Second Chances

Hagrid sighed heavily as he closed the door of his little cottage. Fang strained at his leash, eager for the walk, but the gamekeeper of Hogwarts dragged his feet, ambling wearily behind the oversized boarhound. It had not been a good summer.

Things began going wrong before the school year even ended. You-Know-Who was back, and had already killed his first victim -- a Hogwarts student. Poor Diggory. Such a promising lad. And poor Harry. For all that he survived the encounter, he looked to be in a world of pain himself -- like he wished he died instead.

But Hagrid couldn't stick around to comfort the boy like he wanted. Professor Dumbledore had asked him and Madame Maxime to recruit the giants to their side -- or at least keep them from siding with You-Know-Who. Although Olympe wanted to work together, he, Hagrid, had suggested they split up to cover more territory. Clearly a mistake. His mission to the Northern giants hadn't gone at all well.

Oh, who was he kidding? It was a complete and utter disaster. Probably the most important thing Professor Dumbledore ever asked him to do -- well, maybe second to retrieving baby Harry from Godric's Hollow. And he'd totally cocked everything up.

Most full-blooded giants wouldn't even talk with him. They turned away and just pretended he wasn't there. A few would listen, but largely replied to his pleas with noncommittal grunts. And some of them... He was lucky, if he could call it that, to escape with his life. He tried to reach his own mother, but he couldn't even get through to her. She never answered his owls, and his attempts to find out where she lived so he could visit were spurned. Finally, he just gave up.

Hagrid had hoped that visiting Charlie Weasley in Romania might ease his mind some. Watching dragons had always raised his spirits before. But even that failed him. Poor Norbert was one of the smallest Ridgebacks on the preserve. He seemed really touchy, and flamed whenever other dragons got near. Charlie kept trying to reassure him that some dragons were just less social than others, but Hagrid wasn't fooled. Something wasn't right with Norbert, and it was probably something he had done wrong in raising him. And when Charlie bent the rules to let him have a closer look, Norbert didn't even recognize him when he'd approached. Just another rejection to cap everything off.

Continuous Chapters	Bonus material
Chapter 1: Falling on hard times Chapter 2: Rude awakenings Chapter 3: Always wanted a dragon Chapter 4: In the hands of a giant Chapter 5: Into the woods Chapter 6: Weaving a tangled web Chapter 7	Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10: In the belly of the beast Chapter 11: Say goodbye to the summer Chapter 12: Welcome to the jungle Chapter 13: Monday Monday (can't trust that day) Chapter 14 Concluding Notes	Author's Post-Mortem The Rest of the Story Intentions and research information How the story developed Characterizations Calendars and Timelines: Summer calendar Draco's class schedule Fall calendar Comments

And now, barely a month later, Hagrid was back at Hogwarts with nothing to show for his efforts. Professor Dumbledore was understanding, of course. Dumbledore was always understanding. He claimed that at least this meant that the giants probably wouldn't side with You-Know-Who -- maybe they'd just steer clear of the battles altogether. And Olympe was still talking to the southern giants, as far as they knew, so clearly she was doing something right.

But the Headmaster was a busy man, especially with all the renovations Hogwarts was undergoing this summer, so they'd only had the one real conversation. Hagrid was mostly left to his own devices, which, for the last several days, primarily involved moping and drinking in his hut, his beloved boarhound his only companion.

Fang lunged towards the lake, breaking Hagrid's reverie. "Wha' is it, boy?" The wolfhound growled and barked, trying so hard to drag Hagrid towards the water that he balanced on his hind legs, and frantically pawed the air. With a grunt of surprise, Hagrid released the leash, and the dog pelted down the hillside towards the shore, Hagrid following warily.

Coming over the rise, Hagrid saw Fang nosing at a crumpled black figure. It looked human. Hagrid clambered worriedly down the slope.

It was definitely a body, he saw as he approached. It was face-down in the sand, the water lapping at its legs. Fang tried to nudge the body with his nose, looked up at Hagrid and whined.

Hagrid gently pushed Fang to one side and knelt before the body. Cautiously, he flipped it over to see whether it was alive. The arm was clammy, wet and cold. Hagrid closed his eyes and rested one ear on the chest. It rose and fell weakly, and Hagrid sighed with relief. Whoever it was, he was still alive. Hagrid looked up at its face. His jaw dropped in astonishment as he saw the last person he ever expected to find at Hogwarts over the summer, much less half-drowned by the lake:

Draco Malfoy was having a wonderful summer. The holidays had gotten off to a bad start when those cowardly Gryffindors hexed him on the train home. But now, everything was looking golden. The Dark Lord had been restored and, as he gained strength, the Malfoy family's power was rising once again. What's more, Lord Voldemort was inducting new Death Eaters, and Draco would be among the first wave of recruits.

Too many followers had turned traitor in the interregnum. So Lord Voldemort was taking steps to ensure only the most loyal servants would be part of his inner circle. He was starting, appropriately enough, with the descendants of present and former Death Eaters -- children presumably raised in a proper environment of respect for the Dark Arts. Further, he would begin with students of his own alma mater, though nobody was sure whether this expressed a perverse pride or just a desire to stick it to Albus Dumbledore.

Lucius Malfoy had shared the news over dinner, ordering the house elves to open a rare vintage of wine from the cellar to celebrate the honor. Draco's next few weeks passed like a whirlwind. His mother took him shopping for new robes and had her stylist cut his hair. His father told him stories of the Dark Lord's habits and preferences, advised him on protocol, and every evening related the latest news from the inner circle. As details about the initiation ceremony emerged, Lucius reviewed them with Draco until Draco could recite them letter-perfect. One day, Lucius even flew Draco out to the island where the ritual would be held, giving Draco time to familiarize himself with the surroundings. Narcissa joined them for a picnic lunch, from a vantage point where they could enjoy the view from the cliffs, listening to the waves crashing against the rocks below.

And thus, Draco Malfoy stood proudly in his best dress robes with Alrakis, his eagle owl, perched firmly on his left shoulder. Vincent Crabbe, Marcus Flint and Gregory Goyle were also arrayed in their finery, waiting nervously beside him. His yearmates were both carrying their toads, while a thin mean-looking cat twined itself sinuously around Flint's legs and glared at the other boys.

Their fathers and the other Death Eaters had walked over the rise to stand by the cliff, leaving the boys mostly unattended, away from the action. They could hear faint conversation in the distance, but were never totally alone. Dementors wandered about the grounds, sending cold chills down Draco's spine every time they passed close by.

Time passed and the clouds parted to reveal a moonless sky. Suddenly, a masked figure approached the boys. Even though his face was hidden, Draco recognized the rolling gait as Crabbe's father. He approached Vincent, wrapped an arm around him, and led him off towards the cliffside where the other Death Eaters were standing. When they heard Crabbe scream, Flint's back stiffened and Goyle shot Draco a scared look. But the boys remained otherwise still and silent.

After things quieted down, another masked figure approached them. Flint's father raised his mask and smiled at his son, saying "Make me proud, boy." Marcus picked up his cat and the three of them walked towards the circle. Goyle started stroking his toad, though Draco couldn't tell which of them that was supposed to comfort. Eventually, Goyle's father came for him, leaving Draco alone in the clearing. Draco closed his eyes and tried to relax, rehearsing the words his father had drilled him in. He was next.

Finally, his father walked over. Draco felt comforted by his presence, even though he didn't raise his mask. Lucius reached out an arm as if to tousle Draco's hair, then paused as if thinking better of it and merely patted Alrakis' head, smoothing down the feathers. "Are you ready?" he asked. Draco nodded solemnly. "Don't disappoint me," he said affectionately, as the two walked side-by-side towards the cliff.

Lucius led him to a semicircle of Death Eaters, all masked and robed. It was terrifying, and yet exhilarating. His father led him to a shorter dark figure at the apex, bowed, and then stepped backwards into the circle, leaving Draco alone to face the Dark Lord.

With Alrakis perched firmly on his left shoulder, and his wand held reversed in his right hand, Draco bowed before Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord took the wand in his pale spider-like hand and motioned for Draco to rise, giving the boy his first look at Voldemort's face. It was pale and inhuman, more like a snake than a man.

Draco shivered slightly as he nodded and backed away towards the center of the semicircle. He looked anxiously (and he hoped, surreptitiously) around for his father and friends, but a friendly face proved impossible to find behind the masks. Never had he felt so alone.

"Draco Malfoy..." Voldemort whispered, immediately capturing Draco's full attention. Draco swallowed convulsively.

"Yes, my lord?" Draco made the mistake of looking into Lord Voldemort's eyes and immediately regretted it. The scarlet slits scrutinized him, as if uncovering his every secret. Draco felt very small and took an unconscious step backwards towards the cliff.

"I understand you wish to serve me, and think yourself worthy of becoming one of my Death Eaters." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact.

At last, Draco felt he had a toehold on familiar ground. He closed his eyes and from memory recited, "I will obey you in all things, master."

"Imperio!" Draco felt a sudden lassitude drain all thought and feeling from his body. "Again!"

The sensation of relaxation vanished as abruptly as it had begun. With a start, he noticed Lord Voldemort was pointing his own wand at him. Was that truly the Unforgivable Curse? His father hadn't mentioned that part of the initiation. Draco began to tremble slightly.

Draco's every nerve exploded in excruciating pain. He could see nothing but redness, but couldn't tell whether he had shut his eyes or not.

His knees buckled and he tried not to vomit as he stammered out the repetition. "I will suffer pain for you, master."

Immediately, the pain stopped and Draco struggled to catch his breath. He had never felt anything like this before. In what little conscious thought remained after such agony, he realized that the statement didn't just mean resisting torture to protect the Dark Lord, but also could imply that Voldemort himself might inflict his own torments for punishment or entertainment purposes.

Draco licked his lips. There were three Unforgivable Curses, just as there were three parts to the oath. And if the previous two vows were any indication, he was about to experience death in a very personal way.

Draco took a deep breath, stared at his feet and whispered, "I will accept death for you, master." As he finished the statement, he closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable.

Even with his eyes squeezed shut, Draco could still see the green blast. He felt a weight fall from his shoulder and land on his feet with a thud. His eyes fluttered open in shock and he stared at the ground. He quickly saw his beloved Alrakis, whom he had raised from a chick, staring blindly at the sky he would never soar through again. This time, Draco did fall to his knees, blinking back tears and brushing his fingertips against the rapidly cooling feathers. He hadn't noticed before that the oath wasn't limited to his own death, and briefly mourned the loss of his childhood pet.

After an expectant pause, Draco rose again, looked Voldemort in the eyes, and in clipped tones said, "I will accept death for you, master."

The floating feeling overtook Draco again. Almost giddily, he replied "I will obey you in all things, master."

Draco's weightlessness continued as he noticed a Death Eater bearing a mask and robe take a step forward, look up at Lord Voldemort, then step uncertainly back into line. This concluded the ceremony that he'd been told about. Was this something new?

A musing voice interrupted his thoughts. "Hmm. This one has wit and spirit. Could be useful. Could also be dangerous. How do you feel about me, boy?"

"Afraid." 'Was that his voice?' Draco wondered. It sounded so small. His eyes wandered down to the stiffening corpse at his feet. "I hate you."

A horrified flush colored Draco's cheeks, and he heard his father's voice from the circle begin to sputter out something he assumed was an apology.

But the Dark Lord merely chuckled. "I don't care whether you like me or not. Will you obey my orders even at the expense of your own needs or desires?"

Various memories swirled and mingled in his mind. Screams and fires and fun at the Quidditch World Cup. Snape favoring him in Potions class as the Gryffindors glowered. Lording over the younger Slytherins in the common room. Ron Weasley belching slugs. Dueling with Potter. Cursing Granger. Making Hagrid cry over that stupid hippogriff. Moody turning him into a ferret and slamming him into walls -- wait, that was Crouch and he had been a Death Eater! His father selling family heirlooms for a pittance to that greasy Borgin. The nightmare creature drinking unicorn blood -- wait, that was Voldemort himself!

His heart beat a drum demanding he answer. Answer. Ans-wer. It overpowered the reflections, both pleasant and un-, the tension forcing his lips to respond with something. Anything.

Reality returned with a thud. Draco felt very solid again, as his stomach plummeted. Did he actually say that? Why did he say that? He wanted to be a Death Eater -- didn't he? He looked around for his father, but couldn't pick him out of the crowd. The Death Eaters in the circle muttered to one another in confusion.

Draco wanted to explain, but for once, no words would come out. He looked around, hoping for a friendly face, but the sea of masks stared blankly at him, as inhospitable as a Greek chorus.

"You are of no use to me, boy." Voldemort twisted Draco's wand in his hand, musing aloud. "Now how should I dispose of you?" He walked idly around the circle, stroking the shoulders of the followers he passed.

"I could order your father to kill you, to demonstrate his loyalty." Draco took a fearful half-step backwards. "Or maybe I should give you to your former friends. Of course, they don't yet know the Killing Curse, so that could get messy." Draco backed up another step, as other cloaked figures approached, filling the gaps between the Death Eaters.

Voldemort beckoned them forward and smiled lazily. "My poor pets are hungry. Perhaps I should let my Dementors feed upon you, and then let your friends dispose of your remains." The blood froze in Draco's veins. "Yesss," the Dark Lord hissed. "That sounds like a suitable solution."

Dementors oozed between the Death Eaters and began to converge upon Draco. He looked around desperately for an escape, feeling like a trapped rabbit. He was almost completely surrounded, with the cliff behind him the only gap. As the circle closed in, Draco took a step backwards, and then another. He was too scared to look away as the Dementors came closer and closer. As the first bony hand reached out for him, Draco panicked. He spun around and frantically bolted away the only direction left to him -- the cliff.

He heard the Dark Lord scream "Stop him!" and ran faster, leaping recklessly as he reached the edge. This time, the weightlessness snapped his mind into focus, but he had no time to gather his thoughts before he struck the surface. The cold water felt like knives as the swift currents quickly pulled him under.

Chapter 1 Notes:

↑ Chapter 2: Rude awakenings ↓

Hagrid pelted up the hill, cradling the limp body to his chest and hollering "Dumbledore!" for all he was worth. Fang bounded ahead, barking wildly.

They found the headmaster taking his lunchtime constitutional, walking along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He took in the scene at a glance and hurried over to them.

Draco dreamed. He was drowning. Thrashing around under the water, unable to tell up from down. His velvet dress robes grew heavier as they absorbed the brine and his new boots were too stiff for him to kick effectively. He tugged frantically at his high collar, as if loosening it would allow more oxygen into his lungs. But the water was too cold, his fingers too numb to work the clasp. He could see nothing but the blue green murk around him, with no indication of direction. His struggles grew weaker as his strength waned.

Then, just as he was about to relinquish consciousness, something grabbed him from behind. Many somethings. Tug after tug yanked his legs, dragging him downwards. He tried to pull away, but they pinned his arms to his side. Hands pushed something over his face, into his mouth. Draco tried to turn his head, but they forced him still. He clenched his jaw, but something pried it open, forcing the slimy substance in. Draco gagged, but couldn't help swallowing some of it. When he thought he had nothing left to breathe, a desperate gasp wracked his body, and with it, merciful unconsciousness.

Professor Dumbledore sat at the edge of the bed, tilting another spoonful of warm liquid into Draco's mouth. Under Madam Pomfrey's tutelage, they had set up a pallet beside Hagrid's fireplace and tucked the boy in securely under layers of blankets. Hagrid had stoked up the fire despite the summer heat, and placed warm bricks under the covers. The headmaster sighed with relief. "We're just lucky you found him in time. If anything had happened..."

"I had heard rumors that there was to be a Death Eater initiation last night." Hagrid scowled, but the headmaster continued without regard to the reaction he provoked. "Judging by this, I'd say that young Mister Malfoy," his eyes twinkled, "washed out."

Hagrid thought about that for a moment. "So what're we ter do about' it? Or, more t'the point, what d'yeh wan' me ter do?"

"For now, stay with the boy. Poppy said to feed him a dose of this," he handed over the bottle, "every other hour. And owl me if there's any change."

Hagrid held the door open as Dumbledore exited. Thanks to the roaring fire, the room was now sweltering. He opened the window a crack for the owl, grabbed a bottle of his own, then plopped down wearily in a chair to watch the still frail body in the bed.

His nightmares were an endless sequence of propulsion, being pulled along who knows where, and forced feedings. The unremitting blue-green vistas were indistinguishable, giving him no sense of time. He wanted to surrender, wanted to rest, but whatever was doing this to him seemed insistent. Just the relentless repetition of movement and choking.

No, not again. Something was trying to force its way past Draco's lips. Not more of that slimy tangle. Draco tried to struggle, but he was trapped. Warm heaviness held him immobile, but this time he managed to turn his head away. Something metallic banged against his cheek. He heard a soft grunt and he felt wetness dribbling towards his ear. After a moment, a moist cloth wiped his face and then was gone.

Realizing something had changed, but unsure exactly what, Draco opened his eyes, blinking furiously to rid them of grit. He still couldn't move his body to wipe them, so it was a few minutes before he could see clearly. He was facing a fire and winced at the brightness of it. Given what he could recall of his last conscious hours, Hell didn't seem that unlikely a destination. He looked away, and tried to adjust his eyes to the darkness. A large figure shambled over. A lamp flared above Draco's head, the light making his eyes water furiously.

"How very observant of you," he croaked in what was intended to be an indolent drawl. "You consider that kind of thing an accomplishment?"

"Well, yeh've been out for abou' two days." Any comeback Draco might've made was lost amid the coughing fit that suddenly consumed him. Damn, but his mouth was dry. "Here. Le'me help you up." And, true to his word, Hagrid pulled the blankets away from Draco's torso and helped him to sit upright, propping some pillows behind his back as supports. As the wracking coughs subsided, Hagrid handed him a tall cup. "Jus' some tea. 'Snot very hot, but tha's prob'ly fer the best."

Draco needed both hands to hold the large mug, astonished by how weak he felt and how badly his arms were trembling. Still, he managed to swallow down most of the tea without spilling any. And despite his earlier cocky remarks, that did seem like a triumph.

Hagrid plucked the cup from his numb fingers and held out a spoonful of liquid. "Yeh'd better take this, too. Madam Pomfrey's orders." Draco leaned forward and sipped it down. It tasted oddly of smoke and marshmallows, both warming and comforting at the same time. Draco yawned.

"Why don' yeh go back ter sleep. I 'spect Dumbledore can wait ter talk t'yeh till the mornin'." Draco nodded and his eyes closed of their own volition. He felt Hagrid adjusting the pillows, helping him lie down again, and wrapping the blankets loosely over his chest. Draco rolled over on one side, facing the hearth, and fell into a peaceful slumber.

Draco awoke to the sounds of a conversation held right above his bed. He feigned sleep in order to listen unobserved. Hagrid's voice quickly reminded him of his current situation. It took him a little longer to recognize the other speaker as Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse. About time. If he had to be laid up like an invalid, the least they could do was provide him with proper surroundings and trained medical care.

Now that he'd identified the players, Draco listened more closely to their words. They were talking about him as if he wasn't there. How rude!

"Well, it's good that you got him to drink something, but between the potion and your tea, he'll probably need a bedpan before too long."

"Oh good," said Madam Pomfrey from the fireplace. "You're up. I'd hoped for a chance to give you a checkup before I had to leave." Leave? Well, that probably ruled out a cushy stay in the infirmary.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," she said briskly. "And your color looks much improved, but I really must insist."

"Insist all you like," Draco drawled. "So long as you're in that fireplace, there's not much more you can do." Draco sat up, intending to walk out of the cottage, when he discoverd something that made him squawk for the second time that morning.

Through gritted teeth, he intoned, "Where are my robes?" Mutely, Hagrid merely pointed towards a window. Draco could see the lacy cuffs hanging from a clothesline outside.

"Well," Madam Pomfrey smiled, "since it doesn't look like you're going anywhere, we may as well begin the examination." She looked over at Hagrid. "If you have nothing else for me, would you mind giving us some privacy? I think the boy is a little shy." Draco closed his eyes and tried hard not to blush.

Hagrid shrugged and headed for the door. "If yeh need me, I'll be out back. Don' take too long, Dumbledore's eager ter finally speak with the lad."

Draco never thought he'd actually wish to have Hagrid around. But operating through a fireplace had done nothing for Madam Pomfrey's bedside manner. She officiously put Draco through his paces, poking and prodding. And, after all that, she agreed with his initial self-diagnosis, giving him a clean bill of health, though supplemented with admonishments to stay warm and dry, drink plenty of fluids, eat well, and wait at least thirty minutes after doing so before going swimming. And with that, she vanished back into the flames.

Draco fell back on the bed, thinking he had just exceeded his humiliation quotient for the day. But he hadn't reckoned on having to leave the hut wrapped only in a sheet to ask Hagrid for some clean dry clothes.

The wait gave Draco time to consider his situation, which didn't seem terribly promising. He still wasn't sure what went wrong in the ritual, how he wound up in Hagrid's hut, or what happened in the two days(!?) between, but couldn't waste time dwelling on that now. The question was, how much Dumbledore knew and what he suspected. Maybe he could make it look like a simple accident. But he couldn't put all his faith in others' ignorance. And getting caught in a lie would only make matters worse, so his best bet would be to say as little as possible. Draco frowned and stared up at the ceiling.

The worst case scenario was that Dumbledore already knew everything. Draco didn't think that the events he participated in would be sufficient to condemn him to Azkaban, but after all he did to avoid getting up close and personal with Dementors, handing him over would be the ultimate irony. Ransom was another option, yet given the Dark Lord's apparent desire to see him dead, Draco didn't think he'd be worth too much as a hostage. And, of course, being tortured for information was certainly possible under either alternative. Though Dumbledore seemed too weak to actually get his own hands dirty, he had hired others at the school who weren't softhearted. Draco couldn't help shuddering at the memory of Moody/Crouch, then shook his head briskly to clear his thoughts. He hadn't seen any Floo powder, so without a broomstick, he didn't think he could escape the grounds without being recaptured.

He was still trying to think of a plan when Hagrid knocked on the door, handing Draco a dozen or so neatly folded robes. "Professor Dumbledore's gettin' brunch ready now. Join us on the lawn when yeh're dressed." And he shut the door again, leaving Draco alone.

Draco discarded several robes as hopelessly too small. Others were so large he could've used them as tents at the next World Cup. How frustrating. He could've used the extra boost of confidence that dressing well gave him, but it seemed as if that too was to be denied him. He eventually selected a robe that was only a little loose around his chest, with sleeves and hem a bit too short. He'd have to go barefoot, as no boots had been provided. Finally, he couldn't put off his meeting with the headmaster any longer. Taking a deep breath, he left the cottage for the first time in (apparently) days.

It took his eyes a few minutes to adjust to the sunlight, and he stood there in the doorway blinking. After the stifling heat by the fireplace, the weather outside was actually comfortably cool. Hagrid's boarhound Fang bounded over, barking loudly. He circled Draco's legs three times and then ran ahead, leading Draco across the grounds. He found the headmaster and gamekeeper sitting on the grass around a red and white checked tablecloth covered with several empty plates and goblets. Draco sauntered over, trying to exude an air of bravery and nonchalance.

As he approached, Dumbledore looked up and his eyes twinkled. "Ah, excellent! Good to see you up and about." He patted a patch of ground beside him for Draco to sit. "Let's dig in, shall we?"

