Who You're Dealing With (Draco/Draco-Harry-Neville)
Merry Christmas! For my anonymous mailer who said, "I'm not sure whether to request Draco/Harry or Draco/Neville or both. Someone else requested Draco/Draco, yummy! All three in one?"

So here it is! The never before seen pairing of Draco/Draco-Harry-Neville!






Who You're Dealing With

It tasted as bad as Harry remembered, and then his skin felt all hot and wriggly and he screwed his eyes shut. When he opened them again Ron was staring at him with his mouth open. "Crikey," he said. "You look exactly like Malfoy."

"This is never going to work," said Harry. "This is the stupidest plan ever."

Ron's mouth was still hanging open. "You sound exactly like him as well!"

***


Harry made it into the Slytherin common room, dealt with Blaise Zabini's inquiring after his health with a single poisonous look (of which he was enormously proud) and actually got as far as Draco's room before Draco himself walked in, trailing Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

"He's an impostor! Seize him!" said Harry, pointing at Draco wildly.

"Get out, you two," said Draco calmly, and Crabbe and Goyle did just that, stonily and silently, their expressions only slightly more confused-looking than normal.

"I thought you Gryffindors would try something stupid sooner or later, and voila," said Draco. "The stupidest plan ever."

"Yes, I said that," muttered Harry. "Listen, I can--"

"Only your tiny speck of a squib brain could have come up with something this stupid," said Draco, "Neville."

"Hey, that's. Hey! I'm not Neville!" said Harry indignantly.

"You're Draco Malfoy, I suppose," said Draco dryly.

"No, I'm," began Harry, finishing lamely, "a foreign exchange student?"

"Why are you helping Potter?" said Draco. "He's never going to include you in his plans. No matter what you do. He doesn't like you."

"That's not true!" said Harry hotly, sidetracked.

"Of course it's true. No one likes you. You're pathetic, chasing after mudbloods like Granger, trying to get them to be friends with you."

"You're full of rubbish, Malfoy, and I'm not--"

"That's the reason no one likes you, you know. Real wizards don't take orders from mudbloods. Real wizards have too much pride."

"--Neville," Harry opened his mouth to say, and stopped. He could hear what Draco was trying to do, and it was Slytherin and slippery and clever, and he wanted to think, Neville would never fall for something like this. But he might. He might. Anyone might.

And maybe it was an opportunity. The Slytherins had closed ranks and they needed a way in, didn't they?

"Is that the reason you don't like me?" said Harry slowly, feeling Draco out.

"I've told you why I don't like you. You lick Potter's boots. You let mudbloods tell you what to do. You're so scared to be a real wizard that you can't even do magic."

"I--" I can so do magic, Harry began to say, prickling again. I'll show you magic, reaching for his wand, but, Neville. "I don't lick anyone's boots," he said instead. "Harry's my friend."

"No he's not. You don't have any friends."

"I do so. I--"

"You don't. People talk to you when they need to and can't wait to get away from you when they don't. You don't have a single friend."

Harry's mouth opened and closed. Hard to respond as Neville. Hard to say anything that wasn't leave me alone.

"Why are you talking to me then?" said Harry, and it came out sullen.

Draco folded his arms and leaned a shoulder against the wall. "Was the Pollyjuice Potter's idea?"

"No, it was--" Ron's. Harry glared at Draco.

"I bet it was. It reeks of Potter, the way he takes the credit and makes other people take the risks. It makes my skin crawl to see you panting after him. It's an embarrassment. You know your family's almost as old as mine."

"Hey! This was NOT Harry's idea, and he does NOT make other people take risks! And--and--and Harry Potter is five hundred times the wizard you are!" said Harry, rather exploding out of the pretense.

Instead of exploding back, Draco gave him a long speculative look. Harry frowned defensively, wondering if he'd blown his cover.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because maybe you do have a spine in there somewhere, squib. You've never stood up to me before." Draco spoke with slow contemptuous familiarity.

They've had these conversations before, Harry realized. He wondered how many times. He tried to imagine Neville dealing with Draco alone, and his mind balked. Harry Potter had no trouble with it; a few insults, a brief tussle, that was it. Harry found Draco petty, mean and infuriating. Neville, it seemed, had a harder time of it. Neville might find him overwhelming.

Maybe he owed it to Neville to do something about that.

"Of course I have a spine. So what?" Harry lifted his chin.

"So if you keep this up, I'll let you call me Draco."

Harry blinked, thrown. Even with that very particular tone, it was nothing Draco would ever say to Harry.

"I don't want to do that." He tried for scorn.

"Alright, squib. Run back sniveling to the weasel and the mudblood." Draco had a smirk on his face. He had drifted into Harry's personal space and they were matched, exactly the same height. It was unnerving. Harry was used to being a few inches taller.

"Shut up! And stop crowding me, Malfoy."

"You know," said Draco ignoring him, head cocked. "I'm really very attractive when I'm angry."

Harry felt the burst of heat in his cheeks a second before the familiar pain rolled over his skin. The Pollyjuice potion was wearing off. He had to get out. He pushed Draco away and stumbled into the common room, where he was given a wide berth, probably because he looked angry and a little shaken and still very much like Draco.

"Draco! What's going on?" he heard behind him, and then the murmur of the real Draco's voice and erupting surprise among the Slytherins, but by that time he was safe in the hall.

***

"He might have been bluffing," said Hermione. "He might have known it was you."

"What do you mean?" said Harry.

"Well, as if Neville could make Pollyjuice Potion."

"That's a point," said Ron.

"I don't know. He was really convincing. And he was really good at convincing Neville to join Vold--You Know Who."

Ron's face brightened. "He actually asked Neville to join You Know Who? Harry, that's all you need! That's proof!"

"Well, except he didn't exactly say it. It was all—" Harry waved his hands in a vague motion. "You know."

"Neville could help us. He could pretend to swap sides. He could be like a secret unguent," said Ron excitedly.

"He what?" Harry blinked.

"I think he means secret agent," said Hermione.

"Oh. Yes, I thought of that. At first. But now... I don't know if that's such a good idea," said Harry.

"You mean because Neville's hopeless," said Ron, in a voice that said fair enough.

"Not exactly," said Harry biting his lip and looking over the common room at Neville, worriedly. There was certainly a part of it he hadn't told anyone. How could he explain that the Draco he had faced as Neville was--different. That the power imbalance made him different. More dangerous.

"I think this is an opportunity," said Hermione.

"I guess," said Harry, and tried to fight the squirming in his belly.

"We'll show those Slytherins," said Ron. "They don't know who they're dealing with!"