Multichaptered Harry Potter fic! Yay! I've never actually finished one before. But this one is already all written, so you don't have to worry about it being abandoned halfway through. I'll be posting one chapter a day until DH comes out--I won't post anything that day, because I'll be too busy reading--but after that posting will resume as normal. Has everyone seen the OotP movie? Was I the only one who thought it was very slashy (Especially Harry/Ron)? Anyway...this is eventual H/D, even if it doesn't look like it's going that way at first. Trust me. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter One: Draco and the Fangirls

Really, Draco had just done what absolutely anyone in his situation would have been done. He was not to blame for the awkward situations that arose when things spiraled out of his control. Those were the key words, mind: out of his control.

It wasn't that he was nosy. It's just that when he somehow got assigned to patrol the halls on a Hogsmeade weekend, courtesy of Umbridge's new Inquisitorial Squad, well, he wasn't exactly happy about it. And any opportunity to take it out on anybody else—preferably a Gryffindor—was going to be pounced upon.

There was giggling coming from behind that door—an empty classroom. Undoubtedly, some illegal tryst. Oh, this would be fun. One—two—three, and Draco slammed his way in, shoulder against the door and wand drawn. "Hah! It's all over, I've found you." He was strongly tempted to add, "And come out with your hands up," but he was stopped short. There was no one in sight.

However, what he had thought was an empty classroom was anything but. There was a fire roaring in a cozy brick fireplace down at the far end, and plushy red armchairs and couches in a semi-circle around it. Far more disturbing—large, grinning posters of Potter grinning down at him from every inch of wall, and even a few hanging on the ceiling.

Draco gulped, considerably subdued. "Hello?" he said softly. "Anybody here?"

There was a coughing noise, a rustling, and a pair of eyes popped up from behind the couch.

"Please don't bust us, Draco," said a tearful voice.

Draco reeled back in shock. "Millicent? Is that you? Millicent Bulstrode?"

Shyly, the pair of eyes rose higher, and revealed the face and body of no one other than Millicent Bulstrode.

"What are you doing?" Draco demanded. "I thought you were in Hogsmeade with Theodore."

Millicent's lower lip jutted out petulantly. "Well, I'm not," she said.

"Yes, I can see that," Draco said impatiently. "But what are you doing here, with all the—all the Potter?"

Millicent glared suspiciously. "Are you sure you aren't going to turn us in?"

Draco was too curious to have any interest in getting people in trouble. "Who's 'us', anyway?"

Millicent sighed. "Come on out, guys," she said resignedly, before directing her attention back to Draco. "If you try to cause trouble for us, we know how to handle it," she menaced.

Draco blinked, somewhat disturbed. Millicent never stood up to him—she had no right to—

But his musings were interrupted, as, one by one, heads arose from behind pieces of furniture—one enterprising soul had even attempted to hide behind one of the lower hanging Potter posters.

Ginny Weasley was the first to appear, ears glowing and absolutely furious. "Shit," she said. "Who was supposed to put up the wards today? Millie, I think that was your job."

Millie? No, really—but Millie? And the littlest Weasley evidently wasn't as ladylike as everyone seemed to think she was.

Millicent looked down and covered her face. "I'm so sorry, you guys," she sniffed, wringing her hands desperately. "This is all my fault."

The person hiding behind the poster emerged, sneaking a glance at Draco over his shoulder, and went to comfort Millicent. What was the name of that ratty little Gryffindor? Corbin? Coulter? Ah—Colin Creevey, that was it.

"There, there," Creevey said, rubbing circles on Millicent's back. "It wasn't your fault. It happens to the best of us."

Millicent plunged her face into her hands. "I don't deserve you guys," she sobbed. "I'll never do it again."

Okay. Forget whatever he'd told Millicent about not turning them in. This was getting too weird for him to take.

"I'll just be going then!" Draco said brightly.

"Expelliarmus," said a voice, and his wand went flying and was caught by—

"Patil?" Draco asked incredulously. "Is that—Patil? Er, which one are you, by the way?"

The girl grinned wryly, pointing her own wand as well as Draco's directly at his chest. "I'm Padma," she said. "And you aren't going anywhere."

Draco's eyes darted around the room, trying to judge whether he would be able to make a quick escape, when he noticed for the first time that the Weaslette also had her wand out and was twirling it in his direction.

"Ah," said Draco. "Well, let's be reasonable."

Seeming to recognize the direction things were taking, Millicent wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and pointed her wand in his direction. Creevey, looking around, quickly followed suit.

