Disclaimer: The characters here within belongeth not to me. Oh and the title and lines from the song are the property of the Rolling Stones. Them who gather no moss.
A/N: I take no responsibility for the surprisingly long (at least to me) HPDM scene in the middle. I blame Potter.
Sympathy for the Devil
Harry struggled into his dress robes, cursing the headmaster for thinking that Yule balls were such a good idea. After the success of the ball of his fourth year, there had been a ball every Christmas, which although it meant that Mrs Weasley had had to get Ron some decent dress robes, also meant that he had to find a date every year. Not that that would be a problem this year, he thought with a smirk.
Clasping the half-cloak round his shoulders, Harry looked about for his dragon-hide boots, last year's birthday present from his mother. More than ever he was glad that Professor Dumbledore had been able to convince the Dark Lord to meet with him, effectively saving his parents lives. Fumbling under his bed, he pulled out one boot and two bent chocolate frog cards. Discarding the cards he pulled on the boot.
"Generally you wear two boots to a ball, Harry." came a deep voice from the doorway.
Harry grinned as he turned round, giving Ron an appraising once over. The ocean blue dress robes in last years fashion really suited the boy, especially with his new height. Ron had been sceptical at first about the robes, which were faintly Chinese in design, thinking that they would clash with his vivid red hair, but after his girlfriend of a year had bullied him into trying them on, his mind had been swiftly changed. Then again, Ron would do anything for Hermione.
"I thought I'd set a new fashion." Harry said cheerfully, though in truth he wasn't looking forward to the ball at all.
"I could help you search." Ron suggested, the matching grin on his face revealing his nerves as well.
Between the pair of them the boot was soon found and, after the usual battle with his hair, Harry and Ron set off to await their dates in the entrance hall. Walking through the halls they found themselves trailing behind a group of fourth year Hufflepuff girls, all dressed in various colours, though pale yellow seemed to be in this season.
"I heard that he couldn't get the Weird Sisters this year." said a girl with her hair in a plait.
"I think they're on tour round Europe, Nancy." put in a girl wearing a startling shade of puce.
"Who's he got then?" asked the final Hufflepuff, a small girl wearing oversized glasses that reminded Harry how thankful he was that he now wore contacts.
"Can't be the Dragons, not with Stan still in hospital." commented the puce-wearing girl.
"Don't you wish you could just curse them sometimes." muttered Ron, tugging at the close collar of his robes.
Harry just grunted a non-committal answer, he was actually interested to hear who the girls thought Dumbledore had hired for the band.
"What about the Grim Warlocks? They're quite good. Don't you like them, Silvia?" questioned Nancy, looking at the girl wearing glasses.
"Yeah, but they're not really suitable for a ball." replied Silvia, "They're more ..."
"Grunty?" suggested the as yet unnamed girl.
Laughter echoed round the hallway, whilst Ron tried to get past them, only to be blocked by a guy who looked like he had been on the wrong end of a colour changing hex. Sighing, he resigned himself to being stuck behind the girls, praying that Hermione wouldn't take as long as she normally did in getting ready for these balls. He really didn't want to be late.
"Hey," greeted another fourth year Hufflepuff, this time a boy wearing black dress robes. He had been waiting for them as they turned onto the main staircase down to the Great Hall, clearly the date of one of the girls.
"Hey, Ed." said Nancy shyly.
"Who do you think Dumbledore's got?" asked Harry, as the girls all stopped to greet Ed, and he and Ron slipped past and hurried down the stairs.
Ron glanced over at Harry, before focusing on getting down the stairs without tripping over. "I heard it's that really well known band. You know, the one with -"
"- Harry!" Ginny butted in as they reached the entrance hall, "About time you got here, he's been waiting for you."
"Oh, right." said Harry nervously. Checking himself over one last time, and with an encouraging smile from Ron, Harry made his way over to where a group of guys had gathered, waiting for their dates.
