And The World Looked On

A/N: HBP and DH never happened. That is all.

Chapter 1

Draco laughed along with the rest of the group. Merlin I’m hilarious, he thought as he popped another strawberry into his mouth.

Mealtimes were mundane affairs at best these days and this lunch was no exception. With the threat of the Dark Lord hanging over everyone’s heads, the students were more subdued. The raucousness of previous years was none existent and to tell the truth even Draco was finding this whole war thing to be a real bore. What would the Slytherins do without him, he wondered. Probrably die of boredom.

A flash of red caught his attention. Glancing over to the Gryffindor table he saw Weasley walk over towards Potter and the Mudblood and leaned in to whisper. Potter frowned and Granger’s eyes widened. After a few more whispered words the Trio left the Great Hall.

Draco watched all this with a frown marring his features. Since the start of their seventh year the Golden boy and his ever loyal pack of mongrels were sneaking off more than usual. Everyone had their own speculations about what they were up to: plotting, training, secret underground meetings with the Dark Lord himself on how to brake into Hogwarts. It was all how you looked at it. But Draco didn’t care for second hand gossip. He wanted to find out what was happening straight from the source.

You see for some inexplicable reason, the scrawny urchin who had first come to Hogwarts had filled out seemly overnight. One Saturday morning Draco was having a fine breakfast and discussing the evils of hair gel (he had officially stopped using it) when Pansy, the hag, practically screamed “Fuck me! Is that Potter?!” Draco, along with everyone else within a five mile radius, had turned, slightly miffed at having being interrupted, then had to scrape his jaw off floor. Potter had walked in wearing a plain T-shirt and fade out jeans, biceps and triceps almost bursting at the seam, striding toward the Gryffindor table, fucking thighceps bulging with every step. He looked rugged and slightly dangerous.

Draco had been so consumed of jealousy that his cup of pumpkin juice had started to rattle on the table. How the hell had Potter managed to fill out when he himself was practically a stick and couldn’t manage more than a few strands of facial hair? And come to think of it, when the fuck were they at the same height?

It wasn’t only his appearance that had taken a drastic change. Potter’s attitude changed as well. He was shorter tempered than ever; so easily his anger was brought to the surface. He had almost taken off Dean’s head for daring to look in his direction one evening then immediately became contrite stating that he was under a lot of stress. It seemed he was under constant stages of stress from the frequent complaints of the Gryffindors about Potter’s ‘anger management’ problem.

And worst of all Potter had taken to ignoring him. It was not that he felt hurt by it, not by a long shot. Draco just couldn’t believe the little Halfblood’s audacity to ignore him. The were rivals, he was his arch enemy whom Potter should fear and watch constantly but the son-of-a-Mudblood-bitch seemed to think Draco was not much of a threat or challenge to him that he hadn’t said a word to Draco.

Draco watched the trio leave the Great Hall amid curious whispers through narrowed eyes. They had been doing that a lot lately and the fact that Dumbledore was seen less and less at mealtimes fuelled the gossip mills that something big was being planned on the side of light.

Something big must be up. There was just no way Draco Malfoy could be ignored unless the ultimate strategy was being planned on the side of light. Planning in plain sight: stupid or genius depending on how you looked at it.

It was just two months into Draco’s seventh year at Hogwarts, but the War had really started to pick up. The Dark Lord had already begun the purging of their world from the filthy Mudbloods that infested it. Every week more and more students disappeared from the school whether they went into hiding or had decided to flee the country all together Draco couldn’t care. Everyone was living in a constant doom of fear. Even the professors looked tired and strained.

Yet as it stood, the only persons he cared about at the moment were leaving dinner for the third night in a row this week- and it was only Wednesday.

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It was late. Later still that even the prefects themselves should be snuggled up tight in their rooms. But not Draco; no, he couldn’t sleep. Strange and dangerous thought’s plague his mind. Thought’s that would have awarded him a cruciatus curse if his father even got wind of them.

It wasn’t that he doubted his side. If anything, with the way the war was going nowadays, everything will soon be over and the purebloods will finally have domination over the half-breeds and the dilution of a proud and powerful race will be prevented.