The plates filled with sandwiches and salads, devilled eggs and quiche, and other tidbits. The Headmaster handed Draco a glass of pumpkin juice and smiled gently. "Drink up. If I know Poppy, you're probably under orders to consume enough liquids to drown a kelpie." Draco flushed angrily, grabbed the goblet and took a large swig as instructed. Dumbledore had the grace to look abashed by the slip.

For a few minutes, the three of them ate in silence. Then Hagrid turned to Dumbledore. "So, how're the, er," he gave Draco a sidelong glance, "renovations goin'?"

"Quite well. I think we should have them all finished before the students return."

"Well, we've been talking for a long time about improving the school's defenses." Draco noted that the gameskeeper seemed surprised by the headmaster's openness. Was this a secret? "Lord Voldemort's recent return spurred us to finally implement those plans. I intend Hogwarts to be a safe haven for all who need its protection. So long as I live, no other student will be taken from these grounds."

Suddenly, Dumbledore noticed that Draco and Hagrid had stopped eating to listen. He coughed and removed his glasses for polishing. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to give a speech." He took a sip from his juice. "At any rate, it's too nice a day to sully such a lovely meal with talk of business."

For the rest of the meal, Dumbledore kept the conversation firmly to inconsequentials -- Quidditch results, the new broomstick models, and funny anecdotes from some book he was reading -- while pushing Draco and Hagrid to try some of the more unusual dishes. Hagrid contributed descriptions of the dragons he'd seen on the reservation. Draco found it surprisingly pleasant, and started to let himself relax.

When they had finally finished eating, Dumbledore leaned back. "So, tell me Draco, do you often go swimming in your dress robes?"

Dumbledore scrutinized him, then seemed to give a mental shrug. "Well, take care of yourself. Especially during new moons. Those nights can get quite dark." Draco wondered whether that was a hint.

"Actually, I meant to give you this." Dumbledore handed Draco a thick envelope. "Since you're here, we may as well spare the owl a trip." The envelope was addressed:

Draco flipped the envelope over, carefully broke the wax Hogwarts seal, and pulled out the letter within.

When he looked up, Dumbledore was beaming proudly at him. "You'll probably want this as well," he leaned towards Draco and pinned a shiny silver badge onto his chest.

To his surprise, Draco found himself blinking back tears. He got to his feet, mumbled something possibly intended to mean thanks, and ran off.

Hagrid waited until Draco was out of earshot, then shook his head. "I can' believe yeh're makin' that brat a prefect."

Dumbledore smiled serenely, as he waved away the empty dishes. "Rubeus, since you've returned from the Northern giants so much earlier than expected, I've come up with another task you could help me with." Hagrid nodded, hiding his grimace. Why did Dumbledore have to bring up his failings? "Come, let's stroll off some of this food, and I'll tell you what I have in mind."

Chapter 2 Notes:

↑ Chapter 3: Always wanted a dragon ↓

He closed his eyes and pictured himself striding down the halls of Hogwarts, other students and even some teachers getting out of his way in deference to his authority.

For a moment, when Headmaster Dumbledore pinned the shiny silver to his chest, he'd almost burst from happiness. He ran his fingertips over the badge. He'd dreamed of this day for a long time.

His father should've been the one pinning it to his chest, his mother beaming with pride. He wanted to share the news with them.

He had been so concerned with escaping an interrogation from the headmaster that he hadn't thought to ask about his parents. He stood up and walked back towards the spot they had lunch.

Cutting across Hagrid's garden, Draco's foot squelched in the mud. He looked down at himself in disgust. Walking around the grounds barefoot and in ill-fitting hand-me-down robes. He looked no better than... than a Weasley. He nearly spat in revulsion at the thought when he heard voices coming from the hut. Quietly, he tiptoed over to the window to listen.

"Rubeus, I'm shocked! You, of all people, should know better than to judge someone by his parents."

"Lucius Malfoy bears no relevance to this discussion, particularly since he doesn't yet know of Draco's presence here." Draco scowled. That didn't sound good. Why would the headmaster hide him from his parents?

"Fine," Hagrid said. "What abou' Buckbeak, then? An' those Daily Prophet articles? An' yeh know he's been makin' Harry's life a livin' hell all these years."

Draco had heard enough. Clearly he wasn't going to get any help from them. He crept away as silently as he'd come, thus missing Dumbledore's reply.

"If Hogwarts is to be a sanctuary, then we must provide asylum to all who need it. Picking and choosing who is worth saving puts us only a few steps away from actually killing the unworthy ourselves. I will not allow that to happen."

"Then who better to look after him? After all," Dumbledore chuckled, "you always wanted a dragon."

After a long pause, Hagrid sighed weakly. He knew when he'd been beat. "All right. I'll do it. But I'm not gonna coddle the little brat."

"You don't have to. Find ways for him to be useful. Treat him like any other student. Just keep him safe and whole until September." When Hagrid's gloom didn't abate, the headmaster continued more gently. "I realize this may seem a thankless task, but in the long term, this could potentially be one of the most important things I've asked of you."

Draco stomped across the grounds to the Owlery. He'd show them. Make them regret they'd ever heard the name Draco Malfoy.

How could he explain things to his father? To do so, he needed to understand it himself. Why, when push came to shove, did he refuse Lord Voldemort? It just didn't make sense.

Draco agreed with the Dark Lord's agenda -- he couldn't stand the way Mudbloods were getting into everything and fouling up all the traditions. They didn't understand the wizarding world -- how could they, being raised Muggle and all? It was an utter disgrace. They had no right acting all superior to pure-bloods like himself, and needed to be put in their place.

So, that wasn't the problem. And everything his father told him about the Golden Age of the Dark Lord's previous reign sounded so magnificent, of course he wanted Him to rule again.

Draco's thoughts turned to Lord Voldemort himself. It wasn't fair to say whether he liked or disliked the Dark Lord. The initiation was their first meeting in the flesh, as it were. And, to be honest, that flesh was pretty repulsive. But Lord Voldemort didn't seem to care about that. Liking him was irrelevant; what he demanded was respect. Well, respect and obedience.

Stuck in a loop, Draco tried to figure out what could possibly be wrong with obeying the Dark Lord and found no answers. Sure, the possibility of torture or death were terrifying, but life was full of risks and he never shied away from them before. He began to pace restlessly as he worked the angles.

Well, if he couldn't explain, was there anything else he could offer in exchange? He retraced the day's conversations and grinned.

After crumpling up three scratched-out pages, he looked upon his final version with pride:

With a nod of satisfaction, Draco folded the letter up and sealed it with the a thumbprint and a bit of wax. He called down an impressive-looking owl from the rafters. It was nowhere near as magnificent as Alrakis, but he supposed that couldn't be helped. Carefully, he tied the letter to its leg and sent it on its way, watching it soar off into the sky.

Draco didn't know how much time had passed. The sun was still relatively high, but it was summer so that wasn't as useful a measure as it could be.

Hagrid had moved the cot away from the fireplace, and was cooking something stew-like in the hearth.

"Out." Draco crossed his arms, daring the half-giant to pry just so he could tell the oaf off.

But Hagrid didn't take the bait. "Are yeh hungry?" Draco's stomach rumbled before he could reply. "Well, supper won' be ready for a while yet." Hagrid gave the boy an appraising look. "Yeh'd better wash up firs'," he said, using a ladle to point towards the soap and towels. Never had toiletries looked so good. Draco grabbed them quickly and headed back outside to scrub.

Dinner was a rather silent affair. Draco, feeling once again clean and refreshed, didn't have much to say to the half-giant, and the ingrate was apparently uninterested or incapable of starting a conversation on his own. The stew required a fair bit of chewing, which also discouraged idle chatter. It may not have been the best meal Draco had ever eaten, but it was quite filling, and before long Draco found himself stifling a yawn.

Hagrid chuckled and lurched up from the table. "Yeh look like yeh still need teh rest up." Draco flushed slightly, then slowly nodded. "Well, it's time fer Fang's walk anyway. That should take long enough fer yeh to get teh sleep." Hagrid clipped a leash onto the boarhound's collar and walked out the door with little more than a "G'night!"

Draco sat on his bed and thought longingly of home. He missed his bedroom. He missed his privacy. With no idea when Hagrid would return, he quickly washed up and prepared for bed. A chair beside his cot held a pair of faded pyjamas and a dressing gown. Draco changed his clothes, folding the worn robes more neatly than they deserved, and slid under the covers.

The cot was nowhere near as comfortable as his own bed, but it was cozy. By the time Hagrid returned to the cottage, the boy was sound asleep.

Sunlight and the smell of frying sausages roused Draco from his slumber. "Oh, good. Yeh're awake." Draco rubbed his eyes and stretched, then sat up and grabbed the dressing gown.

Draco frowned, but didn't feel quite awake enough to pick a fight. Besides, the food smelled good, and the thought of eating cold congealed sausages turned his stomach.

Hagrid smiled to himself as the boy put out the clean plates without complaint. Maybe this arrangement wouldn't be so bad. He dished out the sausages and poured two cups of steaming tea. Like dinner the night before, breakfast was quiet and subdued. After he finished eating, Draco flopped back onto the bed.

Draco sat up and looked scornfully around the hut. Despite the clutter, he hadn't seen a single book worth reading. "What's it to you if I am?"

Hagrid rose to his feet, glaring so furiously that Draco couldn't suppress a flinch. His voice, however, remained the soul of patience. "No, tha's groundskeeper's work," he corrected. "Or yeh can think on it as an extra lesson in Care of Magical Creatures. Either way, as long as yer stayin' here, the leas' yeh can do is help out."

The half-giant loomed over him menacingly, shaking his head. "You don' really mean that, do yeh?"

They glared at each other, but Draco was the first to look away. "No," he replied in a quiet voice.

Hagrid gave a nod of satisfaction, then walked towards the door. "Throw on yer robes an' meet me out back no later'n ten minutes." He left without a backwards glance.

Grumbling and swearing, Draco stomped over to the window basin to wash up. Who did that oaf think he was, ordering him about? That half-breed was definitely getting ideas above his station. Well, once he was back home again, they'd teach him a thing or two. He yanked off his pyjamas and pulled on a greying robe fraying at the elbows. Considering how livid his father was to hear the halfwit was merely teaching students, once they were through he'll be lower than a house elf.

Still bootless, Draco stalked out the front door, slamming it behind him with a satisfying bang.

Hagrid was waiting for him in the garden. "Eigh' minutes. No' bad." Draco scowled and stared back. "What're yeh waitin' fer? They're no' gonna clear off on their own, yeh know?"

"Well, it's abou' time yeh learned, isn'it?" With a grunt, Hagrid bent over and rummaged around through the plants. "This is a gnome." Draco looked utterly unimpressed by the grubby little thing.

"All yeh do," Hagrid continued, "is grab it by an ankle, swing it abou' a couple o'times." Draco stepped back to avoid being accidentally struck. "Then, give a toss." The gnome flew off towards the trees.

Frowning dubiously, Draco walked to the spot where Hagrid found the gnome and knelt down (he wasn't about to bend over like that). After a moment, he spotted a second one, popping its head out of a hole to look for the other.

"That's right. Go on." Draco stood, twirled it a few times over his head and let go. It landed much closer than the one Hagrid threw, but apparently that was fine, as Hagrid patted him on the back.

"Now yeh've got the hang of it." he beamed. "Jus' keep up like that an' yeh'll be fine. I'll be headin' back inside."

Hagrid sauntered back, shaking his head. "Well, that's wha' happens if yeh're no' quick abou' it."

Hagrid walked over and grabbed Draco's hand to examine it. "Look a' this. It's nothin'. Didn' even break th'skin."

Draco snatched his hand back. "I don't care. I refuse to touch another gnome unless you can assure my safety!"

Hagrid rolled his eyes. "Wait here." He turned around and tromped back into the house, muttering to himself. Draco thought he heard something that sounded like baby.

After a moment, Hagrid returned and held out a pair of thick brown gloves. "Here."

Draco pulled the first one on. It reached almost to his armpit, and when he let go, it sagged back down, bunching up around his wrist. "I can't wear these. They don't fit."

"Yeh're not gettin' out o'work that easily." Hagrid pushed the glove back up, and tied an arm garter around Draco's bicep. Hagrid then did the same with the other glove. "There yeh go. Now get back t'work."

Draco glared, but did as he was told. After he sent a few more gnomes on their way, Hagrid went back to the house.

For all his complaints, Draco quickly began to enjoy himself once he was alone. He tried for distance; he practiced aiming at targets; he threw two at once; he imagined each gnome with the faces of his enemies. He was about to dropkick one when he noticed his bare feet almost blackened with mud.

With a start, he remembered something he told Potter that first day on Hogwarts Express. "You hang around with riff-raff like Hagrid and it'll rub off on you." For a moment, he was glad his father couldn't see him mucking about in a garden and dressed like trash.

Feeling the gnome in his hands squirm, Draco tossed it half-heartedly away with a sigh. He simply had to get out of here, and soon.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over him. He looked up quickly for the source, afraid Hagrid was about to chide him for slacking or some other menial offense. As if answering his unspoken wishes, an owl was flying towards him, carrying a large envelope.

Draco strode to a spot out of sight of the house, straightened up and held out his arm as a perch. The owl landed gracefully; it was much smaller and lighter than Alrakis.

The gloves made him clumsier, but after several attempts he managed to detach the envelope without damaging it. He turned it over in his hands, admiring the heavy bond, running his fingers over the embossed family crest even though he couldn't feel a thing through the thick hide he was wearing. Closing his eyes, he imagined himself back home, remembering how he used to beg his parents to let him pour the silver sealing wax whenever they sent mail.

The owl's impatient hoot broke his reverie. "Sorry. I don't have anything to pay you with now, but I should be able to soon. Possibly even after I open this." With a cool flip of its wings, the owl hopped onto Draco's shoulder to wait.

Carefully, he broke open the wax and slid the contents out of the envelope. He found his letter from yesterday still sealed. Puzzled, Draco opened the notecard, which held only a single sentence in his father's bold handwriting.

Draco barely had time for the four words to register when the whole thing exploded into a dark greenish powder. The owl screeched, flew backwards and away. But Draco ignored the bird, staring instead at his hands in shock. The envelope, notecard and letter were all gone, leaving nothing but tiny olive ashes floating to the ground.

Draco didn't know how long he stood there, trying to make sense of it. He heard Hagrid bellowing from the hut. "Malfoy! Lunch!"

Draco walked back to the hut. A few paces from the door, Fang blocked his path, baring his teeth and growling.

"Easy, mutt," Draco drawled, rolling his eyes. "He called me in." The boarhound refused to budge, so Draco reached out to push the dog away.

Something dripped from his glove. It hissed into the dirt just in front of Fang's paws. Startled, Draco looked at his hands, and saw they were covered in an oily viscous liquid.

Hagrid opened the door. "What's that all over yer gloves?" He asked suspiciously.

"Well, I sent him an owl," Draco said, as if it were the most obvious thing on earth. "It just returned, and..."

"Don' move!" Draco couldn't help but cringe at the exclamation. "An' don' touch anythin'!" Hagrid turned towards the Owlery. "If you hurt 'er..." He was too upset to finish the threat, but dashed towards the Owlery, moving at a speed that belied his size.

Draco stood there, watching the half-giant recede into the distance. His gloved hands were still outstretched before him, palms up, covered in the greenish substance. He couldn't remove the gloves without Hagrid's help -- especially if he wanted to keep the goo from touching anything else.

What was it? He rubbed his fingers together cautiously, heard something sizzle, and froze again. With a start, he recalled his father's message: I have no son. This was somehow intended to guarantee that. If he hadn't been wearing gloves... Draco began to shake uncontrollably.

Draco sat down hard. Carefully, he rested his elbows on his knees, turned his head to one side to lean it against his shoulder, closed his eyes, and tried not to think.

Draco lost track of how much time passed until he heard the clomping footsteps stop in front of him. He opened his eyes to see the oversized boots, and looked up. The gameskeeper seemed even more massive and imposing from Draco's vantage point on the ground.

Draco held out his hands. "Could you take these gloves off me?" he asked. Hagrid crossed his arms and scowled. "Please?" he added.

Draco licked his lips. "Well," he began slowly. "As I said, I sent my father an owl."

"The owl brought it back in a much larger envelope. My letter was still sealed, but there was a notecard accompanying it. It said," Draco swallowed. "I have no son. Then the whole thing exploded into a green mist."

Draco looked up expectantly. Hagrid's eyes were dark as he looked down at his charge. Draco chewed the inside of his cheek and wondered whether to break the silence. Finally he could take it no longer. "Is the owl okay?" he asked.

Hagrid appeared momentarily startled by Draco's concern, then smiled more gently than Draco could recall. "Strixie's fine. A few singed feathers, but she's a smart girl."

Draco breathed a sigh of relief, and released some tension he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He didn't think he could bear having another owl's death on his conscience.

Draco struggled to his feet, unassisted and without using his arms. Gingerly, Hagrid untied the glove from his left bicep. Fortunately, none of the goo had splashed higher than Draco's elbows.

"Now make a fist, and don' release it until I tell yeh to." With that, Hagrid carefully peeled off the glove, turning it inside out to keep all the toxins inside. He then repeated the process with the other glove. "We'll have to figure out a safe way to clean 'em before yeh can wear 'em again."

Hagrid put a companionable arm on Draco's shoulder. "I'm sorry abou' yer father."

Draco scowled, shrugging the oversized hand away. "What do you have to apologize for? It wasn't anything you did."

Hagrid slammed open the door. "Yeh know, yeh make it real hard fer people t'be friendly t'yeh!"

Draco yelled back, "Well, who said I wanted you as a friend anyway!?" and ran off.

Chapter 3 Notes:

↑ Chapter 4: In the hands of a giant ↓

Dumbledore found Draco several hours later in a secluded spot partway around the lake. He stood and watched the boy, crouched on a flat slab of rock overlooking the water, a sullen caricature of Rodin's Thinker. The stillness of the scene was broken with a loud splash, when Draco grabbed a fist-sized stone and hurled it into the depths below.

"That's no way to thank your rescuers," observed the headmaster. Draco startled slightly and gave him a look that combined both confusion and annoyance. "We have an arrangement with the merfolk. That's how you got here from the isles."

It took a moment for Dumbledore's words to sink in. He knew. Yet somehow, after being disowned and nearly killed, that didn't seem so important anymore. Draco resumed staring into the murky waters, hoping the headmaster would get the hint that he wasn't welcome.

"By rejecting Voldemort," Dumbledore continued softly, "you've made a powerful enemy."

Draco swallowed his retort. What did that fool think he was doing out here all this time? For a brief second, Draco's eyes shone with despair. Then they narrowed again in anger and the moment was gone. "What do you care?" he sneered.

"You might be surprised," Dumbledore replied mildly. "Perhaps I could help in some way?"

"With an offer of sanctuary. You have my word that while you're on Hogwarts' grounds, I'll do what I can to protect you from harm." Draco seemed unimpressed, so Dumbledore went on. "While you are more than welcome to continue your studies, you are by no means required to. Your parents had the foresight to pay your tuition in advance. If you wish to withdraw from the school, I can refund the balance directly to you as living expenses. I wouldn't recommend it, but it's your choice."

Draco chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his face impassive under the headmaster's steady gaze. There weren't many opportunities in the world for untrained wizards. That's why Hagrid was still around. And without his parents' assistance, he feared he might face a similar fate -- if he lived so long. Staying at Hogwarts would buy him three more years to work something out with them and the Dark Lord.

He shrugged with deliberate nonchalance. "Sure, why not. I'll stay." He raised an eyebrow at the headmaster. "Was that all?"

"There is the matter of your books and school supplies. Have you any money of your own?"

Draco scowled. He knew this had been too easy. "It's all in the family vault. Doesn't Hogwarts have gear I could borrow?" he asked in a tone which implied anything else would be a dereliction of the school's duties.

"Well, the texts are all in the library, but you'd still need your own cauldron and wand." Draco shook his head slowly. Of course Hogwarts didn't lend out wands. Weasley's second year wouldn't've been half so pitiful if they did. Draco remembered the sight of that red-headed git belching slugs all over the Quidditch pitch and bit back a grin as he tried to focus on the headmaster's words. Something about one of the professors.

"...so, if you were willing to spend the rest of the summer assisting him, we would pay you enough to cover all your supplies. How does that sound?"

Frankly, the whole notion of working a summer job revolted him, but he was painfully aware there were worse fates than correcting papers or whatever it was teachers did over the holidays. Besides, he knew Snape wouldn't leave him in the lurch. This was probably his way of assisting Draco. "I suppose I could."

Dumbledore removed his glasses and began to polish the lenses. "Actually, yes. There is one last thing."

Draco recognized that tone of voice. Here it comes. He knew that the whole selfless act was just a pose. Clearly Dumbledore couldn't wait to get Draco in his debt so he could take advantage. Draco crossed his arms and waited for Dumbledore to spring the catch.

"The work you'll be doing may be of a rather... sensitive... nature. I need your word that you won't reveal any of it to outsiders."

Draco frowned. Was that all? No interrogation? No demands he renounce the Dark Lord or sell out his parents? The request seemed almost insulting in its simplicity. He stiffened his back at the affront. "No matter what you may think about us, Malfoys do not betray a trust." After a moment, he temporized. "But I won't take part in anything intended to hurt my family."

"Obviously," Dumbledore agreed. "I wouldn't demand that of anyone." Frowning, Draco wondered if the headmaster's speedy assent meant he had missed some subterfuge. Dumbledore extended his hand. Finding no grounds for delay, Draco took it and they shook on the deal, sealing the bargain.

"Well then," the headmaster exclaimed, interrupting Draco's reverie. "Now that's all settled, I can leave you to your contemplation. You can talk to Hagrid about your duties in the morning."

"Oh, good heavens no." Dumbledore smiled and shook his head. "Professor Snape is occupied with other tasks that don't require your help. You just continue living and working with Hagrid as you have been."

Draco squawked in dismay, his arms flapping incoherently, but no words would come out. He felt like a particularly dumb bird.

"Now, don't stay out too late," the headmaster chided lightly. "It won't get dark out here for quite a while." And with that, Dumbledore withdrew, leaving a sputtering Draco in his wake.

Draco lay in his cot, eyes shut, listening to the sounds of Hagrid puttering about over the fire. No sense in leaving the bed now -- he'd have to get up soon enough anyway, and once he did, he'd have to start "helpin' out."

Hagrid had set down the ground rules that first night. Over breakfast, Hagrid would instruct Draco in the day's assignments. Then he would take Fang out for a walk, giving Draco time to wash and dress with privacy, but also making him clean up from the meal. The rest of Draco's day was filled with chores and manual labour. Only after finishing them was Draco allowed any leisure.

It seemed clear that Hagrid was aching for him to object, so Draco perversely chose to accept these pronouncements without complaint. He was on to their game. Dumbledore and Hagrid were trying to break him, make him crack.

Well, Draco smiled to himself, he wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He was a Malfoy, a pureblood of the finest family. He could do anything these half-breeds and Muggle-lovers could. He'd show them. Not that they made it easy on him. For three days now, each disgusting new task tested his resolve, but so far he held firm, swallowing his comebacks until he was alone and could vent freely.

And what was Hagrid doing while Draco slaved away? He spent his time indoors, poring over papers and books and maps! The idea of that oaf reading and writing and doing who knows what intellectual work indoors, with a Malfoy toiling as his drudge...

