Chapter 10: The Price
xxx
"Are you sure you don't want to get Madam Pomfrey to heal that, Harry?" Hermione's concerned voice rang out across the breakfast table.
Harry rolled his eyes. "It's barely a cut, Herm. Malfoy couldn't do proper damage if he tried."
Beside him, Ron snorted. "Yeah, and you know Pomfrey. She won't heal anything but broken bones if you get it in a fight."
The girl shook her head, gathering her bag and latest copy of the Prophet as she stood. "It was still irresponsible. Honestly, duelling that prat in the middle of the corridors… And the amount of House points you lost!" Completely contrasting with her disapproving words, a smile lingered on her lips, and as she passed, she bent and dropped a light kiss into the messy black hair. "Thank you."
Harry grinned. "You're welcome. Where you going anyway?"
She paused to look back at the boys. "I'm off to organise the DA meeting for tonight. I left the Galleon in my room this morning."
Ron, who had been scowling at Hermione's display of affection toward his best friend, suddenly brightened. "Oh, is that tonight? What are we doing this time?"
Harry bit into his toast thoughtfully as Hermione exited the Hall. "I was thinking of covering duelling again. We haven't done that since last year, and we didn't really practice properly back then…"
Ron smirked. "Merlin, you actually sound like a proper teacher."
Harry cast him such an alarmed look that the redhead burst out laughing, earning him a glare and the promise that he was to be paired up with Luna when they duelled.
xxx
Albus Dumbledore watched his students from his place at the head of the staff table, thinking. Before his eyes, Harry laughed alongside his friends, talking animatedly about whatever it was teenage boys talked about – Quiddich, girls, secret meetings in the Room of Requirement…
The Headmaster smiled to himself at that thought, amused that the boy believed himself to be subtle. Not that it mattered, of course. Most of the teachers, at some point now, had overheard mentions of the new DA, and had purposely turned a deaf ear. Harry seemed truly happy for the first time in months, and if this was the cause of such a change, who were they to put a stop to it?
Albus cast a fond glance down the table at his Professors. Nearby, Minerva and Helen Hooch, the two biggest Quiddich fans at the table, were bickering over who would win the national championships this year. Sibyll was trying to convince poor Filius that she had foreseen his death – and it was a gruesome one indeed – while the charms teacher attempted in vain to change the subject. Further along, Remus Lupin picked half-heartedly at his cornflakes. Severus was conspicuously missing, absent on another stay with his Lord.
At that moment, another group of students made their way into the Hall. Albus looked toward them, and his eyes sparked with interest.
Yes, Draco Malfoy had certainly gained his interest of late. To the eye, the blond was no different than he'd ever been – still as obnoxious as ever, still proud, conceited, disdainful. Still the perfect candidate for Slytherin prince. If Albus hadn't received two separate reports from Remus and Minerva that the boy had been a wreck only last night, he would have assumed that Mr Malfoy was coping perfectly well on his own.
But that wasn't true, no matter how he tried to hide his distress in public.
The Headmaster watched as the Slytherin led a group of his Housemates towards their table, trading customary glares and snide comments with Harry as they passed.
And that was another thing. How was their newest recruit – Albus had to laugh at the thought of the reaction he'd receive if he ever called Mr Malfoy any kind of 'recruit' to his face – but to return to the point, how was their newest recruit supposed to work effectively with them if he hated their figurehead?
Albus had kept his word, and was even now keeping Lucius at bay as the man tried furiously to get at his disobedient son. Draco knew nothing of the proceedings, of course, only that the stream of letters he'd been receiving had stopped at least a week ago – when Albus had begun intercepting them. He didn't trust Lucius not to place a portkey or something equally devious inside. He'd also completed the arrangements for the boy to remain at Hogwarts even during compulsory holidays.
But in return for his efforts, he didn't intend for Mr Malfoy to sit back and remain on their side in name alone, so to speak. He would put whatever talents he had to use in the coming war, just like everybody else.
