Almost Willing

"You look nervous."

Draco just managed not to jump. He looked over.

"Do I?" he asked.

Blaise smiled looking highly amused.

"What is it," he asked, "hot date tonight?"

Draco glanced down at the letter in his hand.

"No, unfortunately. I have a detention with Potter."

He looked across the hall and found the other boy watching him, a similar letter in hand. Belatedly he smirked and Potter turned away, getting into the conversation next to him.

"Ah, hot date with Potter that explains it."

Draco laughed, surprised.

"You should see what I have planned for us," he said evilly.

"Really?" Blaise inched closer. "Care to share any details?"

Vince plopped into the chair on Draco's other side.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Draco's hot date with Potter."

Vince stared.

Draco just managed to hold back his grin. "Let's just say that he's going to be exhausted come morning," he said.

Blaise lifted his eyebrows. "Do I get to watch?"

"Of course, what are friends for?" They each turned to Vince. "Care to join us?"

Obviously not wanting to offend, he settled for a shake of his head, and suddenly became absorbed in his toast.

They shrugged.

"His loss."

With a laugh, Blaise took a sip of his pumpkin juice and leaned closer to Draco so he could have a clear view of Potter.

"Hmm." Finally, he shook his head. "Na, he doesn't seem that easy." He patted Draco on the shoulder. "Sorry mate."

Draco shook his head smirking and finished his breakfast.

"Where's my eagle feather quill?!"

Draco shuffled through his bag one more time before turning frantically to his trunk and throwing it open.

He found it buried in the bottom of his trunk, wedged between two books and smoothing it, he pulled it out, and tucked it into his bag.

A soft scratching stopped him. He glanced at the window and found an unfamiliar owl watching him expectantly.

He looked down at his watch. Shit. He was going to be late.

With a sigh, Draco ran to the window and flung it open. He untied the letter and shut the window behind the owl on its way back out, nearly clipping its tail feathers in his rush.

He hurried from to the door with the letter and paused a moment in front of the mirror straightening his collar, and - he stopped. He looked down at the letter in his hand.

It was from his mother.

She had only written to him one other time since school had started. Draco sat down slowly, remembering what had been in the last letter. He was late for his meeting with Potter, but couldn't imagine waiting to open it.

Shaking the letter open, his eyes fell on the small neat scrawl of his mother and he read the short letter.

Draco,

I hope that you're doing well. My stay in France was lovely if you were wondering, and your Aunt Lydia sends her love, along with a bottle of champagne that I'll save for you until Christmas. I would send it now, but judging by your last escapade with a full bottle of alcohol, it would be hard for the headmaster not to notice, unless that is he walks around blindfolded, but somehow I don't think so.

I'm looking forward to having you home for the Christmas holidays, which seem very distant ever since your father was sent away. The house has been deathly silent, with only me inside it. Next week I will be off to Brazil to stay with Margaret, I hope you don't mind that you won't be able to reach me for some time, you know how she is with owls; it would be best to keep yours safe, as you seem quite fond of it. After that, I will be home for a short stay, and then possibly go to visit your grandfather and my brother Aric.

I hope, Draco, that you have been writing to your father, his trial is still scheduled for the thirtieth of October and he needs your support. He needs to hear from you.

Love your mother,

Narcissa

Love your mother.... It was quite bad then. Worse then she was making out.

Slowly, he looked down at himself. Almost hesitatingly, he ran his hand delicately over his new cloak. It was black, like the school cloaks, but much nicer, his first time wearing it since he had gotten to school. His eyes ran down to his black pants, somewhat tight over his hips, his green shirt, finishing off the look.

He turned back to the mirror and a small tremor of disgust ran through him. He was dressed like he was going on a date. He had been nervous... about Potter for God's sake! The one who was putting his family through all of this to begin with! Why was he trying to impress that sod?!

Draco pulled off the cloak and threw a school robe over top of his clothes. He wasn't going to change; he was late enough as it was.

*

Harry sat in the common room, taking up a corner with Ron and a deck of cards, for once playing a muggle game that Harry had taught him. He was doing quite well when Hermione burst into the common room carrying a stack of books and hurried toward them, an anxious expression on her face.

"Harry," she said. "Dumbledore wants to see you." She bit her lip, trying to gauge his reaction.

Ron set down his cards and looked at him somberly.

Harry just managed not to roll his eyes.

"It can't be good," Ron said. "He doesn't just call you to his office unless something is very wrong."

"Well that's comforting." Harry stood up. "I guess I should get going," he said and awkwardly left the common room, feeling their gazes on the back of his neck.

He let out a small sigh of relief as he came out in the hallway. Not dwelling on the fact that he was more comfortable alone than with his friends lately, he started to walk.

As he drew toward the statue of the gargoyle, he slowed, realizing that he didn't know the password. Suddenly the gargoyle burst to life and jumped to the side, revealing a very sour looking Snape.

Snape glanced at him a disdainfully. "The headmaster has been expecting you," he said, and walked bruiskely past him.

Harry sighed and made his way up the staircase to Dumbledore's office door. Upon entering Dumbledore smiled and gestured him toward the seat he had taken the last time he was in the office, with Malfoy. He sat down, feeling understandably nervous as he was offered some tea.

"I decided to have this conversation with you, considering the turn of events the last time Severus had to offer you news of this nature." Harry instantly recalled standing between two pointed wands, one belonging to Snape, the other to Sirius.... Was that supposed to comfort him?

Dumbledore smiled, and handed Harry the tea.

"It's a difficult subject," he said.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore sighed. "Your dreams," he said. "You realize how important they are of course?"

Harry forced out his response. "Yes," he said.

Dumbledore nodded somberly.

"Do you understand the possible benefits of interpreting them?"

"What do you mean?"

Dumbledore sighed and leaned forward.

"We have the means of watching your dreams as they come to you... if you are willing to let us, of course."

"Us?" he asked.

"Myself, and members of the order, if need be."

"Oh."

"Harry, it would be very beneficial to have your help, will you consider doing it?"

He was suddenly on his feet.

"I need to think about it," he said. He turned and numbly left the office.

Of course. He already knew the answer; of course he would. What else could he do? Say no? His mind was his own, they were his dreams.

They weren't though; they were in fact Voldemort's twisted reality, that's all. Of course, he would help.

He wandered for a while, deep in thought before a nagging in his mind finally brought him back to reality. Didn't he have something to do?

Malfoy! Shit, he was late!

"Well, this is off to a good start," he muttered, and bolted for Gryffindor tower for his books.