Compounding the misery, this was the longest he'd gone without magic since he got his wand. Sometimes as he worked, Draco wondered whether this was what Muggle life was like. If so, putting them out of their misery would be a gift. But mostly, Hagrid kept him too busy to dwell on most anything.

The only thing that made the situation remotely bearable was Quidditch. Mercifully, Dumbledore had given him access to the locker room and supplies, so he spent his afternoons and evenings out on the pitch. Whether he took his frustrations out on the Bludger or just enjoyed soaring through the air, Quidditch could calm him down. And besides, every hour he spent in practice was time he didn't have to spend near Hagrid.

"I know yer awake," said Hagrid. "Get up an' set the table. Breakfast's almos' ready an' we've got a busy day ahead."

Of course the oaf knew he was awake, Draco thought. He was certainly making enough noise. Draco groaned as he sat up, then flushed angrily at even an involuntary show of weakness. Not that Hagrid noticed, of course. He was bustling about the fire and humming tunelessly to himself.

Draco grabbed bowls and spoons from the cupboard and put them on the table. While Draco poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice, Hagrid filled the bowls with porridge.

Draco sat and, though he knew it would horrify his mother, quickly began packing it in. Not that he necessarily liked the food, but he discovered that eating quickly was a good way to avoid conversation. He was too well-bred to talk with his mouth full, and Hagrid's cooking was glutinous enough to stifle his insults. The time it took to chew and swallow enabled him to calm down and choose his words.

While eating, Draco kept a wary eye on Hagrid. He seemed excited about something, which couldn't be a good sign. Hagrid was actually eating faster than him. Every few minutes, he'd scan the room as if looking for something, then smile and nod to himself. Or he'd peer over towards the window and grin. Draco looked around surreptitiously, trying to figure out what Hagrid might be looking at, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe the beast was trying to drive him mad.

Hagrid finished eating with a hearty sigh, then grabbed the pot and spooned the rest into Draco's nearly-empty bowl. "Eat up. Yeh'll need yer energy today."

Draco was just swallowing another spoonful of porridge when Hagrid broke the news.

Draco's gasp turned into a cough as he began to choke. Hagrid hurried around the table and began thumping him on the back, which did little to help Draco restore his equilibrium.

Draco's voice cracked, his notions of stoicism forgotten. "I can't go in there!"

"Yeah, but you're..." Draco's instinct for self preservation finally kicked in. He could not complete the sentence as intended. The results of calling Hagrid 'practically a monster, anyway' would be even more hazardous than the forest. Hagrid looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish. "You're so... big."

Hagrid chuckled and clapped his hand on Draco's shoulder. "Don' worry. Jes' stick close t'me, an' I'll save yeh from anything dangerous." Draco thought of blast-ended-skrewts and hippogriffs and didn't feel comforted at all.

Draco swallowed and pushed his bowl away. His breakfast had congealed in his stomach, and he thought he might be sick.

"Look. I've been getting all the work done. Can I just have today off? Maybe skip the forest?"

Draco blanched. Now he knew he was going to be sick. "Can't you do it without me?"

Hagrid shook his head. "What is wrong wi'you? Mos' students would love th'chance to explore the forest."

"Fine!" Hagrid thundered over to his chair, grabbed the Daily Prophet and hurled it at Draco. "If yeh don' wanna do yer work, yeh can go find someplace else t'live!"

He snatched up the leash and snapped it on Fang's collar. "If yeh want ter stay here, yeh'll finish yer chores an' meet me at the edge of the woods in two hours, ready fer hikin'. Otherwise, don' show yer face in this cottage ever again!" Hagrid slammed the door, and Draco listened to the loud footsteps tromping away.

Groaning, he hurled himself onto the bed. They weren't trying to break him; they were trying to kill him!

He swallowed several more times, as the sour feeling grew in his stomach. He bolted over to the nearest window and lost his breakfast over the bushes. He continued to lean over the window, cold sweats alternating with shakes, until he could support himself once more. He stacked the dirty dishes and tried to think of a way out.

They just couldn't send him back to the forest. Grabbing the animal feed, he recalled his first -- and last -- experience there.

It was first year, and it was a punishment. Sending a bunch of untrained children out in the dark to look for a monster? Who in their right minds would consider that reasonable?

The memory of it still made him want to bolt. But, of course, that wasn't the end of his ordeal. For he'd gotten lost in the forest. At night. Alone.

They didn't find him until the following day, sick and feverish. He spent a week in the Hospital wing at the worst possible time, right before the end of term. He paid for that in his exams, and then spent the rest of his summer with Father berating him over his poor showing.

Chapter 4 Notes:

↑ Chapter 5: Into the woods ↓

Hagrid stood at the edge of the forest, arms crossed, watching as Draco approached. "Yeh're late" he said once the boy was in earshot.

Although Draco had washed up and was in clean clothes, he still felt pale and clammy. He had thrown up several more times over the course of the morning.

"I'm not feeling so well." He gave a hopeful, and somewhat pitiful, look. "Maybe I should stay behind today so I don't slow you down?"

Hagrid's scowl deepened. He bent over, picked up a pinecone, and tossed it to Draco.

Hagrid nodded. "Well, yeh're arm's not broken. Grab the rucksack an' let's go." With that, he turned his back to Draco and headed towards the treeline.

Hagrid led him into the forest along a wide, well-trod path. Hagrid set a brisk pace, and Draco had to trot every so often to keep up. As they went further, the trees closed in. Very quickly, Draco could no longer see the sky at all, just the overarching canopy of trees. The path narrowed, until it was barely wide enough for one. And, as they continued deeper, even that became overgrown. Roots stuck up to trip Draco Hagrid often had to push aside low branches in his way, never cutting them down, of course, because that would've spared Draco the hassle. Some of the branches were too heavy for Draco to push aside, so he had to clamber under them and then jog to catch up.

For his part, Draco tried to ignore whatever terrors might be lurking on the periphery and kept his eyes focused on Hagrid's back. His life depended on it. No matter how awful the forest might be, the prospect of being alone in it felt infinitely worse.

Every few minutes, Hagrid looked over his shoulder to keep an eye on Draco, but those glances grew less frequent as the march went on, leaving the task of keeping up to Draco alone. Maybe this was his goal -- to try to lose him in the forest.

Draco had no way of telling where they were, or even how long they had been walking for. They had long since parted company with any recognizable path. He noticed a decaying stump to his left, and was sure they passed that same stump at least twice before. Some time ago, a pebble wedged itself in his boot and was rubbing something raw. He wished he could stop and shake it out, but didn't dare lose sight of Hagrid. He tried to favor his other foot to avoid further injury. If only Hagrid would look behind him, maybe he could ask him to slow down a moment. But Hagrid was too far ahead, vanishing out of sight between two thick bushes.

Passing between them, Draco found himself in a small clearing. Hagrid had settled down on a stump, and gestured for Draco to make himself comfortable on the fallen log.

Draco swung the satchel off his back and let it drop, and plopped himself down beside it on the ground. He pulled off his boots and leaned back to stretch, taking a quick inventory of his aches and pains. At least the walk had settled his stomach, although just about everything else hurt: his shoulders from supporting the bag, tiny scratches over his hands and arms, a bruise on his shin from tripping over a root, and ohhhhh, his feet.

He stared up at the canopy, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sky, but failing. The closest he came was sunlight glinted through the leaves. Draco listened for other signs of life, but heard little. Somewhere above, branches were swaying in a light wind, and he thought he heard a trickling brook, but no calls from birds or animal, nothing crunched in the distant undergrowth, just his heart hammering in his chest and Hagrid scratching some notes in a small book.

Draco's eyes snapped open and he glared. "What would you know about it? It's not like you were watching where I was going."

Hagrid chuckled. "Yeh were makin' so much noise, who needs t'look t'see ya. I 'spect ev'ry creature in the forest knew where yeh were."

"Oh, and you're so quiet and graceful. Maybe you wouldn't be so smug if you had to haul all this gear around. What is all this, anyway?"

"Don' be such a baby, it hardly weighs much." Hagrid gestured for Draco to hand over the bag. "But here, if it'll stop yer complainin', let me lighten yer load." He opened the satchel, produced a thermos and took a healthy swig. After wiping his mouth with the back of an arm, he offered it to Draco. "Thirsty?"

"'M saving the others fer later. Keeps it fresher this way." "You wan' it, or not?"

Thirst won out over distaste and Draco took the bottle and gulped from it eagerly. While Draco drank, Hagrid pulled out a bag of trail mix, which they shared, passing the juice back and forth as needed.

Feeling a little better and more like himself, Draco finally broke the silence. "So where are we going, anyway?"

"We're surveyin' the forest. Takin' a census o'sorts -- all the beasts an' bein's that live here."

Draco didn't bother to hide his disbelief. "And we'll be doing this all summer?"

"As much as we can. Dumbledore says nothin' like this has ever been done before."

"Fer one thing, I know more of the fores' than most anyone." Hagrid drained the last of the juice. "So like I said, yer in good hands."

"And all we have to do is count all the creatures in the woods." Privately, Draco thought it would be easier to just burn the forest to the ground, thus making the answer zero.

"Well, I'm also recruitin' fer nex' years classes." Hagrid groaned as he stood up. "Now c'mon an' gather yer things. We've still got a ways t'go today."

They resumed their trek through the woods. He seemed to have an easier time keeping up with Hagrid, though he couldn't say whether that was Hagrid's doing or his own.

Eventually, they reached another clearing, this one dominated by a single massive tree. Its trunk was wider than he was tall, and the canopy larger than any tree he'd ever seen.

"That's 'cause yeh don't know where t'look." Hagrid walked up to the tree. "Nice day, isn' it?" he shouted.

Draco leaned against a spindly tree on the edge of the clearing. As long as Hagrid was capable of leading him back out of the forest, it didn't really matter if he was crazy.

Draco spun around, looking for the source of the voice. It sounded deep, yet female.

"Yes. The sun has been shining brightly of late." The leaves overhead rustled as the branches swayed, but there was no wind. Draco gaped.

More branches moved overhead, giving him a glimpse of the blue sky before they rearranged to better capture the sunlight. "A stranger? Who are you?" The voice seemed to come from the trunk.

Draco glanced over to Hagrid, who gave a comforting nod. "Draco Malfoy," he said loudly, adding after a second, "ma'am."

"I didn't think this was the season for students." The tree went silent. Draco walked carefully over to Hagrid.

"Don' worry." Hagrid said in a quiet undertone. "That jus' means she's thinkin'."

Hagrid glanced at the tree and then back at Draco. "I'll explain when we're out o' her earshot," he muttered as the tree began to speak.

"Our numbers remain unchanged. A few potentials in bloom, but Sprout knows their state." The leaves shifted again. "That does not seem sensical."

Hagrid looked down at Draco, as if regretting the audience, then sighed. "There's a storm brewin' among the wizarding folk."

"Well, yeh could keep watch fer anything unusual. Warn us if anyone's comin' through the forest t'get to us."

"These are a bad lot. Who knows wha' they're capable of. We should work together."

"You mean we should take sides. Look around my trunk. Animals have been marking us for centuries with their claws and their urine. They fight; they die. Some win, some lose. It doesn't matter whoever or whatever thinks they own this plot of land -- we persist."

Draco shot a surprised glance towards Hagrid. Is that why he was here, as some kind of prop?

"Well, Sprout asked me t'see how yer roots were doin'. Whether y'need any more o'that anti-wormin' potion or anything."

The conversation turned to matters of plant care, and Draco tuned it out. He passed Hagrid items from the bag as needed, but the novelty of a talking tree began to wear thin amid the mundanity of leaf fungus and fertilizer. He never thought that plants would gossip, but the reality was even more boring than he could've imagined.

The branches shivered with pleasure. "Thank you. Tender my gratitude to Sprout, as well."

"No problem," Hagrid replied, handing Draco assorted bottles to stuff back into the bag. "By th'way, my students'll be studyin' animal firs' aid this year. If yeh hear o'any injured beasts, send 'em to th'school or jes' let me know."

"Well, if there's nothin' else, we'll be off." Draco clambered to his feet in anticipation.

"Don' worry. I haven' forgotten. We'll make th'rounds." Hagrid hesitated for a moment. "Hope yeh don' mind if we ask some o'the other trees? Abou' helpin' us out."

Draco waited impatiently for Hagrid and the dryad to say their final farewells, and they finally left the clearing.

"Stubborn ol' bat." Hagrid muttered once they were out of earshot. "Jus' cause she's the oldest oak in the woods, she thinks she knows best. Territorial pissin' games, my foot."

"So, is that what this is all about?" Draco scoffed. "Recruiting soldiers for some war?"

Hagrid gave Draco a sharp look. "We're makin' sure th'school is safe. The more that can help, th'better fer us all."

"Yeh don' think I'd be crazy enough t'leave you alone t'gad about unsupervised, do yeh?"

They walked a bit further before Draco broke the silence again. "You don't really think anyone would attack Hogwarts?" he asked skeptically

"Look a' what they did las' year. Kidnappin' a professor an' substitutin' him with a spy. Hidin' portkeys on th'grounds. Nearly killin' Harry... Who knows wha' that lot's capable of?" Hagrid glared at Draco. "But why am I tellin' you all this? You know all abou' it already. Probably better than us. So, what's yer dad an' his ilk plottin', eh?"

Draco's face flushed with anger, but before he could respond in kind, Hagrid cut him off. "We're here. Now keep yer mouth shut an' don' try teh undo any o'my work." They reached another oversized tree. Draco sat on the grass and fumed as Hagrid puttered around with herbology work.

The nerve of that half-breed oaf, questioning his father's integrity like that. How dare he? Stupid flunky wasn't even an honest-to-goodness wizard, so Draco couldn't challenge him to a duel, as such remarks would've deserved among polite company. Fortunately, Hagrid dropped the matter, resuming his earlier silent treatment and walking quickly so Draco had to struggle to keep up.

Draco lost count of how many trees Hagrid stopped to chat with over the course of the day. Some had created their own clearings, others crowded together in friendly groups of twos and threes. A few asked to be introduced to Draco, and one curious willow asked permission to touch him, as she'd never met a "human seedling" before. The leaves tickled as they waved over and around him. But none of them would agree to help Hagrid defend the school, no matter how carefully he tried to phrase it. Late in the afternoon, one cluster of dryads actually asked him whether he agreed with Hagrid over the likelihood of an attack.

Draco tried to temporize. "I really don't know." The trees seemed satisfied and willing to be patient, but Hagrid's glower told a different story. "I mean, I hope not," he stammered. "But Hagrid hasn't told me much about all this. Maybe he's got some further information or something."

"That's it, exactly," Hagrid hurriedly interrupted. "We don' wan' ter scare the children, now. Bu' yeh see how even he doesn' feel certain th'school is safe. An' how can th'little ones grow up healthy when they're afeared all th'time." Hagrid resumed his spin, distracting them from further questioning of Draco.

As they left that particular grove, Hagrid nodded, "good job, there." Draco scowled, but couldn't help wondering why he felt pleased by the praise, given its source.

By the time Hagrid said they could pack it in and head home, it was late and Draco was all but done in. Wordlessly, Hagrid took the rucksack and led them back at a much more leisurely pace.

"Nah. There are a couple hundred in this fores' plus other isolated stands elsewhere aroun' th'world. No' many left, bu' enough."

"So why haven't I heard of them before? I mean, I'd heard of dryads, but I thought the last ones died out centuries ago."

"Y'see, Wizards discovered a long time ago tha' smart wood makes th'best wands. This was fine when there were more trees than wizards, bu' then..." Hagrid shook his head sadly.

"Muggles cut down many o'the great forests t'build their homes an' ships an' cities. They didn' know any better, but it was devastatin' to the magical folk. After a while, Hogwarts was th'only woods in England wi' any decent dryad population."

"Well, folks started t'panic. Started poachin' an' hoardin' the wood fer themselves. They were killin' th'trees instead o'lettin' 'em heal up an' grow back. The headmaster an' Lord o'Magic pleaded with 'em t'stop, but nothin' worked. It was pretty touch an' go whether any o'the dryads would survive.

"Just in th'nick o'time, the headmaster had a brilliant idea. He burned down the forest."

"Not a real fores' fire, mind yeh. Jes' enough fire in places t'convince everyone that th'woods were a total loss. Took quite a bit o'work on his part, keepin' th'real flames under control and puttin' up illusions o'er the rest. O'course a few of th'dryads who were too far gone sacrificed themselves t'make it look genuine."

"Folks foun' it hard t'believe a'first. But eventually ev'ryone bought it, an' after a while folks stopped comin' around. Nowadays, only a han'ful o'wizards know they still exist, mostly on th'Hogwarts staff. Th'dryads donate a few branches ev'ry year to a selec' group of wandmakers who are in on th'secret."

"Wow." Draco whispered. The path had been widening for a while, and Draco could finally see the castle in the distance.

"Speakin' o'secrets," Hagrid's voice grew stern, "you know yeh're not t'tell anybody else abou' the dryads."

Draco froze in his tracks, and Hagrid stopped in place beside him. "And what would you do if I did?"

Hagrid opened his mouth to respond, but Draco cut him off, continuing icily. "There's a little concept you ought to learn called honour. Given your background, I'm not surprised you're unfamiliar with it. I already gave my word to Dumbledore that I'd keep the school's little mysteries. And if you don't feel that's good enough, you can take it up with him."

With that, Draco whirled around and stalked off towards the hut, not caring whether Hagrid would follow or respond.

Chapter 5 Notes:

↑ Chapter 6: Weaving a tangled web ↓

Draco stormed into the hut, slamming the door behind him. How dare he! Making such insinuations about him and his family.

He'd put up with these petty insults for long enough. That does it. Not another night under this roof.

Draco yanked out the drawer with his things, and looked around for a bag or trunk.

"Oh, so that's wha' honour means t'you," came Hagrid's voice from the doorway. "Runnin' away from yer problems when things get rough?"

Hagrid crossed his arms. "You'd what? Zap me from behin' when my back is turned? Fire onna count o'two? Oh yeh, Malfoy. I heard abou' tha' dirty stunt you pull'd in the Duelin' Club yer secon' year."

Hagrid opened the door and Dumbledore walked in. "I hope I'm not barging in on anything, but I saw the lights were on and thought I'd drop by." He looked back and forth between Draco's and Hagrid's expressions. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Oh, good. That's what I thought." Dumbledore smiled. "Listen, I've been invited to dinner with Cider Black, the publisher of the Prophet, and I was wondering if you two could do me a favour."

"You see, the house elves didn't get word that I'd be eating out, and they already made this wonderful meal." He produced a loaf of fresh-baked bread, a small roast, potatoes, pie... Draco's mouth began to water from the aromas alone, and Dumbledore was still pulling out more food. "It seems a shame for it go to waste, so I thought you two might appreciate it."

Dumbledore beamed. "By the way, Draco. Professor Binns reminded me you have several essays due at the start of term." He removed a stack of books from the basket and handed them to Draco. "I borrowed the necessary texts from the library. Do take care of them, we don't want to upset Madam Pince."

Dumbledore patted his robes and pulled out a pocket watch. "Oh dear, is it that time already?" He headed out the door. "Just leave the dishes and the basket outside the door when you're finished. Cheerio!"

Hagrid and Draco just gaped in astonishment. Finally, Hagrid pulled out his chair. "Well, are yeh havin' some supper, or wha'? I mean, I can't eat all o'this alone."

Draco smirked at the battered pink umbrella hanging from Hagrid's belt. "Expecting rain? Didn't we spend enough time yesterday talking about the weather?"

"It never hurts t'be prepared. Come on." Hagrid walked back into the woods, Draco following close behind.

Hagrid led them in a different direction, again quickly leaving the paths behind to make their way between the trees. Draco was finding it easier to keep up, possibly due to the lighter load he was carrying. Just food and drink in the satchel today, no heavy potions or concoctions. Or maybe yesterday's exercise improved his endurance. He certainly couldn't attribute it to any increased comfort with the forest.

The whole place gave him the chills. The lack of sunlight, dead trees littering the landscape, all the roots and branches just waiting to trip him up. So far he hadn't seen anything to like, aside from the view of the school along the outskirts.

But Draco hated most the stillness of his surroundings. He knew there were other creatures out there, and the silence gave his imagination too much free rein. Though marks on the trees indicated something with claws must be lurking about, so far, they'd seen nothing larger than insects.

Come to think of it, he was starting to notice an awful lot more insects. Big ones, too, some of them the size of his hand.

Hagrid looked back to where he was pointing. "Yeh're no' afraid o'spiders, are yeh?" Draco shook his head. Hagrid shrugged and gestured for Draco to catch up. "I prob'ly shoulda ask'd that afore we left."

"What? Yeh manage perfectly fine wi' ancien' hamadryads an' giant spiders, bu' are scared o' a few little kittens?"

"I'm not afraid," Draco said huffily, declining to mention the form his boggart took in third year. None of the other Slytherins had thought it funny. "I'm allergic," he explained.

"Clearly you haven't travelled in the right circles." Draco rolled his eyes to make it clear he was joking before reverting to a normal tone. "It runs in my family."

Draco shrugged. "Mostly what I've heard from my father. They're fickle, mean-tempered beasts that'll turn on you in a heartbeat. Glowing eyes, sharp claws and a nasty bite. I don't see what good they'll do."

Hagrid scratched his beard pensively. "I think I'd like yeh t'come ou' wi' me anyhow." He held up a hand to forestall Draco's protest. "Don' worry, yeh won' hafta get too close."

"Mebbe yeh've grown out of 'em. Some people do. Yeh won' know unless yeh try," he said hopefully. "'sides, we aren' goin' too far into th'forest t'see 'em, so if yeh do have any kind o'reaction, I can get yeh back 'ere afore anythin' bad happens."

Hagrid dumped the pile of foul-smelling fish in the center of the clearing. True to his word, they were still quite close to the school grounds.

Draco leaned against a tree, watching warily. "No thanks. I can smell it from here."

Hagrid shrugged. "As long as necessary. Kneazles don' always like t'be observed."

Draco shook his head and sat down to read his history book. At first he jumped at every snapping branch and rustling leaf, expecting a large furry beast to jump out at him, but after enough false starts, he willed himself to ignore the forest noises and focus on the text.

He had gotten absorbed in reading about the Restoration, when Hagrid whispered "Hsst! Draco!"

Draco jerked his head up, and there in the clearing were about a half-dozen full-grown kneazles, surrounding and devouring the fish. Hagrid was standing a reasonable distance away, watching them and him.

From the shelter of the trees, he looked at them. They were smaller than he had imagined, more like housecats than wildcats, with short tawny fur.

More kneazles streamed in from the treeline towards the food. Fortunately, they were all coming from deeper in the forest, and Draco was seated closer to the school. Draco eased himself to his feet, carefully and quietly to avoid drawing any attention to himself.

After some growling and tail lashing, the feeding kneazles made room for the newcomers. Draco stared at the way they tore off chunks of fish with their teeth -- sometimes grabbing large pieces and running a few feet away to eat undisturbed.

Draco couldn't begin to guess how long the frenzy lasted, but the kneazles made short work of the fish. Soon, nothing was left but a few scraps of skin and bones. Some kneazles, obviously sated, sat down to groom themselves. Others sniffed and pawed at the ground, looking around for more food.

