Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Oath Breaker ❯ Harry's First Lesson ( Chapter 4 )

Part 4

Dried vervain, pulverized oak root, crushed snakes fangs, a multitude of potions ingredients filled Snape's private stores, categorized and carefully inventoried, and Draco knew every single item hidden away in the lonely office. His mentor's idea of rest and recuperation involved long hours spent examining every bottle, re-labeling jars where the tags had faded or fallen off. Different handwriting covered the jars for the first few hours, written by students suffering Snape's detentions, but as he progressed into the rare or dangerous ingredients, including hen's teeth, adder's venom, and poisoned dragon's liver, he only saw his mentor's handwriting.

Now on his third day of inventory, he sat in a niche of the office, well hidden behind the cabinets as he examined the ingredients Snape hid from the rest of the faculty. Dumbledore probably knew about them but no doubt the Ministry did not. Some of them were common like raven's feathers or merely expensive like cockatrice eyes, but taken together, the cobwebs and belladonna and sea serpent's fangs comprised some of the universal components of a dark wizard's ingredient cabinet.

He picked up a bottle missing a label and held it to the candle light. Something red and thick swirled around inside but he couldn't tell for sure what it was without opening it, and considering the amount of dust accumulated on the top, no doubt the contents were sealed with a preservation charm to keep it from drying out. But then very few liquids needed charming, so he simply wrote 'blood, unknown' on a new label and set it back on the shelf. The jar next to it read 'will o the wisp' but when he picked it up, he found it empty. Severus must have used it up recently, though, since he spotted glowing residue on the air holes poked into the top.

By the time he finished, his shoulders ached and his head pounded, but he knew what they had to work with in the coming months and could easily find his way around the shelves for when Severus sent him hunting for refills. Which, of course, was one of the privileges of being a master with an apprentice.

Draco looked out the nearest window and saw that there was still some daylight left. Done with his chores and sick of being cramped inside the dungeons, he gathered a knapsack and two extra jars, left a note and locked the office behind himself.

Without any other Slytherins passing through the halls and filling it with their whispers, the dungeons felt like a coffin waiting for a body, but the silence was preferable to the clamor of the rest of the students. No one came down into the dungeons to bother him. Up in the main part of the school, he carefully avoided the crowded halls and took secondary routes, walking through neglected passages that showed his footsteps in the dust. Forgotten even by the house elves, the quiet halls lead him past locked doors that muffled soft rustlings and murmurs from inside the empty rooms. The scattered paintings here were black and smoky and he did not care to look at them.

As he neared the main hall, the voices of other students grew louder until he stood at the last corner, just out of their sight. He grasped the hood of his cloak and drew it low over his face, quietly thanking Severus for buying a handful of robes for him. The only drawback was that Snape's taste in clothing was as severe as his personality. Although his new robes were expensive, they were also simple, the cloak more utilitarian than elegant. It didn't surprise him, his father was the one with the more refined taste, but it was a little annoying.

Waiting for a lull in the voices, he finally stepped out and headed quickly for the doors. Cold wind blew over him as he stepped outside. Voldemort's blizzard had finally stopped the day after he arrived, but the snow refused to melt. Sunlight glimmered on the white ice covering the trees and ground. He followed the worn path down to the lake, and as he got closer, he heard the sound of laughter and teachers yelling at students. When he could see the lake clearly, he saw students skating on the frozen surface. A tight ring of teachers kept watch, but no one seemed worried about a surprise attack.

The lack of green scarves made his stomach clench.

"You better be alive," he whispered to his absent friends. Only an empty wind answered.

Turning away from the lake, he trudged through fresh snow and walked along the treeline. Finding anything on the ground would be next to impossible, but for now the wind and cold air broke up the monotony of sorting through ingredients. It also gave him time to brood.

His friends were wandering the countryside in this weather. He'd nearly died coming to Hogwarts and he didn't want to think he was luckier than Pansy right now. His father held tenuous command over a group of traitorous Death Eaters, who may or may not consider their rank as Knights of Walpurgis more binding than their loyalty to Voldemort. And God alone knew where his mother was. He pulled his cloak a little tighter and sighed.

"Stupid child, how on earth did you survive long enough to get here?"

