Chapter Two: A Bargain

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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Chapter Two:

A Bargain

Harry didn't realize how much danger his robes were in until the yogurt flew seemingly out of nowhere.

He had been having a quiet breakfast at the table, thinking to himself that it was great that they were allowed to go to Hogsmeade today, and then a large pinkish blob had come careening his way.

Some of it had fallen on his lips. Strawberry yogurt.

"Oops, I'm sorry," Blaise said, a smirk spreading over his face and his bowl rolling across the table.

The other Slytherins were laughing. Apparently it was an "accident."

Harry did the best he could to calm his temper, feeling a blush stain his cheeks; normally, by this point he would have screamed. Instead, Harry gave Blaise a sidelong glance and, remembering Professor Snape's warning, didn't say anything. All he could do was draw his wand and clean his robes, his hand shaking in anger.

Blaise smirked, malicious gratification written across his features.

"May I help you with something, Zabini?" Harry snarled, glaring out at Zabini.

"No. Nothing," he said innocently and walked away.

As breakfast continued, Harry found that this wasn't going to be the only time he was tested. Because it must have been testing, and if it wasn't that ... then it was just malignant fun. There had been the yogurt, Crabbe falling on him, the cherry pit that hit him in the temple, and finally, the leg that was stuck out so Harry would trip. Luckily Harry had good balance this morning, even if he wasn't really paying that much attention.

Soon Harry heard Hermione's voice echoing through his mind, telling him not to raise to the bait, that that was what they wanted. When he stopped reacting to their jeers and their tests, the Slytherins started to look slightly confused, and it was all Harry could do to keep a smile from his face.

The owls swooped in, carrying letters and packages from worried, devoted parents. Harry waited for the package to fall for Malfoy, but it never came. The other boy didn't show any emotion, just kept buttering his toast like it wasn't saturated enough. Clearly, things were not the same in the Malfoy household. Harry wondered what it felt like, but then Malfoy sent a scathing glare his way and lobbed the buttery toast at him.

Harry stopped wondering, and remembered exactly why he hated Malfoy so passionately.

A lone letter landed on top of Harry's plate.

He looked up, hoping to catch whatever owl had given it to him, but none were paying him any mind. There were too many to guess.

He recognized Mr. Weasley's careful handwriting, and the porridge he'd been eating congealed in his stomach.

He picked it up, slitted the seal and turned it over as slowly as he could.

Dear Harry,

That at least didn't seem to be hostile.

I hope that you're settling in well at Hogwarts, getting used to the food again and whatnot. Molly hopes that you're eating well; you wouldn't eat much when you stayed with us. She worries over your health. But perhaps I should get straight to the point.

Dumbledore told us about your re-sorting last night, and it must be awful. We want you to know that you're still welcome at our home come Christmas, regardless of what Ron or Ginny says. There were others that got re-sorted, but you're just the most public. Please try to remember that ...

Molly and I are fully supportive of you, and if you ever need to talk, don't be a stranger to us. We wait for a reply, and wish that you wouldn't be discouraged by Ron. He's probably going through a bit of denial right now.

We love you. Don't do anything drastic.

Arthur Weasley

Harry folded the letter carefully and pulled out a bit of spare parchment. He put his quill to the paper, but couldn't think of what to say. When he realized that he had made a rather large blotch on the parchment, he quickly scrawled out an opening.

Mr. Weasley,

I haven't really talked to Ron yet. I don't think he's very happy.

I won't do anything bad, and the Slytherins don't seem to be up to anything yet. At least, nothing that involves me. I'll write if there's anything to be worried about.

I don't have anything else to say, but it's a relief that you aren't angry with me. Hermione says that Ron is very angry, and I'm sorry. I've disappointed you all.

He scratched out that last sentence. They wouldn't want to hear that.

Thanks for the invitation to Christmas. We'll have to see how things are by then.

Cheers,

Harry

Harry quickly folded his letter. He was expecting more mischief from the Slytherins this morning. It wouldn't be good to have to write it all over again.

Someone tipped the cream into the rest of his porridge.

He wasn't hungry anyway.

Several upper classmen were getting up and leaving, grabbing scarves and hats.

It was a Saturday, and a Hogsmeade day for the sixth and seventh years; they were allowed to run into town and pick up any books they would need for their new or unexpected classes. Snape had dropped a booklist into Harry's porridge. No one had told him that it was a Hogsmeade day. Harry decided that he should go.

The Slytherin dorms weren't that far from the Great Hall, and as soon as he got there Harry changed out of his school clothes and into something warmer for the fall weather. He wore old, grey, woolen muggle pants and a grungy old T-Shirt with a faded band from the seventies across the front. Harry thought it might have been Queen, but wasn't sure.

