See Chapter One for disclaimer and details.

The new DADA instructor was a joke. Harry had tried to give the man the benefit of the doubt, but the overly handsome, yellow-blond man outdid anyone Harry could ever think of having met or heard of, insofar as hubris was concerned. Their book lists for the class should have given him the first clue, as it included every book the man had written. Then the classroom had been 'decorated' with several moving portraits of the man posing and flashing wide-mouthed smiles that exposed his perfectly white teeth. In short, Gilderoy Lockhart was a self-important, egotistical fop who could have given the Greek figure Narcissus lessons in self-love.

It hadn't taken long to reveal that the blond dandy was also a braggart and a phony – the first lesson – but for some reason, probably the man's good looks and smooth tongue, none of the girls could see it.

What Harry couldn't understand was how Minerva McGonagall had been taken in by the man. Harry's regard for Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster, had become rather jaded in his first year, so the fact that he'd hired Lockhart was just one more point against him. But Harry had thought better of the stern woman who was the Deputy Headmistress and the Transfiguration professor. But perhaps she, too, had been blinded by the berk's bright smile?

It had come to the point, however, that he and Draco had decided to pay only enough attention to Lockhart to know what they needed to study to pass the class, and worked on their own, otherwise. Unfortunately most of what Lockhart wanted them to study was Lockhart. The man did mention other things in his class, but he was quite stuck on himself. But then, that's already been mentioned.

Harry and Draco studied the Dark creatures that Lockhart occasionally mentioned, but ignored what he had to say about them, preferring to research the creatures and how to deal with them on their own. The information thus garnered was far more accurate.

The one thing that Lockhart came up with that the boys did appreciate was the Dueling Club. The man himself was laughable, of course. Professor Snape, who had been co-opted by the headmaster to co-head the club, beat the man in their demonstration duel without even trying. The disarming spell the potions master used had sent the foppish DADA professor flying backward more than ten feet. Still, the idea was a good one, and though the club itself only lasted for that first meeting, a few good spells were learned – the Expelliarmus spell in particular. Snape's use of that spell against Lockhart had proven most illuminating.

Later, in their own room, Harry and Draco had a good laugh as they watched Greg and Vince re-enact the duel. While the large boys weren't geniuses by any stretch of the imagination, nor were they as stupid as their looks and public demeanor led others to believe.

Draco had almost waxed poetical in his scorn of the niceties that Lockhart had emphasised. "All that wand flourishing is good for is giving your opponent time to kill you," he had said in another of his 'Father says' quotes.

As sick as Harry was getting of the 'Father says' quotes, in this case he had to agree. If you needed to cast a spell, he thought you should do it in the most efficient way possible, and get it over with. Don't mess about. He'd learnt that lesson the hard way when he'd decided to get fancy with one of their pranks. However, Harry had managed to convince Professor Flitwick that it was the first time he'd tried to pull a prank, and although five points had been deducted from Slytherin, he hadn't had to serve a detention.

When the Dueling Club had been discontinued, several Slytherins had decided to initiate their own version of it in secret. Harry and Draco joined it, of course. Learning new spells and how to cast them was one thing: using them against another wizard or witch was another, and was valuable experience. Also, since they were very familiar with each other's moves and reactions by now, they needed to be able test their skills against unknown opponents. They were also reluctant to use their full power against each other, fearing to hurt each other. They didn't have quite the same concerns or compunctions where other people were concerned.

Unfortunately, even when Harry complained to Dumbledore about Lockhart's total inability as a lecturer during their weekly meetings – giving painfully detailed examples – Dumbledore refused to let the teacher go, citing a lack of replacements as his reason. After fifty years of instructors only lasting one year, competent people were evidently wary of taking the DADA position.

Harry rather thought they could teach themselves better than Lockhart could teach anything – even breathing to the living.

While sitting in Lockhart's classes might have been a total waste of time, Harry's other, extracurricular lessons were going on apace.

