Draco Malfoy and the Sleep of Fleeting Death

Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Scheming Portraits, Stones and Elixirs, and Memories

Draco strode into the Gryffindor common room confidently, head held high. "Granger!" he called, scanning the room. He was suddenly shoved up against a wall by a blur of red; Weasley had pinned him to the wall. Oh, look at that. He had his wand at Draco's neck.

"What do you want with Hermione, Malfoy?" he growled.

As Draco was about to retort, Granger came bustling in from the side. "Ron, no, don't worry, it's fine. What is it, Malfoy?" Stepping away from the wall and subtly rubbing at his neck, he gave Granger a nod of thanks.

"Potter doesn't know enough, and he suggested I bring my last query to you."

"Okay..? What is it?"

"Well- maybe not here?" Granger looked around to see the whole common room on edge and glaring at Draco.

As though to prove Draco's point, Weasley said, "As if, Malfoy! I'm not about to let you go off alone with my best friend-"

For once in his life, Potter had perfect timing. "Hey, Ron, 'mione. Malfoy. It's okay, Ron; you can trust him."

Weasley's face went red. "Trust him?! Harry, you trusted him so little you stalked him for all of sixth year!"

"But then he was actually doing stuff! Now he's- well, he's still doing stuff, but it's good stuff this time."

"And why should I believe that?"

"Why would I lie to you, Ron? And we know the Imperius curse doesn't work on me." There was a pause, and then Weasley seemed to visibly deflate.

"Alright, mate." He turned to Draco. "You can go, then. But if you do absolutely anything, I will have your head."

"Was that a threat, Weasley?"

"It was a promise."

"Okay, boys. Malfoy, c'mon. Ron, I'll be fine. Bye, Harry," Granger said, and Draco was pulled out into the corridor.

"Is here okay, Malfoy?"

Draco glanced up and down the empty corridor. "No one else has an invisibility cloak, right?" 

The edge of Granger's mouth twitched upwards. "No, not that I know of. So, what was your question?"

"How do you produce the Elixir of Life from the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Ah. Well, I'm not sure I can help with that, either. But, maybe Dumbledore can?" Draco sighed. Was this what it was like with all Gryffindors? Just, 'Oh, I don't know, but here's someone else who might!' over and over again?

"Okay. But, if you hadn't noticed, Dumbledore is sort of dead. Can you bring him back from the grave?"

"No, but have you ever been to the headmaster's office?"

"Obviously."

"Well then, you know that every headmaster or headmistress of Hogwarts-"

"Has a painting up there. I see. Okay then, I'm off. Thank you and goodbye." As Draco walked away, he heard the painting creak open and a far more subdued Weasel asking Granger whether Draco had done anything to her. Was he really that untrustworthy? ...Well, yes, but that's not the point. Honestly, you do one thing once and no one lets you forget it. Was that what it was like to be Potter?

After a long trek up moving, winding staircases, Draco encountered his newest problem. The gargoyle that guarded the entryway to the Headmaster's office. And Draco didn't know the password. He was certain he didn't know enough about McGonagall to even attempt to guess the answer; so he sank down onto the floor to wait for someone to come by.