His shoes were the same trainers he had worn since he was fourteen and were crusted in old dirt; he'd used them for everything, including the Triwizard Tournament. They were dirty and didn't have arch support anymore. Harry thought that he should really buy new ones.

Throwing on a hoodie and grabbing his moneybag, he remembered the letter he had hurriedly written Mr. Weasley and quickly sidetracked to the Owlery. He wanted to send it out as soon as possible; he didn't want them to worry too much about him.

"Hey, if it isn't Potter himself. Out on a missive for your Slytherin chums?"

Ron.

Harry stood where he was, watching Ron walk toward him. Oh, he really hadn't wanted to meet up with him so soon ... Harry took a deep breath and tried really hard not to be angry.

"You know, this really is far too obvious. You weren't even wearing your invisi-"

"What are you trying to prove, Ron?" Harry bit the question through gritted teeth.

"Nothing you haven't proven already. Now how about you give it up and run along that way? We all know what you were trying to do."

Harry furrowed his brows. Everyone knew what he was trying to do except himself.

"But of course, you wouldn't want to stay away from them for too long." Ron's eyes took on a watery quality.

Harry tried to keep walking, knowing that if he didn't, things would only get worse, and they'd both snap. But Seamus and Dean were on either side of Ron, and they quickly blocked his way. Seamus looked highly amused. Dean was scowling; Harry couldn't tell exactly what he was scowling about.

"You're not getting away so easily. Where are you going this early? Are you already planning something else?"

Harry steadied Ron with a stare. Seamus started to shift uncomfortably, shooting glances at Dean.

"You are the most arrogant person I have ever met," Harry said, trying to push past Ron, but Ron caught him by the shoulder.

Seamus was looking rapidly between Harry and Ron, and Dean finally made a move.

"Ron, I really want to get to Hogsmeade. Why don't we just go?" Dean asked, pushing a bit to pass them, and Seamus reluctantly followed.

Ron blinked a few times, fazed, but the sneer was back in place.

"Oh, you'd say that now, now that you and Malfoy are such good buddies."

"Clear the way," Harry snarled.

"I bet you were just scampering off to follow him into town so you could all have a good laugh about the bloody Gryffindors. I bet –"

"Didn't I tell you to shove off? Now do it. Clear the way, Weasley."

Harry pushed past him, face red and shoulders tense. Ron flushed, but didn't say anything. Harry didn't let himself look back.

Think of storm clouds, dark and menacing in the distance, with the cool pattering of rain on the ceiling ...

Lightning striking that disgusting emotion off of Ronald Weasley's face.

These thoughts weren't peaceful. Focus on ... feet. Yes, the ground, where he was going, there were stairs, and he could hear footsteps going away from him ... Harry was climbing the steps to the Owlery, and was soothed by a low voice.

"There you are."

Malfoy?

Harry froze in the door.

Malfoy was untying a vial of liquid from an owl's leg.

An eagle owl.

Throwing it up into the air and catching it, a triumphant look on his face, Malfoy turned toward the door. Harry automatically flattened himself against the wall. It wasn't enough.

"Potter."

Malfoy glared harshly, obviously seething.

"How much did you see, Potter?"

Harry didn't know what to say; if he made Malfoy angry, his year would be miserable. He knew that much. That and he wouldn't find out anything more, so ... a sneer. Yes, a sneer would fit well. He felt his features contort into what he really hoped was a decent sneer.

Malfoy started to slink across the room, his eyebrows knitting and his lips turned down in frustration. Harry raised his chin, and Malfoy was standing right by him.

"How much?"

The words were dangerously low.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and they searched Harry, who really couldn't think of anything to say, let alone do, other than to taunt him ...

"You won't know anything by the time this is over."

Harry reeled back and felt himself slam against the wall. Everything went black before Malfoy could even draw his wand.

**

Blackness, cold, sweet blackness and bruised skin against bruised skin.

There was no noise, no sound, no thought. He was somewhere that wasn't really anywhere, and suddenly he was someone who wasn't anyone.

"Harry?"

A voice. A voice? Who was that?

"What are you doing here, Harry? You aren't supposed to be here."

Gently soothing screams.

"You know this place less than I do, and I still can't find my way through the darkness."

"Who are you?"

"Remember your name, Harry Potter. Remember your name."

**

Harry woke up stiff and covered in owl droppings. The letter was still clutched in his hand, and the last thing he could remember was that voice in his face telling him he didn't know anything.

Had it been Malfoy to knock him out, or had he done it to himself?

