Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters mentioned in this story and
I'm not making a profit from this, so don't sue me. May contain vague
references to Greek mythology.
Chapter 1
He was falling, gently on to soft satin sheets the color of fresh blood, a crimson so bright that Harry could barely make out the dark-red rose petals that were scattered on the sheets. Slowly, Harry looked up to see Draco standing beside the bed, completely naked except for a pair of black leather trousers. Harry reached out and lightly brushed his fingers across Draco's cheek. The skin was surprisingly soft and warm. Draco closed his clear, gray eyes and leaned in to kiss Harry, lightly, on the forehead. Gingerly, he kissed Harry's closed eyelids, and finally his mouth. A wave of pleasure left Harry tingling from head to toe. A soft moan escaped his lips and he was falling, falling, falling into a river of blood.
Harry woke with a start. Groaning, he sat up and turned on the light. Gingerly he reached for his glasses and his room at the Dursley's swerved into sharp focus as he put them on. A light summer breeze blew in from the open window, rustling the curtains and gently caressing Harry's sweat soaked skin. With a start, Harry realized he was shaking from head to toe. He'd been having that dream again.
Since the start of summer, he'd been having the same dream every night. At first, Harry had been too embarrassed to tell anyone. I mean come on, what was he supposed to say:
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
Hope, you're all right. Anyways, I've got this problem that I've been
meaning to tell you about. You see, I've been having this weird dream
about Draco Malfoy and in it we just happen to be snogging each other.
Do you have any idea why I'm having it?
--Harry Potter
It sounded tacky even to Harry. Besides, it was Draco Malfoy he'd been kissing in the dream. Harry shuddered, Malfoy, his archenemy, and the one person he hated the most, even thinking about it made Harry sick. However, the dream was more than just adolescence, Harry knew that now. He had been trying to block it with what little Occlumency he had learned and yet every night, the dream came back again, even more vividly that the night before. Grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill from the nightstand, Harry began to write.
Dear Professor Dumbledore...
***
The early morning light shone cold and harsh as Draco stepped into the main hall of the Manor. Draco had been out for an early morning ride with Sterling, his new stallion, and he had just come back from the stables. Slipping out of the riding jacket, he carelessly let it fall to the carpeted floor, knowing a house elf would come clean it up once he had left the main hall. Lightly, Draco strode up the grand marble staircase until he got to the third floor. Malfoy Manor was arranged so that each family member had an entire floor of the house for his or her personal use. In Draco's case, he had the third floor while his father had the second floor and his mother, the fourth. Draco smiled smugly to himself as he made his way to his study. Sitting down in the padded leather chair behind the antique mahogany desk, Draco opened the spell book in front of him. He was in a good mood today because he had finally found the last ingredient of the potion that would banish "the dream" from his sleep.
Ever since he got out of St. Mungo's after Potter had hexed him, Draco had been having a disturbing dream about that Potter boy. At first, Draco thought it was some prank Potter had pulled on him but now Draco wasn't so sure. Invasion, especially into another's mind, was a dark spell that, to Draco's knowledge, could only be accomplished by a true dark wizard. It was unlikely that Saint Potter had anything to do with it.
Draco carefully removed a vial from the secret compartment in the desk. If Draco had brewed the potion right, then one sip would guarantee he'd be shielded from all forms of legilimency and mind control as well as enhance his own legilimency abilities. The potion had been a complicated one, requiring the potion to be brewed in a pure silver cauldron and bottled in a polished diamond flask. Now, he had finally obtained the last ingredient. Gingerly, Draco removed another bottle from his pocket. Inside, was one drop of a slick, silvery liquid. Draco shuddered as he stared into the depths of the bottle. It was unicorn's blood. The unicorn had been a willing donor so the blood was not cursed, but looking at the liquid, Draco couldn't help but remember that night. That night when he and Potter had stumbled on the Dark Lord and he, Draco, had run from the ghastly sight of the slain unicorn and that shadowy figure drinking it's blood.
Draco had a special affinity with unicorns. In fact, he had a special affinity with all creatures of the wood. When he was younger, he'd once called an entire herd of centaurs to his aid when a rogue werewolf had attacked him. Draco was a young Lord of the Woods. In fact he was the strongest Lord of the Woods since the Greek wizard, Pan; a fact that Draco had managed to hide from the rest of the wizarding world for 16 years, even going so far as to provoke a hippogriff into attacking him in his third year.
