The Devil Runs Wild

*******~Thoughts~

Bloody Potter! Hit me in the face and I didn’t even have a wand! That conniving, little….

Draco Malfoy seethed, pacing in his room….Well, suppose to be room but for all it resembled, Draco might as well call it a closet.

Attacking me like that when I wasn’t even going to do anything to him, Draco thought.

In actuality, Potter’s actions had reminded Draco of Slytherin tactics, of HIS tactics but Draco didn’t much like to dwell on that.

So Draco went back to cursing Potter.

*******
Harry Potter woke with a start.

“Oi! Hermione, he’s awake!” Ron said, grinning and pulling back his foot that had just kicked Harry in the shin.

“You know, you could just tap me on the shoulder or something,” Harry grumbled as he rubbed his shin.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ron grinned.

Hermione put the book down she was reading and began speaking to Harry at once in a flourish.

“It doesn’t look like there’s any reversal to bound magic in this book, so I will have to order some. I think you two should help me and…”

Hermione was cut off by Ron’s appalled gasp.

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” Ron asked. “I can’t believe you’d even think about helping that little…”

“Ron!” Hermione scolded. “It would be much better if he had his magic back if we expect him to fight or defend himself at all. Like Dumbledore said, this is just something that is necessary. We don’t have to like him one bit.” Hermione also mumbled something about an “annoying, little ferret,” but she denied having said anything at all when Ron shouted with joy at what he ‘thought’ he had heard.

Harry’s ears perked up at the mention of Dumbledore.

“Dumbledore said that we should unbind Malfoy’s magic?” Harry asked.

Hermione looked at Harry in that all-too-understanding-way and replied with a simple, “Yes.”

Harry’s eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. He didn’t understand it at all. Why would Dumbledore want to do that? Didn’t he realize how unsafe that was to let a Death Eater have his magic back in the midst of the Order’s meeting place? In the midst of Ron’s home? Of his family’s home?

“When did you speak to Dumbledore?” Harry asked.

“This morning,” Hermione answered and Harry looked at the clock and saw that it was now one in the afternoon. Obviously, staying up all night was a ridiculous expenditure for him because he clearly couldn’t do it.

“I wanted to go home to make sure Malfoy wasn’t sleeping in MY room,” Ron added. “Mum was talking to him and Dumbledore and we got pulled into the conversation somehow.”

“As if you were even paying attention!” Hermione huffed. “With all that glaring at Malfoy, I’m sure you were too stuck in your homicidal thoughts to even…” Hermione stopped talking because Ron was laughing.

“That’s the first thing you’ve been right about in a long time!” Ron giggled and Hermione threw a book at him.

Harry knew one thing for sure. He was going to have to speak to Dumbledore.

*******~Dumbledore’s Portrait~

Entering the Weasley’s home, had the familiar affect of making Harry feel happy. Harry only had happy memories here and it seemed that those memories tended to come back to him when he was there.

“Oh, Harry, dear! How are you?” Mrs. Weasley said, pulling him into a hug.

Harry blushed in embarrassment but deep down was delighted at the show of affection. He wasn’t much use to hugs but he had decided that he liked them.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said. “I came to speak to Dumbledore.”

Mrs. Weasley beamed down at him and looked as if she was proud, which only added to Harry’s feeling of guilt that he had indeed neglected a friend.

“This way, dear, this way,” Mrs. Weasley ushered him into the kitchen.

On the wall, there he was. Dumbledore was looking right at him, his hair and spectacles unable to hide his penetrating gaze. Harry looked down, trying to remind himself that it was just a portrait. Just a portrait. If Harry wasn’t careful, he would feel sad all over again like he had at the funeral.

“I’m glad you came for a visit,” Dumbledore’s voice sounded across the room and Harry felt sad nonetheless.

Merlin, now Harry felt like crying or breaking something. This wasn’t good. How was he suppose to speak to this portrait without breaking down?