It would have been easy to pick his date out anyway, but Harry thought that his eyes found him a little bit easier than was normal. Clearing his throat he caught the attention of the group and it split apart, with grin and knowing smirks on all the faces. Then he turned around, the golden light from the Great Hall giving his hair sparkling highlights. Never, thought Harry, had Draco Malfoy looked so ... amazing.
The usual smirk was replaced with a gentle smile that Harry knew was only for him. Dressed in a deep gold that looked black until he moved, Draco was the perfect match for Harry. His mind wandered back to the moment when their rivalry had changed drastically into something else.
Harry flicked through the pages of the book again, searching for the correct instructions. He knew they were in here somewhere, and if he didn't find them then...
...that would happen. He sighed, another cauldron ruined. He didn't understand it, Harry thought, waving his wand to clear up the worst of the mess, how could his mother be so brilliant at potions and he be so hopeless? She had even given him extra tutoring over the summer, and yet he still couldn't get a simple shrinking solution to work.
Harry knew how all the ingredients were supposed to work, he understood that stirring at the wrong moment could lead to unwanted effects. Yet no matter how hard he tried he couldn't make it work.
Sighing again, he set to work, lifting his second cauldron to the work bench and pouring in the water base ready to simmer. Intent on his work he didn't notice the door silently opening and closing in the corner of the room. Nor did he hear the footsteps coming up behind him.
"What are you doing, Potter?" sneered Malfoy, observing the mess of the bench before him.
"Malfoy!" cried Harry, spinning around with a vial of snake venom in his hand, "What are you doing here?"
"Watch out, Potter! That stuff's dangerous!" Malfoy jerked backwards, away from the toxic substance, "For your information I was doing my prefect rounds and heard an explosion. I take it that was you?"
The sneer on Malfoy's face wasn't helping Harry's temper as he placed the vial back on the bench behind him.
"So what if it was?" he demanded, "Last I checked, I was a prefect too."
"Dumbledore's mistake." sneered the blond, "Everyone knows Potters are incompetent."
"Take that back." Harry snarled, hands balling into fists.
"Why should I?" Malfoy responded automatically, more interested in the cauldron behind Harry, "What were you doing anyway?"
"None of your business. Now take it back before I make you." Harry pulled out his wand, waving it threateningly in Malfoy's face.
Behind Harry the barely started potion started spitting ominously, bright red sparks flying out and hitting the desk around it. Malfoy ignored the wand now pointed at him, keeping both eyes on the substance. He was sure that no potion should be that colour.
"Whatever, Potter." he said absently.
"I mean it, Malfoy." Harry threatened, sparks now coming out of the end of his wand as well.
"Potter, you really should take that potion off the heat." suggested Malfoy, backing away slightly as the potion turned a vile orange.
"I don't need your help! Furnun -" Harry yelled before being cut off by a large weight being thrown round his middle, pushing him violently away from the potion behind him.
A second explosion ripped through the classroom and Harry mentally groaned at the destruction of another cauldron. His dad was going to kill him, he thought as he shook his head, trying to get rid of the ringing in his ears, that was the third cauldron this year, and it wasn't even Christmas.
As the smoke cleared Harry tried to get up, only to realise that there was still a dead weight on his middle. Looking down from his position flat on the floor he saw a blond head, slightly dusty from the explosion.
"Malfoy, get off me." he groaned.
There was no movement from the other boy, and Harry started to get nervous. He tried to shift Malfoy off him, only to realise that the explosion had shattered the work bench leaving the table top resting over Malfoy's legs. He couldn't move the Slytherin without injuring him, and he couldn't get up without moving Malfoy.
"Malfoy!" he practically yelled, not wanting to stay trapped under the other boy a moment longer.
An answering groan let Harry know that the other boy wasn't dead, but still he wouldn't move.
"Draco Malfoy, if you don't get up this instant I will tell Professor Trelawney that you saw a bat in your tea leaves." Harry intoned, drawing on his knowledge that a bat symbolised someone with foresight, and that the Divination teacher would trail after Malfoy for weeks if she heard that.
"You wouldn't!" came the indignant response, "Besides, everyone knows I only drink coffee."