Opening the bottles, Draco poured the unicorn's blood into the potion and swirled the dark red liquid around. At once, the potion turned so completely black that it seemed to draw all the sunlight out of the room. Raising the bottle to his lips, Draco drank it down in one painless gulp.
Draco doubled over, clutching his stomach. The chair tipped forward and he ended up on the rug behind the desk. His stomach was on fire with a burning pain that spread slowly to the rest of his body. Draco stared wonderingly as black flames licked at his fingers, leaving them ice cold.
Slowly, the pain receded, leaving Draco panting on the carpet. The magic that had thus filled the room was gone but Draco could still feel it, tingling, just out of reach. It was always this way with magic. You could sense it, but it was always hidden beneath the surface until you called upon it. The one skill that made dark wizards so powerful was the skill to hide their true potential, letting their opponents underestimate them. It had cost many an Auror his life.
Draco sneered with contempt. Of course, his father had never understood that and looks where his father was now, Azkaban. Lucius was a disgrace to the Malfoy name and honor. It was a wonder that the rest of the family hadn't excommunicated him yet. Not that Draco could blame them. Over the years, the Malfoy family fortune had slowly disintegrated, leaving some branches of the family with nothing but the name of Malfoy. Draco's branch was one of the few remaining that had not only kept that fortune, but also increased it exponentially through smart politics and shady investments. Draco was now sitting on top of the biggest wizarding fortune in the world and he doubted that the others would dare refuse contact with such an easy source for money, no matter what he did. Draco was Master of the Malfoy Family now, and he was going to make sure that it stayed that way.
***
Professor Dumbledore frowned; troubled by the letter he had gotten from Harry. Dumbledore wasn't surprised that a dream could slip past the boy's Occlumency shields. Hell, who would be? The boy was a genius at destroying dark magic, but Harry was completely inept when it came to dark magic. However, after the wards he had put up around Privet Drive that summer, Dumbledore just wasn't prepared to deal with anymore of Harry's skewed dreams. Dumbledore frowned as he thought of the letter again. It had been unusual even for Harry. There was no mistaking the fact that Harry and Draco hated each other, so for Harry to start having passionate dreams about Malfoy was definitely not normal.
Dumbledore had studied the Malfoy boy ever since he had arrived at the school five years ago. At first, Dumbledore had taken Draco to be a miniature version of Lucius, but then the boy had surprised him with the extent of the power Draco wielded so adeptly and the ease in which he had managed to hide that power from his teachers. The Professors all knew Draco was above average, but nothing truly significant. Then, at the beginning of Draco's third year, Dumbledore had found out about Draco's hidden talent. Draco was a young Lord of the Woods, a gift so rare that the last reported case was two hundred years ago. He did not know how strong a gift Draco had, but Dumbledore was willing to bet it would be one of the strongest in history. Perhaps Draco would be even more powerful than the wizard Pan Draco was descended from.
Whatever the case, Harry was no longer safe on Privet Drive for the rest of the summer. Better that Harry could be at Hogwarts Castle where Dumbledore could more easily keep an eye on him.
Ever since the public had accepted that Lord Voldemort had indeed returned, the Order of the Phoenix headquarters had been moved from the Grimmauld Place to Hogwarts where security was tighter and space was less limited. Dumbledore could easily send Tonks or Moody to portkey Harry back to Hogwarts.
***
Harry groaned and rolled his eyes as he stared at the now familiar red sheets and Rose petals.
"Malfoy, you sick bastard!" snarled Harry angrily, "I don't care how gay you are, just stay the hell out of my dreams!"
Draco stepped back, for once the cold sneering mask was torn away and uncertainty flickered in those cold, gray eyes before they went hard and empty.
"I could say the same for you, Potter. I knew you didn't have a love life, but this is sick, this is beyond sick! If you are gay and have the hots for me, I didn't have to know."
"At least I'm not the one going out with Pansy Parkinson," retorted Harry hotly.
Draco went very still, once again, the calm mask was torn away and the look he gave Harry was pure malice. Leaning closer, Draco whispered in Harry's ear, "For your information, Harry, Parkinson is the whore of Slytherin and I have never gone out with her. I do have standards Potter, unlike you. And get your clothes on, you're flashing the entire room." Harry flushed and hurriedly gathered the sheets to cover himself.