For the moment, however, Albus would be content if the Slytherin was even on talking terms with the students who were doing their best to prepare for what was coming. Besides, if only for his own sake, it would be good for Mr Malfoy to be exposed to the influences of the other Houses, not just his own.
A voice that sounded suspiciously like Severus hissed in the back of his head that perhaps he had become a little biased towards Slytherin House, but he pushed it away forcefully.
Mind made up, the Headmaster nodded to himself, already forming his newest spur-of-the-moment notion into a plan.
xxx
It was becoming less of a surprise for Harry to be summoned to the Headmaster's office these days. What worried him was that it was also becoming less of a surprise to find Malfoy there as well.
The blond turned to give him a scornful look when he entered five minutes late, as usual. Harry stiffened defensively, but Dumbledore simply waved him inside, indicating towards the empty chair beside the Slytherin.
"Harry, my boy, sit down why don't you?"
The Gryffindor lowered himself into the waiting seat hesitantly, looking uncomfortable. It usually made him nervous enough to be here, but with Malfoy perched haughtily by his side, it was ten times worse.
"Is there a reason we're here, Headmaster?" the blond asked disrespectfully, folding his arms.
The old man peered at the boy over his glasses sternly, before encompassing them both in his gaze. "Yes, Mr Malfoy, there is a reason. Two, in fact. Firstly, I wanted to take this opportunity to inform Harry that you have indeed chosen to take our side in the coming battle –"
"Sir –!" Malfoy sat forward in protest, gripping the armrests tightly.
Harry was staring at the other teen in astonishment, not quite sure how to react.
Dumbledore went on regardless. "No shame in it, Mr Malfoy, I assure you. And I especially think Harry has a right to know, considering he'll be helping me introduce you to the side of the Light –"
It was Harry's turn to object, also sitting forward. "Sir, I'm not sure –"
"Nonsense, nonsense. I'm not expecting the two of you to become… brothers in arms right away, of course. I would, however, like to ask a favour of you, Harry."
The Gryffindor swiftly wiped away the expression of thorough disgust which had come upon him at the thought of he and Malfoy ever being 'brothers in arms'. He shook himself to clear his head of the image before responding. "Uhm… favour, Professor?"
The old man smiled. "Yes. Actually, it concerns your Defence group. The… ah, DA, I believe it's known as."
Harry blinked. "You know about that?" he asked in surprise.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Yes, Potter, because you're just the epitome of discretion."
The Gryffindor bit back the urge to tell the other where to go. At least while they were in front of the Headmaster.
Dumbledore raised an amused eyebrow. "Well, perhaps you can help with that in the future, Mr Malfoy."
The Slytherin glanced at him sharply. "Me? Why would I have anything to do with it?"
"Because, my boy, I want you to become a member."
Simultaneous protests burst forth as both the Slytherin and Gryffindor suddenly sat upright, shaking their heads and speaking over each other in an attempt to have their dislike for the idea heard.
"Professor, I really don't think that's such a good idea –"
"You cannot be serious –"
"I mean, I'm sure he's not even interested –"
"Of all the stupid –"
"And anyway, Malfoy's not exactly popular, is he?"
"Honestly, I– Shut the hell up, Potter! I'll have you know –"
"Boys!" The Headmaster held up a silencing hand, regarding them severely over his spectacles. "This… this rivalry is the reason I'm making this request of the two of you! Mr Malfoy, in return for my protection, you agreed to obey the few demands I would make of you. This is one of them. And Harry… I am asking, respectfully, that you hear me out –"
"But Professor!" Harry was aware of the whining tone his voice had taken on, but couldn't seem to do anything about it. He looked once at Malfoy, who was looking just as horrified.
"Enough of this!" For the first time, Dumbledore actually sounded irritated. He regained himself in seconds, though, and calmly steepled his fingers in front of him. "If Mr Malfoy is ever to learn to work with us, and not against us, he will need the experience of team-work. And has it occurred to either of you that he will also need someone exactly like yourself, Harry, who knows who and, more importantly, what he is?"