But that was what he feared: the aftermath of the war. Will his family be looked upon favourably after all their years of devotion? Sure they were ever loyal but there was that blunder back in fifth year by his father and Draco’s own hesitance to take the dark mark in the summer when his father, recently escaped from Azkaban (mass breakout), had suggested that now might be a good a time as any.

And with the way Dumbledore and the others have been acting lately there might be even a cause for alarm. Naturally it couldn’t be anything that would even give the Dark Lord a second thought but even Draco had to admit that he was on edge with all the secrecy. Just what the fuck was going on behind Hogwarts’ closed doors?

Footsteps sounded from ahead and Draco paused in his musings. He glanced around quickly and realised he had wandered in the direction of the Old Fool’s office. His eyes narrowed on the figure of a boy and he stepped into the shadows of a nearby alcove. A sneer curled his lips. Potter.

He hadn’t returned to the rest of his classes that day nor had he been at dinner. And now, seeing him out so late, only added fuel to Draco’s burgeoning madness to uncover the secret surrounding The Boy Who Lived.

Potter looked like hell. His face was pasty, his hair stuck to his temples and he stumbled with every step he took, holding onto the walls to keep some semblance of balance. Draco felt gleeful at the sight of the Potter in such a weakened state and at the same time was curious and ill at ease as to what had brought the Golden Boy to his knees.

Before he could reveal his presence and take away house points for Potter being out late, footsteps rounded a corner and a gasp echoed through out the Halls. “Harry!” The Mudblood and Weasel, the ever present watch dogs, came running up to their fallen leader.

Just like the lot, breaking school rules again, Draco thought resentfully and completely overlooking the fact that he himself was doing the very same thing. They were too far from Draco’s hiding place for him to get anything but a few snatches of the conversation.

“Harry mate…”

“…can’t possibly continue…what it’s doing to you…”

“She’s right…you’re changing…scary mate.”

Potter looked blearily at his friends and shook his head. “…the only way.”

But the Weasel looked adamant and launched into a tirade of words, the Mudblood throwing in a word here and there. Potter winced and, closing his eyes, raised a hand for silence.

“Enough!” Potter’s curt and frustrated shout rang throughout the halls. He stumbled back, his hands coming up to clutch at his head as though to keep it from exploding. Weasley and Granger made a move towards their Saviour but Potter brushed them off with a quiet, vicious word and a single looked that broke no argument.

But then his face seemed to crumble and he looked at pleadingly as his voice quieted. “You know I didn’t mean to… It’s just…”

Weasley and Granger looked contrite and listened, heads bowed slightly as Potter spoke. Potter reached out to run a comforting hand along Granger’s cheek.

The Mudblood took and kissed the offered hand. “We know Harry. And we’re the one’s who should be apologising. It’s just hard that’s all.” The Weasel agreed by running an affectionate hand through Potters mop of hair.

Draco watched all this with a sneer on his face. How sickening.

Potter smiled slightly but the effort seemed too much after his outburst and he swayed on his feet. “Harry!” Weasley’s arm shot out fast, catching Potter about the waist before Potter even fully buckled. Granger was wringing her hands agitatedly and looking left and right.

“Ron, quick, let’s get him to the common room,” Granger said anxiously.

Composing himself quickly, Draco ducked further into the shadows, slightly shocked to realise he had been damn near strangling the edge of the alcove all this time.

When the trio was almost parallel to Draco’s hiding spot, Potter raised his head and stared eerily dead on at Draco. Draco’s breath caught in his throat. Those normally green eyes were unnaturally so, almost the same brilliance of the Killing Curse as they sought out some unseen force in the shadows. Surely Potter couldn’t see him. Draco had to restrain himself from backing up further into the recess of the alcove lest he make a sound.

It was only for a heartbeat, maybe two but Draco felt as though he had been branded. Then moment was over and Potter and the rest of the Gruesome Threesome disappeared around a corner.

Shaken to the core, Draco scrambled back towards the dungeons. He knew something was up with Potter ever since the year started. The unexplained absences, the almost gaunt look he sported on occasion and all the whispered conversations among those three.

It seems Dumbledore has something big planned and it all centered on The-Boy-Who-Lived. Draco decided he’d wait and see for a while before he reported back to his father. After all, Potter was his priority.


Tbc…