Draco startled back, biting off his angry retort when he recognized Snape's voice. Preparing himself for a scolding, he turned around.

"Don't bother sulking," Snape said. "I would have thought that your flight here would have made you more cautious. Obviously I was wrong if you're so wrapped up in your daydreams."

"My apologies, sir," Draco said. "Should I go play with the other, more vigilant students?"

With a snort, Snape glared at the lake and all the students skating in loops and falling into each other. "The headmaster is convinced that the students need downtime more than ever. He's placed all his trust in the various warding spells around the campus." He looked back at Draco. "And what are you doing out here? Have you finished your work already?"

Crossing his arms, Draco gave a small toss of his head to throw his hood back. "Of course. And when I realized my master was in a worse mood than normal, I decided to come up here like a good apprentice and let him take it out on me."

Severus stared at him for several seconds, then groaned and closed his eyes. "Insufferable Malfoys," he muttered, but in a long suffering tone that indicated more fondness than real exasperation. He glanced back at him with his usual scowl, however, and narrowed his eyes. "Why are you out here?"

"I finished up in the office and needed to stretch my legs. I'm still a little shaky." Draco looked over at the forest, just as dark and foreboding during the day as it was at night. "And...I don't think Potter will be putting off his lessons for much longer. Unless I want him throwing spells at me, I need something for target practice."

"It has been awhile since you needed targets, hasn't it?" Snape asked. "There should be some acorn trees nearby, just don't wander too far."

Draco nodded once and watched him stride back across the ice, picking up two students that had fallen and slid away from the rest of the group. Left alone again, he continued to walk around the lake, staring at the tree branches for familiar clumps of acorns. Frozen by the blizzard, the dead leaves all remained on the branches only by the smooth ice coating everything in sight, but with every passing breeze they cracked and fell so that the whole forest seemed to be raining leaves.

Finally he spotted a few acorns on a young, scraggly oak. He bent and dug through the snow to the hard ground where he found dozens more scattered about, most of them rotted or cracked, but a few were in good condition. As he filled his first jar, he occasionally stuck his hands back into his cloak, specially spelled against the cold weather, and muttered to himself about Severus forgetting to add gloves to his wardrobe.

He slowly walked around the tree, gathering all the acorns he could find. Another, taller oak grew just beside this one, bearing even more acorns, and then he found another oak just a little further into the forest. By the time he'd filled his second jar, the sun was setting and the forest had turned nearly black with shadows.

"What're yeh doin' out here?"

The booming voice made his heart skip a beat. Scrabbling for his wand, Draco froze as he looked up and found a crossbow bearing down on him, an arrow primed and ready to fire. Easily towering over him, Hagrid stared at him suspiciously and glanced back at the trees to make sure they were alone, as if Draco had legions of demons waiting on him.

"I thought yeh weren't to leave the castle," Hagrid said, his voice rumbling angrily around them. "Yer not even supposed to be around the students."

If the crossbow hadn't been aimed at his face, Draco would have turned and ran, or better still, cast a spell and then run. Something that big might take two or three curses to kill. He mentally cursed himself. Severus had just berated him for letting his mind wander and yet he did it again. He tore his look away from the arrow and up at Hagrid himself...and for just a moment, the gigantic man flinched as their eyes met.

That little motion changed everything. Very slowly and without any sudden moves, Draco stood up and forced an arrogant smile onto his lips. After all, his father always told him that his arrogance could be his greatest weapon, if he only used it properly. Perhaps he could put the fearful rumors about dark wizards to use.

"I'm not a prisoner, I'm a guest," Draco said as if speaking to a child. "I can come and go as I please."

Hagrid stared at him for several seconds. "Dumbledore said yeh weren't goin' out of the dungeons."

"Knowing you," Draco said in his best drawl, "you didn't understand what he was saying. Let me put it to you simply. My stay in the dungeons is not to keep me locked up, it's a reprieve so I don't have to waste my time with you lot."

"You..." Hagrid growled. "You rotten little..."

"Dark wizard," Draco supplied. "You know, the kind that steals souls and grinds up muggle children to make my bread?"