"So you didn't sent the dreams?" ventured Harry nervously.
"No Potter, I didn't," replied Draco scornfully, "I'd thought you'd have figured that out by now but considering it was you, I'm not surprised.
"Can it Malfoy, it's really not helping me think right now," snapped Harry angrily. "My apologies Potter, I didn't know you could think," said Draco with a sardonic smile.
"Look Malfoy, I don't know about you but I'd rather like to stop these nightmares and the only way we can do that is by working together to figure out what the hell is wrong!"
"What is there to figure out?" asked Draco, "Just stay the fuck out of my dreams!" "It's not that simple Malfoy," exclaimed Harry exasperatedly, "Don't you think I would if I could? Occlumency doesn't work on these dreams!" Draco was silent for a moment.
Finally he ventured, "I tried brewing a potion to keep you out. It seems it doesn't work on this form of mind invasion."
"What do you mean, Malfoy?" asked Harry suspiciously, "You either tell me now, or I tell Dumbledore about this!"
"Don't tell me you told Dumbledore about the dreams?" asked Draco with a small smirk, "That's so like you, Potter. Dumbledore's favorite golden boy, let me guess, you're also lovers, right?"
"Shut the fuck up, Malfoy!" snarled Harry, "Just shut the fuck up!"
Draco obliged, a self-satisfied smile on his face. Leaning against the mahogany bedpost, he looked like a cat; a dangerous cat that wouldn't think twice about killing Harry if he had the right incentive. Cold fear flowed over Harry as he stared at Draco. Shit, Harry had never been scared of Draco before, but something had changed and Draco seemed more self- assured, more sure of his own superiority over Harry. Moonlight flowed through the open window, casting a pale, ethereal glow onto Draco's skin.
"What else have you been hiding from me?" whispered Harry suspiciously, "You screwed up on your OWL's on purpose, didn't you? What kind of game are you playing, Malfoy?"
Draco turned to face Harry, his eyes empty, "What are you talking about, Potter?"
"Cut the chase, Malfoy, you know what I mean," replied Harry patiently, "You're not a great wizard Malfoy, we both know that, and we both know you don't leak magic like a swarm of wizards either. The only other wizard that feels anything close to what you just felt like is Lord Voldemort!"
Something like panic flickered in Draco's eyes, "When have I ever answered to you Potter? Get out, I don't ever want to see you again, just get the fuck out!"
With a jerk, Draco woke up; he shuddered with the memory of the dream. He had been so close, so fucking close to shattering that illusion he'd worked so hard to build. Shaking and soaked with cold sweat, Draco struggled into a robe before silently padding down the hall to his library.
***
Harry wanted to scream with rage. He had been so close, so close to learning about Malfoy's little secret last night. But why had Malfoy bolted like that? Harry pounded his fists into the wall with frustration. Malfoy was up to something; the dream reeked of it. But what on earth could it be?
***
Draco arranged himself carefully into the armchair in his father's study. He'd already bathed this morning and he was now dressed in an expensive white silk shirt that dripped lace and beautiful French ruffles. Black trousers that were so tight they looked painted on and knee high black dragon leather boots completed the outfit. Draco had briefly considered wearing the formal Malfoy robes but had decided against it. Wearing the robes would put Voldemort on guard and make him wary. If Draco's plan was to work, then he needed not only to impress Voldemort, but also to keep him guessing at Draco's game.
Nodding to the cowering house elf, Draco silently gave him the order to open the study door. At once, Voldemort strode in. Rising gracefully from his own chair, Draco offered Voldemort a seat in front of the desk.
"Well boy?" asked Voldemort, "You asked for a private audience and I have granted it. Now, would you care to explain why you have summoned me?"
Draco smiled graciously as he returned to his seat behind the desk. Leaning back, he crossed his legs and steepled his fingers in a businesslike manner. "I would kindly ask that you refer to me as Master Malfoy," replied Draco with a humorless smile, "As you know, I am head of the Malfoy family in my father's absence."
"Very well, young Master Malfoy," answered Voldemort with an amused smile that caused his snakelike face to spread malevolently, "Now what can I do with you."
"I think a renegotiation of the treaties that bind the Malfoy's and my Lord together are in order," began Draco, "The House of Malfoy has faithfully served my Lord for many years and are still doing so today. However, it has come to my notice that you have never fulfilled the contract you signed with my father."
