Friends of Anxiety
October proves to put him in a happier mood the closer that Halloween gets. His team does great, and Flint was exactly right about him being a great flyer. With only his team on the field, he can find and grab the Snitch in five minutes, and once he realizes his father is probably just being a forgotten threat again, he finds himself actually enjoying his studies. Pansy and Blaise kept him company in the library, and in the common room his teammates sometimes stop by his table and join him in studying. Snape even complimented him for his good grades, albeit in a roundabout way, but a compliment all the same.
Currently he lays on his stomach on the floor of the Dumbledore’s office, pretending to read, but really playing with Fawkes like he came up here to do in the first place. Something about the rain pattering on the windows and the Phoenix sleeping beside him relaxes his shoulders, putting him in an ease he hasn’t had in a long time. Absently scratching at the small feathered head, he lets his mind wander to Potter, the one trouble constantly with him. He looks more relaxed than he did at the beginning of the year. Eyes brighter, but also more focused, like he’s listening for something no one else can hear. Part of it worries Draco, but he knows better than to approach.
He’s Draco Malfoy, the person who hates Harry Potter most. No one would suspect him of being a spy for Dumbledore, no one would ever guess him of all people to go against his family. And no matter how much he wants to, he can not be friends with Potter. That would blow everything up, although he can’t help but wonder if it would be easier to keep the fool safe if he could persuade him like Granger and Weasley do. Potter obviously needs someone sensible to listen to…
“Something on your mind, Draco?”
Dumbledore eases his way into the room, walking casually like he isn’t wearing the very face that got Draco to cave in and tell him everything last year. Knowing there’s no way he’ll win a battle of wills with Albus Dumbledore, Draco rises to a sitting position.
“Would it really be so awful if Harry Potter and I became friends?”
Apparently not the answer Dumbledore was expecting. Mind you, Draco himself can’t really believe he said it outloud.
“I was under the impression that you despise Mr.Potter.”
Draco shakes his head, might as well tell the truth while he can. “Not necessarily. He just has a rather nasty talent of getting in trouble, I couldn’t help but think that maybe it would be easier to keep him safe if I was close enough to know about his plans before they became life-threatening. I think if he wasn’t so busy giving me either a headache, heart-attack, or both we would probably get along. We’d have Quidditch to talk about. That’s enough to build a friendship right?”
Dumbledore offers him a sweet from his candy bowl, Draco’s favorite lemon drops, so he takes one, waiting for the answer to his question.
“It sounds like you already have your answer, why do you ask for my opinion? Should you desire to become Mr. Potter’s friend, it would be improper of me as Headmaster to stop you.”
“But sir, wouldn’t that jeopardize all of us here? If he and I became friends, he would find out everything, and would that not be a problem? Dangerous for all of us?”
“Well Draco, I assume you’d have to publicly choose a side for that to happen. And while it may not be ideal for intel, it may eventually be exactly what we need.”
The young boy snorts at that, “The day I publicly pick a side will be the day I admit my undying love for Potter, sir, which we both know doesn’t exist. I merely want him to stop being a constant thorn in my side.”
He doesn’t like the twinkle he gets back, “It is wise to never say never, afterall, no one can truly see the future, can they?”
Something about that sentence makes him uncomfortable enough to glance at his watch and shudder. Flint will kill him if he’s late to practice, especially if he plans on being at the Halloween fest in the Slytherin common room tomorrow. Excusing himself and making sure to give Fawkes a few good pets before he gathers his things and leaves, Draco ducks out the door and shakes his head. Surely the worry is getting to him. In what world would he and Potter be friends ?
—————
The Halloween fest lasts all day long for Slytherins, as they pick the day to be particularly cunning and dark. Everything from sneaking hexes into people’s food to scaring each other with silly tricks. In the morning he gets both Crabbe and Goyle with a few smoke bombs at the ends of their beds, they both pout the whole way to breakfast, but their reactions had been funny enough for Draco not to care. Flint almost gets him with a spell on his toast, no one would expect someone to like eating something sour, but this is Draco afterall. Pansy has the same idea as he does, both starling themselves before bursting into laughter after they turn each other’s hair pink before lunch.