By the way Hagrid tensed, Draco knew that the half-giant had indeed heard every rumor and probably believed them all. Hagrid lowered the crossbow but kept it cocked and ready to fire.

"I don' know why Dumbledore's lettin' yeh stay," he said, "there's enough evil around nowadays without inviting it in."

He's letting me stay because your side needs me, Draco thought, but he knew if he mentioned the lessons he'd be giving Potter, the secret would race around the school before morning. "Well, unless you intend to explain to your headmaster why you killed a guest, I need to go back inside," he said. He turned as if to walk back to the castle but hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the trees. "Come on then."

"I'm not going in," Hagrid started.

Draco pulled his hood up again to hide his smile. "Oh, I wasn't talking to you." And with that he walked out of the forest, laughing to himself as Hagrid looked wildly around for strange familiars and spirits. Once he was out of sight, however, his laughter died and he glowered as he walked.

"Stupid, overgrown servant," he muttered. "Just as dumb as the animals he cares for. Probably thinks I've already bargained my soul away. Just wait 'till he finds out I'm teaching the soddin' Boy Who Lived, wish I could see his face when he does. Primitive savage, that's all he is..."

But he was the savage that had held Draco's life in his hands for a few moments. Draco clenched his fists and only felt more frustrated when his right hand refused to close entirely. He was a dark wizard, damn it, powerful, capable, cunning enough to kill two Death Eaters while wounded and exhausted...although he didn't think he'd tell anyone that he nearly slept through the attack. Maybe his mother, if he ever saw her again. But then, she talked to his father and Severus about nearly everything and he could just imagine the three of them sitting together at tea and laughing at him.

"There he is!"

He looked up like a frightened deer as his dream of being chased through a wintry forest washed over him. Expecting a screaming mob armed with rocks the size of their fists, he breathed out shakily when he only saw Ron pointing at him from across the lake, Harry and Hermione at his side.

"That's it," Draco murmured, composing himself as they came closer. "No more daydreaming unless I'm safe inside the dungeons." He pulled his cloak a little tighter like a shield. Why were his nightmares so frequent and vivid now? He'd have to ask Severus later.

By the time they reached him, skating smoothly on the ice, his heart no longer pounded and he managed to watch them with a disdainful air. Harry came to a clumsy stop, kept upright only by his friends' hold on his arms.

"Never skated before, Potter?" Draco asked, openly chuckling.

"Where've you been?" Harry demanded. "Snape wouldn't tell me where you were and Dumbledore's been after me to start lessons."

"Already?" Draco asked. "It's only been three days."

"Five actually, you were asleep for the first two," Hermione said. "And every minute counts. An attack could come any day now."

"Which explains why you're all out enjoying the winter weather," Draco said.

"Quit stalling, Malfoy," Ron said. "Are you done hiding in the dungeons?"

"I won't be done 'hiding' since I'm helping create potions for your side," Draco said. "As for Potter's lessons...I suppose Snape will let me begin now. Coming inside then?" He walked by them, following the edge of the lake while they skated beside him.

"Oh come on," Ron said to him. "Everyone knows how to charm their shoes into skates. I don't want to have to shiver in this cold waiting on you to walk all the way around."

"You shouldn't be here in any case," Draco said. "I'm only supposed to teach Potter. Unless you'd like to learn dark magic, Weasley. Think your father would approve? Then again, your family's got enough children, I doubt they'd notice if they disowned one."

"You rotten little--" Ron said, lunging at him, but Harry grabbed his arm to keep himself from falling sideways.

"Don't, Ron," Harry said, his feet sliding together as he wobbled. "He's not worth getting into trouble over."

"I'm not so sure," Ron said, but he didn't lunge again.

The rest of the students were inside, leaving the lake quiet as the sun set on the horizon. The creeping shadows and brightest stars in the violet sky made all of them nervous, although Draco refused to show it while the others looked over their shoulders as they walked. As they finally made their way up to the castle, changing their skates back into shoes as they stepped off the ice, Draco walked a little behind them, pausing at the main doors as he looked back out over the snow. Glistening in the moonlight, the trees and lake shone like silver but the wind bit cruelly at his face. Without the sun, the night grew bitterly cold. He hoped his friends were not relying solely on charmed clothing as they traveled north.

