harry looked like and descriptions of erotic dreams that featured him. Some of which were graphically detailed and complete with sketches that moved. Harry found himself blushing.

Now he moved on to the more recent entries.

First day of my last year and I’m a bloody Gryffindor. Irony has taken on new meaning. Completed annual test of journal. Father has hidden no evil warlord personalities within. . .

Harry smiled, bemused at the worries of being a Malfoy. He thought back to his second year, and the journal Malfoy Sr. had given Ginny Weasley. Harry really couldn’t blame Draco for being cautious.

Potter has the room that was supposed to be mine. Seems everything happens that way. Potter has been acting very strangely. Seems to be talking to Snippy and Snarky a lot. They must be thrilled to have someone that understands whatever the hell they’re saying. Still, that much snake conversation, can’t be good for one’s sanity. Besides, something undeniably appealing about hearing Potter speak parseltongue. Everytime he speaks, I want to . . .

Harry couldn’t help but blush again. Damn those sketches.

Symmetrius. What a welcome surprise. And yet it comes with the ring inevitability.

Harry rolled his eyes. Draco’s flair for Drama seemed to find wings in his Journal writing.

Here is the chance I have been waiting for. Power. Enough power to get out on my own. To tell the Death Eaters exactly where they put their little offers, right up their . . .

And still plenty of that pent-up rage that made his careful sarcasm sting so much.

Potter hasn’t realized his own potential yet. Naïve little boy still playing the hero. What’s worse is I think he actually believes all that Golden Boy bullshit. But I see something more than that. I see something his friends pretend they don’t. Potter’s full up on darkness. There is within him the potential for greatness, just like Tom Riddle.

Harry frowned.

Potter is the proverbial butterfly, and he has no bloody clue. He thinks if he beats his wings softly enough, nothing will change, nothing more will happen to him. He won’t admit to himself how much darkness there is inside him. It’s actually amazing that he hasn’t gone completely round the bend, what with him being responsible for his parent’s death, and that Diggory fellow, too. All those times, coming up against the Dark Lord, and he’s failed to kill him every time. It’s his own fault. He’s just scared.

Harry clenched his fists, his mind ringing with phrases like, “That’s not true, and even if it were, that’s not fair!” But there was a new, mocking drawl in his head that told him to grow up. Resolutely, he read on.

If I can just tap into that darkness. Stir up his passions, get him to use his power . . . it’ll cause an explosion. Potter’s a powder keg, just rearing to blow. And I intend to be the one who lights the fuse. Not sure if he’ll come back from that or not. He’s full of power that is now at my disposal as Symmetrius. I can use him to circumvent Father’s plans and destroy Riddle. Get the bugger with his creepy snake-face off my back and out of my living room when I come home for the break. Potter’ll be the saviour of the Wizarding World once again, just like he always is. Or he’ll be the worst Dark Lord since Grindewald.

Harry took a deep, steadying breath. Draco had said a lot of this before. But somehow, seeing it so coldly written out and backed with Draco’s less than noble intentions bothered him.

Then again, there are benefits to a Dark Potter. He’s infinitely more exciting. And useful.

Harry closed the book. He would read no more. This is what Draco wanted from him? A villain? A power-junkie bent on death and destruction? Harry set his jaw. Then he would get one.

TBC . . . .

Next time: Harry gives Draco what he wants. Draco struggles with the feeling of rejection. A new eagle arrives. Sheldon gets a fan. And of course, Snippy and Snarky say some mean stuff and steal some candy!