“I guess we are too close for comfort, hm?”
Draco struggles to catch his breath, “It’s like I have a clone.”
“Excuse you, I am much better looking.”
Blaise gets caught up in it all next, one well timed water balloon hanging in the door of Potions, but he gets Draco back in record time, both laughing against each other in the hallway. No one bothers the Slytherins today, too afraid of getting caught up in one of their favorite traditions. Pike gets hexed by someone, probably Milicent’s revenge for the time he called her fat. It’s all going well, the bunch of them sit together at dinner, sharing stories and it’s really the most fun he’s had in ages.
Blaise got Longbottom when he wasn’t looking, “Didn’t wanna be too mean with Mcgonagall standing right there, just a quick pantsing spell, he was wearing heart boxers.”
“You pantsed Longbottom? There’s poetry in that somewhere. Should’ve been wearing long-johns if you ask me. Certainly matches his name more.”
Draco howls with laughter as Pansy recounts that she got Percy Weasley with a surprise she left in Potions class, Snape told her the experience was quite enjoyable.
“I’m surprised you didn’t go after Potter,” Flint remarks towards the end of the meal.
He shrugs, “Couldn’t be bothered to ruin my perfectly good day.”
They all nod, and then Pike raises his glass. “Cheers to another great Halloween, mates.”
“Cheers.”
One last plan is in place for the night, just a small fun surprise for Snape. Maybe moving a few of his pictures, or putting a sign in his potion’s room. Something small and harmless that wouldn’t get them in too much trouble. He’s walking arm in arm with Blaise and Pansy, the rest trailing behind them as the plan starts to come together. So focused on the best way to get under Snape’s skin, Draco almost walks right into a bunch of Ravenclaws standing and staring at something.
Fuck.
He pushes his way to the front of the crowd, shoving until he has a clear view of the wall and the threat written on it in fresh blood.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
Draco can feel his teeth clench, looking around frantically for the idiot staring at a hanging cat with a scared look on his face. And then he sees Granger and Weasley beside him and he understands Potter’s fear. If a Slytherin made the chamber, his enemies would include muggle wizards, people who damaged the ‘pureblood’ name, someone exactly like Granger….A lump forms in Draco’s throat, if Harry is going to be at school during his father’s scheme, the least he can do is help protect those in danger.
“Enemies of the Heir, beware!” he calls out, hoping he sounds condescending and not scared out of his mind, “You’ll be next, Mudbloods!”
He can barely contain his anger, shaking at the thought that his father was the person behind all this, if someone died, it would be his father’s fault. It blinds him with rage.
Dumbledore enters sometime later, Pansy pulls on his arm and Blaise makes an effort with his free hand. They start to pull him back to the common room just in time for Dumbledore to take Potter and his crew away.
“Draco! We need to leave! Someone could think this is a part of the Slytherin pranks, we all need to be accounted for before that happens.”
He nods numbly, letting Pansy and Blasie take him away.
It takes all of two anxious hours for Snape to summon him to the Headmaster’s office.
“Professor, this is probably about the worst thing that could’ve happened.”
“You’ve said that at least ten times, Draco. Sit down, Fawkes is getting worried.”
Draco shoots the two men a look before sitting down and having tea thrust into his hand from Snape. Dumbledore sighs deeply, taking in the condition of both the student and head of Slytherin.
“On the plus side, no one has blamed your house yet.”
The wrong thing to say if Draco’s expression was anything to go by. “They’re blaming Potter, like the fool would know about any of that. Most of them don’t even know the legend, but given that we have roughly a hundred copies of Hogwarts; A History in the library, it won’t take them long.”