Quiet murmurs caught his attention and he turned to find the majority of the school in the main hall taking off their coats and gloves, mumbling to each other as they paused and stared at him. He knew exactly what he looked like to them, standing in his black cloak that reached to the floor and the hood that shadowed his face. He knew what they'd all seen in their fairy tale picture books when they were much younger, that he was the perfect example of the dark wizard that came at night to put families into a bewitched sleep while he stole babies out of cribs. Their fear made him smile, but he remembered the murderous fear on the mobs in his dreams too well.

"This way," he said to Harry, heading for the side corridor.

"Wait," Ron said, but Draco cut him off.

"No audiences," he snapped, then whispered so only they heard him. "Unless you want to learn as well."

Hermione looked tempted and took a step to follow, but Ron's startled gasp of her name made her stop. Draco smiled and turned to leave. He didn't have to turn to know that Harry was following. In the silence, he could hear his footsteps behind him.

When they were safe inside the empty hall, he put his hood back and exhaled, slouching his shoulders. His heart longed to see Crabbe and Goyle and Pansy again. He was in desperate need of allies.

"Why did they do that?" Harry asked, coming up beside him.

"You mean stare like I was a wild animal?" Draco laughed humorlessly. "Didn't you ever read fairy tales when you were little?"

"Not really," Harry said. "Just a few stories in school. Why?"

"I can't imagine what muggle drivel you may have read before, but our fairy tales usually have a good hearted hero of the light vanquishing an evil dark wizard and rescuing a fair maiden and any stolen children to boot." His voice turned deceptively lighthearted as he spoke. "We soulless monsters live in dark caves and hide from the sun, but when the moon shines on the land we come out and devour travelers who've lost their way. And you can always tell a dark wizard at night because they were long black capes and hoods that look more like woven shadows. Of course we wizards just catch people out on the road. The dark witches have much more fun. They ride livestock and horses to exhaustion and take their pleasure from sleeping men." Draco glanced at him to make sure he was listening. "You should see the picture books, they're quite imaginative."

Harry was silent as they passed by empty echoing rooms and blank portraits. "Is any of that true?"

"Even the worst lies have a bit of truth to them." Draco remembered the deep cave and hearth that stretched out of his father's study. No doubt the ancient Malfoy family had once lived inside that earthen lair before building what would become the manor. "I haven't been able to read the Prophet since I arrived, but no doubt everyone knows what I am now. Of course they'll stare."

"Probably just curious knowing your manor is gone," Harry said. "The Prophet hasn't reported much. Dumbledore hasn't told them anything, so they don't know what happened yet."

Sharp footsteps behind them made them turn. Her hands holding her heavy coat, Hermione ran up to them and stopped to catch her breath. Even if he was a little confused, Harry smiled to have a friend nearby. Draco scowled.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "I told you--"

"No audiences unless I'm learning, too," she said, tilting her head defiantly. "And I am."

"Hermione--" Harry started.

"I'm not leaving you alone with him," she said. "Besides, I want to see this."

"What about Weasley?" Draco asked. "He didn't seem too keen on letting you."

"I'll deal with him later," she said. "Now, are we going or did you want to argue some more?"

Instead of answering, Draco led them through the maze of hallways that would eventually take them to the dungeons. Despite himself, he listened to Hermione's conversation with Harry about how Hogwarts often changed its inside architecture on a whim and that many paths and rooms were lost over the years, only to be rediscovered as the castle shifted itself around again.

"In fact," she said, "some of the portraits in the rest of the school say they have no idea where their real portraits are. They went visiting other paintings, the castle shifted, and they lost track of where everything was."

"So where do they stay, then?" Harry asked.

"Wherever they like, I guess. Most of the pictures of parties were originally blank landscapes." She looked around at the black canvases and shuddered at how the paint writhed without a picture. "I imagine the portraits wouldn't want to come back even if they knew where they were."

"Must not be eager to leave their parties," Draco said, taking them around another corner that led down a steeply angled hall. "After all, this hallway is right off the main entrance, which begs the question, Granger, are they really lost or does everyone just not like to admit this part of Hogwarts exists?"

