Almost Willing

CHAPTER #4

Harry ambled into the library with his bag after an embarrassingly long amount of time spent running to Gryffindor tower. He walked through the library, searching the tables quickly; hoping that for some mystical reason Malfoy hadn't yet arrived.

"Looking for someone?"

Harry turned with a grimace to find Malfoy watching him, an eyebrow raised.

"The famous Harry Potter can't even arrive for a detention on time?"

Sighing Harry pulled out the chair across from him and hauled out his divination book and a scroll.

He sat staring at the pages on pyromancy and twiddling his quill a full five minutes before finally realizing he wasn't doing anything. He glanced up at Malfoy to find the boy glaring at him in annoyance.

"Uh, I'm going to go find a book," he muttered. He stood up and could feel Malfoy's eyes boring into the back of his neck all the way into the stacks. He was definitely not in the mood for this.

Once out of sight, Harry leaned back into the books, grateful to have just a minute to himself. He breathed in deeply, the smell of musty books mixing with the cool air of the library and he shut his eyes.

Finally, he glanced down at his watch and suddenly smiled. Ten minutes left. Maybe he should make this being late thing a common occurrence....

Grabbing a random book off the shelf, he hurried back to the table and sat down.

Malfoy glanced up irritated, and paused.

"Finding Your Inner Lion?" he read incredulously.

Harry flushed.

"It's for a class," he stated.

"Right."

Smirking, Malfoy gathered his books.

"Well you have fun discovering that 'inner lion' of yours," he said and walked past him with a snicker.

Harry scowled and shoved the book disgustedly away. His ideas needed better planning.

That night he fell into bed thoroughly exhausted. No matter how he had expected the day to go, it was not like this.

Harry couldn't stop thinking of Dumbledore. He just felt so-.

"...used."

The fiercely red eyes looked down at him intently.

"Explain."

"I'm being used," he said.

The snake circled around to the front of the chair, so that Harry could see her fully, sitting in front of her master.

"By whom?"

"Everyone at the castle.... Just everyone I guess. Dumbledore. He expects me to do all these things for them... everyone does."

Voldemort stood, and walked toward him slowly.

"Why are you rubbing your scar?"

Harry started. He hadn't realized that he was.

"I- Oh, it just starts to burn whenever you're angry at me, that's all."

He dropped his hand hastily.

A snake-like smile draped over the thin lips.

"I'm not angry at you," he said. "I'm angry at them."

Harry woke up, drenched in sweat, his scar throbbing dully. He stretched out and rubbed it absently before reaching for his glasses and watch on the side table.

One o'clock... early to be dreaming.

Slowly, he sat up. That couldn't have been real, he hadn't been afraid, they had been speaking directly to one another. That had never happened before.

He should wake up Ron, go see Dumbledore; he should do 'something'. His heart was suddenly racing.

Shakily he climbed out of bed and hesitantly pulled open the curtains to Ron's bed. He was fast asleep; he looked so peaceful, as usual. Harry couldn't wake him.

To Dumbledore then.... He felt so over dramatic, it was just a dream. Suddenly a searing pain shot through his scar.

Never mind, he thought.

He stumbled out of Gryffindor tower, pain shooting through his head and increasing with each step. He staggered through several halls before it finally forced him to stop. He hunched over panting, realizing through a haze of pain that he wasn't wearing any shoes, or even his cloak, but he couldn't make it all the way back now.

He waited until the throbbing subsided and tried to take another step. Two arms caught him before he fell flat on his face.

"Harry!"

Blinded by pain, he looked up into the grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.

He tried to pull away but stumbled back. Again, Malfoy caught him once more.

"What's wrong?"

Harry shook his head frantically.

"I... need ... Dumbledore," he panted.

Malfoy looked at him a moment, then finally hoisted him up into a standing position, holding him in place.

"Okay," he said. "Come on."

He walked Harry awkwardly all the way to the headmaster's office, repeated the password from the last time they'd been there, and stopped, holding Harry up just outside the door.

Malfoy glanced at him a moment and reached out to knock. Suddenly the door swung open, revealing Dumbledore, Snape, and Lupin.