Draco watched in horrified fascination as several of the kneazles twined about Hagrid's legs, meowing pitifully. As if he hadn't just watched the way they were stuffing themselves. Hagrid knelt down and held out his hand towards them and started talking softly. Draco cringed, but all they did was rub against him and start licking his fingers. One or two pawed towards his belt, so with a chuckle, he put down the empty fish bag for them to smell. Soon, more kneazles crowded around Hagrid, a few of them trying to crawl into the bag.

Suddenly, Draco noticed a hint of motion at the edge of his vision. He turned and spotted a lone kneazle walking towards him.

The kneazle stared directly at him with a pair of yellow eyes, then Draco recalled learning that wild animals considered eye contact a challenge, so he averted his gaze.

The tree pressed against Draco's back. He stood as motionless as he could, barely daring to breathe and hoping it wouldn't notice him. The kneazle paused, sniffed the air, and then continued in his direction.

Draco swore silently, remembering how he had helped pack the fish into the bag this morning. He thought he had scrubbed thoroughly, but some of the scent must have lingered.

Hagrid looked up at the scene. Draco was backed against a tree, skin pale and posture rigid. He shot Hagrid a panicked look.

"Malfoy," Hagrid stood, scattering the kneazles surrounding him, and strode across the clearing speaking in loud, clear tones. "It's gonna be okay. When their ears are forward an' tails are up straight like that, it jes means they're curious."

"G'wan," Hagrid flicked his fingers at it. "Shoo!" The kneazle trotted off. Draco sighed with relief. Once certain it was gone, he slid back down to the ground, almost bonelessly, wrapping his arms around his knees and closing his eyes tight.

Draco took several deep shuddering breaths, trying to regain his composure. "I told you I was allergic."

"I think there's one more thing I'd like us t'do. C'mon." And he started towards a path parallel to the school.

"No." Draco crossed his arms, resisting the impulse to stamp his foot. "I'm sick of this. I'm not some puppet you can just drag around. Either tell me what you have in mind, or I can just head back to the hut."

Hagrid studied him for a moment. "Did yeh ever fall off yer broom when yeh were learnin' t'fly?"

"An' when it happened, yer parents probably tol' yeh t'get righ' back up and try again."

"And you think that has anything to do with kneazles?" Draco asked sarcastically. "Hagrid, kneazles aren't some tame housepets you can play with! They're wild beasts!"

"O' course. An' that means yeh hafta treat 'em wi' respect an' caution. Bu' respect's not the same thing as fear."

"Why is this such a big deal with you? It' not like I'm planning to spend the rest of my life at a kneazle refuge or something."

"Well, fer one thing, I was plannin' on coverin' kneazles in class nex' term. Surely y'don' wan t'have a panic attack in front o'the Gryffindors, do yeh?"

Losing face before Potter and his gang? Draco could just picture their reactions. Weasley in particular would have a field day. Then, "No! You're not going to have your way by threatening me."

Impasse. They glared at each other, before Draco continued. "Tell you what. If I go along with your little private lesson on kneazles, you should exempt me from whatever you've got planned in class."

"Fine." Hagrid looked back at the clearing. Kneazles were still wandering around, though a lot fewer than before. "C'mon." he gestured.

Draco followed, his trepidation increasing now that he'd agreed. "So, what are we going to do?"

Couple transition lines here; Hagrid isn't expecting Draco or kneazles to get buddy-buddy, but at least they should be able to tolerate one another.

Hagrid paused beside a large scraggly bush, "Wait here." He got to his knees and looked around the exposed roots. "Ah! Here we are!" he reached under, and after a moment emerged with a small bundle of fur cupped in one palm. "Look, I even foun' one in yer house colors!"

Nestled in Hagrid's hand, a grey kitten with green eyes blinked sleepily. He held it out to Draco, who eyed it warily. "Give it a pet."

Draco hesitated. "There's no way this li'l..." Hagrid lifted its tail, "guy can hurt yeh. Not only are yeh bigger an' faster, but he's still go' his milk teeth."

"Now cup yer hands together..." And before Draco could protest, he found himself holding the kitten. "That's th'ticket!"

The kitten's claws felt like pinpricks against his hands. To avoid dropping it, Draco drew his arms in.

Hagrid stood close, watching carefully. Draco couldn't be aware of the image he presented, his attention totally absorbed by the kitten cradled against his chest.

Hagrid didn't want to disrupt the tableau, but knew it was time to stop when he saw the kitten's mother return from the clearing.

Draco looked up, his eyes widening as he noticed the fully-grown kneazle approaching at a trot. He started to hand the kitten back to Hagrid, but it was sticking to his robe like a burr. He tried to disentangle it, but it seemed hopelessly caught on the fabric.

The other kneazle ignored him, running under the bush, when he finally plucked the kitten off, practically throwing it back to Hagrid, who gently set it down at the mouth of the burrow.

Just then, the mama kneazle stuck her head out of the nest. Spotting her missing kitten, she crawled out to stand over it, glaring suspiciously at Hagrid and Draco.

Hagrid held out his hand. She sniffed his fingers carefully, then ignored them both to groom her kitten.

"So." Hagrid led Draco a few paces away to draw his attention away from the kneazles. "All in all, how d'yeh think it went?"

Draco took a deep breath. "The kitten was..." Hagrid raised an eyebrow for him to continue. "The kitten was fine, okay?" he blurted. "But I don't see what that proves."

"Infants will curl up with anything for warmth. You really expect me to believe that an adult kneazle..."

Draco felt something move against his leg. He froze at the sight of the mother kneazle nudging his ankle with the top of her head. He threw a startled glance to Hagrid, who, much to Draco's dismay, looked concerned himself.

"Don' make any sudden moves. Jes' reach yer hand down nice an' easy fer her t'sniff," Hagrid said. Numbly, Draco complied.

After a few seconds, the kneazle sat back on its haunches, eyes narrowed, glaring at him.

But before Draco could comply, the kneazle rubbed first one cheek and then the other against his knuckles and began to purr.

"Seems t'be." Draco thought he heard a note of wonder in Hagrid's voice, but when he glanced over, he saw instead a thoughtful frown. Hagrid met Draco's eyes, and Draco thought he saw a flash of... regard? before Hagrid resumed his normal helpful tone.

The creature twining around his legs at his feet demanded attention, and Draco complied. He quickly forgot Hagrid's peculiar expression, and was too distracted to even notice the way Hagrid watched him, as if they'd never met before.

Chapter 7 Notes:

↑ Chapter 8: subtitle needed ↓

Draco awoke gradually to the sound of rain tapping against the roof. Something didn't seem right about that, but he was still too drowsy to figure out why that might be.

Rolling over, his stomach rumbled hungrily. He came fully alert only seconds later.

The house was too quiet. No matter how much earlier Draco went to bed, Hagrid always rose before him. This was the first time he wasn't roused out of bed by the smells and sounds of Hagrid's cooking.

Draco looked up, and saw Hagrid still sound asleep in his own bed. It took Draco another moment to remember why. Hagrid had gone out to Hogsmeade yesterday evening.

It had been odd, Draco felt, having the house to himself for the night. Hagrid had left supper out for him, but it wasn't the same. Finding comfort in rituals wasn't just a matter of spellcasting. They didn't really have an established pattern, given the varied creatures they'd been visiting in the forest. Several days passed. More to come on how they passed the time

Draco was starving. He slipped out of bed, and wondered when Hagrid, who was snoring softly, would wake up to make breakfast.

Draco poked around in the pantry. He found a little leftover trail mix, which he munched idly while waiting for Hagrid. Pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice, Draco peered out the window, and it definitely felt late. He tried to recall whether Hagrid had set any plans for the day, which might provide a better reason for getting him up than his own selfish appetite. But nothing came to mind.

Boredom warred with hunger. How long could Hagrid stay asleep? He didn't even know what time Hagrid got in last night. Still not satisfied, the trail mix long gone, Draco rummaged through the pantry once again. It might not be porridge, but there had to be something he could eat.

Draco paused in thought. Porridge was just, what, oats and water? Fine, he'd never actually seen Hagrid making them, but how difficult could it be?

Draco set the pot carefully on the table, so not to wake Hagrid. Then he dumped in what felt like a reasonable amount of oats. May as well be polite and make enough for both of them. He poured in some water and stirred it around until it felt like the right consistency. Beyond that, he figured it was just a matter of heating it up to the right temperature. He hung the pot over the fire, put the cover on, and sat down to wait for the familiar aroma.

The latest issue of the Daily Prophet lay on the table. He picked it up and began to flip through, suddenly eager for news of what might be happening beyond the school's gates. But he found little of interest. Dumbledore looked mildly bemused on the front page photo, which accompanied an article trumpeting how they finally managed to convince the headmaster to write a weekly advice column for readers. The story urged readers to send in their questions to the paper. Their staff would then comb through the letters and select the very best for Dumbledore's response. Draco snorted. One of the best things about leaving Hogwarts would be saying goodbye to that Muggle-loving fool. Why would anybody want his opinion? He shook his head at the photo, which shrugged.

Something didn't smell right. It took him a moment to realize it was his breakfast. Porridge was oozing out around the lid, dripping down the sides, and he had to hunt around for something to use as a potholder, before finally grabbing a towel.

He managed to get it to the table without burning himself, but the lid seemed to be glued on, and he couldn't get a good grip on it through the towel. Finally, he grabbed a spoon, wedged it into the gap and managed to pry it open, releasing a massive cloud of steam.

When the air above the pot had cleared, Draco peered in. Burnt porridge completely coated the interior. Though it wouldn't be enough for two, the bottom few inches still looked edible, so he scooped some into his bowl.

It was lumpy. Draco tried to eliminate the lumps by squashing them with his spoon, but they merely separated into smaller lumps and pockets of raw oats.

Despite its appearance, Draco was still hungry. Maybe he could eat around the lumps. He dipped his spoon carefully, and tried a nibble. That would be no.

Hagrid groaned and sat up. "What's tha' smell?" He sniffed the air. "Is somethin' a'fire?"

Hagrid hauled himself up out of bed, and wandered over to peer into the pot. "I see."

Draco picked up a spoonful and let it plop back into the bowl. "Is there anything you can do to make it edible?"

"We can do be'er than that," Hagrid grinned. "How 'bout we throw tha' mess out an' I teach yeh how t'make a proper porridge."

"Nonsense," Hagrid scoffed. "Yer good in Potions, aren' yeh?" Draco nodded. "Well, if yeh can brew a potion, yeh can cook porridge. Yeh jes' need t'be shown how."

Hagrid reached for the pot, looked inside, then set it down. "Why don' we get a fresh one," he nodded to himself. He emerged from the pantry with a clean pot and a long tapered stick.

"We start by gettin' th'water nice an' hot." Hagrid poured in cold water from the pitcher and set the pot over the stove. "Now, while we wait fer tha' t'simmer, let's go over th'rest of it."

Hagrid pointed to the wooden implement. "This here's known as yer spurtle. It's wha' yeh stir yer porridge with. Yeh mus' only ever stir th'porridge clockwise -- never widdershins. Un'erstand?"

"Now, take a han'ful o'oats in yer lef' hand." Hagrid paused. "Yeh are right-handed, aren' yeh?"

"Okay, take summa th'oats in yer lef' hand, and the spurtle in yer right. When th'water starts t'simmer, yeh'll sprinkle the oats into th'water like a steady rain, while stirrin' constantly. That's wha' keeps out th'lumps."

Hagrid thought for a minute. "Yeh've got smaller hands than mine, so yeh'll likely need t'take two handfuls. Got it?"

A few tendrils of steam curled up from the pot. Holding the oat canister, Hagrid pushed Draco closer.

"Okay, now!" Draco began to stir as he crumbled the oats into the mixture. "Keep stirrin.'" The porridge began to thicken. "That's th'ticket." Draco smiled. It really was like brewing a potion.

Behind him, Hagrid put away the oats and grabbed the salt cellar. "Steady on..." The porridge began to boil. "Okay, jes' a pinch o'salt... Now take it off th'heat and cover it."

Draco gave Hagrid the spurtle and went to sit down someplace cooler. "It'll need a little time t'set now. I c'n take care o'that fer yeh."

Hagrid checked the pot every few minutes, giving it a quick stir. "By th'way, th'ladies like a man who can cook. Trus' me on that." And then, before Draco knew, it was ready to eat.

Draco looked at his bowl nervously, memories of his previous effort still fresh in his memory. But Hagrid didn't hesitate, taking a large bite. "No' bad." Hagrid ate another spoonful. "Needs some work, but pretty good, actually, fer a firs' attempt."

While surveying the unicorns, Hagrid had noticed one of the foals carried itself with a pronounced limp. Draco comforted the foal and tried to hold it steady while Hagrid examined the injured hoof.

"Yup. That's wha' I thought." Hagrid said. "Stone bruise. I've go' some ointment that'll take away th'pain, but yeh'll have t'go easy on it fer a while."

Draco turned, keeping one arm around the foal's neck, and spotted a pair of centaurs approaching. The older one, with brown hair and bay coloring, continued. "Are you now trying to corrupt the unicorns with your politics?"

"What I'm tryin' t'do is heal an injured leg." Hagrid turned his back on the centaurs. "Malfoy, hand me th'green jar from my bag."

The centaurs waited with arms crossed for Hagrid to finish doctoring the foal. Only when the foal trotted off to rejoin its family, which proceeded to bolt off into the woods, did he face them again.

"If yeh haven' heard, I'll be givin' some o'the students lessons in first aid nex' year. If yeh hear of any injured animals, let me know."

"Oh, we've heard," said the first centaur. "We've heard a great deal of your intentions." He took several paces forward, but Hagrid stood resolute.

The other centaur, who had a more reddish coat, sighed. "The forest is not your battlefield. Neither are its denizens your soldiers. You should not have come here to prosletyse for your human conflicts. Leave us in peace."

"I'd like to, Ronan," Hagrid replied with a friendly drawl, "but unless yeh've talked t'the opposing side an' can convince them t'avoid th'forest too..." The centaurs appeared unmoved. "Look, I hope it won' come t'fightin'. I sure hope it won' happen here. But hope isn' a plan, an' mostly we're jes' givin folks advance notice t'stay alert."

"And, of course," scoffed the darker one, "if they can warn you in the process, or possibly stave off some of your enemies for you... You would encourage that, wouldn't you?"

"And once you've awakened these martial impulses, are you taking appropriate measures to channel them?"

"All we're doin' is askin' em t'defend themselves an' th'school. Fairly simple an' straightforward."

"We do not like being blindsided by the happenings in our forest," Ronan explained. "You should have told us yourself, rather than leaving us to hear it from others."

Ronan gave a curious smile. "A child of Light, then?" Hagrid snorted back a laugh, and Draco flushed. He already knew what Hagrid thought of his family, but he didn't want to have it out in public. Fortunately, Genova interrupted.

"Draco. Fascinating constellation. Millenia ago, before Polaris usurped its position as the North star, the heavens revolved around alpha Draconis."

"I believe humans now refer to that star as Thuban." Genova contemplated for a moment. "Do you study the night sky, Draco?"

"It would behoove you to pay close attention in times such as these. The cycles of the sky can be quite enlightening to those who understand."

"My colleague here talks of matters of light and darkness," Genova continued. "You are aware that the moon's light is actually a reflection of the sun. Thus, the only way nature achieves true darkness is by somehow blotting out the light of the sun. But such measures are only temporary. A new moon on the winter solstice may seem interminable. But even the longest night of the year is inevitably followed by a new dawn."

Draco listened to the rustling leaves as he struggled to come up with a response. In fact, it appeared that none of them quite knew what to say to that. Finally Hagrid broke the silence. "So, day always follows night. Good thing t'know. Don' know what we'd do withou' th'benefit o'yer wisdom. Come along, Malfoy, we oughta be headin' back."

After saying their farewells and moving out of earshot, Hagrid shook his head. "Ruddy star-gazers," he muttered.

Chapter 8 Notes:

↑ Chapter 9: subtitle needed ↓

"Malfoy," Hagrid said after breakfast. "It's too nice a day fer chores. Why don' yeh take th'mornin' off. Maybe practice yer Quidditch."

"That's okay. I was planning to do that this evening while you were out at Hogsmeade."

Hagrid frowned. "Feels like it may rain later. Better yeh play while it's still sunny. I'll bring lunch out to th'pitch so yeh won' be interrupted."

Draco shrugged his assent -- who was he to begrudge additional free time. Though it felt odd, going off to play rather than doing his morning chores. Almost like playing hooky.

But Hagrid was right, it was a gorgeous day for flying. He grabbed his equipment and flew out to the pitch.

Draco had gotten a lot of Quidditch in this summer -- that being his only real recreation besides his schoolwork. At the start of the summer, he mostly took out his frustrations bashing the bludger -- imagining Hagrid's or Dumbledore's faces and letting out his aggressions. But as relations calmed, he took advantage of the time and solitude to hone his Seeker skills, drilling himself in finding the Snitch in all kinds of weather, without the distraction of the crowds or teammates. Mostly, he played the standard solo Seeker variant, armed with a bat and with one loose Bludger to provide just enough distraction to keep things from getting boring. Draco also used the time to think about team strategy, and he had a few ideas for the other Slytherins come fall that should knock the scores off the other teams.

By the fourth time Draco caught the snitch, he was getting hungry. He had no way of telling the exact time, but by the looks of the sun, it was after noon. He boxed up the bludger, put the equipment away and decided to head back.

Walking past the side of the house, Draco thought he heard voices from the window. He ducked down to listen.

"Oh, I know." The voice -- an unfamiliar gravelly one -- sighed. "I don't envy you. I can't imagine why Dumbledore saddled you with the task. And he hasn't recanted anything?"

"Hasn' talked abou' it at all." Hagrid paused, and Draco heard a slurp as if he were drinking. "No' tha' I've brought it up either. Family seems t'be a touchy subject with 'im."

"I'm sure it is, but I know his type. If he won't renounce You Know Who, then he's probably still angling to get back in his good graces. I wouldn't trust him for a heartbeat."

Draco scowled. Who was Hagrid talking to? He tried to peer inside, but the stranger had his back to the window. He started to creep around to the other side of the house, when he came upon a pair of taloned feet blocking his path, with another pair of hooves behind them. He looked up into a pair of cruel orange eyes.

Draco froze, the memory of his injuries making him want to clasp his arm in phantom pain. His heartbeat sounded unnaturally loud as he tried to remember what he was supposed to do in such situations. The hippogriff pawed impatiently at the ground.

Right. Bow to it. Fortunately, his posture was already half-crouched to begin with. Through lowered eyes, he noticed the hippogriff bend its knees in return. That was a good sign, wasn't it? Gradually Draco stood, keeping his head lowered and his eyes on the beast's claws. He rested one hand on the side of the house for balance and began to back away. The hippogriff didn't advance, merely watching with unblinking scrutiny. Turning the corner, Draco tripped over the watering can, which made a loud clattering noise.

Suddenly, a massive black dog came barrelling from the front of the house, barking loudly and charging straight at him. Draco scrambled to his feet, but the dog kept chasing him, driving him away from the hut. He was halfway back to the Quidditch field before it lost interest.

Hagrid found him sitting on the bench a short while later. "Draco? Lunch is ready. C'mon."

Draco shrugged and hooked it to his waist. "I think I'll hang onto it. Just in case."

As they walked back to the hut, Draco noticed the garden was freshly raked where the hippogriff had been standing and the watering can was back in its place. Inside, it looked like the dishes had just been washed. Hagrid ladled him a bowl of stew.

Draco decided to keep the snippet of conversation to himself for the moment. "You don't think that's unusual enough?"

"Like I said, yeh were asleep on th'field. Must've been some dream. Mebbe yeh oughta talk t'Trelawney abou' it."

Draco frowned, fingering the dirtstains on his robe from when he fell. He didn't get those from any nightmare. Well, if that's the way Hagrid wants to play it, fine. "Maybe you're right." He smiled weakly and gave a half-hearted laugh.

"No thanks." He must be pretty convinced he covered up the evidence to make that offer. "It was probably pretty silly of me to think I saw all those animals around here."

"Don' blame yerself." Hagrid smiled. "Yeh wan' t'tell me the res' o'yer dream? I migh' be able t'interpret it."

As if to make up for the morning's generousity, Hagrid piled on the chores in the afternoon. Draco spent the afternoon trying to decide which was the absolute worst, and whether arduous and exhausting should be worth more points than disgusting and noisome.

By the time Draco got back to the hut after showering, Hagrid had already left for the evening. It still wasn't raining, but he was too tired for any more Quidditch. He looked around the room in frustration. What was Hagrid hiding from him?

If he was going to search the hut, he ought to do it methodically. He decided to begin with the books and papers and work his way around. He recognized maps of the forest and copious notes on the various creatures they met. A few scrawled pages on lesson plans for the fall. Nothing worthwhile, unless the younger students wanted hints on which days to fake illness. Draco carefully put them back the way he found them.

In the back of the pantry he found a mostly-full bottle of firewhiskey. Hagrid wouldn't notice if he took a small sip. So far, it had been the only interesting thing in the whole place. And he didn't find much else after that.

As with Hagrid's last outing, Draco awoke first. But this time, he wasn't feeling so hungry. In fact, the thought of food sounded positively nauseating.

While getting up, he noticed the bottle of firewhiskey had fallen under the bed. It was much emptier than he thought last night. He slipped it back into its hiding place.

Hagrid left his jacket sprawled over the chair. Looking around, Draco spotted several parcels lying on the floor surrounding it. Mostly groceries and other basic staples, but then he noticed a book sticking out of one of the parcels. He pulled it out carefully.

It was a green leather volume, with "Dragons of the Romanian Refuge" in gold lettering along the spine. The cover showed a silvery-blue dragon blowing flame.

Draco smiled. It looked like a gift book. Hagrid must be feeling guilty over yesterday. Surely Hagrid wouldn't mind if he snuck a peek now. He took the book, and went outside to find someplace comfortable to read.

The book proved even more fascinating than Draco would've thought. Stunning full-color photography, with close-up shots that left him wondering whether to congratulate the photographer or send condolences to the guy's widow.

The accompanying text went into the usual assortment of myths and facts about dragons. Given his name, people always gave Draco dragon-related presents -- enough that he was bored with the subject. But this author definitely had a certain passion about the subject that really shone through.

Draco found the book so absorbing, it was midday before he finally returned to the hut for something to eat. He wondered whether Hagrid was awake yet.

Not only was Hagrid awake, but the place smelled wonderful. A cooling spice cake sat in the center of the table, and Hagrid was whisking together something that looked like frosting.

Draco stopped short and looked around, half expecting to see the bespectacled boy wonder sitting in one of the chairs.

"'Course." Hagrid noticed the disappointment on Draco's face. "Oh don' be gettin' like that."

"Yeh need t'understand where Harry's comin' from. Since 'is parents died, he's 'ad t'live with th'worst pack o'Muggles y'ever imagined. They use 'im like a slave, makin' 'im work an' starvin' 'im an' treatin' 'im right awful. 'E's really a good kid, an' I wish yeh could be nicer about him."

"You're right," Draco sneered. "How could I possibly comprehend that? I mean, what do I know about losing my parents because the Dark Lord wanted me dead?" His voice rose. "Being forced to live with someone who hates me and treats me like a house elf, doing his disgusting chores and being lied to all the time? Is that what this is all about?"