“That will surely be an issue, but you have things to worry about as well, Draco…”
He turns to face Snape, all irritated and fuming about Potter not being punished still, and then proceeds to shrink under his godfather’s glare.
“Seriously? Mudblood? In front of the entire school? I know you feel guilty, but that is just a bit much.”
Draco slumps back into his chair, wincing when Dumbledore glares at him too, “Draco. Surely you know that slur is not accepted in my castle.”
“I know…” he admits, “I have trouble keeping up with everything and I was thinking too fast. If the heir of Slytherin had any enemies, anything that isn’t of pure magical descent is in danger….and my father means to hurt Potter. I just can’t tell if it’s directly or…”
Snape catches on uncomfortably quick. “You’re worried about Granger.”
“I’m worried about the whole school, really, but my father knows about Granger….and he despises the Weasleys...really any of their little group could be a target. And we all know how Potter gets when his friends are in danger...”
The three share a look, Draco wonders if the two adults have the same pressure building behind their eyes.
This just got much more complicated.
—————
Draco doesn’t see Potter clearly until their Quidditch match, and he somehow looks worse than before. Bags under his eyes, pale like he hasn’t slept and has he always been this thin? It’s worrying and distracting, neither things he can afford right now.
“Alright there Scar Face?” He calls out against his better judgement. Potter rolls his eyes, barely escaping the Bludger coming at him. Draco decides to ignore it and not scream about him being a mindless idiot in favor of looking for the Snitch, flying around in hopes of catching the stupid thing.
It’s exactly how he sees the same Bludger that he knows was coming to him fly right back to Potter. You’ve got to be kidding me. One look to the stands and he knows who it is, pale hair against a dark cloak, eyes cold and illusive. Lucius Malfoy, in the flesh.
A shiver tears through Draco’s spine, his father isn’t supposed to be here. He needs the Snitch and he needs it now.
Rain begins to fall again, right as a whistle is blown. Someone has noticed the Bludger, someone’s going to keep Potter safe, and right now it can’t be him.
“Draco! Your dad came to watch! Aren’t you excited?” Flint asks when they hit the ground, all of the snakes sending daggers to the other team.
“He’d probably be more excited if the other team hadn’t called something this early in the match.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Draco huffs, clearly in control of the dred creeping up his throat, “I’m perfectly thrilled that my father is here. Let’s give him a good show, right?”
Flint raises an eyebrow, “Draco are you-”
Madam Hooch blows her whistle once more and Draco’s airborne, his eyes desperately searching. Naturally, because he is also stupid, he finds himself drawn to the other Seeker turning with just enough time for the Bludger to miss his head.
“Training for the ballet, Potter?” He yells, trying to keep himself from screaming ‘can you go one damn day without being hurt?!’ or worse, ‘be careful my father is trying to kill you!’.
His thoughts are cut off when he hears a small buzzing by his left ear. Potter is looking at him a little differently than normal, which means he either shouted what he wanted-or the Snitch is by him. Draco turns his head the exact second something whirls past him and right into Potter. It captures all of Draco’s attention, thoughts of the Snitch replaced by Potter’s arm hanging limp by his side, not comforting by any standards, even less so with the boy rushing towards him.
What the fuck what the fuck
“What the-” he barely makes it out of the way, but the buzzing is gone, and Potter is already chasing after it.
Draco curses himself for getting distracted, he knew Potter was looking at him for a reason. They race for the Snitch, flying faster than they really should be in the sudden downpour. Draco vaguely sees Potter grab the golden ball right before he crashes into the mud.
Much to Draco’s horror, the boy lands, holds up the Snitch, and then faints in front of every damn person available.
His first instinct is to rush towards Potter, but one look up and he freezes. Lucius is watching. He can’t run and pretend to be concerned about a classmate with him here, instead he makes a sharp turn to Madam Hooch, “Potter broke his arm, one of the Bludgers kept coming after him, I don’t know why but I know it got him good.” is all he manages to rush out before zipping back to his team.