Harry rubbed at his aching head, soothing the lines of worry and confusion away with the palm of his hand. His glasses were laying somewhere near the wall.

The wall where ...

The wall where he'd hidden. Or tried to hide.

But that wasn't good enough, that wasn't nearly good enough, that didn't explain anything. Where was this ground? He must have fallen pretty badly to have gone this far ... For his glasses to be all the way over there and for he himself to be all the way over here.

It was a wonder they weren't broken, and that the letter wasn't more crumpled than it was.

There were scatterings of clean ground just in the right spots for a foot to have been there. Someone had run. Running seemed natural.

"Dammit," Harry whispered, quietly seething and trying to right himself, embarrassed when he started to remember exactly what had happened.

Why the hell did Malfoy have to do that? And how the hell had he ended up on the floor? Clearly, he had hit his head hard. He was laying on the floor, covered in bird shit. That must mean that they had met up in the Owlery ... He tried to remember what he was originally there for. Ah yes, the letter.

He found Hedwig hooting at him on the floor. She flew up and he held out his arm, letting her know he was okay.

She had fluttered down sometime when he had been thinking ... when exactly? Harry couldn't know. His head was aching, and he felt like screaming in rage, or crying in humiliation, but he wouldn't. She was rubbing her head on his hand, and he smiled at her. She was still a good friend. That was one thing he knew, and right now, knowing something was a very good feeling.

**

Hogsmeade was bubbling over with teenage girls.

Harry tried to figure out how he'd never realized how many of them there were in the upper years with him.

Cho walked by the café with a group of her friends.

Harry almost missed the Stomach Acrobatics.

The only reason he really wanted her to say hello was to know what emotion to feel. He really didn't know what she would say to him if she did come over. Just as well. His emotions had been all jumbled up ever since he'd woken in the Owlery, and his memory had not entirely come back. He must have hit his head very hard to not remember everything ... What he could remember was Malfoy, with a letter, and with ... something? It was important, he knew it must be, but why ... why was it important?

Harry took another sip of the steaming hot chocolate. He had hoped that maybe it would jerk his memory, but nothing had happened, no great epiphanies, and he was left sitting outside this little café in Hogsmeade wishing that he had never gone to the Owlery in the first place, wishing that he didn't have this memory to recover. He had to admit, it made him feel more than a little stupid.

Maybe he would remember later. If it was important he would figure it out. And Malfoy had been so angry ...

Harry sighed. He was getting nowhere.

He got up, left some change on the table for a tip, and grabbed his bag.

There was a reason he had come here today, and that was to get his new books.

Who convinced him to go into curse breaking? It was a hell of a lot of classwork, but then again, his other option was the Auror business.

Right. Bill. Was it Bill that had convinced him? He couldn't remember, but what he could remember of the encounter was intrigue, or something like that. Perhaps it was one of those ever-dramatic life-changing events that Harry should very well have remembered. He supposed that he had so many of those recently that it was hard to keep track of which ones were life-changing in which ways.

Or perhaps that was just his confusion.

He didn't care enough to know today.

A darkly brown, crumpled leaf fell past him as he walked.

He made his way down the road, the bluster of the day playing with his scarf, his feet crunching the leaves that already lay on the ground. There were people hurrying from place to place, laughing, whispering together. He couldn't help but feel that every time they looked at him it got to be a bit more malicious. There was something wrong with people who were having a good time noticing someone alone and not caring. Or, rather, laughing. Harry tried not to let it get him down. It was a fine fall day.

The bell rang metallically as Harry stepped into Sheaf and Leaf bookshop.

The noise was even more pronounced in here. Everyone was loud. Clerks were yelling to one another to grab more books on Charms or Transfiguration, or blanching as students asked where a lesser-used section was. Harry saw definite benefits to using a library.

Harry quickly found the Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts sections, grabbing books that had been on the standard list.

It was when he came to the dictionaries that it began to be a problem. He needed several, and he was supposed to pick up something on Runes ...

Harry walked up to a salesperson, but when he saw how flustered the man was, thought better of his idea. He'd just have to find it himself.

That was no easy feat, considering how many people were in the bookstore. Perhaps that was a good thing; no one would pay him much mind, and that was something Harry had always appreciated. People jostled around him, sent apologies – apologies! – over their shoulders. That hadn't happened to him yet this year.

The magical languages section was carefully hidden in the middle of the store, right by Artithmancy and Astronomy, which didn't really make much sense to Harry, but he supposed it was a useful place for it. The more academic subjects were put together.

Dwarvish, fae, elvish, French, German, Japanese, Arabic, Spanish, Latin ...