"Shut up!" Draco yelled. "I don't want to hear it any more!" He looked around and spotted his Quidditch bat by his bed. He grabbed it and turned away from Hagrid. "I'm going out."

Draco stormed off, not caring what direction he headed. There would probably be hell to pay for this later, but he didn't want to think about any of that right now. What could Hagrid have been thinking? Could he even think? And how could he have been so foolish as to think they could possibly get along unless it was some trick? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. With each word, he swatted at bushes for emphasis.

He was walking along the edge of the forest now and starting to slow down. The hut was long out of sight, but he still wanted to put distance between himself and Hagrid.

He listened to the branches rustling. He'd grown used to the sound from their many trips to the forest.

He looked up to see a half-dozen spiders, about the size of large dogs, leaping from the trees and running straight towards him.

Draco turned and started to run, but they were too fast. He felt a weight drop on his back. He swung his bat over his shoulder, felt a large crunch, and it dropped off. He turned around to face his attackers, waving his bat before him to keep them at bay.

They crouched around him in a semicircle. He swatted at those who got too close, but the bat was designed more for shoving things away than for causing injury. The spiders started to advance in unison, forcing him backwards. It started to feel as if they were testing him somehow, trying his defenses. They began to spread out, surrounding him.

Suddenly, spiders on both sides leaped at him. He managed to shove one off, but the other clung to his hip. He tried to push that off, but the others were coming in closer, too many at once.

He felt a sharp pain in his side, where the spider had perched. He swung his bat wildly, trying to get the others away, but he didn't seem to be connecting. He felt a similar pain on his ankle, and his vision suddenly swam.

The bat fell from his hands. After a moment, he followed it onto the ground and lay still.

Chapter 9 Notes:

↑ Chapter 10: In the belly of the beast ↓

Draco dreamed. He was underwater, being carried by the merfolk. So many of them surrounded him, he could barely move. His saturated dress robes further hampered his movement. The velvet soaked up the water, making them heavier and heavier. Soon he could barely move at all. A merman pressed gillyweed to his mouth, but instead of feeding it to him, it covered his mouth.

Draco awoke with a gasp. He was staring up at a white canopy, through which he could just make out trees and a darkening sky. He realized he was in a reclining position, propped up against something. He tried to get up, and failed. When he looked down, he couldn't see his body at all -- just a large cocoon of spider silk. And there, before him, were about eight acromantula, the size of large dogs. Watching him.

And it made absolutely no difference. The webbing over his mouth stopped up his screams, rendering him utterly silent. The rest of his bindings were equally secure, preventing even the slightest movement.

His heart was still racing when he came to, so he must not have been out for long. His throat burned, and he was breathing heavily through his nose. The largest of the spiders perched on his chest, completely blocking his field vision.

Draco flushed and flared his nostrils, which was about all he could do in response. Under the silk, he tried more carefully to find some way out. He could still wiggle his fingers and toes, but that was about the extent of his range of motion.

"You can not escape." Draco wasn't quite willing to concede that yet. "You must understand, we have taken down far larger creatures than yourself."

It felt like the wrap went only as high as his shoulders, leaving him free to turn his head. He looked around. They appeared to be in a large enclosed area, he wasn't sure whether they had just tented over a clearing or if it was some kind of cavern. Aside from the other spiders, the most prominent feature were the bodies. Dozens of beasts, all bound like he was and all of them dead. Draco swallowed convulsively.

The spider on his chest bobbed up and down. "You see, your earlier display was futile." It looked at him... expectantly? Draco nodded. "If you are willing to keep quiet, I will remove the coverings from your mouth so you may speak. But I warn you, make any noise..." Draco was already frantically nodding his agreement. He didn't care about conditions. He just wanted it off.

"Very well." Draco grit his teeth as the spider put its four front legs on Draco's cheeks and chin and pulled. The webbing ripped off along with any facial hair Draco might've grown over the summer.

"Ahhhhhhh" Draco didn't scream, but couldn't restrain a hiss of pain. He sucked in air through his clenched teeth and watched the spider crumple up the gag, dropping it casually onto his chest.

It took Draco another moment to catch his breath. Then, in as polite a tone as he could manage, he replied. "Thank you, yes." The spider bobbed again. "Could you do something about the rest of these bindings?"

All the spiders bobbed and clicked their pincers at that remark. After they calmed down, the one on his chest said simply, "No."

"Why, to eat you, of course." Draco felt as if his heart had stopped beating for a moment. He felt driven to keep it talking, but his mind was stuck on that line.

"Mind you, following you about has made hunting much easier." The spider gestured with several limbs. Draco looked around the room again, recognizing most of the creatures from his and Hagrid's recent travels.

"Why not? We do not touch them until after you have finished, but you are so kind as to gather the beasts together, it would be such a waste not to take advantage."

Draco waited, but when no answer seemed forthcoming, he prompted, "Your name is..."

"So... Gormag, if we've been so helpful with your hunting, why not just continue with that? Why capture me?"

Gormag turned back to the other spiders. "Dinner that can converse. So fascinating." It faced Draco again. "To eat a human. That is something even Aragog and his followers have been unable to accomplish. Eating you will prove we are harder than the rest of them. That we are the best in the forest." The nodding and bobbing took much longer to quiet down than he'd ever seen.

Though Draco really didn't want to hear the answer, he felt he had to know. "Given... everything you said." Draco took a deep breath and finished in a rush,"Why am I still alive?"

"We are not, at present, hungry." Gormag crawled off his chest and onto a large pile of rocks, which sagged under his weight. "We did not expect to find you so... vulnerable today. If we had known, we would not have eaten so well this morning." With a sickening feeling, Draco realized those weren't rocks Gormag was standing on; they were corpses. He couldn't even tell what creatures they might've been.

He tried to talk louder to cover his fear. "Aragog wasn't unable to eat humans. He chose not to. If you eat a human, other people will come after you and destroy you. The only reason you spiders survive is because you haven't drawn attention to yourselves."

The spiders clicked at his remarks, but silenced when Gormag waved his arms. Silently, Gormag walked back onto Draco's chest, staring down at him. "If you are so certain others will avenge, where are they? You were all alone. Hours have passed. Nobody has followed. We have kept watch. I believe this is a bluff."

Draco grit his teeth both in an effort to sound more menacing and to cover their chattering. "Just you wait. They'll be here."

Gormag patted him on the head. "Oh, we will wait. Until we are hungry. Then we will eat!"

Gormag hopped off his chest and skittered over to join the others, leaving Draco alone once more.

And, he realized, he really was well and truly alone. Considering everything that happened the last several days -- particularly given their final blowup -- Hagrid had no reason to come looking. When you get right down to it, he was probably relieved to be rid of him.

At least Hagrid pretended he could stand him. Not like... Draco needed a deep breath even to finish the thought. Not like his father.

Draco watched the spiders all clustered together at the other side of the cavern. Based on their size, they were probably... about his age, or whatever the spider equivalent was. He couldn't tell precisely what they were doing, but it looked like they were just hanging out and enjoying themselves.

Which is what he should've been doing. This was the summer that he and Crabbe and Goyle were finally going to join the Dark Lord and prove themselves. And what happened? How on earth could Crabbe and Goyle measure up, while he didn't?

And apparently, he was such a miserable fuckup that even his father would rather he were dead.

It took him slightly by surprise to realize that the heavy workload hadn't left him much time to dwell on all this. School would be starting soon, and he still didn't have a resolution.

Well, he didn't have time to linger on that now. He had bigger worries. And it didn't look like he could count on anyone else to get him out of this.

Draco glanced at the spiders, who were still ignoring him, and bit his lip, trying to avoid attracting their attention.

He started trying to pick through the silk with his fingernails. Not only did it feel too thick, but it was sticky. If he kept up with that, he'd soon lose what little dexterity he had.

When the spiders wrapped him in their cocoon, they covered everything, robe, boots and all. While the web was sticky, not much of that was touching bare skin. Maybe he could wriggle his arms and hands further inside the robe, he could get more leverage and maneuverability. One sore shoulder later stopped that attempt.

Body part by body part, Draco tried to find some weakness in the webbing, but Gormag was correct -- it was quite secure. He couldn't even bend his knees.

Draco threw his head back. He wanted to cry in frustration, but feared Gormag would take any outburst as an excuse to gag him again.

He studied his surroundings, looking for an idea. Through the webbing, he could see the sky, now a deep shade of navy. And Gormag and his gang was returning. Draco swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, and reached for his usual cool facade.

"Well none of our other guests have ever complained before." The other spiders bobbed and clicked with what Draco could only assume was laughter.

"Maybe if you didn't gag them all, they would've spoken up." Somebody hissed. Gormag whirled around to identify the culprit, but moved too slow. Pity the lack of neck muscles, but nice to provoke some reaction. Still, best not to push him too far.

"So, is this a social call? I'm sorry I wasn't more prepared, but I was all tied up." This time, Draco got the clicks and bobs.

"We are going to sleep." Gormag's tone was clipped. "Do not disturb us or you will regret it. When we awaken, we will eat you. Arik!"

A smaller spider, about the size of a large housecat, skittered around to Draco's side.

"Arik here will watch over you so you do not escape." Gormag turned to Arik, "Do not disappoint me." Then he and the rest of the spiders crawled off to the far corner, leaving Draco alone with Arik.

Arik scrambled onto the cocoon and settled himself on Draco's lap, tucking his legs under his torso, and watching Draco's face.

He closed his eyes, relaxed into his most neutral expression and tried to take inventory. His right shoulder ached from trying to pull his arm into the sleeve. Pins and needles were shooting down his left arm. Painful spots on his waist and leg where he had been bitten and a few bruises here and there. And he was thirsty.

His tongue felt thick and gummy. He ran it over the roof of his mouth, trying to find any residual moisture, but there was none to be had.

What would his father do in this situation? His father wouldn't get into this situation, because his father would have had his wand. Fine.

What would Hagrid do in this situation? Probably try to befriend one of the stupid beasts and talk it into freeing him. Right.

"Hello." The small spider didn't move, but sounded somewhat confused by being addressed.

"So..." Draco struggled to think of what to say. He licked his lips, which provided him with an answer. "Could I get something to drink?"

Arik pushed himself up slightly and ohhhhed in recognition.He pivoted around to check on the other spiders. The rest of them appeared to have curled up into a pile. Arik moved forward and back along Draco's body, crouching down and straightening up, as if looking for something from the others.

Impatiently, Draco sighed. "They're probably all asleep." The spider turned back to face him. "Do you know where you can get something to drink?" he enunciated.

"Would you get me some?" It started to look over at the other spiders, but Draco stopped it with his voice. "They won't even notice you're gone." It stared at him some more. "I won't tell if you won't."

After another moment's thought, Arik hopped off Draco's chest and scurried off out of sight.

Draco had nearly fallen asleep himself when the little spider returned, bearing several bulging silk bags. He crawled back onto Draco's chest.

"I was not sure at first how to transport the water." He unhooked one of the bags and held it up to Draco's lips, then punctured it. Draco greedily drank it all down.

Draco didn't need to be asked twice, and guzzled another. He felt better than he had in hours.

Arik unfolded one of the silk bundles onto Draco's chest. "I brought berries, if you like."

Though it was too dark to see, they smelled fresh and ripe and oh so delicious. Draco's mouth began to water and his voice grew hoarse from hunger. "Yes. I like berries."

Draco craned his neck as far as he could, but it wasn't quite enough to reach them. Seeing him strain, Arik picked up a large raspberry and held it up for him.

For a moment, all Draco could see was the limb up close -- black and shiny and covered in countless tiny hairs. But the berry smelled so good. He closed his eyes, counting on the scent and taste to overcome the sight and touch.

Draco was still rolling the berry around his mouth, sucking on the juices, when Arik took one for himself.

"But I thought..." Maybe it was better not to mention. "Well..." Draco tilted his head in the direction of the corpses.

They shared the rest of the berries, splitting them about evenly. Draco knew he'd had better meals in the past -- his family had vacationed in Paris, after all -- but this was definitely satisfying.

Draco tried his best to stay awake, but sometime in the wee hours of the morning, he finally dozed off.

He awoke shortly before dawn to the distant sound of snapping branches. Still somewhat groggy, it took him a few seconds to process what such movement might be.

Arik rested motionless on his chest, probably asleep. "Arik," he whispered. "Get out of here, now."

Draco silently counted to ten after Arik vanished from view, then shouted at the top of his lungs. "Hey! I'm over here!"

Gormag landed on Draco's chest with a thud that knocked the wind out of him. "I thought I told you to keep silent!" He pivoted around, and Draco could see the silk dripping from his spinnerets as he repositioned himself over Draco's face.

Just then, Hagrid burst through the webbing, several humongous acromantuala following close behind. Hagrid raced to Draco's side, and with a shove, sent Gormag flying.

"Are yeh okay?" Too stunned to speak, Draco merely nodded. Hagrid carefully picked him up and, cradling him in his arms, carried him out of the enclosure. Sheltered by Hagrid's body, Draco couldn't see what the rest of the spiders were doing.

Hagrid set him down along the path. "Le's see abou' gettin' those webs off o'yeh." He pulled out a large hunting knife. "Don' move. I won' cut you."

Draco's thoughts were in a whirl, and he remained silent as Hagrid began the delicate task of slicing away the cocoon.

It was slow going. The silk was very sticky, and was quite securely glued to his robe. Hagrid sliced and peeled, scraping it away from the fabric like one skins an animal.

As he worked, Draco saw several more acromantula of the largest breed walk past, leading Aragog himself. Hagrid nodded gruffly as they entered the tent where he'd been held captive.

"O' course I did. I wouldn' let yeh die." Hagrid shrugged, "Mind you, it took a while t'find yeh..."

"But..." Draco struggled to understand. "After yesterday... I mean..." he trailed off, uncertain what to say.

"Yeh were wrong, yeh know," Hagrid said softly. Draco nodded, ruing his earlier outburst, when Hagrid continued. "I don' hate yeh."

It took a moment for the words to sink in. He felt lightheaded and something in his chest loosen that had nothing to do with his bindings. Draco shook his head slowly as if that would make it clearer.

Hagrid sat back on his haunches. "Look, if yeh really insist, pay it forward t'somebody else."

"Roll over." Most of the webbing had been removed from Draco's front, and he could move his arms again; but it was still a solid sheet against his back. Draco turned, resting his head on his folded arms, so Hagrid could try to free his legs. "There's prob'bly no way y'can pay me back directly. So instead, return th'favor t'somebody else."

Draco heard a large crunch coming from the tent, followed by a faint squeal. "I think we c'n leave th'res' till we get home. Yeh think y'can stand?"

Hagrid helped Draco up. He was rather stiff -- both in his muscles and from the web residue still coating his clothes. He leaned against the tree for balance.

Draco lifted each leg to stretch it. "Okay..." He heard another thud, then the hair on the back of his neck prickled as another high-pitched noise came from the tent.

With Hagrid's help, he hobbled into the tent. Aragog's guards cordoned off the back corner, blocking their view. Hagrid pushed his way through, allowing Draco to see.

Gormag was dead, his abdomen crushed, ichor and other things Draco didn't want to think about pooling around him.

The other spiders in the gang had been lined up alongside. Three more corpses lay beside Gormag.

Draco watched as Aragog hefted a large stone, needing four arms to steady it, and dropped it on the abdomen of the next spider in the queue. It landed with a sickening crunch, shattering the exoskeleton and pulping its innards. To Draco's horror, the spider didn't die immediately. It flailed its arms in what seemed to be an attempt to drag itself away from the pain. For several excruciating minutes, it twitched and begged before its eyes finally dimmed and its body went still.

Draco swallowed back his bile, trying to look anywhere but the bodies. Four more spiders wait in queue. Some appeared stoic, others were trembling. The next one lifted its foreleg, but was quickly slapped down by the large spider behind them.

Suddenly, another four acromantula entered, carrying a loosely-webbed bundle. "We caught this one trying to escape."

They ripped open the bag, and out tumbled Arik. Dispassionately, they herded him to the end of the line as Aragog picked up the boulder and his assistants led him to the next victim.

Draco couldn't keep his eyes off Arik, who shook so badly he could barely stand. Like the other spiders awaiting execution, he faced squarely ahead. Still unable to read acromantula faces, Draco couldn't tell whether Arik could see him or not.

Draco winced and averted his gaze as Aragog crushed another of Gormag's followers. This was sick. Hagrid tugged his arm to lead him away.

"Wait." The acromantulas all turned to face him, though those in line were quickly cuffed back into position. "Arik. The one on the end. Spare his life."

The guards mumured in surprise. Aragog turned to face him, milky white eyes unnerving in their sightlessness. "What?"

Aragog clacked his pincers angrily. "They all disobeyed my law. As such, they can not be allowed to live."

The guards pushed Arik forward, until he stood almost underneath Aragog. Aragog reached forward and ran his front arms over the little spider. Draco could hear Arik, faintly repeating "i am so sorry" over and over again.

"Look at him." Aragog said to his lieutenants. "Mark him well, and tell others how to recognize him. Should you ever see him transgress, his life is forfeit." Aragog flicked Arik away with his two forelegs. "I never want to hear your name again. Go!"

Aragog turned to Hagrid and Draco. "You humans have always been too soft-skinned for your own good. Have you any other demands, or may I resume disciplining the rest of them?"

"You have my regrets for your ordeal. I hope you will not hold their insubordination against the rest of my children."

"Thank you." Draco felt shaky. The adrenaline rush that he'd been riding for so long was beginning to peter out. "Hagrid, can we go home now?"

Chapter 10 Notes:

↑ Chapter 11: Say goodbye to the summer ↓

Draco was so weak that Hagrid had to carry him much of the way home. Adding to his mortification, he found a hardcover copy of Quidditch: A Celebration on his pillow. Hagrid seemed nonplussed. "I planned t'slip it in yer trunk as a surprise."

Draco spent most of the next two days in bed. Although he chafed at the confinement ("Haven't I spent enough time immobilized?"), Hagrid insisted it was the best way to get the toxins out of his system.

Hagrid offered to let Draco stay home for the last of the forest visits, but Draco demanded to come along, wanting to prove that he wasn't scared. Draco thought the woods sounded eerily silent, until he realized that much of the noise he'd grown accustomed to had been caused by his spider stalkers.

With barely a week to go before classes resumed, Hagrid took Draco's booklist and headed off to Diagon Alley. Draco tried every means at his disposal to change Hagrid's mind, but here the groundsskeeper was resolute.

Though Hagrid left shortly after breakfast, Draco was still in bed pouting when there came a knock at the door. He opened the door cautiously to see Dumbledore smiling at him. "I was wondering if you might care to join me for a spot of lunch?"

Draco found the dishes as tasty as ever, but the conversation gave him further food for thought.

"Hard to believe school's about to start. Every year an adventure, that's what I've come to think."

Hagrid returned in the evening loaded down with packages. He showed every purchase to Draco for his approval. Everything was secondhand, but good quality and in decent condition. Though the books were somewhat worn, Hagrid made sure to get copies that hadn't been marked up in any way.

Draco opened it carefully, unwrapping a shiny polished wand. Picking it up, he felt a slight tingle in his fingertips.

Draco turned away from anything breakable, and swished it through the air. It had a somewhat unpleasant whippy feel about it, but the tip emitted a few silver sparkles.

"Th'shopkeeper said the previous owner was a sweet little ol' witch who on'y used it once a week t'feed her cats."

Draco frowned slightly, turning the wand around in his hands to view it from all angles. It was shorter and more pliant than his previous wand, and felt somewhat off. Then he noticed Hagrid wringing his hands together, and felt ashamed. Where was his manners? Hagrid tried his best. It wasn't his fault Draco wasn't allowed to pick out his own wand.

Draco swallowed his disappointment and smiled. "Thank you so much. I'm sure it'll work great."

Hagrid grinned. "I think that's all yer supplies. Anythin' else yeh need before school starts?"

"That's true, yeh have gotten a little shaggy. I'll round up a barber fer yeh." Draco breathed a silent sigh of relief. He'd been briefly afraid that Hagrid would suggest doing the job himself. "Why don' yeh head outside an' practice with it fer a bit. Get used t'it."

The new wand was just as bad as Draco had feared. At first, his Wingardium Leviosa barely lifted a leaf. With practice, he discovered that he could cast spells with this wand, but they required much more effort on his part to achieve even moderate results.

Draco felt utterly drained when he came in for the night, but plastered a smile on his face and told Hagrid the wand was perfect.

The first thing Draco noticed about the little witch was her hair -- unnaturally red with black tips. The second thing he noticed was her voice.

"Hagrid!" she squealed, dropping her satchel and embracing him in a massive hug. "It's been such a long time! I'm so glad you called. How are you?"

Then she turned to face Draco. "So, is this our victim?" She walked over to him, grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously. "Pleased t'meetcha." Then she walked around him, studying him like a work of art. She ran her fingers through his hair. "Has anyone ever told you you've got marvelous hair?"

She snapped her gum. "Well, it's a good thing to know. Have you decided what you want to do with it?"

"Hold on," she said, rummaging through her bag to pull out a small hand mirror and handing it to Draco. "Look at your reflection and think about how you want your hair to look."

Draco looked at himself. As he tried to picture his hairstyle, the mirror showed it to him. It took him several minutes finessing until he was truly satisfied. Then he nodded and handed it back.

She studied his image carefully. "You sure about that? It seems awfully extreme."

Chapter 11 Notes:

↑ Chapter 12: Welcome to the jungle ↓

Draco paced in the empty room. The other prefects would be arriving any time now. Hagrid had dropped him off here on his way to meet the Hogwarts Express.

Hearing the approaching voices, Draco quickly slipped into his chosen chair, pulled out the book he'd been reading and endeavored to look casual.

"You see, I told you we didn't have to rush. We're practically the first ones here."

Draco turned around to see who it was. Potter, Granger and Longbottom. The Gryffindors gaped back.

"Well look who made prefect," Draco drawled. "They must really be desperate these days." Other students streamed into the room.

Granger rolled her eyes and tried to drag Potter to a chair. "I didn't think it was possible for him to look any more like one of the Hitler youth."

"You still don't get it after all these years. It's a Muggle thing? I don't care."

The Head Girl's gavel interrupted any comeback the Mudblood might've made. "Order. Order." A few people in the back of the room were still catching up with one another. "Can we please stop talking. We've got a lot of business to go over and not very much time."

"Thank you." She looked around the room. "I'm Morgan Rosenbaum. I'm Head Girl this year." Draco knew her only in passing. She was a Ravenclaw, and one of the pricklier ones, as he recalled. She introduced the Head Boy, Hufflepuff Charles Cecil.

Together, they quickly covered the basic groundrules, their new rights and responsibilities, preliminary schedules...

Draco's mind wandered during their presentation. He'd picked most of this stuff up from observation. Surreptitiously, he peered around the room. Pansy Parkinson also made Slytherin prefect from his year. Looking around it appeared that Hogwarts selected two prefects, boy and girl, from each house per year. Except Gryffindors, which this year had three.

He studied the three of them. Longbottom was listening intently, and seeemed to be mumbling to himself. Granger was hurriedly scribbling down notes. And Potter rested his chin on one hand, looking calm and relaxed. Draco scowled. The exceptional Harry Potter. And once again, they made an exception to the rules on his behalf.