"What do you mean? Of course they exist," she said crossly. "We're inside, aren't we?"

"Yes, but it's a little like Knockturn Alley," he said, his smile turning smug. "Everyone knows where it is, but no one likes to talk about it."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue but Harry beat her to it. "And why would we talk about it? There's nothing good there, just evil witches selling human fingernails or teeth or cursed things."

"Fingernails," Draco started, "processed properly can treat several different skin problems. Human teeth, especially the canines and incisors, are excellent for protective amulets."

"Really?" Hermione asked. "I've never seen them listed in any potions or charms books."

"That's because with fingernails I can also create a poppet that will suck all the life out of you," he said with a smile. "And teeth...well, in the wrong hands, what's left of the victim would be very messy."

Harry and Hermione grimaced and didn't ask anything else.

They finally came to the dungeons, but Draco did not take them into the Slytherin common room. Instead he chose a room off to side and led them in. Dusty desks lay pushed up against the far wall and the last lesson, a recipe for some forgotten potion, still faintly covered the blackboard. He opened one of his jars and took out a handful of acorns, and then carefully placed them on the floor several feet away from each other.

"The first thing you have to learn," he explained as he set the acorns down, "is that dark spells, as such, are not exactly like the spells you've been using."

"Dumbledore said they can be like throwing shadows," Harry said. "But that they take a lot of power."

"They are very tiring," Draco admitted. "Part of why I was dead exhausted when I arrived was because I had cast several spells earlier."

"To get rid of the Death Eaters chasing you?" Hermione asked.

Draco remembered the broken face of the second Death Eater just before he killed her. "Mm. Not entirely. But dark spells can be like shadows in that it's very hard to get a grip on them. A better way to explain it is that the dark arts are like a hydra. Cut off a head and it will twist around and become something stronger."

Standing over by the Gryffindors, Draco aimed his wand at the nearest acorn and whispered "risana." A blackish green light streamed out of his wand across the room at the nut.

Gnarled shoots grew out of the acorn, twisting together as they rose up and forming a thick trunk before tangling into a knot at the very top. Draco took a breath and stared at it. He hadn't created a target in years, and this one leaned a little to the right with a lopsided head. To his surprise, a few leaves sprouted out of the wood, bright green spots in the grey room.

"You'll need targets to practice on, so you have to master this spell first," Draco said to Harry. "I suggest you skip all your homework for a few weeks."

"Weeks?" Harry asked incredulously. "You expect me to waste time learning how to turn nuts into trees?"

"It's not turning a nut into a tree," Draco said. "Does that look like a tree to you?"

Hermione answered for him. "It looks like a bunch of skinny branches all curled together. What did you do to it? That's not a normal charm."

"Of course not, it's not your school of magic." Leaning against the front desk, Draco shrugged off his cloak and tossed it on the nearest chair. "Your charms are based mostly on Latin. If you need to alter a spell, you just add another word."

"Like mobiliarbus and mobilicorpus," Hermione nodded, oblivious to Harry's warning look.

Draco gazed sharply at her. "When did you need to move a body?"

"It's nothing important," Harry said, covering for her. "Just another adventure that earned Gryffindor a thousand house points."

"Right..." Draco said, unconvinced. "Well, anyway, yes. That's roughly the way your magic works. Ours, however, works purely on intent. I don't have to add another word. Risana means rise, but depending on the way I feel, I can make it mean to grow, like with that acorn, or to twist stone like liquid, or if I'm fighting someone, I can use it to boil their blood."

Eyes shut, teeth clenched, Hermione clutched her coat a little tighter, not out of fear but to settle her stomach as she imagined what that would look like. "Rise...you...you mean raise their body temperature?" she ground out.

"Exactly."

"That's not like our charms," she said, nodding once in agreement. "I might change someone into an animal, but I don't actually change their nature."

"What do you mean?" Harry looked between them uncomprehending. "Hermione? What do you mean, change their nature?"

"Change a hedgehog into a pincushion," Draco said, "all you're really doing is just giving the hedgehog a different outer form. If Granger here turned you into a lion, you'd still be Potter, just with fangs and teeth. But when I change something, I alter it. If I changed you into a lion, you'd be the Cat Who Lived. You'd forget who you used to be and run around eating your friends."