"And what contract is that?" asked Voldemort quietly.
"When the Malfoy's agreed to help you in your enterprise, it was with the understanding that we would be partners, equal in strength, and not your subordinates. It was also understood that we would have your protection," continued Draco, "Until both conditions have been fulfilled, the House of Malfoy shall remain neutral."
"Perhaps it is you who do not understand, young Master," replied Voldemort condescendingly, "the contract was signed with the understanding that the Malfoy's would have the power to be my equals. If your father was not strong enough to be my equal, then I highly doubt his son would wield enough power either. Do not waste your time boy,"
Draco just smiled that secret cattish smile, slowly, he withdrew his outermost shields, the air around them hissing madly with electricity making Voldemort shrink back with surprise and a little fear. "Never underestimate me, Voldemort," hissed Draco, "I do not bluff when I say you haven't tasted a fraction of my full power yet. You need me Voldemort, you need the strength and political clout of the House of Malfoy if you ever wish to expand beyond Europe and conquer the entire wizarding world."
"You surprise me, Draco," confided Voldemort in a soft hiss of a voice, "So much power for one so young. Yet, I do believe that you still do not comprehend the present situation, boy. The Malfoys' fear me, more than they fear you. You cannot command their loyalty, young Master Malfoy."
Draco raised one eyebrow elegantly, "Are you confident enough of that fact to risk losing your strongest ally? Face the facts, Voldemort, you've lost too many of your precious Death Eaters this summer. Even now, your supporters grumble behind your back about your fate. The wizarding world knows your back now and you are being hounded by Aurors. You are not in a position to administer empty threats."
"What would you have me do?" asked Voldemort in an angry voice.
"I want your word that no harm shall come to me or my people and that you acknowledge my right to remain neutral."
Voldemort snakelike face fell, "I can give you my protection, if you wish it, but I cannot let you remain neutral."
"It seems you have no choice," replied Draco in an empty voice.
Voldemort snarled in frustration, "Just wait boy. Once your father gets out of Azkaban, you will be nothing for I shall see to it myself!"
A cold wind blew through the study, ruffling Draco's fine blonde hair, "My father is no longer Master of this family; I am. Listen to me Voldemort, you are no longer welcome in this house, you shall never again be welcome here, and now get out!"
***
End
Chapter 1
He was falling, gently on to soft satin sheets the color of fresh blood, a crimson so bright that Harry could barely make out the dark-red rose petals that were scattered on the sheets. Slowly, Harry looked up to see Draco standing beside the bed, completely naked except for a pair of black leather trousers. Harry reached out and lightly brushed his fingers across Draco's cheek. The skin was surprisingly soft and warm. Draco closed his clear, gray eyes and leaned in to kiss Harry, lightly, on the forehead. Gingerly, he kissed Harry's closed eyelids, and finally his mouth. A wave of pleasure left Harry tingling from head to toe. A soft moan escaped his lips and he was falling, falling, falling into a river of blood.
Harry woke with a start. Groaning, he sat up and turned on the light. Gingerly he reached for his glasses and his room at the Dursley's swerved into sharp focus as he put them on. A light summer breeze blew in from the open window, rustling the curtains and gently caressing Harry's sweat soaked skin. With a start, Harry realized he was shaking from head to toe. He'd been having that dream again.
Since the start of summer, he'd been having the same dream every night. At first, Harry had been too embarrassed to tell anyone. I mean come on, what was he supposed to say:
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
Hope, you're all right. Anyways, I've got this problem that I've been
meaning to tell you about. You see, I've been having this weird dream
about Draco Malfoy and in it we just happen to be snogging each other.
Do you have any idea why I'm having it?
--Harry Potter
It sounded tacky even to Harry. Besides, it was Draco Malfoy he'd been kissing in the dream. Harry shuddered, Malfoy, his archenemy, and the one person he hated the most, even thinking about it made Harry sick. However, the dream was more than just adolescence, Harry knew that now. He had been trying to block it with what little Occlumency he had learned and yet every night, the dream came back again, even more vividly that the night before. Grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill from the nightstand, Harry began to write.
Dear Professor Dumbledore...