Since Draco had so much more dancing practice and therefore more dancing skill than Harry, Madame Trentakoff had assigned Draco the task of being Harry's dance partner while Harry learned to lead. Draco had kicked up a bit of a fuss at first for being made to 'play the girl', but eventually, and grumbling all the while, he acceded. But if Harry hadn't a clue how to dance and be the lead, Draco had problems letting go of the habit of leading, and learning to allow Harry to call the moves. Eventually however, although neither was totally proficient in their role, both had learned enough to not embarrass themselves.

And Draco learned to trust Harry even further than he already had.

The Halloween Ball was just getting started as Harry and Draco entered. Although both were spoiled for choice, they'd decided that they'd attend stag. Each of them however, in their own minds, pretended that it was rather like a date with each other.

Since robes were not mandatory for this dance, both had opted for wizarding finery. Harry wore snug, calf-height black boots, dark green felt trousers that moulded to his body down to the knee, a burgundy silk shirt, and a bright green Bolero style jacket with gold trim.

Draco wore tan boots, tan satin trousers, a white silk shirt with dagger lapels, a gold-coloured waistcoat, and a cream-coloured evening tailcoat. The only nod he gave to colour was a single red rose in the lapel of his coat. Both boys had opted to do without a tie of any kind, giving their ensembles a rakish insouciance.

He and Harry made quite a stir among the younger crowd when they walked in together. But if they thought that going without dates meant they'd be free to enjoy the dance without female company, they were soon disabused of the notion.

"Nice outfit, Potter," Pansy said as she sauntered up to them in her pink silk gown. There were entirely too many ruffles, but Pansy seemed happy with it.

"Thank you. You . . . er.... You look quite different, as well," Harry said, trying to be diplomatic.

Draco's raised eyebrows told Harry that his comeback was rather lame.

"Nice music, too," Pansy hinted, ignoring Harry's words.

"Ah . . . yes," Harry replied, with a glance at Draco, asking for help.

Draco rolled his eyes, and gave Harry a small nudge, and a head gesture towards the dance floor. He wasn't comfortable with letting Harry dance with others, but chivalry and just plain good manners demanded that no man embarrass a woman – and Pansy was obviously asking for a dance.

"Ahm, would you like to dance?" Harry asked the girl. Draco gave a small, satisfied nod.

Pansy's success emboldened the others, and girls from every House, including Gryffindor, despite the Gryffindor boys' remonstrations against dancing with Slytherins, shyly accosted one or the other of the two Slytherin boys for the next two hours, trying to inveigle them into a dance without appearing to be too forward.

For their parts, the two boys acted like gentlemen and did the expected thing, saving the girls from the embarrassment of rejection. They felt no such compunctions about turning down the few boys that asked them to dance. They weren't about to lend credence to the rumors that still circulated.

But then it was time for the lower years to return to their dorms, leaving the party for the upperclassmen.

What had surprised Harry, however, was that Pansy had only requested one dance from each of them, and then contented herself with dancing with other boys. Too many girls had tried to get more than one dance with them, so Pansy could have justified pushing for more herself, but she hadn't.

Once back in the Slytherin Commons, Harry and Draco had rested with the other underclassmen of their House in front of the fire and talked about the dance and those attending it with everyone else. When the talk had died down a bit, Harry asked Draco for a private talk in their dorm room. But when they got there, Harry cast locking and silencing charms on their door.

"I know we don't have any music," Harry said with a shy, blushing smile, "but could I have the honour of this dance?"

Draco felt a bit awkward, but Harry looked so cute in his embarrassment that he accepted: but not without letting the moment draw out and become filled with tension before he answered. He loved creating a drama.

And something strange happened. As Harry started leading Draco in a dance to music only he could hear, their moves started to become ever more smooth, until by the end of the dance they almost looked as though they'd been dancing together for years. Nobody would have said their dancing was of professional quality, but it was every bit as good as people several years their senior who had much more practise than they, despite the lack of room, which had stilted their moves.