“Hi,” Harry forced out. It was so soft he wasn’t sure if it was even heard but Mrs. Weasley patted him on the shoulder and left the kitchen.

“Harry, don’t be frightened. I won’t bit,” Dumbledore said and chuckled. “Unable to move from this portrait, you must know that that is impossible.”

Harry breathed and looked up. Upon seeing that gaze again, Harry couldn’t help but be hit by a wave of fresh guilt.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t come see you,” Harry choked out.

“Quite alright. That’s quite alright,” Dumbledore said. “You must know that I have no ill feelings about the matter. There is no need to feel guilty,” Dumbledore said, lowering his gaze in that knowing way of his.

Harry nodded slowly, a bit embarrassed at having been caught out like that.

“Well, then, what is it that you came to see me for?” Dumbledore inquired.

Right then, Harry got right to the point.

“Why are you thinking of unbinding Malfoy’s magic? Isn’t that unsafe to do? I mean, he is a Death Eater..or was…and he’s living in the Weasley’s home…” Harry began.

“Harry, I assume you are concerned about the safety of those in the house?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry nodded.

“Then wouldn’t you agree that another wizard able to fight, one that has even had experience with Voldemort’s followers, would be a great help to the residents of this house?” Dumbledore questioned.

Harry nodded.

“But Malfoy…!” Harry began.

“You do not trust him and you believe him to be a Death Eater?”

Harry nodded.

“Harry, do you remember that night at Hogwarts when I offered Draco my help?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry nodded.

“I would not have offered my help if I had not believed I could trust him. And as for being a Death Eater, why not ask him yourself?” Dumbledore suggested.

Harry jolted a bit in shock. Ask Malfoy? Speak to Malfoy? Unbelievable.

“But…” Harry tried to come up with some reason for him not to talk to Malfoy. “he could just lie to me. Couldn’t we give him Veritaserum or something?” Harry asked.

“You may,” Dumbledore said and Harry cheered in triumph inside. “But you must ask him if he’s willing to take it,” Dumbledore ended and Harry’s cheer stopped short.

“Why?” Harry asked a bit gruffly.

“Wouldn’t you liked to be asked?” Dumbledore inquired.

Harry nodded.

Dumbledore smiled.

And that was that. Dumbledore would only repeat what he had said before when Harry asked more questions on the matter and Harry left with a sigh of defeat.

*********~Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter~

“What do you want, Potter? To hit me again?” Draco asked gruffly when he opened his bedroom door to see Harry Potter standing and stumbling over words that he didn’t even want to bother figuring out. Knowing Potter, it was most likely some form of baby-talk.

“I..wanted…to…ask..” Potter seemed to be forcing the words out with much difficulty.

“What’s wrong? Do you have to use the toilet?” Draco sneered.

Harry scowled and clenched his fist. He was done trying to ask nicely.

“You have to take this,” Harry ordered and handed to bottle of potion to Malfoy.

“What? Why? What is it?” Malfoy asked, turning the bottle around in his hand.

“It’s something Snape wanted you to take,” Harry said, proud of himself for coming up with a lie on the spot like this.

Draco opened the cork on the bottle and sniffed the potion. He then, very calmly and coolly, replaced the cork, and dropped the bottle on the floor.

“Hey!” Harry yelled. It had taken him all day to find a place where they sold Veritaserum (having to owl some back-alley dealers too)! Malfoy had just smashed a lot of hard work of his!

“Nice try, Potter. I won’t be taking any truth-serums today, thank you very much. Next time try masking the scent with a little rose petals. It does nothing to the potion but it will make sure that whoever’s taking it can’t smell the characteristic Veritaserum scent. Honestly, Potter, how stupid can you get? Oh right, it’s you. Instead of getting smarter as you get older, like the rest of us, you probably get dumber,” Malfoy said, smirking, crossing his arms and leaning on the side of the doorframe. It looked like Malfoy was settling in for a few more rounds of insults.