"Like a werewolf, Harry," Hermione said. "They're normal usually, but when the full moon comes and dark magic gets a hold of them, they completely forget themselves."

"And that is why dark magic requires so much power," Draco said. "Come to think of it, if I really did turn you into a lion, I'd probably be knocked out for a few days." He gestured at the acorns still lying on the floor. "It'll probably take you a week or two before you can cast risana and still have enough strength left to learn another spell."

Harry looked at Draco for several seconds. No doubt the blonde boy remembered his previous threat since he'd never gone this long without insulting Hermione's parentage or bringing up "the weasel," but he was also acting far friendlier than ever before. Far from charming, of course, but without the vicious insults or bullying condescension, this Draco was at least tolerable. But the change worried Harry. As happy as he was that these lessons would not be the torture he'd envisioned, any change in Malfoy's attitude made him suspicious.

"If you don't trust me," Draco said, thinking Harry's hesitation was about the spell, "you can try it right now. Aim at one of the acorns and want it to sprout vines."

Hermione hesitated, but Harry raised his wand, aimed and said "risana." His spell's light paled in comparison to Draco's and when it struck the acorn, only a few vines sprouted, making it look like a deformed spider. To his surprise, Draco nodded once.

"Not bad for a first try," he said. "Feel anything when you cast that?"

Harry glanced sideways at him. Draco sounded genuinely curious. "I don't know, but something was different. It felt...heavier. I could actually feel the spell's weight in my wand."

That reminded Draco of something he'd forgotten, and he sighed and closed his eyes. "Weight, right...dammit."

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

He swallowed his laugh. How to explain forgetting something he'd nearly lost his life to only days earlier? He'd lived under the threat of dark magic eating him from within since he was old enough to hold a wand. Narrowly avoiding a painful death, while frightening, was just a normal part of life for him.

"This has something to do with what happened before, doesn't it?" Harry asked. "When I had to help you back to Slytherin."

"That extra weight you felt," Draco said, looking at him, " it's what has to be cleansed every night. If you go too long without getting rid of it, it'll devour you. It's the price we pay for such powerful magic."

"With such a high price for failure," Harry said, "is it even worth it?"

"Of course it is!" Draco snapped, hissing in his displeasure. "You won't understand until you've practiced these spells, but the dark arts are far more satisfying, more...more..." He fumbled for a word to describe it but gave up. "The only reason it hurt me was because I had powerful spells from my family's entire history, as well as the dark lord's, swirling around me and I couldn't stop to take a bath in the snow."

"So how do you get rid of it?" Hermione asked. "Is it just taking a bath?"

"Water is necessary, yes," Draco said. "But there is a ritual and a...I guess you'd call it a prayer." He closed his eyes again and ran his hand through his hair. Stupid, stupid, how could he have been so stupid to forget that he'd have to teach these ungrateful Gryffindors the ritual? If Voldemort didn't kill him, his father might.

"Look," he started before they could tell him to hurry up and teach them, "I know you don't have any respect for dark magic, but I swear if you tell anyone the spell I'm about to show you, I won't teach you another damn spell, war or no. Every pureblood family has their own version of it and we never tell anyone what it is."

Hermione tilted her head, obviously thinking of something, but she didn't answer except to nod once. When Harry nodded too, Draco recited the spell and then slowly went over each word until they could give it back to him flawlessly. Unaccustomed to the different language, they struggled with the pronunciation, especially when he refused to tell them what the words meant. Once they could manage the harsh consonants and lyrical rhythm, he waved his hand dismissively.

"It'll do," he said, stifling a yawn. He pushed two jars of acorns across the desk towards them. "Here, you can use these to practice on. Don't bother coming back until you've learned risana well enough to make at least something resembling a small child."

"Child?" Hermione echoed. "Oh Malfoy, isn't there any way to skip this spell? We don't have time for this and--"

Draco cut her off with a laugh. "Yes, of course there's a way to skip this. You could just aim spells at each other and hope your counter spell is good enough. Here, you want another one to practice first?" He raised his wand, aimed at his slightly lopsided target and called out "haetus heorte!"