They watch, completely confused as Lockheart marches over to Potter. Even from where he stands Draco can hear his fallen nuisance moan ‘Oh, no, not you.’
Then, the strangest thing happens. Lockheart, the massive brainless prick, takes his wand to Potter’s arm, and what had once been limp and out of place, hangs like a wet noodle.
The Slytherin team look to each other with wide eyes, Draco thinks they look uncomfortably close to frogs at the moment.
“He….did he just….did he just take Potter’s bones?”
Flint pats him on the back, “You know what? I think he did.”
“Better him than us though.”
And that is something Draco can agree with.
Flint doesn’t let him off the hook, spinning him and pinning him to his spot with a raised eyebrow. Something about the Snitch being right there in front of his face, something about him being better than that, nothing Draco can focus on with his father entering the field. Draco cuts Flint off with an apology and a promise to do better before going to meet his fate. It’s not pretty.
“The family disappointment, I never lost a match in my year. You should be ashamed.”
“I apologize for embarrassing you, father, I was distracted.”
They stand in a secluded walkway between the field and the school, deserted enough that no one will hear their conversation, or him if he screams.
“By Potter no less,” Lucius sneers, “I thought I told you I would take care of that as long as you kept up your grades. I did not expect you to make an utter fool of yourself.”
Draco flinches at the tone, harsh and cold, just like- a hand caresses his cheek and pulls him away from his nightmares.
“I know you're scared of the beast in the Chamber, and you should be, but we are of pure blood, it will not harm you.”
His heart is beating too loud for him to hear the rest, so he misses the question his father asks, which ends with him being shoved against a pillar, Lucius’s hand tightening around his air pipes.
“I asked if you were done being a fool.” Lucius sneers, and Draco, because the world around him is starting to darken, manages a nod before he’s dropped back to earth.
“Good. I will be my way, then. And Draco, don’t make me repeat this conversation.”
Watching the back retreat until he can’t see it anymore, Draco has only two thoughts. One, he really needs to get to Snape. Two, he really hates his father.
—————
Dobby finds him in a secluded corner of the castle, right before Snape’s office.
“Master Draco.” The elf bows, “Dobby did not realize he failed, he will burn his hands accordingly.”
Draco freezes, looks around to make sure no one else is there, although he seriously doubts Dobby would be so stupid to appear where anyone could see him, and then promptly shoves the elf into a nearby closet.
“What are you doing here ?” He manages.
The elf speaks, but he can’t listen. Something is very wrong, he feels like something is clawing at his throat, he can barely focus on anything other than the panic clawing at him. However, he is nothing if not a Slytherin to his very core, so he cuts the elf off mid sentence before he freaks out.
“Dobby. Listen to me, these are orders. You are not to burn your hands, you are to redeem yourself and make sure Potter is safe. Do not contact me at school again unless it is dire, do you understand? This could get us both in a frightening amount of trouble.”
His accomplice gives him a questioning face ruined with concern, but nods all the same. “Master-”
“Go, Dobby. Now!”
The elf disappears right as the door opens and Draco turns to meet Snape’s cool gaze with a rather panicked one.
They stare for a long time as Draco recovers his breathing, and then his godfather helps him up and leads them to the room he was aiming for the first time. Snape brews tea in silence, seeming to note that the boy needs at least five minutes to collect himself before he can speak. Once the tea is poured and served, both plain because they both enjoy the taste of the leaves themselves, he raises one bushy black eyebrow.
“What in the devil has happened to you?”
Isn’t that a loaded question. Normally, Draco would give as little information as possible, given that this is all very personal and only a bit of it involves their problem, but Draco is feeling far from normal at the moment, in fact he feels quite stung up at the moment, which is probably why he tells Snape everything . From the beginning of how the Dark Lord is poisoning his father, thankfully he’s still in control enough to skip over most of the abuse, to how Potter is surely going to die before the end of the year and leave them all without protection from said evil maniac, ending with how much he truly does miss his mother and his father’s seemingly innocent warning.