***
The early morning light shone cold and harsh as Draco stepped into the main hall of the Manor. Draco had been out for an early morning ride with Sterling, his new stallion, and he had just come back from the stables. Slipping out of the riding jacket, he carelessly let it fall to the carpeted floor, knowing a house elf would come clean it up once he had left the main hall. Lightly, Draco strode up the grand marble staircase until he got to the third floor. Malfoy Manor was arranged so that each family member had an entire floor of the house for his or her personal use. In Draco's case, he had the third floor while his father had the second floor and his mother, the fourth. Draco smiled smugly to himself as he made his way to his study. Sitting down in the padded leather chair behind the antique mahogany desk, Draco opened the spell book in front of him. He was in a good mood today because he had finally found the last ingredient of the potion that would banish "the dream" from his sleep.
Ever since he got out of St. Mungo's after Potter had hexed him, Draco had been having a disturbing dream about that Potter boy. At first, Draco thought it was some prank Potter had pulled on him but now Draco wasn't so sure. Invasion, especially into another's mind, was a dark spell that, to Draco's knowledge, could only be accomplished by a true dark wizard. It was unlikely that Saint Potter had anything to do with it.
Draco carefully removed a vial from the secret compartment in the desk. If Draco had brewed the potion right, then one sip would guarantee he'd be shielded from all forms of legilimency and mind control as well as enhance his own legilimency abilities. The potion had been a complicated one, requiring the potion to be brewed in a pure silver cauldron and bottled in a polished diamond flask. Now, he had finally obtained the last ingredient. Gingerly, Draco removed another bottle from his pocket. Inside, was one drop of a slick, silvery liquid. Draco shuddered as he stared into the depths of the bottle. It was unicorn's blood. The unicorn had been a willing donor so the blood was not cursed, but looking at the liquid, Draco couldn't help but remember that night. That night when he and Potter had stumbled on the Dark Lord and he, Draco, had run from the ghastly sight of the slain unicorn and that shadowy figure drinking it's blood.
Draco had a special affinity with unicorns. In fact, he had a special affinity with all creatures of the wood. When he was younger, he'd once called an entire herd of centaurs to his aid when a rogue werewolf had attacked him. Draco was a young Lord of the Woods. In fact he was the strongest Lord of the Woods since the Greek wizard, Pan; a fact that Draco had managed to hide from the rest of the wizarding world for 16 years, even going so far as to provoke a hippogriff into attacking him in his third year.
Opening the bottles, Draco poured the unicorn's blood into the potion and swirled the dark red liquid around. At once, the potion turned so completely black that it seemed to draw all the sunlight out of the room. Raising the bottle to his lips, Draco drank it down in one painless gulp.
Draco doubled over, clutching his stomach. The chair tipped forward and he ended up on the rug behind the desk. His stomach was on fire with a burning pain that spread slowly to the rest of his body. Draco stared wonderingly as black flames licked at his fingers, leaving them ice cold.
Slowly, the pain receded, leaving Draco panting on the carpet. The magic that had thus filled the room was gone but Draco could still feel it, tingling, just out of reach. It was always this way with magic. You could sense it, but it was always hidden beneath the surface until you called upon it. The one skill that made dark wizards so powerful was the skill to hide their true potential, letting their opponents underestimate them. It had cost many an Auror his life.
Draco sneered with contempt. Of course, his father had never understood that and looks where his father was now, Azkaban. Lucius was a disgrace to the Malfoy name and honor. It was a wonder that the rest of the family hadn't excommunicated him yet. Not that Draco could blame them. Over the years, the Malfoy family fortune had slowly disintegrated, leaving some branches of the family with nothing but the name of Malfoy. Draco's branch was one of the few remaining that had not only kept that fortune, but also increased it exponentially through smart politics and shady investments. Draco was now sitting on top of the biggest wizarding fortune in the world and he doubted that the others would dare refuse contact with such an easy source for money, no matter what he did. Draco was Master of the Malfoy Family now, and he was going to make sure that it stayed that way.
***
Professor Dumbledore frowned; troubled by the letter he had gotten from Harry. Dumbledore wasn't surprised that a dream could slip past the boy's Occlumency shields. Hell, who would be? The boy was a genius at destroying dark magic, but Harry was completely inept when it came to dark magic. However, after the wards he had put up around Privet Drive that summer, Dumbledore just wasn't prepared to deal with anymore of Harry's skewed dreams. Dumbledore frowned as he thought of the letter again. It had been unusual even for Harry. There was no mistaking the fact that Harry and Draco hated each other, so for Harry to start having passionate dreams about Malfoy was definitely not normal.