A hush fell over the group, in which not one of them moved. Finally, Weasley rolled her eyes, looked over her shoulder. "Psst," she hissed. "Luna! Wands out."

There was a sigh, and what Draco had taken to be a bulky pile of robes sat up and revealed itself to be a rather mild looking Ravenclaw that he did not recall ever having seen before.

"Oh, hello, Draco," she said pleasantly. "I didn't know you were a member."

Ginny groaned. "He's not, Luna," she explained. "That's why we're pointing our wands at him.

"Oh," the girl—Luna?—said, smiling apologetically as she plucked her wand from behind his ear and waved it vaguely in his direction, sending a shower of purple sparks flying in all directions. "This is exciting, isn't it?" she commented to the world in general.

By this time, a lot of the intimidation had gone.

Harry Potter blinked down at them imperiously. Draco leaned against the door, the only clear surface, and scowled.

"Well?" he said. "This is a lovely little party you have going here, but I really have to be going."

"Not so fast!" Weasley shrieked shrilly. "You can't tell on us."

Draco grabbed the knob and rolled his eyes. "Stop me."

Suddenly a jet of green light zoomed towards him. Oh god! They were trying to kill him! This was insane.

He ducked down just in time to be caught by a bat bogey hex.

As he fell to the floor in silent pain, the group formed a circle around him.

"Now," Weasley said. "You have two basic options. We can Oblivate you, and you won't remember a thing. Or," she said, drawing a sheet of parchment out from her robes. "You can sign this."

Draco didn't answer.

"I think he's in pain," Luna commented, nudging him with her toe. "See how he's writhing around like that?"

"Oh, sorry," Weasley said, mumbling some kind of counter curse under her breath before glaring at him again. "So? Which will it be?"

Padma peered down at him curiously. "We're very experienced in Memory Charms," she told him, as if that was supposed to be comforting. "We practiced on your friends—Crabby and Guppy?"

"Vincent and Gregory," Millicent corrected, never once taking her eyes off of her target.

Oh, goody. They'd practiced memory spells on two people who had never actually shown any discernable signs of having memories to begin with.

Draco pulled himself to his feet. "I just sign this paper?" he asked suspiciously. "I sign, and you let me go?"

Weasley handed it to him, grinning malevolently, and Luna plucked a quill from behind her other ear.

Draco held it up to his nose, looking for a trick of some sort. But there was no fine print, no contract with misleading articles. Just a list of names: Ginny Weasley, Colin Creevey, Millicent Bulstrode, Padma Patil, Luna Lovegood—and, as Draco signed, one more: Draco Malfoy.

He thrust the parchment back at Weasley, holding it with his fingertips to avoid touching her. "Here," he said. "I signed, now let me go."

Millicent caught his wrist as he turned to leave. "Why, Draco," she said, sounding puzzled. "Where do you think you're going?"

Draco tugged on his wrist. Millicent's fingers dug in more tightly. "Back to the Common Room?" Draco suggested, in his most appealing voice.

Padma grabbed his other hand. "I don't think so," she said.

The Creevey kid patted his back as Padma and Millicent frog-marched him over to the couch and forced him to sit. Draco flinched.

They all looked at him expectantly. Draco wondered if anyone would hear him scream.

Was he supposed to say something?

"You just signed the membership list," Luna explained gently. "You're one of us now."

Draco growled irritably and tried once more to free himself. "And what exactly does that entail? What do you do, anyway? Swoop around with things behind your ears, doing things that adults should do?"

Creevey's eyes widened. "Oh, no," he said, and stared reverently at a photo of Potter that was currently scratching itself under the armpit.

Millicent took pity on him and explained. "Draco Malfoy," she said solemnly. "Welcome to the Society for the Admiration and Promotion of Harry, A Potter."

"Or SAPHAP, for short. We were going to make it the Society for the Admiration and Promotion of Harry Potter, but SAPHP was really hard to say," Weasley added helpfully.

This time, Draco did scream.

He wrenched his arm free, and made a break for the door. He felt as everything was moving in slow motion, as one by one the others pulled out their wands, and he was hit with four Impedimentas at once (Luna tried to levitate him).

Draco lay helpless on the floor. Ginny Weasley towered over him.

"Welcome the club, brother Saphaprodite," she said.


To Draco, it felt like ages before they decided to release him. They left him lying on the ground while they huddled in a secret, hushed conference in the corner. Occasionally, one of them would glance over at him, but mostly Draco was left unguarded, with only terrifying Harry Potter faces gazing down at him.