"That . . . was great!" Harry enthused as he tried to catch his breath. "Let's go show the others!"

"No!" Draco exclaimed in a panic. "I will not...." He was too embarrassed to explain that he didn't want everyone seeing him dancing in the girl's position. "Harry, no!"

Draco's expression and red face was enough to tell Harry what was wrong: if not in detail, then at least the gist of it. Harry was a bit disappointed, but forced himself to cheer up again.

"Okay, but we have to do that again: preferably with music, and in the practise room!" Harry insisted.

Draco was indecisive, but then, "Just . . . nobody watches, all right?"

"All right," Harry readily agreed.

"And you have to learn to follow, too!" Draco insisted.

Harry was more doubtful about that. After all, he had just learnt how to lead, and do it fairly well. But studying his friend's face, he saw that Draco was going to be difficult about it unless he agreed, so, "All right," he said again, reluctantly.

As it turned out however, even with the best of intentions and instruction from Madam Trentakoff, Harry couldn't dance backwards to save his life: at least not at someone else' direction. He tripped, mis-stepped, and generally couldn't keep from trying to peer around to see where he was going. As much as it galled Draco, if he wanted to dance with Harry (and he did, despite anything he might say), he'd have to follow, and let Harry lead.

Pansy's backing off from pushing herself at Draco extended not only to the dance, but to every other aspect of their school lives. She was still there, and she didn't ignore them or become standoffish, but her attempts to insinuate herself into Draco's life and affections ceased, and she started paying more attention to other boys.

Slytherin won all but one of their Quidditch matches that year, and Harry had learned all of the basics he needed to know to get by in the wizarding world. It would be a while before he learned all of the subtleties, but that would come with time.

The unofficial dueling club had been a huge help, as well – especially after Professors Snape and Flitwick started dropping in, and dropping 'hints'. Harry and Draco hoped it would continue on into the next year, at least.

And their pranking career continued on apace, as did their unofficial feud with Ronald Weasley. If the redhead had only left off, his life would have been much easier, but he stubbornly insisted on trying to 'get even' with the Slytherin duo. Unfortunately for him, any small victory he achieved was soon afterward vastly overshadowed by Draco and Harry's revenge on him.

The summer was again full of tutors and lessons, but since Harry had learned the essentials of wizarding life, Narcissa wasn't again tutoring him in that, which meant another couple of hours per day of free time. Harry and Draco made good use of that time. Lucius warned the boys, however, that starting at the winter solstice, their holidays would see them learning the essentials needed to run a business and an estate, and they'd have far less free time.

By the beginning of the next school year Harry had developed a mild fascination with Draco's arse. He just couldn't seem to keep his hands off it – when they were in private, anyway. Smoothing Draco's arse cheeks was a favourite occupation, but he wasn't always aware he was doing it. The one time he did pay particular attention to what he was doing, however, was when they were in the shower, when he explored all of Draco's buttocks, including the blond's arse crack. Of course Draco's hand 'washing' Harry's straining member was a bit distracting, but that seemed to be Draco's favourite toy.

Draco had started wondering what it might be like to have Harry stick a finger or two into his bunghole instead of just rubbing it, or even his hard penis. At thirteen they had just started being able to shoot when they orgasmed, and they had also begun to use their mouths more on each other – not yet to the point of oral sex, but that was just a matter of time. But getting themselves and each other off had become even more pleasurable with the advent of their ability to ejaculate: so much so that chafing had become a problem from their frequent searches for that release, spurring them to find and learn some lubricating and healing spells.

Sasha had reached her full adult size, but she was still only about three-quarters the size of a house cat, and loved to ride on Draco's shoulder, when she was allowed. She had long since recognised that her bonded was also bound to the dark-haired human, and since 'Hairy' (silly name, when the boy only had fur on his head) could also hear her, she had included him in her family and was ready to protect him as well, should the need arise. So far, however, Hairy had proven quite able to protect himself.