Harry blinked in surprise; he hadn't known that, and why was Malfoy telling him that anyway? "Get up!" he commanded.
There was a moment of silence, "I can't. I, er, can't move." Malfoy considered his position, both of having to admit that he was trapped to Potter, and that he was lying on top of said boy having just saved his life. All in all, this day was not turning out well.
"Why not?" Harry sighed, thinking that although he couldn't reach the table top, Malfoy should be able to manoeuvre his way out.
"Because I can't move my left leg, alright!" Malfoy said, aggrieved at having to admit any weakness to Potter.
"You can't move your left leg." Harry reiterated.
"Yes, Potter. What are you, hard of hearing?" Malfoy snapped, trying to keep the pain out of his voice. He had the nasty feeling that he had broken his leg, but was determined not to let Potter know how much pain he was in.
"Yes, actually." muttered Harry, shaking his head again. The ringing in his ears still hadn't gone away, and he was starting to wonder if it would.
Thinking quickly he wondered if he'd be able to levitate the table top off Malfoy from his prone position. Looking round he spotted his wand. It was lying four feet away under some splinters of wood, well out of his reach. There went that idea, he thought...unless...
"Do you have your wand?" he asked.
"No, Potter, I thought I'd go on patrol without my wand. What sort of question is that?" snarled Malfoy, fighting to keep his vision clear.
"Can you reach it?" Harry said, ignoring the aggressive tone.
"Because if I can levitate the table off you then we might be able to get out of this uncomfortable situation." explained Harry, holding on to his patience by a thread.
Harry felt Malfoy shift on top of him, and realised the flaw in this plan. "Careful!" he yelped as Malfoy's shifting hand strayed a little too close to a certain area for comfort. Then with a last wiggle, Malfoy pulled out his wand and flourished it at Harry.
"There." Malfoy declared, panting a little, "And be careful with it."
As Harry attempted to move the table top off the pair, Draco tried to hold on to consciousness without thinking about the way that the black haired boy had squirmed as he had fetched his wand. The flat plains of Harry's stomach (when had he become Harry?) had felt strangely nice under his questing fingertips, and he was oddly comfortable to lie on. Not that he could possibly think of Potter that way. Impossible. Right?
A loud crash signalled that Harry had successfully moved the table top, and that they were now free. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his leg, and the flood of feeling rushing through his system made his head even dizzier than it already was. With a gasp everything went dark.
Gently Harry shifted Draco onto his legs, allowing him to get his arms underneath the blond. Lifting him free, Harry laid him back down, saying "Don't move, I want to take a look at your leg." There was no response and Harry realised that Draco had blacked out.
Picking up his wand, he waved it over the boy's left leg, using one of the diagnostic spells his father had taught him. Even though he was terrible at potions, Harry had shown real aptitude for healing and so, along with the potions lessons from his mother, his dad had been teaching him basic healing over the summer. The diagnostic revealed that the leg was broken in two places; far too difficult for Harry to fix with his limited knowledge. Muttering a basic binding spell he was securing Draco's leg in a splint, when he heard a welcome groan.
"Welcome back. You've broken your leg." he greeted, feeling oddly worried about the boy who had picked on him for the past four years.
"I kinda guessed that." Draco moaned, "What are you doing, Harry?"
A jolt shot through Harry at hearing his first name, but he quickly rallied to reply, "I'm putting a splint on it so we can get you to the Infirmary. Just be lucky I'm not Lockhart."
A grim chuckle escaped Draco's lips as he recalled the idiot Defence against the Dark Arts teacher who, when Longbottom had fallen down the stairs, removed all the bones from his arm. He'd heard that Longbottom had to stay in the infirmary for two days growing all the bones back.
"Done!" declared Harry, "You should be able to stand on it if I help you."
"I don't need your help." Draco sneered, turning over and trying to stand.
Harry watched as Draco attempted to get up several times, each time falling back down with a scowl. After a couple of minutes, Harry held out both his hands and said, "Are you ready to let me help you now?"