Dumbledore had studied the Malfoy boy ever since he had arrived at the school five years ago. At first, Dumbledore had taken Draco to be a miniature version of Lucius, but then the boy had surprised him with the extent of the power Draco wielded so adeptly and the ease in which he had managed to hide that power from his teachers. The Professors all knew Draco was above average, but nothing truly significant. Then, at the beginning of Draco's third year, Dumbledore had found out about Draco's hidden talent. Draco was a young Lord of the Woods, a gift so rare that the last reported case was two hundred years ago. He did not know how strong a gift Draco had, but Dumbledore was willing to bet it would be one of the strongest in history. Perhaps Draco would be even more powerful than the wizard Pan Draco was descended from.
Whatever the case, Harry was no longer safe on Privet Drive for the rest of the summer. Better that Harry could be at Hogwarts Castle where Dumbledore could more easily keep an eye on him.
Ever since the public had accepted that Lord Voldemort had indeed returned, the Order of the Phoenix headquarters had been moved from the Grimmauld Place to Hogwarts where security was tighter and space was less limited. Dumbledore could easily send Tonks or Moody to portkey Harry back to Hogwarts.
***
Harry groaned and rolled his eyes as he stared at the now familiar red sheets and Rose petals.
"Malfoy, you sick bastard!" snarled Harry angrily, "I don't care how gay you are, just stay the hell out of my dreams!"
Draco stepped back, for once the cold sneering mask was torn away and uncertainty flickered in those cold, gray eyes before they went hard and empty.
"I could say the same for you, Potter. I knew you didn't have a love life, but this is sick, this is beyond sick! If you are gay and have the hots for me, I didn't have to know."
"At least I'm not the one going out with Pansy Parkinson," retorted Harry hotly.
Draco went very still, once again, the calm mask was torn away and the look he gave Harry was pure malice. Leaning closer, Draco whispered in Harry's ear, "For your information, Harry, Parkinson is the whore of Slytherin and I have never gone out with her. I do have standards Potter, unlike you. And get your clothes on, you're flashing the entire room." Harry flushed and hurriedly gathered the sheets to cover himself.
"So you didn't sent the dreams?" ventured Harry nervously.
"No Potter, I didn't," replied Draco scornfully, "I'd thought you'd have figured that out by now but considering it was you, I'm not surprised.
"Can it Malfoy, it's really not helping me think right now," snapped Harry angrily. "My apologies Potter, I didn't know you could think," said Draco with a sardonic smile.
"Look Malfoy, I don't know about you but I'd rather like to stop these nightmares and the only way we can do that is by working together to figure out what the hell is wrong!"
"What is there to figure out?" asked Draco, "Just stay the fuck out of my dreams!" "It's not that simple Malfoy," exclaimed Harry exasperatedly, "Don't you think I would if I could? Occlumency doesn't work on these dreams!" Draco was silent for a moment.
Finally he ventured, "I tried brewing a potion to keep you out. It seems it doesn't work on this form of mind invasion."
"What do you mean, Malfoy?" asked Harry suspiciously, "You either tell me now, or I tell Dumbledore about this!"
"Don't tell me you told Dumbledore about the dreams?" asked Draco with a small smirk, "That's so like you, Potter. Dumbledore's favorite golden boy, let me guess, you're also lovers, right?"
"Shut the fuck up, Malfoy!" snarled Harry, "Just shut the fuck up!"
Draco obliged, a self-satisfied smile on his face. Leaning against the mahogany bedpost, he looked like a cat; a dangerous cat that wouldn't think twice about killing Harry if he had the right incentive. Cold fear flowed over Harry as he stared at Draco. Shit, Harry had never been scared of Draco before, but something had changed and Draco seemed more self- assured, more sure of his own superiority over Harry. Moonlight flowed through the open window, casting a pale, ethereal glow onto Draco's skin.
"What else have you been hiding from me?" whispered Harry suspiciously, "You screwed up on your OWL's on purpose, didn't you? What kind of game are you playing, Malfoy?"
Draco turned to face Harry, his eyes empty, "What are you talking about, Potter?"
"Cut the chase, Malfoy, you know what I mean," replied Harry patiently, "You're not a great wizard Malfoy, we both know that, and we both know you don't leak magic like a swarm of wizards either. The only other wizard that feels anything close to what you just felt like is Lord Voldemort!"