It was more than a little ridiculous. Draco could think of several males in the school worthy of worship—himself not least among them. And they had to pick Potter? It couldn't have been someone sensible, like Blaise, or even someone halfway attractive, like Dean Thomas. No. It was Potter.

Eventually, he regained enough use of his limbs to crawl towards the door.

Millicent heard him, and, smiling apologetically, performed a full-body bind.

Eventually, Weasley clapped her hands and turned to face him, smiling brightly. "Okay, Malfoy," she said cheerfully. "We're going to let you up, but you can't try to escape. Alright?"

Did it make a difference if he was 'alright'?

Once the spell was removed, Draco didn't even bother moving. He lay on the ground where he was, probably getting all sorts of nasty things in his hair and clothes, and glared at them furiously.

They all started moving back to the couches. Draco sat, lonely and forlorn, on the cold hard stone.

"Aren't you coming, Draco?" Millicent asked. When he shook his head, Ginny Weasley decided to take a more direct approach.

"You're coming, Malfoy," she said sharply. "Or I'll curse you again. Something embarrassing, and I won't take it off."

Well, that was good incentive. Draco rushed to the little circle of couches and was there before any of them.

"What makes you think I won't go running to a teacher the instant I get out of here?" Draco asked, one more futile effort to dissuade them.

Luna spoke up again. "I wouldn't do that," she said, as if it was something that just had occurred to her. "The list of names is cursed. You'll get horrible spots if you do, and your hair will fall out besides."

The Weaslette arched her eyebrows superiorly. "It's lovely, isn't it? I got the idea from Hermione."

Granger, presumably. "Why aren't she and the Weasel here? Surely they're Potter's biggest fans."

"You mean Hermione and my brother? Well, we offered Hermione a spot, and she thought it was unethical. And a waste of time. And I wasn't about to invite my brother," she added, wrinkling her nose distastefully.

How perfect. She had something in common with Draco: they could bond over their mutual hatred of Ron Weasley. Though Draco doubted she would be very eager to murder him.

"But we have lots of associate members," Creevey chimed in perkily. "Hagrid and Trelawney and a house elf named Dopey—"

"Dobby," Padma hissed.

Creevey prattled on obliviously. "And Dumbledore and—"

"Dumbledore, huh?" Draco speculated. "That explains a lot."

Draco always knew there was a reason he didn't like that old man.

The group seemed to heave a collective sigh, and gazed at the posters plastered tightly on the wall.

"He's so amazing," Weasley sighed. Creevey nodded in agreement, and silence fell.

Draco endured this in silence for a few minutes, fidgeting with his robes. He whistled softly under his breath, and Luna harmonized.

"So is that what you guys do down here?" he asked skeptically. "You browbeat people into joining up with you, and stare at pictures?"

Weasley frowned and tugged at a strand of her hair. "Of course not," she said, annoyed. "Right now we're planning a birthday party for Harry."

Draco raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Yeah," he said. "Right. It's January. School lets out in June, and Potter's birthday isn't till July."

Millicent squealed and hugged him impulsively. "You're off to such a good start, Draco," she purred. "Knowing his birthday and everything!"

He shoved her off him irritably. Padma, who had been watching the whole scene skeptically, snorted. "Yeah, we know," she said. "It wasn't actually our idea to have a party. It was Hermione Granger's. She reckons that since he never gets much of a party with his aunt and uncle, it'd be nice if we did something to celebrate it before the year's over. So the party's in May."

A few feet away, Luna furrowed her brow. "Wait," she said slowly. "I thought this club was about finding the Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

Everyone ignored her. Colin pulled out a clipboard.

"Okay, guys," he said perkily. "Let's plan that party!"


Draco didn't get back to Slytherin House until far past curfew. Once the meeting was over, and "Millie" had finished saying her goodbyes to everyone—"Bye, Gin!" "See you in class tomorrow, Pads!"—Draco had grabbed her by the wrist and ran home as fast as he could. Once they were inside, she leaned against the door, panting.

"I don't see why you were so eager to get back," she said irritably. "I usually walk Ginny and Colin back to their dorms."

Draco shook himself and stared at her wordlessly.

"I'm going to go take a shower," he said in a deadpan voice. "You will not be here when I get back."

Millicent, who had shown some signs of independence at the…club…shivered under his icy glare. "Yes, Malfoy," she demurred.