"Fine." sulked Draco, letting the other boy lift him to his feet. The splint made his balance precarious and as he tried to compensate he toppled right into Harry's arms.
"Watch it." Harry said, wondering at the note of friendliness in his voice, and ignoring the little voice in his head that said it could be something more than friends. He was determined not to think about how nice Draco's hands had felt when they were searching for his wand, slim and sure as they had worked their way down his body. He was certainly not going to think about how he now had the same boy in his arms, yet a blush crept over his collar nonetheless.
Draco looked up into Harry's eyes, thinking randomly how much better the boy looked without glasses. Not that he was considering anything about Harry's appearance, he thought, not how he looked when he was playing Quidditch, flying freely about, not about how those muscles made him move so gracefully when he was walked. Draco Malfoy did not think about Harry Potter like that.
"Um," he said, clearing his suddenly blocked throat, "I could help you with those potions...er...if you wanted."
Helping Draco regain his balance allowed Harry to hide his shock at the offer, and the blush which had now reached his ears.
"Er...sure." he replied, when he felt able to keep his voice under a semblance of control, "If you want."
Harry had then taken Draco to the Infirmary where Madam Pomfrey had patched him up quickly. The following night the two boys had met for a potions tutorial, and though there had been arguments and tantrums from both parties the friendship had held and finally blossomed into something more.
A blush now made its way over Harry's cheeks, as he took in the sight of Draco ready for the Yule Ball. Their first kiss had been tentative, but the feelings beneath them had stemmed from that night when Draco had saved his life.
Walking over to Harry, Draco noted with pleasure the blush on his face. He always had that effect on the Potter heir, and loved it every time. Taking his hand Draco bowed over it and then gestured to the Great Hall. Harry nodded, and the pair went in.
The feast was magnificent, but the question on everybody's lips was who would be playing the music.
"I don't suppose you know?" Harry asked Draco.
"Who'll be playing?" Harry sighed, knowing that Draco had a nasty habit of winding him up.
"Maybe." Draco smirked.
"That means 'Yes'." Ron informed the group, now standing round waiting for the band to emerge.
"Maybe." reiterated Draco, a knowing grin on his face.
The romantic entanglement which Harry had found himself in had not been welcome by his best friend at first, and considering all the history between Ron and Draco it wasn't surprising. As the weeks passed and Harry showed no signs of backing down, even in the face of some quite vehement arguments from Ron, the red head had finally sighed and given in. If there was one thing he had learnt being Harry's friend it was that the small boy was stubborn when it came to his friends and... er... others.
A whisper ran through the crowd as the stage area went dark and Professor Dumbledore appeared in front of the students. The band had to be arriving soon. Speculation was rife about who it could be.
"Students!" called Professor Dumbledore, "I have the great pleasure of introducing... Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters!"
A cheer went up as the darkness lifted revealing the four members of the band. At the front was the man himself; once Dark Lord, now Rock Lord, Voldemort had been swayed by Rock on that fateful night in October when he met with Dumbledore. No one knew exactly what had happened during the meeting, only that in one incredible move the Dark Lord had forsaken all ties with Dark magic and his evil ways to become one of the great rock legends of the last decade.
Harry was shocked, he had no idea that Dumbledore would be able to get this band to play; they were loved by everyone.
As the riff of the first song started he recognised the other members of the band; on lead guitar was a woman with big black hair, Bellatrix Lestrange, on bass...Harry felt his eyes pop out of his head...on bass was their very own potions master, Severus Snape. Ron turned to Harry, gesturing his shock and disbelief, words lost in the screams of the students. Then Harry spotted the drummer, and turned to Draco.
"Is that your father?" he yelled into his boyfriend's ear.
A sly grin was all the answer he got as Draco waved at his father and slipped an arm around Harry's waist leading him to the dance floor.
Then with a growl Voldemort started singing...
"Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth and taste..."
A/N: As always, reviews are welcomed and flames heat the cauldron of creativity, thus leave your opinion by reviewing.