"Okay, the Sorting Ceremony should be almost over by now. The seventh years already have your passwords, so you can get it from them. And with that, let's file out in an orderly fashion for Welcoming Feast."

As they hurried to the Great Hall, Draco sidled over to Potter. "Hey, Potter," he whispered. "I hope you've been practicing your Quidditch this summer. Oh that's right, those Muggles you live with won't allow it." Smirking at the flush blooming on Potter's face, Draco slid into his seat as the last first year, Nadine Walters, was sorted into Hufflepuff.

Given their late arrival, the prefects all sat at the back of their tables, rather than with their usual friends. Then, they led the first years to the common room. The password was House Cup, with the warning that they would regain it this year.

Draco looked around for Crabbe and Goyle, but didn't see them anywhere. So he headed up to their bedroom, where he found them in the middle of a conversation.

Crabbe chuckled, patting Draco on the shoulder. "Don't want that to happen again." With that, he grabbed Draco's arms, pinning them behind his back. Before Draco could pull himself free, Crabbe slammed his fist hard into Draco's gut.

Draco struggled, but they were stronger. Crabbe and Goyle took turns working him over, one punching while the other held him down, until they grew bored. Then they threw him onto the bed and headed back to the common room.

Alone, Draco winced. Nothing felt broken, and they hadn't touched his face, so thank heaven for small mercies. In fact, they'd limited their attack to areas that wouldn't show under his robes. With shaking hands, he pulled out his wand and tried to heal as much as he could before crawling under the covers to get some sleep.

When Draco went to get dressed the next morning, he discovered someone had thrown a dungbomb in his trunk. By the time he managed to deodorize one of his robes into a wearable condition, breakfast was over.

He raced up to the Great Hall to get his timetable. Double Potions with Gryffindors to start. Draco grabbed a slice of toast and hurried back down into the dungeons.

As he walked into the classroom, Professor Snape closed his mouth and glared. Everyone who was busily taking notes looked up at the interruption, until every eye in the classroom was upon him.

"You are late, Mister Malfoy," snapped the Potions Master. "As a prefect, you are supposed to set a good example for the other students, not take advantage of some imagined authority to ignore the rules." Draco heard sniggering laughter coming from the Gryffindor side of the room, but did not take his gaze away from Snape. "Since this is the first day of classes, I will not take any points. But let this be a lesson to you. If you cannot be bothered to arrive on time, perhaps your classmates would find it in their interests to ensure you attend your classes."

By the time he was done, Draco felt smaller than a snidget. He always thought Snape liked him, but...

"Well, what are you standing around for? A personal invitation? Take your seat, Malfoy so the rest of us can get on with our lessons!"

Draco slunk to his seat, noting the astonished stares from his fellow Slytherins, the undisguised glee from the Gryffindors, and looks of smug satisfaction from Crabbe and Goyle.

As Draco left class, Crabbe and Goyle walked up on either side of him. Each one grabbed an arm, and together they frog-marched him up to the Great Hall for lunch. During the meal, Crabbe and Goyle sat on either side of him, behaving more like prison guards than bodyguards. They ate food off his plate as well as their own, blocked him from reaching other dishes, and concluded lunch by knocking a full glass of pumpkin juice onto him. He could tell that others were noticing, but could see no way of escaping or explaining.

As lunch ended, Crabbe and Goyle rose in unison, discreetly hoisting him to his feet, and together they walked to History of Magic.

Draco finally gave them the slip slightly after dinner, when they needed to use the lavatory.

Exhausted, he made his way back to the Slytherin common room, collapsing onto the couch. He was still sitting there when Miles Bletchley found him.

Bletchley, Keeper and now Captain of the Quidditch team slapped Draco on the back and then hopped over the couch to join him.

"Oh, I'm ready." Bletchley smiled at the news. "I've also got some ideas for improving the team..."

"That's nice," he said, cutting Draco off in mid-sentence. "I've been working with Flint over the summer, and he gave me some great ideas."

"Look, meet me out at the pitch tomorrow after lunch. I want to start practicing early this year."

Crabbe and Goyle slept late on weekends, making it easy for Draco to evade them. Unfortunately, Slytherin House was nothing if not sensitive to power politics, and the other fifth years had noticed that the balance among them had shifted to Draco's disfavor.

By the time he reached the Quidditch field in the afternoon, his toes had been stepped on so many times they were nearly numb and his sides felt bruised from endless elbows.

Bletchley hadn't arrived yet, so he took advantage of the weather to kick off and enjoy the freedom of flight. It was almost meditative in its ability to relax him, and soon he felt like he'd left all his problems behind on the ground.

Bletchley's whistle broke his reverie. He coasted back to the ground to see Crabbe and Goyle flanking him -- both wearing uniforms and carrying broomsticks.

"Come over here." Draco pulled Bletchley forward, away from their earshot. "How can choose them for the team? I've seen them play.

Bletchley wrapped his arm around Draco's shoulder. "That's where you come in. I want you to work with them. You're our best flyer. You can teach them. Give them the benefit of your skills."

"Fine." Draco kicked the grass, spraying dirt over Bletchley's boots. "But you'll regret this." But, Draco thought, looking over at Crabbe and Goyle, he'd probably have even more to regret himself.

Chapter 12 Notes:

↑ Chapter 13: Monday Monday (can't trust that day) ↓

Draco picked at his breakfast, watching the owls flit in and out, dropping their letters and parcels to the other students. He glanced upwards, out of habit, but knew that Alrakis wouldn't be coming for him -- not today, not ever. He missed that bird. Every morning for the last four years, she'd visited him at the breakfast table with a friendly hoot. He'd ruffle her feathers and she'd nip his fingers, maybe offering some small trinket from his parents to brighten his day. Draco clenched his fist. He couldn't change matters, so why dwell on it?

He noticed with a start that other students were beginning to leave for class. He'd barely touched his meal, but somehow didn't feel overly hungry. Picking up his books, he stalked out of the Great Hall and headed towards Hagrid's.

As he reached the lawn, that Weasley prat yelled out from behind him. "Oi, Malfoy!"

Draco turned to glare, unfortunately enabling Potter and his sychophants to nearly catch up with him. He scowled and picked up the pace.

"I notice nobody sent you a package of goodies this morning," he heard Weasley say. He tried to ignore them, to walk faster. "What's the matter Malfoy, Mummy and Daddy don't love you any more?"

With an inarticulate howl of rage, Draco spun around and belted Weasley across the face. Weasley grabbed at his robes and they both tumbled to the ground. Draco could faintly hear Potter and the Mudblood shouting something in the background, but none of that mattered as he continued pummelling Weasley into the dirt.

Draco's body stiffened. His legs sprang together and his arms snapped to his sides. He glared down futilely at Weasley, who shoved him off to one side, landing face down in the grass. He couldn't move, but through the corner of his eye, he saw Granger reach over and help Weasley stand. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"I think so." Weasley spat at the ground, the mixture of blood and saliva landing just beside Draco's ear, spraying him slightly with the splash.

Draco closed his eyes and tried to let the cool lawn soothe his temper. Just concentrate on breathing. He tried to brace himself in case the Weasel decided to kick him in return, then felt pounding footsteps approach, indicating the cavalry had arrived. He heard Potter say breathlessly, "See, Hagrid? Just like I told you!" Draco stifled a moan.

Draco rolled over cautiously, to find himself looking up at Hagrid, Potter, Weasley and Granger, who was still holding her wand and pointing it menacingly at him. Weasley looked awful -- black eye, bloody nose, split lip, and a myriad of bruises coloring his cheeks.

As Hagrid helped Draco to his feet, he leaned close and muttered, "Are you alrigh'?" Draco nodded, keeping his lips tightly clenched. As he stood up, he looked around. Just what he needed to make this morning complete -- they had an audience.

"Yeh oughta be ashamed, pickin' fights the firs' week o'school. Wha' kind o'example does that set?" Hagrid loomed over them all, taking full advantage of every inch of his height. "Malfoy, detention wi' me Sunday night. An' ten points from both yer houses." The Gryffindors spluttered and started to protest.

"ENOUGH!" Hagrid bellowed. Draco felt the earth shake and noticed a few leaves in the distance fluttering to the ground. "Yeh're lucky I don' make it more. Ron, get ter th'infirmary. As fer the rest of yeh, I've got a busy lesson planned an' I won' have you lot ruin any more o'it."

Ron stalked back towards the castle, muttering vehemently under his breath. Hagrid led them back to the paddock, keeping between Draco and the others. Potter and Hermione quickly joined the other Gryffindors, who whispered hurriedly amongst themselves. Draco walked past them, past the Slytherins who were pointedly ignoring him, chose a spot several armlengths away from anybody else, and settled back to listen to the lesson.

"All righ'" Hagrid began, clapping his hands together. "Which of yeh have owls of yer own?" A smattering of hands raised in response. "Okay, keep yer han's up. How many of yeh have cats... toads... other pets of yer own?" Draco was one of only a few students whose hands weren't up. Interestingly, Crabbe and Goyle were keeping their hands down as well. Hagrid looked at him. "Have yeh ever had a personal pet?" The three of them raised their hands, leaving only two students unaccounted for. "How abou' family pets?, then?" And that completed the set. Hagrid told them to put their hands down again.

"So, yeh all should know a thing or two abou' yer basic ever'day pet care." Assorted nods. "Have yeh ever had to deal wi' emergency care?" Hagrid called on students to describe their experiences.

As class ended, Draco noticed Granger and Potter hanging back to talk to Hagrid. With a sigh, Draco picked up his books and began to walk back to the castle.

"Draco." He stopped as Hagrid called his name. The Gryffindors looked appalled. "A word wi'yeh, if yeh don' mind." Draco shrugged and followed him into the hut. Hagrid turned to Potter and Granger, "I'll be with yeh in a minute," and shut the door on their gaping faces.

"Treacle fudge?" he offered. Draco shook his head as Hagrid put the kettle on the fire. "All righ' then. Wha' was that all abou'?"

"That's all I've been doing." Draco shouted. "Meanwhile, every time I turn my back, I get pushed, elbowed, tripped, kicked, stomped on, or otherwise injured. And I can't retaliate, because," his voice turned singsongy, "it was just an accident." He gave an exaggerated sigh. "My roommates want me dead; I'm barely welcome in my own common room; the team Beaters have decided to use me for target practice; I've gotten in trouble two out of three classes so far, and none of it's my fault. Maybe I should just get my money back from Dumbledore and take my chances with the Dark Lord. It can hardly be worse than what my House is putting me through." He flopped back onto the overside bed.

"Are yeh quite finished?" Draco frowned and nodded. He hadn't meant to unload like that.

"Firs' of all, yeh're not alone. An' there's no reason fer you ter stay in that hellhole of a common room if'n yeh don' want to."

"Well," Draco replied with a smirk, "if the library had longer hours, I was considering just moving in."

"Yeh know." Hagrid paused and scratched his beard. "If yeh wan' ter come by here ter do yer studyin', or any time yeh need a break, yeh're welcome to it."

"Now get out o'here." Hagrid said with an affectionate smile. He opened the door to let Draco out, and spotted all three Gryffindors waiting impatiently. Madam Pomfrey worked fast. Draco nodded politely at their mutinous scowls and walked past. "An' stay outta trouble." Draco snorted. As if it were that easy.

After lunch, Draco headed up to the North Tower for Divination, the first class he'd had all week without his house goons.

Several chattering girls occupied the frontmost seats. Draco looked around the room carefully before selecting an empty table in a quiet back corner. Other students trickled in in groups of two or three. Potter and Weasley glared at Draco, as if resenting his presence, then took another table in the back, as far away from him as they could manage. By the time the bell rang, all seats were filled except for the one beside Draco.

Professor Trelawney walked to the front of the room and blinked several times at the class, as if she had just woken up. "Since so few students exhibit both an aptitude for the Gift and the interest in developing their talents, we have decided to combine all Houses into one communal class to focus on a few topics in greater depth. As some of you may have foreseen..."

Most of the class jumped when the door banged open, but Professor Trelawney smiled beneficiently as Neville Longbottom stumbled in, spilling his books and papers over the floor. Draco rolled his eyes. How did this git become a prefect? Sympathy vote?

"Sorry I'm late," Longbottom panted, as he crawled around to retrieve his possessions.

"That's quite all right, dear" Professor Trelawney smiled. "I knew you would show up eventually. Take your seat." And she gestured to the only unoccupied chair in the classroom -- the one next to Draco.

"As I was saying, this year we shall uncover the mysteries of Tarot." She picked up a deck of cards off one of the tables. "With proper knowledge, Tarot cards can reveal the most intimate secrets the future holds." She slammed the cards back down. "If mocked or misused," Draco thought Trelawney was eyeing Weasley as she said this, "the penalties can be severe."

Trelawney sat down facing the class. "Now, if you have learned nothing else under my tutelage, you will know that the fates must be respected. The seats and partners you selected today shall be yours for the rest of the year." Draco scowled at Neville, who groaned at the announcement.

"We'll start the year with some review and a look ahead. Would the students in the right-hand chairs please gather cups of tea for yourselves and your partners?" As Neville obediently rose, Draco smirked at him. "Don't drop anything, Longbottom." Neville scowled, but said nothing as he joined the queue of students collecting cups and pouring tea in the front of the room.

Neville returned to the table with short mincing steps, carrying two steaming china cups. He leaned over the table, tilting one of the cups precariously over Draco's crotch, before deftly placing the cups on the table without spilling a drop. As he lifted his tea to his lips, Neville smiled cheerfully and nodded at the astonished Draco. "Drink up."

The two boys eyed each other warily as they sipped their teas -- the only silent table amid the chatter and clatter of the room. When Draco finished drinking, he set the cup back on its saucer and pushed them both towards Neville. Neville, in turn, took a last deep swallow -- only to start choking uncontrollably as tea went down his windpipe. Draco made no move to help him through this coughing fit, merely rolling his eyes and sighing until Neville finally managed to catch his breath.

"What's your problem, Malfoy?" the red-faced boy hissed, wiping his eyes furiously with a fist.

Draco gestured magnanimously towards the teacups. "Isn't that what you're supposed to tell me?"

Neville scooped up Draco's cup, swirled it around three times and then slammed it down onto the saucer with a vehemence that surprised even Draco. From the pile of his belongings, he grabbed parchment, quill, and a book which he flipped through, muttering to himself.

Neville pointed to a large leaf-shaped clump near the top. "Well, that batch indicates you're undergoing a major life-changing event. Turning over a new leaf, as it were." Draco snorted and tried hard not to look too interested. "And this bit here... Does it look more like a knife or a dagger to you?"

"Well," Neville idly chewed his quill as he thought. "I can't tell either," he said briskly. "If it's a knife, it means you've broken ties with somebody, ending a relationship. If it's a dagger, you should beware of hidden dangers." Neville closed his book with a snap, pushed his teacup over to Draco and sat back. "Your turn."

Draco twirled and flipped the cup, then looked at the meaningless mess remaining on the saucer. It mostly landed in two close parallel lines, with some smudgy bits between, connecting them. He hmm'd and twisted the plate a few times, trying to act like he knew what he was doing. Finally, he looked up at Neville, and in as casual a voice as he could manage drawled, "Let me see your book for a minute, Longbottom."

Taken aback by the affrontery, he enunciated, "Because mine's not available." Then he shrugged non-chalantly. "But if you'd rather fail the class, I can just rest for the remainder of the period." Draco leaned back smiling, and watched Neville carefully through mostly-closed eyes. Neville reluctantly handed the book over.

"It looks most like a ladder. That means climbing upwards, promotions, ending of a bad period and the start of better things." Neville smiled up at Draco. "Then again, if you turn it sideways, it could be a fence, which indicates your limitations." Draco gave him an appraising glance. "That seems more likely, given your abilities." As Neville opened his mouth to protest, Draco held up his hand. "I know... You're not supposed to change the orientation. Still... now that I look at it more closely, it seems less like a ladder and more like two letter H's. Who do you know whose names begin with the letter H? Harry and Hermione, perhaps? Yes, it seems more likely they'd be the subject of prediction than you, any day."

Longbottom looked ready to blow his stack. Draco smiled, awaiting the inevitible outburst. Then Neville closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and after exhaling, smiled serenely, studying Draco. He didn't say anything, didn't do anything, just watched, and the scrutiny began to unnerve Draco.

"Oh, nothing," Neville smiled. "Just trying to get a jump on the next assignment."

Professor Trelawney cleared her throat. "Okay, class. You should have had enough time to get a good reading. For next class I want you to write a scroll about your partner, starting with what's generally obvious about him or her -- physical description, personality traits, habits anad history, and then getting into your observations in the tea leaves. Over the next several weeks, we will be expanding this profile to uncover their inner selves using palm reading, horoscopes and further such relevations. I predict you'll need at least fourteen inches for this first portion." She paused, as if anticipating a question, then said. "Good day."

Neville grinned as he hefted his bag. "Hey, Draco. Don't forget to put away the tea service," he said, walking out of the room, leaving Draco gaping astonishedly in his wake.

Chapter 13 Notes:

↑ Chapter 14: subtitle needed ↓

The week passed in a sea of petty humiliations. Charms and Transfigurations provided Draco with further lessons in the inadequacies of his replacement wand. Herbology gave Crabbe and Goyle new abominations to apply to Draco's possessions, forcing Draco to learn complicated new locking charms for his trunk. At least they weren't taking quite so public an interest in him any more.

Draco joined the clot of students outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Just what he needed -- yet another class with Gryffindors.

Draco wondered what the backup was until he realized the professor was checking everybody's name against a list as they entered. He smiled and nodded as he let each person past.

Finally, everyone took their seats. The professor walked to the front of the room and leaned with his back against his desk, facing the class.

"Good afternoon. As some of you may already know, my name is Professor Olau Myles, and this is..." he glanced at his papers, "Fifth year Defense Against the Dark Arts. Correct?" Draco rolled his eyes as the professor looked around the room for confirmation. Seemingly reassured, he grinned. "Good, good."

"Now, I've been looking over your records from the past four years. It appears that you've gotten a solid understanding of the basic Dark Arts menacing the wizarding world: creatures, curses, Gilderoy Lockhart..." Several students chuckled.

"But that's not enough. Maybe if you're fortunate, you'll only encounter a single monster or someone who only throws one hex or opponents who are interested in a fair fight. But relying on that kind of luck outside classroom conditions is folly. That's why the headmaster brought me in. To teach you how to put these elements together."

"Your main weapon in this class will not be your wand, but your mind. And to make the best use of that, you need to learn strategy and tactics."

Draco couldn't help hearing Potter whisper, "Strategy and tactics? Aren't they the same thing?" Draco snorted. Yet more evidence that his reputation was utterly overblown.

"A reasonable question, Mister Potter." Myles said to the class. "But apparently not everyone in the class agrees with you. How would you differentiate the two, Mister... Malfoy?"

"Excellent. Ten points to Slytherin. The matter of scale is a crucial distinction between strategy and tactics. And sometimes the two of them conflict. Can anybody else give me an example of something that would be good strategy, but bad tactics? Anyone?"

After a moment, Weasley raised his hand, and the professor nodded for him to go ahead. "Sacrificing your queen to get into position for checkmate?"

He addressed the class. "That's excellent practice for the kinds of thinking this class will require. I'm thinking of starting a chess club, so if others are interested, please see me after class. Now, any other examples?"

Chapter 14 Notes:

↑ Concluding Notes: ↓

This story has its genesis in January 2003, two-and-a-half years after Book 4 was published and before the release date of Book 5 was announced. To slake my thirst for more Harry Potter, I had been reading fanfic and following some of the rumor sites.

This book partly comes out of my own speculations of what would happen in Book 5, based upon the available rumors. Of course, I knew my version of events wouldn't actually come to pass as I also wanted to tell a story with Draco Malfoy as protagonist, something I knew JKR would never do.

The other impetus of this story comes out of a dissatisfaction with existing fan-fiction portrayals of Draco. There seem to be several popular fanon tropes, among them SexGod!Draco (he's blond, rich and well-connected, therefore everyone in the school is attracted to him) and AbuseVictim!Draco. As much fun as some of them are, that's not really how I perceive the character. He's just an ordinary 15 year old boy living in extraordinary times.

When making Draco the hero, many authors often have Draco lose his prejudices against Muggles and Mudbloods and/or become buddy-buddy with Harry, Hermione and Ron. But there are other students in the school besides the Gryffindors, and it felt like the easy way out to just ally him with the regular leads. And I wanted to see whether it was possible to write a story about someone who is a racist snob and still make him sympathetic.

I tried to keep all the characters true to the way they're portrayed in JKR's books (not necessarily true to her intentions -- I'm not a mindreader) but I hope everything I've done can be extrapolated from her writing (at least, as far as the first four books and Comic Relief schoolbooks are concerned). I also tried to make all the characters' actions logical. I didn't want characters acting against their best interests because the plot demanded it. I also wanted to avoid other inconsistencies, although I did fudge the calendar slightly (making Sept. 1 a Thursday instead of Friday) figuring that if JKR can do it, so can I.

There's more I've considered writing in my concluding notes, but I think I will wait on that until I've written further in the story to avoid giving plot spoilers.

Additional Material:

↑ Author's Post-Mortem: ↓

Okay, I'm not going to wallow in some massive mea culpa over not finishing my story. Those who are really curious can read my post-mortem of December 1st. My deepest apologies to those who got sucked in; I didn't mean to leave you hanging for this long, but I don't think I'm capable of finishing the story satisfactorily. This story was conceived before Order of the Phoenix and is utterly incompatible with the changes to the universe JKR made in that book. And the more time has passed, the more out-of-touch this HP universe has felt, making it that much harder to just pick up again.

What follows comes from my original pre-NaNo Plot Summary, combined with other mental notes I made as NaNoWriMo went along. This will continue and conclude the story from where I left off, albeit in an abbreviated format. This is for everybody who followed the story and provided helpful comments and support while I was writing. This is also an attempt to exorcise this story from my internal to-do list so that I can possibly get on with other stories. I don't know how successful I will be in either attempt, but there you go.

And now, without further ado,

↑ The Rest of the Story: ↓

School starts:
Draco doesn't ride the Hogwarts Express, but waits for the other prefects in the meeting room. Typically, the initial welcome meeting for new prefects would be held on Hogwarts Express in the exclusive cars, but since Draco couldn't ride the train, they're having a brief gettogether to hand out passwords and will have a longer meeting later to assign duties and schedules.

Regarding prefects. Generally, two 5th years (boy & girl) from each House are selected as prefects. They remain prefects for 6th & 7th years, making a total of 24 prefects overall (including Head Boy & Head Girl and barring dropouts). I haven't yet decided who the other Slytherin prefect will be. However, this year Gryffindor will have three prefects: Hermione, Neville and Harry. [Draco sees this as another way everybody bends the rules for Harry.] Draco trades insults with Harry & Hermione, there's a brief meeting, they go in for the sorting ceremony and introductory meal.

That evening, Draco sees Crabbe & Goyle for the first time since the Death Eater initiation. "We missed you. That won't happen again." And they proceed to beat the crap out of Draco. They may comment (possibly during this scene, possibly later in the school year) that they're not allowed to kill Draco, but that doesn't mean they can't have a little fun.