The spot where the target's heart would have been burst into flames, neatly burning a fist size hole through the chest so they could see the back wall through the blackened ash. Before the smoke cleared, Draco cast a crepara spell on the target. Instantly the tangled vines dried up, shriveling into a tight mass before crumbling to dust. He glanced back at the Gryffindors, whose twin expressions of revulsion had less to do with the target and more with imagining those done to a person.

"What..." Hermione mumbled, "what were those? I've never heard of those before. That first one wasn't Latin..."

"Most of our spells are from the old languages," Draco said, not bothering to hide how her reaction pleased him. "Your school of magic sided with the Roman invaders, so we didn't exactly take to Latin like you did. As for the words themselves...you'll learn them later. Still want to skip the risana spell?"

Harry just stared silently at the destroyed target. Hermione, however, grabbed one of the jars of acorns and wrapped it in her coat. "Well, I'd better go," she said too quickly. "I told Ron I was going to the library to finish my homework." She waited for a moment at the door but when Harry didn't move, she left on her own. Her footsteps quickly disappeared.

Draco turned his attention to Harry, who hadn't moved. "Granger doesn't seem to like dark magic. Think I scared her?"

"You've used these before," Harry said. It wasn't a question and he stared at Malfoy as if reconsidering him.

"Of course." Draco met his gaze for a few seconds but soon looked away at the far wall. Why did Potter's eyes feel like knives? His stare was as unrelenting as the dark lord's. "I used crepara on a Death Eater to get here."

"And the other spell?"

"No, I used another one, but it's hard to make a bunch of vines hemorrhage blood so I showed you something a little more spectacular." He fought the urge to squirm. Had something happened over summer to make Potter's stare so unbearable or was he just now noticing?

"Why didn't you use these before?" Harry asked. "You've wanted to hurt me for years, even kill me. Why not?"

Father would've killed me, Draco thought, but he didn't say it. Potter didn't know how much he valued his father's opinion and revealing that would probably get a lifetime of jeers from the seventh-years. "One dark spell would've undone my whole family," he said softly. To his surprise, Potter didn't argue.

"So you sheathed your fangs," Harry said, "just like Dumbledore said."

"Not exactly fangs, but yes. No blowing up the students allowed."

"What do you mean, 'not exactly fangs'?" Harry took a step forward and Draco noticed that he still hadn't put away his wand. "You Malfoys are very clever with your words when you want to be."

Despite having the Boy Who Lived deliberately coming closer, Draco held his ground. "Ah ah ah, we Malfoys can also keep family secrets pretty well when we want to. Now are you finished with your interrogation? You have spells to practice."

Harry stared at him for a few seconds longer, than gathered up the second jar of acorns, turned on his heel and left. For awhile Draco listened to his footsteps echo through the hall, and then he was left alone staring at an empty classroom. He quietly picked up the acorns he hadn't used, disposing of Harry's failed acorn with a quick incendio, and acutely aware of every stray sound his rustling clothing made as he left the room. If Crabbe and Goyle were here, he could have had them laughing as they went back to Slytherin where he would have flopped onto his favorite couch in front of the fire, his head in Pansy's lap. They would have smiled and indulged him as he complained about Gryffindors and mudbloods, and later their conversation would have lulled him into drowsiness, roused only by their occasional questions.

The entrance to Slytherin slammed a little harder than usual behind him, startling him out of his daydream. The fire had dwindled, leaving the room cold, but he ignored it, instead settling on the couch he'd turned to face the lake. The cushion made for a good enough pillow and he pulled his cloak over himself as he lay down. Moonlight reflecting off the water, moving slower now that the surface was frozen but still enough to notice, played over his face as he waited for sleep, another nightmare, and another day.

TBC...

Author's Notes:
1. Poisoned dragon's liver comes from the Disney movie Bedknobs and Broomsticks, which you would probably like if you haven't seen it already.
2. Yes, I'm borrowing Snape's "hydra" description of the dark arts.
3. risana, from the Old English risan, to rise
4. haetus heorte, from the Old English hætu, heat, and the Old English heorte, heart
5. crepara, from the Latin crepare, to crack
6. hemoragia, from the Latin haemorhagia, to hemorrhage