Five o’clock the next evening found Harry hurrying to the library and expertly turning through the labyrinthine stacks until he got to the agreed upon table. He found Malfoy already sitting there. “Potter,” the prefect greeted him. Clearly Harry’s lateness had agitated him.“You know,” Harry said, “it’s kind of silly for us to keep calling each other Potter and Malfoy all the time. Friends don’t do that.” He had spent a while thinking of what Hermione had said, about pretending that Malfoy was closer to him than he was, and he decided that a little extra show of familiarity would not be amiss.

Malfoy blinked twice and said, “No, that’s true. I didn’t want to be too familiar without invitation, though.”

“Well,” Harry smirked, “consider yourself officially invited, then.”

Draco gave his own smirk and said, “Why thank you, Harry. And, please, won’t you call me Draco.”

“I should be delighted,” Harry said, teasing the other youth’s formal tone and wording.

Draco was annoyed but smiled anyway. If Potter wanted to believe they were actually friends, so much the better for him.

In this way, both of them pretending more camaraderie than they really felt, the evening passed quickly. Though they did not make as much progress on their potions work as they might have, they both left feeling that they were closer than ever to achieving their respective goals. It was only when Draco offered to meet again on Friday afternoon that any hint of discord appeared, and they were both careful to minimize it as much as possible. Draco acted understanding, while Harry pretended to feel real regret that he could not come. They parted amicably with confirmation that they were, once again, meeting on Saturday morning.

Friday afternoon Draco followed Harry down to the Quidditch pitch, taking care not to be seen by any of the other members of the Gryffindor team. He watched the way Potter and Weasley chatted easily and freely. There was no sign of any tension or uneasiness between them, which had the blonde growling in frustration. How was he supposed to break them up when Harry refused to let it happen? He supposed it was just a matter of treating Potter better than his other friends did. Possibly he could come up with a way to create a misunderstanding. It would have to be something fairly spectacular to break up five years of friendship.

He’d give it a week or two, he decided. If he hadn’t won Potter over a bit more by then, then he would see about plotting something. Draco turned his attention to the players in the air. Just because he was there for Potter didn’t mean he couldn’t get a little information for his own team.

Saturday morning Harry once again suggested they play tag instead of Seeker’s Quidditch. It was easier on his conscience. Malfoy seemed to be making a special effort to be kind to him, he noticed. It had gone too far, he decided, when Malfoy seemed to be about to let him win. “Draco,” he cried in exasperation when he had just caught the other for the fifth time in a row.

“What?” the blonde asked, hovering next to Harry on his broomstick.

“You don’t have to let me win,” Harry said.

“Let you win?” Draco began, “I don’t know what you’re-“

“Draco,” Harry interrupted him with a look that said he saw right through Draco’s protestations of innocence. “You can play as well as you can. It’s not going to make me mad or anything.”

The pale prefect flushed slightly. “Of course not,” he said archly, “why would it make you mad not to win?”

“Look, I like winning as well as the next bloke, but I don’t need to do it all the time. In fact, I lose to Ron at chess nearly every time I play him, but we still get along all right.”

Malfoy just looked at the raven-haired youth before him, struggling to understand what it was that he had just been told. He finally concluded that what he was being offered was a chance to perform as an equal. He need not curry favor like an underling. He wondered why it had never occurred to him before, but then concluded that it was because before he had been unwilling to put aside his own pride. Yesterday, however, he had realized that he would need to make it obvious that he put Harry first if he wanted to break up the dream team.

It seemed that Gryffindors did not conduct their friendships the same way that Slytherins formed alliances. It was something of a shock to Draco. Realizing at that moment that Potter was still looking at him, Malfoy nodded. “Okay, Harry,” he said, “you’re on.” A half-moment later the pair were once again zipping through the air and chasing after each other.

“Voldemort has been awfully quiet lately,” Harry commented to his professor as they sat in the potions master’s office on Sunday afternoon.