As soon as her back was turned, Draco grinned. That was just what he liked…ah, obedience.

While he was showering, Draco began plotting. There had to be some way to get out of this. Maybe he couldn't tell anyone directly, but surely he could leave little notes hanging around, or something. This was practically kidnapping! He didn't want to spend his Hogsmeade weekends planning a birthday party for the Boy Who Should Have Died. Tomorrow, he would…oh, he'd write his father, or tell Professor Snape, or something, but for now he was tired and exhausted and…

He barely made it to the dorms before he collapsed into a deep, dreamless sleep.


He was afraid to go to the Great Hall the next morning.

"Oh, no, guys," he said. "Don't worry. I'll just stay down here and eat…owl treats."

Oh, that sounded incredibly convincing. Well, it wasn't his fault. He wasn't a morning person, after all.

Pansy looked on the verge of tears. "But Draco," she said. "You never go to class without your sausage and eggs. I'll even arrange them into a smiley face for you…remember Smiley Bob?"

Blaise yawned and glanced at his watch. "I thought you said he was too old for that," he commented mildly.

Draco grabbed onto one of his bedposts and clung on for dear life. There was no telling what would happen if he went upstairs for breakfast. That Creevey kid was armed and dangerous. At least in classes, he'd only have to deal with Millicent and Patil…

He was doomed.

"Come on, Pansy," Blaise urged. "If Draco wants to stay in the Dungeon, that's his choice. We should get going, or all the food will be cold."

Pansy stared at Draco, her lower lip wobbling, before she threw her arms around him. "I'll bring you something," she whispered tremulously.

Millicent appeared, looking…well, no different than she ever did, but ominously so.

"Don't worry, Pansy," she said. "I'll stay up here and look after him."

Pansy glared, irked. "Shove off, Bulstrode," she said. "Draco doesn't need your help."

Ah, Pansy. Draco really loved her sometimes.

"I think I'd better stay," Millicent persisted, blinking owlishly at Draco. "What if he's suicidal? You can never be too careful, I always say. But if you want to come back from breakfast to find him hanging from the ceiling with a—"

Pansy screamed. Blaise chuckled. Millicent grinned. "Stop!" said Draco. "I'll go to the Great Hall, I'll do anything, I promise, just stop."

And so, he went to the Hall. Pansy arranged his food to look like a somewhat lopsided smiley face, Blaise laughed at him when he dropped a bit of sneezing powder in the syrup, and he stayed far, far away from Millicent. That wasn't difficult—Millicent was one of four half-bloods currently in Slytherin, and they tended to stick together. They usually ate down at the end of the table—accompanied, inexplicably, by Ted Nott, who said he was curious.

Curious. Uh-huh. Everyone knew he had a thing for that Seventh Year mudblood. In Draco's opinion, he didn't have a chance.

So—everything was fine. Draco had worried for nothing. He chomped heartily on the eyes of Smiley Bob, and listened to Daphne laughing, and some of the tension eased out of his back.

Then she came.

He wasn't worried, at first—all the Gryffindors had to pass the Slytherin table to leave the hall, and there was no conceivable reason why she should—oh god, don't stop, keep walking keep walking keepwalking—

"Hi, Malfoy," said Ginny Weasley, sticking her little red face in front of Pansy's and attempting to smile.

Blaise coughed incredulously. Across the hall, Draco heard a thump as a body hit the ground and a "Ron, you can kill him later. In fact, I'll help."

Draco should have just stayed in bed that morning.

"Go away, Weasel," Draco said, trying to sound haughty and disdainful and also hide the fact that he was kind of thinking about crying. "I realize that your failure to date Potter might have addled your brain, but that does not mean I am going to help you in a quest for revenge, no matter how appealing that may sound, because the fact is I want nothing to do with you or your family or your friends or your…"

Draco trailed off. Everyone was staring at him.

Draco snapped his fingers, nearly hysterical. "Vincent!" he screeched. "Gregory! Get over here!"

Gregory looked at Vincent uncertainly. "Whaddya reckon gonna happen?"

Vincent scratched his head. "Dunno," he mumbled. "Go, Draco!"

The girl Weasley grinned at him malevolently. Across the hall, her brother was being forcibly restrained, causing quite a commotion at the Gryffindor table.

Was he actually foaming at the mouth?

No matter. Weaslette was twirling her wand thoughtfully. "Hmm," she said. "There was something I came over here for. If only I could remember. Gee, it sure is a shame when you can't remember things. Do you think you could help me remember?"