Harry's eyes bulged. He hadn't realized he needed so many books. He supposed that seeing as how this was a "crash course" – no one had ever really mentioned it before; he was sure that it was only offered for sixth and seventh years – he'd be learning at a very rapid pace, but no one had ever told him anything about this. Students must have discussed it with their Heads of House last year ... and he feared his dreams of becoming an Auror were pretty much shot.

This summer he had realized that being an Auror was not the only profession for Defense majors. While he had talked to Bill, a new window had opened up for him. He hadn't even realized the things he could go into that still involved a heavy Defense background.

Doing what was expected had gotten to be a bit of a fault of his; last year's adventure had proven that. He didn't want to become so predictable that he would be an even easier target than he already was, and becoming an Auror was one good way of doing exactly what was expected of him. Being predictable had its downfalls, and he needed to learn how to surprise people.

Off to a good start there, he thought sarcastically.

Harry grabbed as many books as he could, but they ended up toppling from his arms. Annoyed, he bent to gather them.

This would have to be an exact science – until he could get up to the desk and shove them in his bag ...

"And that's when Potter walked in."

"What did you do?"

"I knocked him flat, is what I did."

Malfoy. Zabini. Pansy. He could recognize their polished shoes.

"Draco."

"Oh, you know me too well." A chuckle. "He passed out. Probably scared. Either that or he's got some major shit in his head from that battle last spring. Most likely that he was having a flashback. You know, like that Moody guy."

Snickering.

"Are you worried?"

"Of course not. Why would I be? My mother just wanted to send me a present. Being in Azkaban, it would have been very hard for father to send it through her to the Great Hall; just plain stupid."

"Are you sure we should be talking about this here?"

Pansy. She was smarter than she let on.

"No one's listening; busy places are the best and easiest places to hide."

That smirk was almost audible.

"So how was Italy, Blaise? I never got to ask." Pansy again.

"It was brilliant. Saw some of my mum's friends, relatives. Of course, we didn't get to go into Africa. That would just be stupid, what with all the ..." They were walking past him.

Harry carefully grabbed at his books. He piled them into his arms, and stood up. His school bag was settled awkwardly at his hip, but it'd have to wait until he had paid for his books before adjusting it. They were so precariously balanced that he doubted they would stay in his arms if he attempted to save his hip from strangulation.

There was a line about five people long. Not too bad, considering how many students had come into the shop right away.

Harry waited, tapping his foot, and finally the desk clerk called him up.

"Next!"

Harry scooted forward, his books falling out of his arms and onto the counter.

"Blimey. They sure do take Languages seriously." The boy mumbled to himself; he was just young enough for Harry to wonder if he should be recognizing him from Hogwarts.

"That'll be thirty Gal –"

The shop clerk had looked up, and didn't continue. Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance and busied himself with digging in his money pouch.

"You're Harry Potter."

Harry glanced up at the boy through his bangs. "Yes."

"Well, then I'm sorry for staring. I just didn't expect you to be so small." Harry let out a huff of annoyance, but then the boy continued. "Or cool."

Harry blinked at the boy.

"You ... think I'm cool?"

"Well, of course I do. I expected you to have only the best of clothes, a gaggle of friends, and an attitude that would make everyone stare."

Harry glanced back up at him again, setting his money on the counter to be taken. Did this boy honestly think he was cool? Was he stupid not to have noticed Harry's annoyance earlier?

"I take it you didn't go to Hogwarts."

The boy smiled at him.

"No, I was tutored." The boy handed him a receipt and met his eyes for the first time. "My name's Dom. You should stop in some time when we're not so busy."

Harry nodded, puzzled, and took his books (some time in there Dom had put them in a bag for him) and left the crowded shop.

Dom had liked him. And Harry hadn't really minded Dom. He might just stop in.

He had also been treated like a person.

Harry growled at how much he was reminding himself of a schoolgirl. He had bigger things to worry about.

**

Harry didn't leave the coffee shop until it was nearly time for dinner in the Great Hall.

The sun was starting to go down, and he hurried his pace. He wasn't supposed to be out after dark, and for once, he was looking forward to a meal. He hadn't eaten much since he got to Hogwarts, and his stomach was starting to protest.

Harry shifted the weight of the bag in his hands and the schoolbag that was strung across his back.

His stomach growled in impatience.

**

Draco watched Harry Potter walk into the Great Hall, his book bags both full.

Pansy was simpering again. She could really get to be annoying when there wasn't another thing to distract him.

"Hey, look who finally decided to show."

Draco's friends turned to watch Potter settle closer to them than any of them wanted. For Draco, however, it was perfect.

"Looking a little worse for wear, are you?"

Potter was ignoring him. Draco did not like to be ignored.