Hogwarts Express/the Sorting ceremony/etc was a Thursday, so the next day is the first day of classes. Crabbe & Goyle pull some malicious prank (Piemur in the drumheights in McCaffrey's Dragondrums comes to mind) which makes Draco miss breakfast and late for Potions class. Snape roundly berates Draco in front of the class, humiliating him. He barely misses losing points for Slytherin, but does lose face. Not only doesn't Draco benefit from Snape's favoritism anymore, but he seems to be on Snape's shit-list, and Snape treats him with similar scorn and derision to the Gryffindors. [The Gryffindors are surprised but mostly amused by this.] Although Draco remains skilled at potions, Crabbe and Goyle sit behind him and do things like kicking the back of his chair just as he's adding delicate ingredients, causing Draco to have accidents and (over time) inviting comparisons with Longbottom. (more on this in a bit)

Sometime over the weekend, Draco talks to Malcolm Baddock, Slytherin Quidditch captain. Malcolm spent a lot of time over the summer talking about the team with former captain (& Death Eater) Flint. Among other changes, Crabbe & Goyle are the new beaters. Malcolm sends them out to the pitch for extra practices with Draco, which largely consist of them trying to hit Draco with the bludger.

Although they may not know what's going on behind the scenes, the rest of Slytherin notices Draco's fall from grace and pigpile him. He becomes the victim of countless petty insults from the upperclassmen, and starts spending less and less time among his housemates.

Classes:
Lots of what happens in the rest of the story takes place in class. I'm not yet sure exactly in which order things will occur, so it's easier for this summary to just describe the progression within each class separately, followed by the events which actually have assigned times. These threads will be interwoven in the actual story:

Several classes have been revamped for this year, given the possibility of impending war. Care of Magical Creatures has been changed to focus more on first aid aspects. [Probably should add some of this to the summer traipsing around the forest as Hagrid informs the forest folk of this new service and seeks volunteers.] I've already written a draft of the first class session, although this will probably take place a few more days into the term than I initially wrote.

I've already written a draft of the first session of Divination class:

After a couple weeks and several more accidents in Potions class (caused largely by Crabbe & Goyle) Snape gets fed up and rearranges the seating, moving Draco from the front of the class to the back row beside Neville (that way Snape won't be splashed if anything goes wrong). One day in class, Neville tries to talk to Draco. ["I've been thinking." "Really. Didn't know you had it in you."] Neville suggests that since Draco's so much better in Potions and he's so much better in Divination that maybe they could help each other out. Draco does not respond and appears to reject the offer. However, a few days later in Potions class, Draco whispers advice to Neville. (something like "No, the whifflebugs are added after the spungworth.") Draco never actually acknowledges the change in their relationship, but they do begin to work together. As the semester goes on, Draco will realize that Neville actually has a genuine talent in divination, which may prove useful. Neville's also surprisingly perceptive/observant regarding interpersonal matters and may try to figure out what's going on with Draco, although Draco will angrily resist any attempts to pry. ["You've changed since last year." "Have I really?" "Fine. You're exactly the same, but everyone else in Slytherin is different."]

DADA is taught by Professor Myles, an OC, and will focus on strategy and tactics. "It looks like over the last several years you've learned about many of the menaces of the wizarding world: creatures, curses, Gilderoy Lockhart..." "Maybe if you're lucky you'll encounter only solitary monsters who are interested in a fair fight. But relying on that kind of luck outside classroom conditions is folly." [Potter asked, "Strategy and tactics? Aren't they the same thing?" Draco snorted in disbelief. Clearly his reputation was overblown. Myles: "An interesting question, Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy doesn't seem to think so. Would you care to explain the difference?" Draco does, Myles praises Draco, then asks the class for other examples where strategy & tactics differ. Ron volunteers sacrificing a chess piece to win the game. Other examples. Harry eventually comes up with something involving Quidditch and the House cup.]

↑ Strategy & Tactics:

Tactics: Knowing how to direct a smallish group of people to work together to achieve a specific, limited military goal -- taking a position, moving forward, clearing a room, etc.

Strategy: In a large campaign, knowing what battles need to be fought where in order to win. Includes knowledge of supply lines and things like that. Operations is winning the battles; Strategy is knowing what battles to win.

In general, tactics is directing a group of individuals to handle a specific task. Strategy is figuring out what battles need to be won to win a war -- that is, achieve a large-scale political goal -- and how to get the resources that will be needed to each place that they'll be needed for each battle.

DADA class will involve looking at past battles and examining how they were won or lost, why parties made the decisions they did, trying to examine the enemies' motives, and coming up with their own tactics and strategies in wargaming exercises. Things like splitting the class up into teams, assigning each a side in historical battles and constructed scenarios (the Slytherin team has these resources to defend the castle; the Gryffindor team has these resources and should try to take it. Think over how to deploy your forces, and next class we'll play it out). Draco's going to find this really thought-provoking, and he's going to shine in this class. [Possible subplot: There may be some bias in the scenarios -- maybe Slytherins play the Dark Arts creatures more often or Gryffindors are generally the defenders -- something that hints to him that these are being used to train the anti-Voldemort forces. If this is the case, Draco will notice and confront the professor about this. (Because he really cares/is actually into this, he'd be the first/only Slytherin to catch on. The Gryffindors who are aware wouldn't mind.)] Of all the professors, Myles will be the kindest towards Draco and provide mentoring and guidance similar to the relationship between Lupin and Harry. Now that Draco has learned to stand alone, this will teach him that standing together with well-chosen allies can be more powerful.

It should be noted somewhere that Draco's taking Ancient Runes, which may come in handy during the final scenes. [Other classes include Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology & History of Magic.]

Other events during the term:

At the prefects meeting before the first Hogsmeade trip, the Head B/G mention that they do need a handful of prefects to stay behind at Hogwarts to deal with the first and second years. Since nobody ever wants to give up Hogsmeade, they generally divide the day up into shifts. Draco surprises them all by volunteering to prefect for the full day. [He still can't leave the Hogwarts grounds due to the danger from Voldemort's followers.] Without the social pressure of Crabbe, Goyle and the other upperclassmen, Draco begins to get to know some of the 1st & 2nd years -- this is part of how Draco will rebuild his powerbase and authority. At this point I may introduce a shy first year girl who's a big Quidditch fan whom Draco will befriend/protect and who may become a major supporting character. A recent idea I've been toying with.

Draco will volunteer as all-day prefect for all the Hogsmeade trips of the term. (I think there will only be two between the start of classes and Christmas break)

There will be Quidditch, and Slytherin won't do so well, largely due to Crabbe & Goyle and incompetent captaining. Draco's daily games over the summer (since he didn't have anything else to do for entertainment) will have really honed his skills. He'll catch the Snitch in every match they play except Slytherin/Gryffindor, which Harry will get (as always). At some point later in the term, Draco will Malcolm for the captainship. Ron is captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, largely because he's just so enthusiastic about it (and partly because Ron's not a prefect, meaning (a) he has more time than Harry, and (b) so he won't feel sorry for himself).

Somewhere in the background of all this, there may be hints that other students and professors are involved in the Order of the Phoenix, an anti-Death Eater organization within the school, but Draco is largely unaware of this. Near the end of the summer, Dumbledore may offer some oblique hints to gauge whether Draco would like to join, but doesn't actually extend an invitation. [Draco is unwilling to do anything to harm his parents and/or believes Dumbledore is trying to scare Draco into serving him.] Prof. Myles belongs to the Order. I'm not yet sure whether Neville does (probably not).

Tied in with Divination class, Draco will encounter some odd prophecies, some in the form of weird dreams others through Tarot readings or other forms. [Trelawney will instruct students to keep a journal by their bedside to record their dreams.] Neville may try to help interpret some of these, but for the most part the meanings will remain cryptic until after the Yule Ball. Draco will have repeated dreams of a snake being beheaded only to become more powerful.

Crabbe & Goyle will continue to give Draco a hard time. They will not obey Draco as prefect, and may disappear for long stretches of time. They're also not that smart, so they may gloat a bit in his presence, giving him further hints as to the plot.

When Snape is giving Draco a hard time, and they're alone (possibly during a detention?), Draco may snap "Get off my case. You're not my father." To which Snape will coolly reply, "You're right. I'm not. If I were, rest assured, you'd be dead by now." This confirms to Draco that Snape is a Death Eater.

Somewhere in the background, they'll hear about a Rita Skeeter puff piece incredibly favorable to Dumbledore, with implications that he's the heart and sould of Hogwarts and without him the school is nothing.

The Yule Ball

The Yule Ball will take place on the night of the winter solstice -- December 21st. The following day, Hogwarts Express will take students home for Christmas break.

At one of the planning meetings for the ball, the Head Boy&Girl will announce:
We've been trying to ensure full coverage by the prefects, and we're pleased to say that some of you can get the night off.
Draco Malfoy, since you've been so good as to stay behind for both Hogmeade weekends so far, you will be exempted from working the Yule Ball.
And, Harry Potter, you're also free for the evening.
Draco stared across the table in disbelief. Not only didn't Potter and Granger look surprised, it seemed like they were expecting it. "What! Why!?"
"Do you have a problem with our decision?" asked the Head Boy.
"You better believe it. It isn't fair! What did he ever do to deserve this?" Draco scrutinized the other prefects, and their confusion told him all he needed to know. "Oh, right," he said scornfully. "The Boy Who Lived. The rules don't apply to him."
For a moment, he thought he saw pity on Granger's face.
"Well, if all you're going to talk about is the Yule Ball, then you don't need me around!" and Draco walks out.

In the last Potions class of the semester, Harry does something really egregious -- talks back to Snape or his cauldron explodes or something like that. Snape gets furious and orders Harry to serve detention with him during the Yule Ball. The rest of the Gryffindors protest the injustice, Ron most strenuously, but after Snape threatens them with detentions, the furor dies down (though the Gryffindors continue to simmer and glower and grumble for the rest of class).

Draco has actually held onto his ruined formal robes since summer. Over the term, Draco has been trying various charms in order to clean and repair them. Shortly before the Yule Ball, Hagrid gives Draco a gift of a new pair of dress robes, similar in style to the old ones but of the latest fashion. Draco is touched.

Draco is enjoying himself at the Yule ball, hanging about the fringes, sipping at his punch...
I can't believe Potter would do something so stupid as to earn detention over the Yule Ball. Good thing he wasn't scheduled to work it, or I'd probably have to take his shift.
You know, that's awfully convenient.
Draco looked around the room. Where was Weasley? Even loyalty to Potter wouldn't make him miss a good time.

Draco starts to get suspicious and heads down to the Potions dungeon. The tables have been pushed back and there are protective runes drawn in chalk around the floor. There's a toasty fire in the fireplace. Harry & Ron are playing a game of exploding snap and eating from a tray of party food. Snape is keeping a close eye on them.

Well, well. Isn't this a cozy scene. (Draco says to HP) Since when are friends invited to detention to keep you company?
Snape: Are you now a professor to question my decisions
Draco: Sir, what is going on here?
Snape: If you must know, I have reason to believe that Voldemort is going to make an attempt on Potter's life tonight. This ruse is intended to keep Potter safe and
Ron gaped "Waitaminute! Why are you telling him? He could be the assassin!"
Before Draco could reply, Snape: "Oh grow up Weasley. Draco is no more a Death Eather than you are."
Draco sat down hard on one of the chairs, shaking his head. "This doesn't make sense."
Snape: What doesn't?
Draco: Sir, do you know which other Death Eaters were involved in this plot?
Snape: No, Voldemort has always met with me in private to preserve my disguise I was supposed to isolate Potter and the killers would come in through the Floo network.
Draco (slowly, as if thinking things out as he spoke): Then, where do Crabbe and Goyle fit in all this?
Snape: Nowhere. I was assured that no other students would be involved.

This doesn't sit right with Draco. Between DADA and the prophecies and slips made by Crabbe & Goyle, something clicks (perhaps even going back to the Centaurs' original comment about the longest night of the year). Draco may tell Snape "They're playing you for a fool!" He races off down the halls, possibly followed by Snape, Potter & Weasley.

He (they) find Dumbledore's corpse just outside the Main Hall, freshly killed by Avada Kedavra. The murder weapon lies nearby, and Draco recognizes it as his own wand, that he hasn't seen since the Death Eater initiation ceremony. Very quickly a crowd gathers. Fawkes flies in, crying, and perches protectively over the body, refusing to leave. Professors & prefects try to maintain order, but a lot of crying and chaos.

It looks like everybody from the school is just milling about in the great hall. Draco looks around and realizes he doesn't see Crabbe or Goyle anywhere. Thinking fast, he grabs the Weasley twins (because they're beaters, they think fast, and because they're convenient) and as prefect orders them to follow him. Neville notices and follows as well. The four of them race towards Slytherin Common, Draco possibly explaining some as they wait for stairs. Draco doesn't hesitate about letting these Gryffindors into the Slytherin common room. There's a huge fire burning in the fireplace, and Draco tells the others to stand guard in case anybody Floos in or out.

Draco then goes upstairs and finds Crabbe & Goyle packing up for their getaway. He confronts them, they acknowledge they did the deed and menace/threaten Draco (apparently they're now free to kill him if they want) "Two against one? That's hardly fair." chuckle. "We don't believe in fair fights." "Good, neither do I" and in comes the three Gryffindors and they Stupefy Crabbe & Goyle.

They bring the bound & unconscious Death Eaters back down to the professors. Apparently, under the Prior Incantato, Dumbledore's spirit fingered Crabbe & Goyle as his murderers. Draco may be under suspicion, since it was his wand, but Fawkes will fly onto Draco's shoulder and rub against his cheek, convincing the crowd that Draco was truly loyal to Dumbledore.

McGonagall announces that they're going to send everybody home the next morning on Hogwarts Express. Even students who previously had permission to stay over break would be sent home, because she worried that parents would just pull them home later anyway. The school isn't going to close, but the faculty want the time to regroup.

Draco pulls aside Snape and gets permission to stay behind since he has has no home he can safely return to. [Snape is rather distraught at having fallen for Voldemort's ruse and partly blames himself for Dumbledore's death. After Bk 4, Snape tried to ingratiate his way back into Voldemort's favor by promising to spy on Hogwarts on his behalf. However, Voldemort knew Snape was a double agent against him. He pretended to accept Snape, but kept him isolated from other Death Eaters (purportedly to protect his identity as an agent). Voldemort created the plot against Potter solely to deceive and distract the OotP. Snape avoided Draco all summer so he could honestly tell Voldemort that he hadn't seen the boy. He was hostile to him in class because he knew Crabbe & Goyle might be reporting back on his loyalties. But with Dumbledore's death, Snape knows the game is up.]

Nobody gets any sleep during the night, and Draco is particularly busy as prefect trying to keep order. The Slytherin first year is particularly distraught, so Draco distracts her by pointing out that the Quidditch team will need replacement Beaters, and asks her to start thinking about who he should tap to fill those roles.

Around this time, Draco also begins to wonder about Voldemort's plans. While Dumbledore is a powerful figurehead, and his death will be a huge blow, the costs seem too high. It doesn't make tactical/strategic sense and Draco starts trying to puzzle out Voldemort's motives.

In the morning, the school doesn't serve breakfast, telling kids that food will be free on the trolley cart. Eventually, all the students are hustled off onto Hogwarts Express and Draco is alone. The faculty/staff are spending their time in meetings to figure out what to do next.

Hungry, Draco wanders down to the kitchen in search of food. In the kitchen, he finds Harry surrounded by crying houselves and trying to comfort them. After watching from the shadows for a moment, Draco steps forward and says something along the lines of the best way to honor Dumbledore's memory would be to do things that pleased him, and Dumbledore wouldn't've wanted them to let students go hungry. The house elves scramble to fix food for Harry & Draco.

Harry calls Draco heartless and selfish, but Draco points out that keeping busy will take their minds off their misery. Draco asks Harry what he's doing still around, after all doesn't he have a Muggle house to go home to. Harry says that Dumbledore's death may have nullified some of the protective spells, so the professors thought it would be too dangerous for him to go back. [Possible mention that wizards are going to (try to) evacuate the Dursleys as well.] Draco thinks about all the other Slytherins returning to dangerous homes and yet they weren't allowed to stay. [Harry may ask Draco something like 'so you're really not a death eater?' to which Draco will roll up his sleeve and make some crack about Harry trusting Snape enough to save his life but not enough to believe him.]

The houseelves feed the boys and they eat together silently. Harry will apologize for calling Draco heartless, then asks Draco whether distractions really help. Draco thinks of his summer with Hagrid and equivocates, saying "it can" Harry: "Let's find something to do then or I'll go stir crazy." Don't know who's idea it is, but they decide on a game of Quidditch -- seeker solo. There may be some taunts back and forth -- after all, Draco has never beaten Harry to the Snitch yet.

[If I use the Acromantula kidnap subplot, Arik will come rushing out of the forest towards the pitch. Draco'll fly down to see what's up, and the spider will tell him that masked humans are apparating in the forest and heading towards the school. If I omit that scene, Draco just sees something from the height of his broom and interprets the signs.]
Death Eaters are attacking Hogwarts. Draco tells Harry they've got to warn the professors and to abandon the game, but Harry smiles and shows he caught the Snitch while Draco was distracted.

They fly to the tower where the professors are meeting, knock on the window and tell them the bad news. They give Draco back his wand, saying they don't need it any more as evidence. They decide the safest place for the boys would be Dumbledore's office, so Myles leads them up there and the professors go off to battle the Death Eaters.

And so the boys wait in Dumbledore's office, sneaking peeks out the window. Harry finds himself petting & comforting Fawkes, some. [I was thinking of them possibly trying a Tarot reading here.] Draco, obsessed with strategy and tactics can't figure this move out. He thought Voldemort went after Dumbledore to disrupt morale, but clearly it was also intended to empty out the building. But what did Hogwarts have that was worth this kind of frontal assault?

Harry is convinced that they're after him. Draco: "Oh, get over yourself." Points out "the Dark Lord wants me just as dead as you" and "face it, Potter, you were a decoy. You weren't worth killing last night when it would've been less risky." Draco continues trying to puzzle out what the Death Eaters are after, and says something about how much he wishes he could figure it out.

Harry exclaims: "The Mirror of Erised!" After explaining what it is, Draco agrees that would be useful. [To find it, they may ask the help of the portraits of former headmasters.] They finally discover it buried in a corner of Dumbledore's office.

Harry looks into the mirror and sees Hogwarts is safe, Dumbledore is alive, Death Eaters are gone, and everything is misty and rosy and happily ever after. Draco rolls eyes. Realizing this gets them nowhere, Draco gets his turn in front of the mirror and tries to focus his mind on the important questions.

"I see the Dark Lord entering one of the Hogwarts bathroom."
Harry laughed. "What, he forgot to go before they left?"
Draco supposed it might be funny if the sight weren't so chilling. Draco continued to narrate what he the mirror was showing him. He's standing in front of a sink? Wait -- it's opening up into some sort of...
"The Chamber of Secrets!"
Draco's eyes widened. "That would make sense. What's down there?"
Harry: "I don't know... last time I was there, I was a little preoccupied."
Draco: "Can you get backdown there?"
Harry: "I suppose. As far as I know they didn't seal it off or anything."
Draco: Well, let's go then.
Harry: Both of us?
Draco chuckled brittlely "Let's just say I don't want you to get all the glory.

Harry puts a damper by recalling the rockfall and says that he doesn't think it's passable. The only reason they got out was because Fawkes flew them. Draco thinks of their broomsticks, which are still in the other room. Flying in the halls? Why not? Who's going to stop us?

Harry & Draco race off towards where they left their broomsticks. Suddenly, they're trapped by a Death Eater -- specifically, Lucius Malfoy. I've already written a draft of their encounter.

↑ Draft Scene: Near the dramatic conclusion

[Written 1/20/03]

Dumbledore was killed by Death Eaters at the Yule Ball. The professors have sent all students home via Hogwarts Express. Having no homes, Draco and Harry are allowed to stay behind. While the staff meets to figure out what to do next, Death Eaters attack the school. Draco and Harry realize that Voldemort's after something in the Chamber of Secrets and rush off to stop him.

They pelted down the halls as fast as they could, wands out, their boots sliding along the polished floors. Harry pulled ahead and raced around the corner. Draco saw a flash of blue light and Harry fell backwards, bound head-to-toe in silver wrappings. Draco skidded to a halt and faced... his father.

Lucius pointed his wand at Draco's chest. Without taking his eyes from his father's, Draco slowly spread his arms away from his body, and deliberately dropped his wand. The clattering echoed in the deserted hallway.

"Accio wands."

Lucius scooped up both their wands and pocketed them without taking his eyes off Draco. Harry groaned beside him, but Draco didn't react, focusing hungrily on Lucius, as if his world had narrowed to just the two of them.

"Hello, father." he said quietly.

"Hello, Draco." Not son, then. "I can't let you two past."

Draco scoffed. "I was after Potter. Had I been a little faster, I could've caught him. So, what're you going to do with him?"

"You know I can't tell you that."

Draco shrugged one shoulder with the barest of movements.

"You turned in Crabbe and Goyle," observed Lucius.

"I had to. They would've suspected me otherwise."

Father and son continued to give one another appraising stares. Finally, Lucius broke the silence. "So now what?"

"How's mother?"

"She misses you."

"I miss you, too."

Lucius indicated their positions with a flick of his wrist. "I'm sorry things turned out this way."

"Do you think we could start over?"

Lucius seemed to think this over. "That would be nice," he mused.

"Maybe if you told the Dark Lord how I helped you catch Potter..." Draco offered hopefully.

"Perhaps."

"Could I..." Draco chewed his lower lip. "Could I give you a hug?"

Lucius smiled thinly. "That would be acceptable."

Gingerly, they approached one another. From Harry's vantage point, they looked like people dealing with injured animals, afraid that one misstep would cause the other to bolt. Lucius awkwardly put his arms around his son. Draco's back, initially stiff and tense, relaxed into the embrace. They squeezed each other tightly, this one hug making up for five months of distance.

"Stupefy!"

Draco stepped back as his father slid down and crumpled into a heap at his feet. He stood still for a moment, his and Harry's wands in his hand, staring at the figure at his feet. He plucked his father's wand from his limp grip, and then walked back to Potter.

"Finite Incantatum."

The bonds melted into wisps of blue smoke. Draco held his hand out to Harry and waited, silent and still as ice. Harry paused, studying the other boy, then took his hand and allowed Draco to help him to his feet and hand him his wand.

Grimly, they resumed their race down the halls.

They manage to get their broomsticks without further incidents and fly down the halls to Myrtle's bathroom. The Chamber is already open and they zoom down the trench past the Basilisk corpse and towards the giant statue of Salazar Slytherin. [I'm not sure on timing here, who gets there first, Voldie or the boys and by how much.] Harry will battle Voldemort, leaving Draco to figure out what Voldemort was trying to do/why he needed to enter the Chamber.

Exposition/explanation: if 16 year-old Tom Riddle could preserve himself in a diary, Salazar Slytherin could do much more. The Chamber of Secrets is a way of summoning the spirit of Salazar in the height of his powers. [Voldemort viewed this as a kind of doomsday weapon to destroy his foes.]

Draco tries to decipher the runes and (possibly without realizing exactly what he's doing) invokes Salazar's presence. [Borrowing an idea from undauntra, Salazar Slytherin is Middle-Eastern or Moorish.] Voldemort and Harry were pretty evenly matched, but when he notices that Draco has succeeded, he effortlessly knocks Harry out of the game (slamming him against a wall??) and joins Draco in front of the gradually-appearing Salazar. [possible Vold line to Draco: "So, is this why you refused to serve me? So you could be Potter's lapdog instead?"]