Draco shuddered, and glanced up at the High Table, his only remaining hope of salvation. Snape and McGonagall were having some kind of whispered debate—the Hufflepuffs were listening intently—but Dumbledore was watching the whole thing, eating his toast complacently and—did he just wink?

He would let her do it. He would actually let her do it.

Draco glowered furiously as he jumped up from the table, but he did it. A certain hush fell over the hall as he followed Ginny Weasley out of the hall. All was quiet, except for Ron Weasley throwing hardboiled eggs in their direction, and Granger nervously trying to hush him.

Did no one notice that he was deliberately stepping on the back of her robes?

As soon as they were out, Weasley leaned back against the door with a sigh. "Great performance back there," she said heartily.

Draco blinked. "That was not a performance," he said stoutly. "I meant every word I said. I don't like you."

She snorted. "Yeah, I don't like you either."

"Then why are you making me do this?"

She looked confused—genuinely confused, to her credit. When Gryffindors were stupid, they were stupid all the way. "We aren't making you do anything. We gave you a choice."

"Yeah, between being permanently incapacitated and worshipping Potter! Fucking Potter."

Weasley smiled. "Yes, and we're so happy you made the decision you did. You know, we're always looking for new members, but it seems like hardly anyone wants to join…it's so weird when you think about it."

Well, no. It wasn't.

"Get to the point, Weasel," Draco said. Oh, he was world-weary; he was an old soul; how tragic his life was!

"Are you alright? You look—I don't know, like you have indigestion or something."

Draco glared. "Yes, Weasley," he said through gritted teeth. "I am fine. But you won't be if I get back in there and find Potter's sycophant and Tweedledee and Tweedledum have murdered my housemates."

She looked blank. "Who?"

"Your brothers! Ron, Frank, and Joe!"

She smirked. "Anyway. Now that you're in the club, you have to start taking on official duties."

"I thought I already did! I agreed to make party favors to your little birthday thing, didn't I? And I even promised they won't be poisonous!"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's not exactly what I mean. Every month we assign someone to monitor Harry—take notes, check up on him—"

"You mean you spy on him? God, no wonder the boy's such a paranoid mess. I'd be paranoid too, if I had Millicent Bulstrode hanging over my shoulder."

"Yes, well, we've been giving Millie a break from it these past few months," Weasley said meekly. "Don't tell her, but I think Hermione especially was getting suspicious." Draco said nothing. "Anyway," Weasley continued. "Last month was my month, and Padma was supposed to do it this month, but she says she has to start studying for her OWLs."


"So, Colin and I decided that since you're new, we'll let you do it!" she finished with a grin, as if she were giving him some kind of gift.

"Um, no," Draco said flatly. "Just, no. I won't do it. I'm writing to my father as soon as I get back to the dungeons, and this whole thing will be sorted out."

Weasley yawned placidly and twiddled her wand in his direction. "That's too bad," she said. "I was hoping you would remember to take notes on him for us."

Draco gulped. He wasn't stupid, after all. He didn't need some fourteen-year-old blood traitor doing memory charms on him.

But before he could so much as open his mouth, the door banged open, and Potter and his Weasley burst through, wands drawn. The Weasel grabbed the Weaslette, and shook her roughly as she yelped. And Potter grabbed Draco.

"What do you think you're doing to her?" he roared ferociously.

Draco wrenched his wrist away. "If you'd have paid attention," he said delicately. "You'd have noticed that she's the one who dragged me out here. And I'll be going now, if you don't mind."

"Oh no, you won't!" yelled Weasley, and there was a fist slamming into the side of his face, and a girl screaming, and black hair and leather shoes and there were suddenly a lot of hands pulling him to his feet.

"Are you all right, Malfoy?" asked Ginny Weasley, scrubbing invisible dust off of his robes. Pansy's arms were around his neck, and Granger was standing in front of him, hopping nervously from foot to foot.

Harry Potter was standing a few feet away, struggling with the other Weasley.

"Come on, Ginny," he said shortly. "Let's get out of here."

As she turned and left, she quirked her eyebrows mischievously and winked.

Honestly. If it turned out she'd been planning this all along, he would literally kill her.

"Draco?" Pansy asked. "What was that all about?"

Draco swayed. His lower lip trembled. "I think I need to go to the hospital wing," he said faintly.

And he threw up all over Pansy's shoes.

Today's my birthday, and reviews are joy. Pretty please?