“Shut up!” Harry said with as much vice as he could measure. In truth, Harry did feel a bit like an idiot. How did Malfoy know what Veritaserum smelled like? Harry hadn’t even known there was a characteristic scent for it!

“Awww, Potty, is that the best you can do?” Malfoy asked, rolling his eyes. “You really are an idiot.”

Harry’s fist was clenching and he was about to hit Malfoy in the face with it when Fred and George appeared out of nowhere.

“Ah! The little guy has opened his door today, Fred!” George said, beaming with joy.

Malfoy’s face fell and his relaxed posture faded. Harry noticed that he seemed to recoil in on himself, much like Harry did when scolded by Mrs. Weasley.

“I see that, George. Have you come out to play with us today, little pup?” Fred said, grinning.

Harry was intrigued. Apparently, only a few days with the Weasley twins had been enough to make Draco Malfoy want to hide away in his room.

“NO!” Draco squeaked out and shuttered internally over being called ‘pup.’ Fenrir had called him that.

Draco hated the red-headed twins. Hated them. They would try to put foul things in his food or in his room and one time, they had even put a Biting-Clapper in the toilet. Draco had, unfortunately, not caught all of them early enough. The malicious criminals had found out about his fear of werewolves somehow - maybe it had been during that conversation about Fenrir - he supposed he might have made some outward sign of his unease that the twins had picked up on. Since then, the evil bastards had used that to scare him.

“Come on now, wouldn’t you like to go run the forest with us, pup?” George asked enthusiastically.

Draco shuttered again but showed no outward sign of it. He scowled instead.

“Yes, wouldn’t that be fun?!” Fred piped and brought a book from behind his back, quickly flipping a page open, showing Malfoy.

Malfoy appeared to turn green. He backed into the room and slammed the door shut. Harry a bit shocked turned to the twins who were chuckling delightedly.

“What is it?” Harry asked. “What did you show him?”

Fred turned the book so Harry could see.

It was a picture of a werewolf eating a little boy. A very lively picture, at that.

Harry could understand Malfoy’s reaction. He felt a bit sick now too.

********

“Tell him about the toilet!” Fred said.

“Oh right! Malfoy tested out our new Biting-Clapper too!” George said fondly.

Harry had been listening all evening to Fred and George’s tales of their ‘attacks’ on Malfoy. At first, Harry had thought they were quite amusing. Now, though, being reminded of Malfoy’s sickly look as Malfoy sauntered down the stairs for dinner, apparently, Harry couldn’t help but feel a bit of sympathy. Malfoy had been a victim to some possibly dangerous inventions of Fred and George’s and the Biting-Clapper that he was hearing about now did not seem to have been anything but painful. Harry’s eyes wondered to Malfoy’s arse, trying to assess whether Malfoy had healed or not. When Harry realized what he had been doing, he quickly averted his eyes and blushed deeply. He couldn’t believe he had just looked at a guy’s..no MALFOY’S arse! Harry’s thoughts strayed to his past dreams involving Malfoy without his permission.

“Oi! Are you listening?” Fred asked.

Harry, who had been in a daze and nervously pulling at the seat of the couch, mentally shook himself and nodded at Fred. George continued excitedly.

Malfoy, who had just been in the kitchen, walked back toward the stairs with a sandwich in his hands. George decided to increase the volume of his voice at this time. Harry watched Malfoy and noticed a slight twitch in his eyebrow, a twitch so slight that he wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or not. Hoping that it was a trick of the light, Harry turned his head away and laughed at whatever George had just said as Malfoy walked up the stairs to his room.

Harry didn’t think he could take feeling any sympathy for Malfoy. Feeling anything other than pure hatred for him, was a problem for Harry. It confused him. The dreams he could differentiate from reality because he knew what his true feelings were. If he felt something else for Malfoy besides hatred…well…Harry didn’t like thinking about all this. It confused him.


Author's note: Well I hope you like it so far. I'll do my best to update soon.