Voldemort introduces himself as the heir of Slytherin and tries to persuade Salazar to help him fulfill Salazar's dream of ridding the world of Muggles & Mudbloods. Salazar finds the proposition interesting, and recognizing Draco as a fellow Slytherin asks whether this is Draco's desire as well. Draco says no, he just wants to protect the school.

An interesting choice. Salazar walks over and looks each of them in the eyes, trapping them with his powerful gaze. [Possibly some remark that the Mirror of Erised was his invention.] Then Salazar smiles beatificially, gestures for Voldemort to come forward and kisses him. At first, Draco thinks that he has lost, but then realizes that Salazar is giving Voldemort the Dementor's Kiss.

After Voldemort is... neutralized... Salazar looks at Draco. Draco is afraid, but Salazar reassures him that through his actions Draco has shown himself to be the true heir. Salazar asks whether Draco wants him to kill the rest of the invaders? Thinking of his father, Draco says he doesn't want any more deaths, just wants it so Voldemort's followers can't harm anybody anymore. Salazar does something mystical and says "Done."

Salazar then asks Draco what reward he wants for himself. Draco demurs, but Salazar comes over to Draco and kisses him on the forehead. Possibly a few more words of inspiration/wisdom/humor/best wishes and then Salazar vanishes again.

Draco goes over to Harry and helps bring him around. Harry was unconscious and completely missed Salazar's appearance. Draco briefly explains that "I can't entirely explain it" but "we won" and "it's over." The boys pick up Voldemort's drooling shell and make their way back towards the chamber entrance, Hogwarts and safety.
The End

Epilogue: It's the following autumn, just before the Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch match. Team captain Draco is giving a pep talk to the team, saying it's been a hard year but they've got a great team... the usual spiel that I'll work out later. Crabbe and Goyle are no longer on the team, but the (now 2nd year) girl is. During this scene, Draco thinks back on what happened since he and Harry escaped the Chamber. The attack on Hogwarts was stopped in its tracks because Salazar turned all the Death Eaters (except Snape) into Squibs. Once they could no longer perform magic, the Death Eaters, including a number of sleeper agents, were easily rounded up and put on trial. For Draco's heroism, Lucius Malfoy was not sent to Azkaban, but was permitted a house arrest. Draco returned home for the summer -- since his father is magicless, Draco is now the titular head of Malfoy house. It wasn't easy for him, Narcissa and Lucius, but the family was mending. Draco and Harry were heroes in the Wizarding word, and together they receive all kinds of awards and accolades. Draco still hsan't discovered the full extent of Salazar's gifts, but he's now a Parseltongue.

Eventually, Draco finishes his speech rallying the ~~troops~~ team, telling them that they can win, and saying the Snitch is his responsibility and they should just rack up the points and keep Gryffindor from getting ahead. Madam Hooch blows the whistle, they take up their positions, there's some smirk/sniping exchange with Potter, and Hooch releases the balls. And then, to everyone's astonishment and before anyone can react, the Golden Snitch flies directly at Draco, enabling him to win the game 150-0. In his head, Draco hears the sound of Salazar Slytherin's laughter echo through his head, and (though it's not said explicitly) it's clear that the other talents were merely those accorded to the Heir. This is Salazar's reward.

The End

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↑ Intentions and research information:

I want to keep all the characters true to the way they're portrayed in JKR's books (not necessarily true to her intentions -- I'm not a mindreader) so I'm trying to extrapolate as much as possible from her writing. I should note that I own and use the British editions -- not the American ones. I'm also relying heavily on the Harry Potter Lexicon and Definitive Harry Potter Canon Characterisation Guide for reference.

I also want to avoid other inconsistencies, although I did fudge the calendar slightly (making Sept. 1 a Thursday instead of Friday) figuring that if JKR can do it, so can I. I've got an entire calendar for the year, and I'm working out a class schedule to avoid those kinds of continuity errors. And I'm doing scads of outside reading on topics ranging from forestry to palmistry. I think I'm going to start posting a bibliography with every chapter.

↑ How the story developed:

My original concept was to focus on the relationship between Draco and Hagrid, who were both overcoming feelings of rejection and failure. But then I realized that the rest of the world won't stand still while they get to know one another.

In some respects, I worked out the overarching plot in reverse. I figured out what Voldemort was up to and then worked backwards to ensure Draco would have everything he needed in order to foil it.

Part of the incentive in writing this story was to separate Draco from his support structure: money, status, his family, Snape, Crabbe & Goyle. Draco's got to find his own strength, first by learning to stand on his own two feet and then by building his own power structure by forging new alliances with Hagrid, Neville, the new DADA professor...

I also wanted to write a story in which Draco can be good without suddenly becoming buddy-buddy with the Gryffindor trio. Harry and his friends do not have a monopoly on being right. I also wanted to show that opposing Voldemort does not necessarily mean opposing his racist beliefs. Which brings us to...

↑ Characterizations:

Draco:
Unlike many fics, in this story Draco was never an abused child. He was a spoiled brat, but had a fairly normal upbringing for an upper-class racist snob. He's neither stupid nor evil, but he is still a fifteen year old boy, with all the moodiness that can imply. He doesn't like Harry, Ron or Mudbloods and those views don't change over the course of the story. I think he's getting a buzz cut or crewcut right before classes start, partly because it's a severe look and Draco wants to look fierce and severe and partly because I'm tired of the cliche of Draco's flowing blond locks.

Draco hates Harry because he sees Harry as a spoiled glory-hound, constantly trying to be the center of attention and getting unearned privileges to the detriment of others. ["The exceptional Harry Potter. And once again, they've made an exception to the rules on your behalf. What will you do when you join the real world?"] Draco thinks Harry is paranoid and too many others have bought into his fears. Thus, he blames Harry for Dumbledore's death.

Oh, and why did Draco's subconscious reject Voldemort's allegience? Draco really is a Slytherin at heart, meaning he's very ambitious. Swearing unconditional allegiance just isn't his thing. He'll work under somebody for tangible benefit (as with Hagrid over the summer) or if he trusts/respects the other party, but he's primarily out for himself.

Neville:
Neville's grown up a bit and become more mature. He is a Gryffindor, after all, and his innate bravery is showing through. A major factor enabling Neville to come into his own has been the discovery of his divinatory talents. He hasn't told anyone yet (Gran, Trelawney, McGonagall, Dumbledore know, along with possibly some summer tutors), but the relief that he's not a fraud or a squib and the recognition of his Gift have boosted his confidence and given him a certain self-awareness. Snape still has the ability to completely fluster Neville. [Neville had slimed down since their first year. Or else, he had grown into his weight.]
I'm particularly pleased with this revelation about Neville. It just struck me as logical -- Neville is really bad at paying attention to things in the here-and-now -- flying lessons, Potions class, etcetera. Why? Because his mind is future-oriented. If your mind is distracted by what will come, that makes it difficult to focus on what's going on around you.

Professor Myles:
As I mentioned in my Beta seeking post, the new DADA professor is an original character based upon Myles of Olau from Tamora Pierce's Tortallan series. From Alanna: The First Adventure:
He was short and plump, with long brown hair streaked with gray and a long shaggy beard. His hose bagged at th knee; his tunic was as rumpled as if he had slept in it. He had a tiny delicate nose and a smiling mouth. Alanna met the man's large green-brown eyes and smiled in spite of herself. He was the oddest mixture of disarray and good nature she had ever encountered and she liked him on sight. His name was Sir Myles of Olau.
My Prof. Myles was originally a Hufflepuff and has a rumpled badger-like appearance. [Have to take care not to make him too close to Lupin.] Very quick mind. Good ears, too. When students mutter comments, he sometimes uses them for teaching moments. He doesn't entirely care whether students agree with him as long as they think for themselves. Really delighted when kids show creativity or insight. Of all the professors, Myles will be the kindest towards Draco and provide mentoring and guidance similar to the relationship between Lupin and Harry.

Nott:
A plot thread I abandoned. We know that there's a Death Eater named Nott and a current student of the same name. Generally, most fanfics make Nott a Slytherin, but in this story, Nott is actually a Ravenclaw. He was going to be inducted in a separate ceremony so Draco/Crabbe/Goyle wouldn't know about him and he could work independently, ferretting out information, laying false leads, subtly undermining morale, and so forth. However, when I worked out the final conclusion/confrontation, I no longer needed someone in this role, so dropped the character entirely.

↑ Calendars and Timelines: ↓

↑ Summer calendar:

Th Jul-27 Ch.1 New moon Death Eater ritual, story begins

F Jul-28 Ch.1&2 Hagrid finds Draco

Sa Jul-29 Ch.2 Draco unconscious, nursed by Hagrid

Su Jul-30 Ch.2&3 Draco awakes, brunch w/Dumbledore, sends letter to father

1 M Jul-31 Ch.3&4 de-gnoming, Draco rcvs letter from father; talk w/Dumbledore (Harry's bday)

Tu Aug-1 Ch.4 (3 days pass)

W Aug-2 Ch.4 (3 days pass)

Th Aug-3 Ch.4 (3 days pass)

F Aug-4 Ch.4 Dryads

Sa Aug-5 Acromantula visit

Su Aug-6 day of chores w/Hagrid

2 M Aug-7 unicorns, followed by Centaurs (w/prophecy!); end of week, Hagrid goes out drinking; Draco makes porridge Kneazles

Tu Aug-8

W Aug-9

Th Aug-10 Full moon watches mooncalves?

F Aug-11

Sa Aug-12

Su Aug-13

3 M Aug-14 end of week, kidnapped by spiders

Tu Aug-15

W Aug-16

Th Aug-17

F Aug-18

Sa Aug-19

Su Aug-20

4 M Aug-21

Tu Aug-22

W Aug-23

Th Aug-24

F Aug-25

Sa Aug-26 New moon

Su Aug-27

5 M Aug-28 haircut; Draco gets school equipment + wand (should he get books earlier for homework?)

Tu Aug-29

W Aug-30

↑ Draco's class schedule:

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday

double Care of Magical Creatures w/Gryffindors Charms double Herbology w/Ravenclaws Charms double Potions w/Gryffindors

break break

Transfiguration Transfiguration

lunch

Divination ~~Potions w/Gryffindors~~ Ancient Runes Defense Against the Dark Arts w/Gryffindors History of Magic

dinner

↑ Fall calendar:

Th Sep-1 Hogwarts Express to Hogwarts, Prefect mtgs, Sorting, bullying

1 F Sep-2 First day of classes, Potions Potions + Hist

Sa Aug-31^* Quidditch practice

Su Sep-3

M Sep-4 Draco beats up Ron, Care of Magical Creatures, 1st Div class (seated w/Neville) Care + Div

Tu Sep-5 Charms + Transfig

W Sep-6 Herbology + Runes

Th Sep-7 1st DADA class - intro to strategy/tactics Charms, Transfig, DADA

2 F Sep-8 Potions disaster Crabbe & Goyle kick Draco's chair at crucial moment Potions + Hist

Sa Sep-9 Full moon

Su Sep-10 Detention w/Hagrid - wild Kneazles

M Sep-11 Care + Div

Tu Sep-12 Charms + Transfig

W Sep-13 Herbology + Runes

Th Sep-14 Charms, Transfig, DADA

3 F Sep-15 This week or next, Snape gets fed up & seats Draco w/Neville Potions + Hist

Sa Sep-16

Su Sep-17

M Sep-18 Care + Div

Tu Sep-19 Charms + Transfig

W Sep-20 Herbology + Runes

Th Sep-21 Charms, Transfig, DADA

4 F Sep-22 Potions + Hist

Sa Sep-23

Su Sep-24 New moon

M Sep-25 Care + Div

Tu Sep-26 Charms + Transfig

W Sep-27 Herbology + Runes

Th Sep-28 Charms, Transfig, DADA

5 F Sep-29 Potions + Hist

Sa Sep-30

Su Oct-1

M Oct-2 Care + Div

Tu Oct-3 Charms + Transfig

W Oct-4 Herbology + Runes

Th Oct-5 Charms, Transfig, DADA

6 F Oct-6 Potions + Hist

Sa Oct-7

Su Oct-8 Full moon

M Oct-9 Care + Div

Tu Oct-10 Charms + Transfig

W Oct-11 Herbology + Runes

Th Oct-12 Charms, Transfig, DADA

7 F Oct-13 Potions + Hist

Sa Oct-14

Su Oct-15

M Oct-16 Care + Div

Tu Oct-17 Charms + Transfig

W Oct-18 Herbology + Runes

Th Oct-19 Charms, Transfig, DADA

8 F Oct-20 Potions + Hist

Sa Oct-21

Su Oct-22

M Oct-23 Care + Div

Tu Oct-24 New moon Charms + Transfig

W Oct-25 Herbology + Runes

Th Oct-26 Charms, Transfig, DADA

9 F Oct-27 Potions + Hist

Sa Oct-28

Su Oct-29

M Oct-30 Care + Div

Tu Oct-31 Halloween Charms + Transfig

W Nov-1 Herbology + Runes

Th Nov-2 Charms, Transfig, DADA

10 F Nov-3 Potions + Hist

Sa Nov-4

Su Nov-5

M Nov-6 Care + Div

Tu Nov-7 Full moon Charms + Transfig

W Nov-8 Herbology + Runes

Th Nov-9 Charms, Transfig, DADA

11 F Nov-10 Potions + Hist

Sa Nov-11

Su Nov-12

M Nov-13 Care + Div

Tu Nov-14 Charms + Transfig

W Nov-15 Herbology + Runes

Th Nov-16 Charms, Transfig, DADA

12 F Nov-17 Potions + Hist

Sa Nov-18

Su Nov-19

M Nov-20 Care + Div

Tu Nov-21 Charms + Transfig

W Nov-22 New moon Herbology + Runes

Th Nov-23 Charms, Transfig, DADA

13 F Nov-24 Potions + Hist

Sa Nov-25

Su Nov-26

M Nov-27 Care + Div

Tu Nov-28 Charms + Transfig

W Nov-29 Herbology + Runes

Th Nov-30 Charms, Transfig, DADA

14 F Dec-1 Potions + Hist

Sa Dec-2

Su Dec-3

M Dec-4 Care + Div

Tu Dec-5 Charms + Transfig

W Dec-6 Herbology + Runes

Th Dec-7 Full moon Charms, Transfig, DADA

15 F Dec-8 Potions + Hist

Sa Dec-9

Su Dec-10

M Dec-11 Care + Div

Tu Dec-12 Charms + Transfig

W Dec-13 Herbology + Runes

Th Dec-14 Charms, Transfig, DADA

16 F Dec-15 Potions + Hist

Sa Dec-16

Su Dec-17

M Dec-18 Care + Div

Tu Dec-19 Charms + Transfig

W Dec-20^* Herbology + Runes

Th extra^* Charms, Transfig, DADA

17 F Dec-21^* Potions class; Potter gets detention; The Yule Ball Potions + Hist

Sa Dec-22^* New moon End of term; Hogwarts Express to London; the climactic battle

^*If JKR can add, subtract days and change days of the week, then so can I!

Title:	Second Chances
Author:	Cheshyre
Summary:	After failing his Death Eater initiation in the summer between his fourth and fifth years, Draco Malfoy lost everything. His only refuge is Hogwarts, but he'll have to forge a new path if he wants to survive. There's a lot of ground to cover, and he's already burned many of his bridges. Can Draco stand on his own, without money, status, family, or former friends to back him up?

Length:	Story: 32,000 words [Including all additional material: 40,000 words]
Dates:	conceived January 2003; abandoned November 2003; publically posted August 2006

Permanent URL:	http://www.osmond-riba.org/lis/fanfic/SecondChances.htm

Author's Note:	This is an incomplete story that I have abandoned. However, there are enough worthwhile elements that I'm willing to share what I've got. This is licensed under a Creative Commons License, so if you like what you read and wish to write your own continuation, be my guest. This story is set in an alternate universe fifth year, concieved and outlined before Book 5: Order of the Phoenix was released. Elements of this story have been contradicted by later canon.

	Th	Jul-27		Ch.1 New moon Death Eater ritual, story begins
	F	Jul-28		Ch.1&2 Hagrid finds Draco
	Sa	Jul-29		Ch.2 Draco unconscious, nursed by Hagrid
	Su	Jul-30		Ch.2&3 Draco awakes, brunch w/Dumbledore, sends letter to father
1	M	Jul-31		Ch.3&4 de-gnoming, Draco rcvs letter from father; talk w/Dumbledore (Harry's bday)
	Tu	Aug-1		Ch.4 (3 days pass)
	W	Aug-2		Ch.4 (3 days pass)
	Th	Aug-3		Ch.4 (3 days pass)
	F	Aug-4		Ch.4 Dryads
	Sa	Aug-5		Acromantula visit
	Su	Aug-6		day of chores w/Hagrid
2	M	Aug-7	unicorns, followed by Centaurs (w/prophecy!); end of week, Hagrid goes out drinking; Draco makes porridge	Kneazles
	Tu	Aug-8
	W	Aug-9
	Th	Aug-10		Full moon watches mooncalves?
	F	Aug-11
	Sa	Aug-12
	Su	Aug-13
3	M	Aug-14	end of week, kidnapped by spiders
	Tu	Aug-15
	W	Aug-16
	Th	Aug-17
	F	Aug-18
	Sa	Aug-19
	Su	Aug-20
4	M	Aug-21
	Tu	Aug-22
	W	Aug-23
	Th	Aug-24
	F	Aug-25
	Sa	Aug-26		New moon
	Su	Aug-27
5	M	Aug-28	haircut; Draco gets school equipment + wand (should he get books earlier for homework?)
	Tu	Aug-29
	W	Aug-30

Monday	Tuesday	Wednesday	Thursday	Friday
double Care of Magical Creatures w/Gryffindors	Charms	double Herbology w/Ravenclaws	Charms	double Potions w/Gryffindors
	break		break
	Transfiguration		Transfiguration
lunch
Divination	~~Potions w/Gryffindors~~	Ancient Runes	Defense Against the Dark Arts w/Gryffindors	History of Magic
dinner

	Th	Sep-1		Hogwarts Express to Hogwarts, Prefect mtgs, Sorting, bullying
1	F	Sep-2		First day of classes, Potions	Potions + Hist
	Sa	Aug-31^*		Quidditch practice
	Su	Sep-3
	M	Sep-4		Draco beats up Ron, Care of Magical Creatures, 1st Div class (seated w/Neville)	Care + Div
	Tu	Sep-5			Charms + Transfig
	W	Sep-6			Herbology + Runes
	Th	Sep-7		1st DADA class - intro to strategy/tactics	Charms, Transfig, DADA
2	F	Sep-8		Potions disaster Crabbe & Goyle kick Draco's chair at crucial moment	Potions + Hist
	Sa	Sep-9		Full moon
	Su	Sep-10		Detention w/Hagrid - wild Kneazles
	M	Sep-11			Care + Div
	Tu	Sep-12			Charms + Transfig
	W	Sep-13			Herbology + Runes
	Th	Sep-14			Charms, Transfig, DADA
3	F	Sep-15	This week or next, Snape gets fed up & seats Draco w/Neville		Potions + Hist
	Sa	Sep-16
	Su	Sep-17
	M	Sep-18			Care + Div
	Tu	Sep-19			Charms + Transfig
	W	Sep-20			Herbology + Runes
	Th	Sep-21			Charms, Transfig, DADA
4	F	Sep-22			Potions + Hist
	Sa	Sep-23
	Su	Sep-24		New moon
	M	Sep-25			Care + Div
	Tu	Sep-26			Charms + Transfig
	W	Sep-27			Herbology + Runes
	Th	Sep-28			Charms, Transfig, DADA
5	F	Sep-29			Potions + Hist
	Sa	Sep-30
	Su	Oct-1
	M	Oct-2			Care + Div
	Tu	Oct-3			Charms + Transfig
	W	Oct-4			Herbology + Runes
	Th	Oct-5			Charms, Transfig, DADA
6	F	Oct-6			Potions + Hist
	Sa	Oct-7
	Su	Oct-8		Full moon
	M	Oct-9			Care + Div
	Tu	Oct-10			Charms + Transfig
	W	Oct-11			Herbology + Runes
	Th	Oct-12			Charms, Transfig, DADA
7	F	Oct-13			Potions + Hist
	Sa	Oct-14
	Su	Oct-15
	M	Oct-16			Care + Div
	Tu	Oct-17			Charms + Transfig
	W	Oct-18			Herbology + Runes
	Th	Oct-19			Charms, Transfig, DADA
8	F	Oct-20			Potions + Hist
	Sa	Oct-21
	Su	Oct-22
	M	Oct-23			Care + Div
	Tu	Oct-24		New moon	Charms + Transfig
	W	Oct-25			Herbology + Runes
	Th	Oct-26			Charms, Transfig, DADA
9	F	Oct-27			Potions + Hist
	Sa	Oct-28
	Su	Oct-29
	M	Oct-30			Care + Div
	Tu	Oct-31		Halloween	Charms + Transfig
	W	Nov-1			Herbology + Runes
	Th	Nov-2			Charms, Transfig, DADA
10	F	Nov-3			Potions + Hist
	Sa	Nov-4
	Su	Nov-5
	M	Nov-6			Care + Div
	Tu	Nov-7		Full moon	Charms + Transfig
	W	Nov-8			Herbology + Runes
	Th	Nov-9			Charms, Transfig, DADA
11	F	Nov-10			Potions + Hist
	Sa	Nov-11
	Su	Nov-12
	M	Nov-13			Care + Div
	Tu	Nov-14			Charms + Transfig
	W	Nov-15			Herbology + Runes
	Th	Nov-16			Charms, Transfig, DADA
12	F	Nov-17			Potions + Hist
	Sa	Nov-18
	Su	Nov-19
	M	Nov-20			Care + Div
	Tu	Nov-21			Charms + Transfig
	W	Nov-22		New moon	Herbology + Runes
	Th	Nov-23			Charms, Transfig, DADA
13	F	Nov-24			Potions + Hist
	Sa	Nov-25
	Su	Nov-26
	M	Nov-27			Care + Div
	Tu	Nov-28			Charms + Transfig
	W	Nov-29			Herbology + Runes
	Th	Nov-30			Charms, Transfig, DADA
14	F	Dec-1			Potions + Hist
	Sa	Dec-2
	Su	Dec-3
	M	Dec-4			Care + Div
	Tu	Dec-5			Charms + Transfig
	W	Dec-6			Herbology + Runes
	Th	Dec-7		Full moon	Charms, Transfig, DADA
15	F	Dec-8			Potions + Hist
	Sa	Dec-9
	Su	Dec-10
	M	Dec-11			Care + Div
	Tu	Dec-12			Charms + Transfig
	W	Dec-13			Herbology + Runes
	Th	Dec-14			Charms, Transfig, DADA
16	F	Dec-15			Potions + Hist
	Sa	Dec-16
	Su	Dec-17
	M	Dec-18			Care + Div
	Tu	Dec-19			Charms + Transfig
	W	Dec-20^*			Herbology + Runes
	Th	extra^*			Charms, Transfig, DADA
17	F	Dec-21^*		Potions class; Potter gets detention; The Yule Ball	Potions + Hist
	Sa	Dec-22^*		New moon End of term; Hogwarts Express to London; the climactic battle