The blond scowled. "What does that have to do with anything? You're asking me to become part of Potter's bloody fan-club! And why should I waste my time listening to him, when there's a perfectly good Defence teacher this year?"
Harry snorted sceptically, but was largely ignored.
"Because I said so, Mr Malfoy," was the only answer they received, as Dumbledore's eyes regained their twinkle. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to be getting on with."
Sullenly, the pair stood, glaring furiously at each other as if it was their fault.
"Oh, and Harry?" Dumbledore spoke up, as they reached the door. "I expect Mr Malfoy to be invited to that meeting Miss Granger is organising for tonight."
The Gryffindor scowled, but nodded.
xxx
"Well, Potter? Aren't you going to extend a formal invitation?" Draco drawled as they descended the spiral staircase outside the office together.
Harry snorted. "No. You heard him. It's tonight. Show up or don't – it's not my problem."
The blond sneered. "Yes, well, I know it's tonight – what time, you idiot?"
The Gryffindor hesitated in snapping his retort. Finally he sighed in exasperation. "Oh, dammit. I'm going to have to get you a Galleon. And you're going to have to sign the list…"
Draco looked at him incredulously. "Money, Potter? You're paying me? And what list?"
"I'm not paying you, it's how everyone knows when the meetings are. Hermione can explain it. And the list is the contract that keeps you from telling anyone else."
The blond rolled his eyes. "Well, damn. And I was so looking forward to sharing my new humiliation with the rest of Slytherin…"
They stalked along the corridor in silence for a few moments, both seething.
"Why the hell are you even doing this, anyway? I know you can't want to be a part of the DA."
The blond narrowed his eyes resentfully. "Obviously," he muttered. "But didn't you hear him back there, Potter? I said… I swore I'd do what he ordered."
He could feel those infuriating green eyes burning into the side of his head as Potter stared at him, and he pointedly refused to acknowledge the look.
"So… he was serious, then? About you joining this side of the war?"
Draco snorted. "Well, actually, it was this delightful little joke we cooked up –"
"Oh, fuck off, Malfoy. Do you have to be sarcastic about everything?"
The Slytherin whipped around so fast that Potter actually stumbled, his hand fumbling clumsily towards his wand. Draco's glare was piercing, eyes pinned wide with fury. "Well, I find it helps, rather that admit your saintly Headmaster bargained me into practical slavery!"
The Gryffindor blinked cluelessly at him for a moment before regaining himself. "It's not slavery, Malfoy. I'm sure he just needs to be able to trust you –"
"Oh, of course. Because the threat of what Daddy would do to me if I switched sides again just wasn't enough!" came the sardonic retort. "No, I needed to have it knocked home that Albus Dumbledore is all-powerful and I'm barely good enough to carry out his whims!"
Potter was staring at him like he'd lost his mind – which, admittedly, was a distinct possibility by this point. "Malfoy, I think you're blowing things a little out of proportion –"
"I don't care if I'm blowing things out of proportion!" he was suddenly yelling, losing any last trace of dignity. "That's what it feels like!"
The empty hallway rang with silence as his shouts faded. They had stopped walking without realising, and now stood facing each other, hands hovering in the vicinity of their wands.
Draco felt colour flood his cheeks in embarrassment as he realised how far he'd let himself go. God, what was he? A bloody child, to throw a tantrum without a moment's notice? Closing his eyes for a second, he snapped his restraints back into place, standing straighter and removing any trace of expression from his face. "Well, Potter? As much as I love wasting my time in your company, I have things to do. Am I a member of your little club or not?"
The Gryffindor looked puzzled at the sudden change in persona. He hesitated before answering, obviously wondering what had just happened. Finally, he gathered himself enough to stammer out, "Uhm, I guess you can sign later, and Hermione'll have to make another coin… Look, I know where your room is, I can just come get you whenever the meeting is… If that's any easier."
Draco sighed, looking very nonplussed. "Brilliant," he drawled.