The three professors in the office stared. Harry suddenly realized what a spectacle they were, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy standing in their pajamas outside of Dumbledore's office, their arms practically around each other.

Nobody seemed to be moving.

"I found him in the hall, Sir; he said he needed to see you." Harry looked at Dumbledore.

"I think you should do it now," he said.

"Come in Harry."

He smiled weakly at Lupin as he was walked to a chair in front of Dumbledore. He was so glad to see him.

"What ever it is you were planning on doing for this dream thing to work," he said turning to Dumbledore. "I think you should do it now."

Snape stepped forward. "You realize it will require blood?" Malfoy snapped his head around violently.

"What?!"

"Mr. Malfoy, please go wait out side the door, you'll need to walk Harry back to his dorm when we're done," Dumbledore said.

Malfoy looked at him incredulously.

"Excuse me?!" he demanded.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and stared pointedly at the door. Grudgingly, Malfoy stood up, and gracefully strode out of the room, scowling.

Harry turned back to Dumbledore as the door clicked shut, glad to find the pain finally receding.

"How quickly can you get it to work?" he asked.

"Two days," said Lupin stepping up beside Harry's chair. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Harry nodded. "Yes, it's just... well I guess you'll see if it happens again, won't you?"

"We weren't planning to begin so early Harry. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes."

Snape came toward him, brandishing his wand.

"The spell could work with anything," he said. "Hair, tears, but blood would be the strongest."

Harry bit his lip as the wand was traced against his palm, leaving at first a thin red line that then began to bleed.

A vial was held out under the stream of blood, until finally the cut re-sealed itself.

Harry looked at his palm, all traces of the wound completely gone.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"Yes, I'll notify you when the potion is complete and working."

Harry nodded and stood up to leave, somehow still feeling completely useless.

*

Draco paced in front of the door waiting. Blood? He was willingly giving his own blood to 'Snape'? Was he insane?! Did he 'want' to die?! Really, Draco was the professor's favorite student, but even he wasn't about to trust him with something like that. There was no one he would trust with something like that.

Finally, the door was pushed open and Draco came forward quickly realizing it was Harry. He put his arm around him like he had before.

"It doesn't hurt anymore," Harry said, but nonetheless didn't pull away.

Slowly they began to walk through the dark corridors. Harry was no longer hunched over; he was standing up straighter, more naturally.

Draco bit his lip. He was rapidly becoming aware of the feeling of Harry's skin through his pajamas. He shouldn't be feeling this. Suddenly he didn't know where to place his hand... Maybe he shouldn't be touching him with his palm. Draco took a steadying breath. God, he was warm.

Finally, he could stand it no longer.

"Why did they need your blood?" he asked abruptly.

Harry looked at him closely before answering.

"It's for a potion."

Draco forced himself not to speak. Deep breaths, he told himself.

"You realize the only potions that require human blood are dark?"

"...oh."

"Maybe you should tell Dumbledore. He might not have realized."

Harry shook his head.

"No, he would know that."

"...oh."

"Well," Harry looked at him. "The potion actually says that you could use anything off of me, but Snape said blood would be more powerful than anything else."

"I guess-but, how can you trust him...?" Harry was quiet. "He-may not be what he seems you know."

"What, you mean an evil git? Yeah, that's what Dumbledore seems to think too."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Well maybe Dumbledore's wrong," he said looking at him.

Harry didn't answer for a full minute, thinking. Finally, he shook his head. "They need it," he said simply.

Draco almost toppled to a stop.

"They're using you," he said.

Surprisingly Harry smiled. "I know."

Suddenly he leaned into him gently, and the next second was pulling away, leaving Draco wondering if he had imagined it.

"This is it," Harry said, indicating a large portrait of a fat woman in a pink silk dress. "Uh, thanks."

"It's okay." He watched as Harry leaned forward and whispered a password, making the portrait swing forward.

"Goodnight Harry."

Harry stopped and turned back around to face him.

"That's not the first time you've called me that you know?"

Draco swallowed.

He stepped through the portrait hole. "Goodnight Draco," he said, and next second he was gone, leaving a very breathless Draco behind him.