A softly whispered “legilimens,” was his only response until he had successfully resisted the attack. “Yes, the older wizard said pensively as he nodded at Harry to show his approval. “The Dark Lord has indicated that he is hopeful that, having no proof of his activity, the wizarding world at large will believe him to be simply a rumor.”

“Even when Fudge has acknowledged his return?” Harry said disbelievingly.

“People believe what they want to believe. And if they can’t see any evidence that he has returned, they will think Fudge is an alarmist, or simply mistaken. Neither option will contribute to their preparedness.”

“I suppose,” Harry said doubtfully.

“Legilimens.”

“I just can’t see him sitting around doing nothing, though,” Harry said.

“He is not doing nothing. You will, perhaps, recall that I am supposed to be luring you into the darkness.”

“I know, but that’s slowed down a bit while we’re in school.”

“The Dark Lord has also indicated that he is making other advances and forays,” he said hesitantly. He was holding his breath, hoping that Harry didn’t ask for specifics. To his immense surprise, however, Harry just nodded thoughtfully and began to tell him about the latest odd behavior of Draco Malfoy.

It was an interesting thing to hear about from Harry’s perspective, Severus reflected. And he couldn’t help smiling a little when he pictured Draco trying to come to terms with what Harry had told him. Friendships purely for their own sake were exceptionally uncommon in the house of the serpent, and it showed at times. This was one of those times. Despite his lingering doubts that all would come out as well as Dumbledore kept assuring him it would, Severus couldn’t help being a little glad that the Malfoy heir was being exposed to Harry and the different viewpoints that Harry had as a Gryffindor.

On Tuesday evening Harry and Draco were once again settled at their table in a corner of the library. They were quizzing each other on the chapters of the potions text they would be tested on the next day. It was clear to Harry that no matter what else Draco did, the youth was actually quite good at potions. Whether that was due to talent or extensive studying, however, he could not say. In any event the blonde seldom had any trouble answering the questions Harry put to him, even though he frequently required more thought to answer the Slytherin’s questions.

After some time, however, they both decided that they were as ready as they were going to be for the test and that they may as well quit for the night. “I don’t suppose we could meet here again on Friday night?” Draco said as he was placing his books in his bag. He did not look up at Harry.

“No, I’ve already got plans for Friday night,” Harry said apologetically.

“No big deal,” Draco replied with a shrug.

“You know, with the game coming up soon, you could come to practice on Sunday, too. Maybe we could run a special drill for Liza, just to make sure she’s good and sharp. Put her through her paces, what do you think?”

Harry rolled his eyes at the red-head’s chatter. “Ron, the game is a week away, calm down a bit.”

“It’s my first game as captain, Harry. I want to win!” Ron exclaimed.

“And I’m sure you will,” Harry said soothingly. “I’ll come Tuesday night, how’s that?”

“You could come Sunday and Tuesday,” Ron pressed.

“No, I really couldn’t,” Harry said.

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed. “Why can’t you? Would it cut into your time with Malfoy?”

“Not at all,” Harry said coolly. “Actually I meet Snape on Sunday afternoons.”

Ron looked at his friend with an expression that clearly said he had gone nuts. “Why?” he asked.

“Remedial potions,” Harry replied succinctly.

“Remed—but you’re in the advanced class!”

“Precisely,” Harry said with a look.

“Oh,” Ron murmured. “I guess that’s a good idea, after what happened…” Ron trailed off with a look at Harry.

Harry, for his part had gone quite pale and silent. “I have decided,” he said finally in a very soft yet very firm voice, “that I will never again be responsible for such a thing happening.”

Ron gave his companion a worried look. “You do realize, mate, that you aren’t to blame for…that?”

“Am I not?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “I was the one who was duped into going to the Department of Mysteries!”

“Maybe so, but listen, Harry, You-Know-Who would have done anything to get you there! It’s not your fault you fell for his trick!”

Harry set his mouth in a pale, thin line but only said, “Nevertheless, I am determined that I will not be vulnerable to that sort of attack again. I don’t think I could bear losing…“ and then he shut his mouth with an audible click and did not speak another word until they had got to the pitch proper, and even then it was only to coach Liza through a new trick.