Something like panic flickered in Draco's eyes, "When have I ever answered to you Potter? Get out, I don't ever want to see you again, just get the fuck out!"
With a jerk, Draco woke up; he shuddered with the memory of the dream. He had been so close, so fucking close to shattering that illusion he'd worked so hard to build. Shaking and soaked with cold sweat, Draco struggled into a robe before silently padding down the hall to his library.
***
Harry wanted to scream with rage. He had been so close, so close to learning about Malfoy's little secret last night. But why had Malfoy bolted like that? Harry pounded his fists into the wall with frustration. Malfoy was up to something; the dream reeked of it. But what on earth could it be?
***
Draco arranged himself carefully into the armchair in his father's study. He'd already bathed this morning and he was now dressed in an expensive white silk shirt that dripped lace and beautiful French ruffles. Black trousers that were so tight they looked painted on and knee high black dragon leather boots completed the outfit. Draco had briefly considered wearing the formal Malfoy robes but had decided against it. Wearing the robes would put Voldemort on guard and make him wary. If Draco's plan was to work, then he needed not only to impress Voldemort, but also to keep him guessing at Draco's game.
Nodding to the cowering house elf, Draco silently gave him the order to open the study door. At once, Voldemort strode in. Rising gracefully from his own chair, Draco offered Voldemort a seat in front of the desk.
"Well boy?" asked Voldemort, "You asked for a private audience and I have granted it. Now, would you care to explain why you have summoned me?"
Draco smiled graciously as he returned to his seat behind the desk. Leaning back, he crossed his legs and steepled his fingers in a businesslike manner. "I would kindly ask that you refer to me as Master Malfoy," replied Draco with a humorless smile, "As you know, I am head of the Malfoy family in my father's absence."
"Very well, young Master Malfoy," answered Voldemort with an amused smile that caused his snakelike face to spread malevolently, "Now what can I do with you."
"I think a renegotiation of the treaties that bind the Malfoy's and my Lord together are in order," began Draco, "The House of Malfoy has faithfully served my Lord for many years and are still doing so today. However, it has come to my notice that you have never fulfilled the contract you signed with my father."
"And what contract is that?" asked Voldemort quietly.
"When the Malfoy's agreed to help you in your enterprise, it was with the understanding that we would be partners, equal in strength, and not your subordinates. It was also understood that we would have your protection," continued Draco, "Until both conditions have been fulfilled, the House of Malfoy shall remain neutral."
"Perhaps it is you who do not understand, young Master," replied Voldemort condescendingly, "the contract was signed with the understanding that the Malfoy's would have the power to be my equals. If your father was not strong enough to be my equal, then I highly doubt his son would wield enough power either. Do not waste your time boy,"
Draco just smiled that secret cattish smile, slowly, he withdrew his outermost shields, the air around them hissing madly with electricity making Voldemort shrink back with surprise and a little fear. "Never underestimate me, Voldemort," hissed Draco, "I do not bluff when I say you haven't tasted a fraction of my full power yet. You need me Voldemort, you need the strength and political clout of the House of Malfoy if you ever wish to expand beyond Europe and conquer the entire wizarding world."
"You surprise me, Draco," confided Voldemort in a soft hiss of a voice, "So much power for one so young. Yet, I do believe that you still do not comprehend the present situation, boy. The Malfoys' fear me, more than they fear you. You cannot command their loyalty, young Master Malfoy."
Draco raised one eyebrow elegantly, "Are you confident enough of that fact to risk losing your strongest ally? Face the facts, Voldemort, you've lost too many of your precious Death Eaters this summer. Even now, your supporters grumble behind your back about your fate. The wizarding world knows your back now and you are being hounded by Aurors. You are not in a position to administer empty threats."
"What would you have me do?" asked Voldemort in an angry voice.
"I want your word that no harm shall come to me or my people and that you acknowledge my right to remain neutral."
Voldemort snakelike face fell, "I can give you my protection, if you wish it, but I cannot let you remain neutral."
"It seems you have no choice," replied Draco in an empty voice.
Voldemort snarled in frustration, "Just wait boy. Once your father gets out of Azkaban, you will be nothing for I shall see to it myself!"
A cold wind blew through the study, ruffling Draco's fine blonde hair, "My father is no longer Master of this family; I am. Listen to me Voldemort, you are no longer welcome in this house, you shall never again be welcome here, and now get out!"
***
End