And they had finally been caught at one of their pranks – by the two who usually got the blame for them fortunately, instead of a professor or victim. It had been a close thing, but finally the Weasley twins, Fred and George, had decided to team up with the Slytherin tricksters instead of starting a war with them. The redheads had to admit to a grudging admiration for Harry and Draco's inventiveness and slickness in not getting caught.

Of course Harry and Draco weren't about to admit to how they avoided getting caught. Harry's wandless spell-casting was a secret they were determined to keep as long as possible. Not that his ability in that was the whole of it, of course. There was still a great deal of sneaking, hiding, and other surreptitious activity involved, but with no wand in sight it was easier to deny involvement and be believed if they were accused.

Fred and George had caught them during the preparation for a prank instead of in the execution of one, fortunately, so Harry's secret was safe.

"Hey, Malfoy!" Ronald called out to the blond as everyone gathered for the Slytherin/Gryffindor double Potions class. "I hear you like to take the girl's position!"

Considering Draco's secret fantasy, Weasley's vague statement caused him to blush. But his quick mind speedily caught on to what the Gryffindor was likely referring: his and Harry's dance lessons. It was last year's news, but he and Harry hadn't talked about it. So how the maddening Gryffindor had found out about him following to Harry's lead . . . But he could investigate it later.

"Jealous, Weasley? It doesn't surprise me that you'd have no dancing skills of your own," he drawled with a sneer, at the same time clearing up any misapprehensions his fellow classmates might have been given by the redhead's words.

"You admit it, then?" Weasley sneered.

"I rather like learning to dance," Harry injected, "but I have absolutely no skill at following." It was still true. Almost a year later, and Harry still couldn't dance backward unless he initiated it. "Draco is much more skilful than I and is able to—"

"He's the girl, then," Ronald interrupted with malicious satisfaction. Finally he was getting some measure of revenge on those two! Maybe he wouldn't need to avail himself of that scary man's plan after all. But Black had killed many people in his time, after all, so it probably wouldn't be wise to double-cross him.

Harry negated Draco's move to draw his wand, and regarded the redhead. "You're going to regret that insinuation, Weasel," he said softly.

Sasha quietly teleported into the space just under the lowest shelf on the side of the room, in case she was needed.

"Why are you not all seated?" Professor Snape snapped as he entered the room, interrupting whatever comeback Ron may have made, although it didn't stop the mean-spirited grin he gave Harry and Draco.

Harry waited until about halfway through the class, then surreptitiously tossed a mouse toenail into the redhead's potion, which caused thick smoke to pour out of it. Covered by this distraction, Harry cast a spell.

When the smoke had cleared, everyone stared at Ron.

His face expressionless, Professor Snape said, "Five points from Gryffindor for indecent exposure. Cover yourself, Mister Weasley."

Ron's rather insignificant penis was now attached where his nose should have been.

A very bewildered Ron stared at Professor Snape, wondering what he was talking about, and then at the rest of the classroom as their laughter grew.

Sniggering, Draco whispered, "Where's his nose?" to Harry. Seated next to Harry, he had been the only one to see Harry's hand gesture.

"Let's just say his crotch smells just now, alright?" Harry replied quietly, with a smirk.

Draco joined his classmates in uproarious laughter.

Ron was horror-stricken when he discovered what had been done to him, and quickly tied a lab rag over his face, leaving only his eyes visible, then rushed off to the infirmary.

"Let that be a lesson to you all," Professor Snape said. "Always be extremely careful of what you put into your potion."

After class, on their way out, Professor Snape called Harry and Draco back.

"Very clever, Mister Potter," the potions master said quietly, "but don't ever let me catch you doing anything like that."

"Like what, sir?" Harry said, unable to prevent a small, sly smirk from gracing his face.

"Very good, Potter. On to your next class, now," the teacher replied with a small smile.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

Out in the corridor, Draco said, "He must have seen!"

