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.

It had barely even been five minutes when a head of messy black hair rounded the corner, looking, glancing up every now and then. Draco raised an eyebrow. "Couldn't even leave me alone for five minutes, Potter?" There was a strange, slight flush creeping up Potter's neck.

"'Course not, Malfoy. Just thought- you being you- you wouldn't have done anything this year to be called into McGonagall's office, so you wouldn't know the password, so you'd be stuck waiting out here for ages. She's in there at the moment and probably won't come out till it's time to eat. It's 'Sherbet Lemon' now. She was feeling rather sentimental when she set it." As Potter spoke, the gargoyle made a scraping, screeching sound of stone against stone- why were the Hogwarts floors all stone? So cold, so empty. They should be thick carpets, like at Malfoy Manor. Far more comfortable- and the gargoyle revealed an alcove and another twisting staircase.

"So you came running after me to tell me the password so I wouldn't have to wait out here? How chivalrous of you, Potter. Such a Gryffindor."

Potter gave a surprisingly Malfoy-esque sniff and said, "Don't get used to it, Malfoy. Go on, then." Draco stepped onto the stairs; he felt Potter's eyes on him as he ascended, until the gargoyle moved back and blocked his view.

. . .

"Come in," McGonagall said before Draco had even knocked. He opened the door and stepped inside. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy. What is it?" She was sat at the larger wooden desk, the phoenix perched next to her. She set down a stack of papers she was reading as Draco stepped further into the room.

"Please, call me Draco. Mr. Malfoy is my father's name," Draco said, reverting subconsciously back into formalities at McGonagall's manners.

"Right, then. Draco. What can I do for you?"

"Well- actually, I do need to tell you that my transfigurations essay might not be quite up to standard because I'm preoccupied with my version of the Dreamless Sleep potion." McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"'Not up to standard' from you, Draco, is still better than the average of one Hermione Granger. That won't be a problem, especially given your reasoning. May I ask what specifically is happening now for you to need more time on your Dreamless Sleep potion?"

"Well, that's the other thing I came for." He turned to face the large portrait of Albus Dumbledore, hung on the wall behind him, watching with kindly eyes; and, by extension, the smaller, darker portrait of Severus Snape, hung next to Dumbledore. "Hello, Uncle Sev; Professor. Do you two know about what I've been doing?"

They exchanged a glance, then shook their heads.

Draco explained roughly what he'd been doing, then started to go into more specific details about what he'd discovered about the Dreamless Sleep potion, what he'd thought and theorised; both wizards nodded along as he spoke. "So I came here to ask if you know how to extract the Elixir of Life from the Philosopher's stone?" He paused, then added, "Or, just, how to make the Stone in general?"

Snape spoke first. "What you've done sounds far too good-willed to be true. Even if this will help you, Draco- why offer it out? Why not sell it? And you said it would be anonymous? Why not even disclose the fact that this discovery was you? You've always taken pride in your work." He narrowed his eyes at Draco. "Are you okay? Are you under the Imperius curse?" Dumbledore, in the portrait next to Snape's, laughed. "He's fine, Severus. Just doing some good. Well, my boy, I was good friends with Nicholas; he even offered to disclose the brewing instructions to me. Alas, I refused. Being here the majority of the time put the recipe in too much danger, and I wouldn't have used it anyway.

"I do know that to get the Elixir of Life, you have to liquify the stone in its entirety, and add your heart's deepest desire; let go of it, in order to obtain the Elixir. Then you extract it- it's a sort of shimmery gold, Nicholas told me once. He said you had to say, 'Extractum Aeterna Aurea Vitae' seven times as you withdrew the Elixir from the liquid; no more, no less, or the potion would lose all magical properties.

"And, while I can tell you that, I am, unfortunately, unable to say anything else; I don't even know anything else in this form." He gestured to his painted body. "Perhaps, though, there may be some choice memories by my pensieve you could view? I give my full permission for you to do so.

"My pensieve and memories are over there," Dumbledore said, gesturing to a wardrobe-type object. Draco stepped closer, and the doors opened. A pensieve floated out. Behind it stood racks and racks of vials, all filled with shimmering memories. "Do you know how to use a pensieve?" Dumbledore asked.

Draco knew the rough concept, but he'd never actually used a pensieve before. His father had one in his office, but Draco had been forbidden to enter that room. In the moment that he hesitated, Dumbledore smiled.

"I thought as such. Harry, come out from under that cloak." Draco whirled around, and, sure enough, Potter emerged from under the cloak, looking almost sheepish but not quite guilty enough to manage to pull of the expression.

As Draco began to make a noise of outrage, Dumbledore spoke up again. "You know how the pensieve works; since Draco here is going to be doing you, specifically, such a favour by ridding you of nightmares, it seems only fair you should help him. Why don't you go into the pensieve together? Perhaps Harry could also help later, now that he knows what you're doing for the potion and how it will be used, and also how to extract the Elixir. Go on, then. Have a look. The second rack, row three, third along from the right."

Draco was pretty much seething. The old man must've known Potter was there all along! He glanced at Severus, to see if he was just as angry as Draco, but he was- he was smirking?! Then it hit him. Oh! The betrayal! He'd known Potter was there too!

Draco's jaw dropped open; Severus, seeing the connection Draco had made, sniggered. Even angrier at the fact that now he had been tricked into disclosing absolutely everything to Potter- of all people! Why was it always Potter?- and that it now made sense for Potter to be the one to help him, despite him being absolutely useless at potions- he stomped over to the cabinet containing the memories, where Potter was stood behind the pensieve, holding the memory Dumbledore had suggested. (He looked, in that moment, like an angry child halfway to throwing a tantrum.) Potter poured the memory into the pensieve, and said, "Malfoy, just do what I do. It's so easy, I did it without even meaning to my first time; really, you can't mess up. Just follow me." He leaned forwards, plunged his face into the thin pool of water, swirling with memories, and then kept going forwards until he was gone into the Pensieve.

Draco glanced around one last time. Severus and Dumbledore were watching him expectantly; Fawkes was now playing with a cat with round, spectacle-shaped markings around its eyes; McGonagall had disappeared, the papers she'd been reading still on her desk. Draco leaned forwards, and, with a rather awful tumbling sensation, fell into Dumbledore's memory- and straight into Harry Potter.