It's Not A Love Potion (Drarry)

Chapter 11

A thousand thoughts rushed through Harry's head. Someone had seen them, someone knew. Snape had told Dumbledore everything. The Christmas dinner had been laced with a time-sensitive poison and they could all turn blue at any moment.

"What's going on?" he asked, his eyes darting between the two teachers. "Has something happened?"

Dumbledore inclined his head. "I would prefer to tell you the details in my office, Harry, if you would be so kind. Mr Malfoy, I advise you to go to your dormitory and remain there for the rest of the evening."

Harry blinked. Did this mean that the news had nothing to do with Draco? Or was Dumbledore going to punish them one at a time? He dimly noted that Draco's fingers were clutching tightly to the sleeve of Harry's robe.

"Sir—"

"Headmaster, I think it would be wise if Mr Malfoy were to accompany us. He and Potter have some... unfinished business. Potter's welfare is currently very much Draco's concern," Snape murmured in Dumbledore's ear.

Dumbledore's searching gaze swept over them, brushing over Snape's respectfully bowed head, Draco's worried-but-defiant expression. He nodded. "Very well. Draco, you may join us, although I must express my disapproval. I would much rather such grave news not fall on two sets of innocent ears; one is quite bad enough."

"I'm coming," Draco said firmly. Harry didn't think Draco realised that he had yet to let go of Harry's sleeve.

The four of them walked swiftly to Dumbledore's office in silence, Harry's mind reeling with possibilities. Dumbledore had said 'grave news'. And if it wasn't related to him and Draco... was someone in trouble? One of his friends? But they were all downstairs in the Great Hall, he'd seen them not five minutes ago, so what...?

"As you may or may not know," Dumbledore said solemnly once they had taken their seats, "I have various sources of intelligence keeping watch on known Death Eaters and their activities. This morning, several of them contacted me with the same message. I have attempted to confirm that a well-executed deception was not afoot, but alas, it seems not to be the case, no matter how much I wish it were so."

"Oh, get to it," Snape snapped, standing beside Dumbledore's chair, having refused to sit down.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Very well," he said. "Harry, Voldemort is on his way."

The breath in Harry's lungs whooshed out of him all at once. He'd never even thought to consider – what with school and Draco, Voldemort had been pushed to the back of his mind, and now Dumbledore was saying... they hadn't had any indication at all, no mysterious warnings, no deaths, surely they should have known—

Dumbledore continued. "He has been steadily growing more powerful in recent months and we now believe he plans to take the castle. As for its residents – well. Suffice to say, Harry, that a great number of lives will depend on you. You have been training for this moment. It is time."

Training? He'd had two meetings with Dumbledore in the past month; in both of them he had achieved nothing more than a few lost duels and hours of fruitless research.

God, this was it. He was actually going to face down Voldemort.

"Rubbish!" Draco burst out. Harry's eyes snapped towards him in shock. "Look, I'm sorry, Professor, but surely you have a means of defending the castle so he can't attack?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Certainly. But the defences cannot hold forever, and I fear that Voldemort will not give up easily."

"So sending Potter out to fight him is the best plan you have?"