"But he can't prove anything, and he seemed rather pleased," Harry replied with a smile.

"Odd, that," Draco agreed. Although the potions professor had always treated the members of his own House better than members of any of the others, seeing him smile was almost unheard of.

Snape was very pleased. He only wished James Potter was alive to see how thoroughly Slytherin his son had become. It would have been a better revenge had he been involved, but the boy seemed to have done it on his own.

"What did our Ronniekins do now?" George asked them later that same day, having heard of the prank from both their brother and other Gryffindors.

"He insinuated that Draco and I were queer, that Draco was the 'girl' of the relationship, and—"

"Enough," Fred interjected, with a frown.

"No truth to it?" George asked.

Harry and Draco glared at him. Did the redhead actually expect them to admit to any such relationship?

"I can't dance backwards, so Draco has had to, in order to help me learn," Harry said tersely, avoiding the question. Madam Trentakoff was teaching them Spanish dance at present, but only as a change of pace. They'd soon be returning to more traditional European styles. Since Draco did need a partner to learn to be able to lead in those dances he wasn't already familiar with, Madam Trentakoff filled in on those occasions, but she much preferred to do her teaching from a remove.

"It seems we've failed our little brother," George said to his twin.

"How long has this been going on?" Fred asked.

"He's been an arse since before we were Sorted," Draco replied.

George cast a slightly jaundiced eye on the blond. "We do have something of a family feud going on," he pointed out.

"Why?" Harry asked. "I mean, we get along famously!"

"Yes, well, professional courtesy, and all that," Fred replied with a wry grin. "We pranksters have to stick together!"

"Speaking of which, weren't you going to show us your lab?" Draco put in.

"We were, but you both rather showed off ickle Ronnie's shortcomings," George replied.

"Harry's idea," Draco replied, demurring responsibility. He rather wished he had been involved, though.

Harry smirked at George's wording, and shrugged. "He shouldn't have been such a prick, and shoved his nose in where it didn't belong," he said, revealing the thought process that had led to the final form of his revenge.

Both twins grinned at that, admiring the justice of the prank. But there was still family honour to consider.

"I think we need to spend a bit more time with our youngest brother," Fred said.

"Teach him more socially acceptable modes of behaviour," George added.

Harry eyed them dubiously. "You mean like yours?" he asked suspiciously. Draco was looking more than a bit doubtful as well.

"Of course!" George replied with a grin. "Just because we often ignore them...."

". . . doesn't mean we don't know them," Fred finished.

Harry gave an expressive shrug that said, 'Okay – whatever you say,' and still conveyed his distrust of their words. If Ronald started pranking he and Draco, the twins would find that Harry had kept his best pranking material to himself.

"The lab?" Draco reminded them.

George levelled a small frown at the blond, and then shrugged. "This way."

Fred and George Weasley's lab, where they literally cooked up some of their finest pranks, was in an abandoned storage room near the kitchens, and only accessible by a series of narrow, hidden walkways and disguised doors.

"We think the castle shifts around from time to time," the twins explained, "and that's why this room got lost."

"How did you find it, then?" Draco inquired.

The twins exchanged glances, and then George pulled out a piece of parchment. "We've got a map," he said. "Found it in an old book in the library."

"It's just a blank piece of parchment!" Draco said, looking at it.

Grinning, George took out his wand, and tapped the parchment with it. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he intoned.

Faint lines started to appear on the parchment, which got darker, and little dots started to appear on it, and names next to the dots.

"It shows every room in the castle," Fred proudly declared.

"And shows where everyone is, in it," George added.

"So where are we?" Harry asked.

Fred pointed out a small room on the map. There were four dots in it, with all their names next to them.

Looking over the rest of the map, Harry found the Slytherin dorms.

"How did he get in there?" Harry asked, speaking to nobody in particular.

"Come on! Ronald's in our room!" Suiting action to words, Harry started for the door, but stopped when Draco didn't immediately follow him.