Severus stirs his tea thoughtfully before rising and pouring something into Draco’s drink.
“This,” he explains, “Is a potion to quell anxiety. I used it much in my early days of a spy, and I was a fool to think you wouldn’t need it. One sip of that will get you feeling back to normal, and I’ll teach you how to brew it in our study sessions beginning Monday. Do not protest, Draco, I have suddenly realized how much I have been lacking in guidance to you. You are too young to do this without my help, and I’m sure Albus warned you last year of how taxing it can be, I am sorry to have overlooked the possibility of it overwhelming you, and it will not happen again.”
He does roll his eyes at the sentiment, but just as his godfather said, one sip later and he can already feel his limbs becoming his again. Snape distracts him with a story of his mother in their younger years, and before he knows it the tea is all but gone.
“I will inform Dumbledore of your findings, I assume you wish your personal matters to be left out of my report?”
“Yes, I apologize for unloading my mess on you.” Draco quietly replies. “Clearly, I was having some trouble with my mind.”
Snape shakes his head, gracing Draco with a kinder version of a sneer. “Nonsense, I am your Head of House, and before that, family, one of the few people you can speak freely in front of.”
They arrange a time for their extra classes, Snape gives him the rest of the calming potion with clear instructions to take a tablespoon once a day, preferably in the morning, and even walks him to the door.
“Draco. I seldom extend this offer, but given the circumstances, and our relations outside of school, I find it imperative that should you have any troubles, personal or otherwise, you come immediately to see me. It is rare to find a trustworthy friend among spies, but I believe we each fit the role. Furthermore, an old friend used to tell me that ‘bottling up emotions’ is extremely unhealthy, so be careful not to. Not when you can always come to me.”
Pretending like it doesn’t ease a sore spot growing on his soul, Draco nods, offering a ‘thank you’ whispered almost like a prayer. And then he is pushed out the door and ordered to sleep, which he has no problems following.
—————
He wakes up at the ungodly hour of four Sunday morning and decides it’s the perfect time to sneak a visit to the infirmary. The sun hasn’t begun to rise, just dark enough to sneak there without waking any of the portraits, or worse, the ghosts. Spirits are down right cranky when something bothers them before they’re ready. Draco is sure to silence his steps, moving quickly so he’s not caught and in trouble before breakfast. One foot in front of the other gets him there quick enough.
Potter is sleeping when he enters, face distorted in pain and beginning to bruise from the fall, broken glasses sitting on the table beside his bed. Draco sighs and grabs his wand from beneath his robes, muttering ‘oculus reparo’ and watching the poor things pop back to a normal shape. Then he turns his wand to Potter’s face. A flick of the wrist and a ‘lenio’ later and Potter’s brow relaxes. Fool really should get better about taking his potions, which reminds Draco that he now has his own potions to take.
“You really are a handful, do you know that Potter? Hopefully I’ll get to take some of this frustration out on you eventually, not nearly as much as I’d like to, but enough to pay you back for the small things. Maybe one day you’ll listen to my warnings…”
He takes a closer look at the sleeping boy before him. Quiet and calm, Potter doesn’t look disgusting for once. Instead, he looks peaceful, like nothing bad can reach him where he is in his dreams. Draco finds himself envious, half wanting to join Potter in dream land, a faraway place where not even the Dark Lord can get him. He thinks back to the last face Potter made at him, disgust mixed with hated, and lets out another, deeper sigh.
Turning before he can say something and make a complete disgrace of himself, Draco begins to leave, planning to go straight back to bed and not get out until Monday morning classes.
And then he sees the first year that asked for Potter’s autograph. The one he had made fun of, the one who had stood up to him, the one lying frozen with a look of pure horror etched on his features. Reaching out like he's been holding something, limbs just as stuck as the rest of him.
His plans change then, feet taking the route to Dumbledore’s office instead.