"Answer me!"

"Just a little tired, that's all."

Draco gave a look around the table and laughed.

"Of course he's tired! Never sleeps, that one." Draco looked back to him, sneering in distaste. "You all should be careful around him; there's no knowing what lengths he'll go to. Whether it's to get his friends back, or have a nasty shag, we'll never know."

Harry looked back at his dinner.

"Or maybe he can do both," Pansy crowed.

Draco watched Harry carefully, waiting for him to snap. If he let something slip about this morning, maybe Draco could guess how much he'd heard ...

But the boy didn't do anything; he just sat there and took it. When Pansy kept pushing, as Draco knew she would, the boy's eyes started to glaze over.

Draco's eyes narrowed. He wasn't revealing anything. Pansy let up and started to see to him.

He realized she was pouring more and more cranberry sauce onto his plate.

"Will you stop?"

She looked up at him, adoration only barely concealed by the hurt she attempted to pass off.

"But I thought you liked cranberry sauce."

"Just ... not ... now."

Pansy began to whine even more, and Draco rolled his eyes at her.

"I was enjoying myself, Pansy."

"Why can't you just enjoy yourself with me?"

Draco smirked.

"Well, I would, but you see, Potter doesn't sleep, and he doesn't put up silencing charms, so I'd hate to please myself with your delectable thighs if I knew that he was probably being a perv and listening in."

Pansy giggled and clung to his arm with glee.

But Draco was confused. That should have put him over the edge. Pansy eventually went to what she had been talking about with Blaise. Draco leaned over to address Potter directly.

"You're not in Gryffindor anymore; we don't play to the same rules. But you seemed to have figured that out for yourself."

The boy sneered at him and went back to his own food.

When he thought it was enough time to allow himself a look at Harry, the boy was gone again.

**

He was found on a bench in the courtyard.

"Get up."

Harry's study-fuzzed mind could barely register the voice, but it was clear as day.

Malfoy.

"Get up."

Harry carefully put a marker in his place and did as he was told.

Malfoy sneered.

"For God's sake, don't listen to me! You're supposed to fight."

Comebacks spiraled through Harry's mind, but none of them were appropriate and all were far too revealing. He closed his mouth.

"What do you think you saw this morning?"

Harry furrowed his brow.

What had happened this morning? Harry still couldn't remember all the details. Before he'd blacked out, he'd ...

Seen something Malfoy was trying to hide.

"Because if you think you know, you'll tell me exactly what you saw, and I can go ahead and assure you that you were assuming actions on me. In case you hadn't noticed, spying is not a laughing matter."

Harry nodded, but Malfoy's look was far too demanding for him.

"Oh ... uhm –" Brilliant. He was stuttering. "Slytherins don't tend to laugh."

Slightly more charming, but utterly imbecilic.

"You think you're so clever," Malfoy said. "You act like you know what's going on, and sometimes you can't even manage that."

Perhaps silence was better than stupidity.

"You haven't really seen anything, you know that?" It was a question Harry wasn't meant to answer. "Everyone has to save your sorry ass, and now you're alone, you don't know what to do. How you will ever be a Slytherin, I don't know, but I don't think you even understand the gravity of your situation."

"Remind me, exactly, what I did to deserve this onslaught," Harry said.

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"You were a ruddy fool, bursting in on me like that. Watching me. You're terribly obvious about all of it."

Pause.

"Oh. Okay."

Malfoy turned away, shaking his head. Just when Harry was about to go back to his book, Malfoy spun around and hit him square in the nose.

Harry hadn't been hit like that in years. He reeled backwards and over the bench, clutching at his nose. Next came a kick to his knee, a scream piercing him as much as the boot.

"Why don't you do anything?" Malfoy screamed. "Why do you just lay there? You're pathetic!"

Filthy, burning rage.

Blood rushed to his head and poured out his nose, and Harry ran at him, fists flailing dizzily as he landed square on the other boy's chest.

Heavy panic, the sound of flesh against flesh dealt in violent release did nothing to calm him, but spurred him on. Screaming rage scratched at his throat, pent-up emotions firing and spitting all to land on Malfoy.

Red against pale, the yellow of the stone disturbingly blended with Malfoy's skin, his robes and blood the only smattering of life left in the scene beneath Harry. The green of the badge matched the green of the grass Malfoy's head had just hit.

At least Harry hadn't killed him.

One sob was all. It could be mistaken for a sigh.

Harry rolled off Malfoy.

Malfoy pushed himself up and glared at Harry.

"Are you done?"

Harry nodded.

"You should forget this conversation. This ... brawl."

Another nod.

Malfoy left him.

Harry's book had not even turned a page.