"Sasha!" Draco snapped out. A second later, the dirl-cat popped in.

Speaking to his familiar, Draco said, "There's an intruder in our room. Try not to hurt him too badly, but stop him, and keep him there until we can get there." Draco's face had looked pained as he issued the directive to minimise damage, but considering that the youngest Weasley boy's two brothers were right there with him, he had felt it politic to do so.

Sasha issued a small 'mew' of assent, and disappeared. All four boys immediately made haste towards the Slytherin dorms.

Madam Pomfrey had managed to correct Ron's anatomy earlier in the day, but shortly after Sasha arrived he was huddling in a corner of the room that Harry, Draco, Greg and Vince shared. His robes were in tatters, and he was bleeding freely from several cuts, including a few on his face, and trying to hex Sasha when she wasn't actively attacking him, which only earned him a reprisal from the dirl-cat.

Fred and George hadn't been allowed entrance to Slytherin House of course, so it was only Harry and Draco who burst into the room.

"Weasley," Draco snarled. "How the hell did you get in here?"

Ron glared at him. "Call it off, Malfoy," he said, referring to Sasha.

"Sasha," Draco said, going over to his desk as Harry kept guard, "I'll have a note for you to take to Professor Snape shortly."

"No!" Ron exclaimed, in a panic.

"Drop your wand, Weasley," Harry said, his own wand in hand.

"I'll be expelled!" Ron said, ignoring Harry's directive.

"You have a choice, Weasley," Draco almost purred, although there was a rather nasty quality to it. "You can tell us how you got in here, and we'll turn you over to your brothers, or—"

"Fred and George? They're outside?" Ron said hopefully as he scrambled to his feet, and then he tried to make a break for the door.

"Petrificus Totalis!"

Harry's spell froze Ron in place, just as Sasha appeared clinging to the redhead's back. The dirl-cat paused, confused that her target was no longer moving, and then jumped to the floor. She started sniffing around the boy, trying to figure out what had happened.

Frozen, but not cold, Sasha sent questioningly to both Draco and Harry.

"It's a spell, Sasha," Harry explained, then he turned to Draco.

"Well, what do we do now?" Harry asked.

Draco's expression and shrug said more eloquently than words that he was just as lost as Harry.

"He likely will be expelled if we turn him over to Snape, won't he?" Harry said.

Draco frowned slightly. "I don't know," he admitted. "What was he doing in here?"

A thorough search of Ron's person discovered nothing incriminating, so the boys started searching their room to see if there was anything different.

There was. A crystal had been hidden in Draco's effects – an oily, greasy looking green crystal.

"Don't touch it," Draco warned Harry.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I don't know . . . but I'm not willing to bet it's harmless," Draco said grimly. He quickly wrote out the note he'd only been threatening before, and gave it to Sasha.

"Take this to Professor Snape, Sasha," he directed. The dirl-cat took the note in her mouth, and vanished.

Professor Snape was in the midst of teaching a class to the fifth-year Hufflepuffs, and attempted to ignore the dirl-cat when she showed up on his desk. However she created such a distraction trying to get his attention that he finally, snarling, snatched the note that Sasha was so obviously trying to deliver, from her mouth.

Professor:
Emergency. Please come to our dorm room soonest.
Sincerely,
Draco Malfoy

The potions master took note of the Weasley twins seated across the corridor from the Slytherin entrance as he stormed up to the entryway. They looked at him worriedly, but he ignored them. He muttered the password under his breath, then stalked angrily to the third-year rooms.

"This had best be important, Mister Malfoy!" Professor Snape snapped out angrily as he stormed into their room. "And what is a Gryffindor doing in here?" he demanded, noting the boy's condition. Ron was still bleeding slowly, even though he couldn't move.

"We'd like to know the same thing, sir," Harry said. "Sasha caught him," which explained away the boy's injuries, "but it appears he was trying to leave us a 'gift'," he said, indicating the crystal. "Can you tell us what it is?"