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Chapter Text

"— will force a shape-shifter to reveal itself, normally used against the Polyjuice Potion and animagi. It's charm counterpart is the Restoring Spell. However, it is not strong enough to work on Metamorphagi, and I strongly advise you not to attempt it on a werewolf, lest you be intimately acquainted with your innards, either before or after you have administered the potion," Snape drawled on, a sneer in place as if he had expected all of them guilty in thinking of trying it, which was not entirely untrue. "Boggarts may –"

Harry could feel his eyelids drooping as he tried in vain to stay focused on Snape's voice and on his work area. He was partnered up with Malfoy again – no surprise there, though you'd think that Snape would have grown tired of shoving them towards each other in hopes of humiliating him – and he was sitting on the stool, in charge of the ingredients while Malfoy stood beside their cauldron, stirring and muttering the necessary spells to keep it at the right temperature.

Experience taught them that brawling wasn't going to get their potion to make itself (though that had been fun too, since Snape was forced to take points off Malfoy as well) so they came up with the agreement that Harry would be in charge of the chopping and the crushing and the dicing (living with the Dursleys had an advantage after all, Harry thought bitterly, other than the relation with his mother that prevented him from being Dark Lord-fodder) while Draco did the fancy work and the tricky parts.

Harry never did get precision and accuracy. He was more of the 'a bit, some more' type rather than the 'ten milliliters, ¼ cup of'.

Soon enough, Snape stopped speaking and was checking the cauldrons one by one starting from the back of the room, and Harry realized that he failed to pay attention again. He sighed, this lack of sleep was seriously doing him in. Okay, Restoration Potion. After the rat tails, what next? He thought, scanning his own travel-size collection of plants. At the same time, he racked his brain up trying to remember the ingredients that Snape had listed off earlier. Something wood… He picked up the southernwood –

"Wormwood, Potter, wormwood! Weren't you listening?" Malfoy said, sniffing with disdain. Even so, his hand continued stirring the concoction in perfect timing, never missing a beat. Harry could imagine him counting (…twelve, thirteen, fourteen…) up to the needed twenty-three clockwise stirs in his head even as he frowned with impatience and prepared to scold him.

Harry had long since admitted to himself that Malfoy was the Potions genius here, and grudgingly, he found it impressive as it was horribly annoying how Malfoy could be accurate in the number and the speed of his stirs and yet still keep an eye on Harry.

"Five points from Gryffindor for not listening, Potter," Snape's voice came up to them from across the room, making the Slytherins snigger and the Gryffindors curse under their breaths. Harry stared at his professor's back, who merely continued walking to the back of the room, checking on the cauldrons one by one. It was like Snape was so used to taking points off Harry, he does it almost subconsciously. Disturbing, that.

"I was listening, Malfoy," Harry lied, muttering so that Snape wouldn't hear.

"So the winter froze up your brain instead of your ears then," Draco drawled, retorting just as quickly as Harry did. "Not that there's anything to freeze inside that large head of yours," he said as an afterthought, smirking. The several Slytherins who were closest to them snickered openly. Draco took his wand out of the cauldron, letting it drip above the potion (Ah, done with the twenty-third stir then.) and waved a hand over Harry's chopping board. "Now crush the wormwood, not the southernwood."

"Yes, Your Holy Pratness," Harry drawled back, rolling his eyes as he put aside the southernwood that he had just been in the middle of crushing. He reached for a shoot of a green, leafy plant at the corner of their table – and promptly yelped when Draco smacked his hand away. "What the hell was that for?"

"Potter, that's tarragon," Draco said, sighing exasperatedly. "While they're closely related, I hardly think that tarragon looks the same as wormwood so you'll have to provide me with a good excuse or else I'll write it off as a result of your utter stupidity, yet again."

Harry glared at him, rubbing the back of his slapped hand. He looked at the plant again and realized that it was tarragon, and the wormwood was sitting pretty right next to his crushed and abused southernwood. He flushed at his mistake, and gingerly picked up the wormwood, embarrassed. He deftly crushed it with one hand. He glared at Malfoy once more. "Happy now?" he grumbled.

Draco was indeed happy now, if his smug smirk was any indication. "Honestly, Potter, you suck at Potions. Why do you even make yourself suffer?"

A faint hissing sound caught their attention and Harry glanced at the now furiously bubbling concoction in their cauldron. Now, Harry was no Potions Master, but he at least knew that the potion wasn't supposed to be doing that. The wormwood still rested on the chopping board next to the tarragon, almost insultingly. He grinned. "To drag you down with me," he quipped, sniggering when Draco cursed under his breath and hurriedly scooped the crushed wormwood in his hands and dropped it in the cauldron.

The cauldron seethed for a while more before slowly dwindling down into a faint simmer, just like before.

"Five points from Gryffindor for trying to deliberately sabotage Mr. Malfoy's potion," Snape said, sounding proud of himself.

There was a quiet thump where Harry's forehead collided with the table. He turned his head to glare at Draco, who was looking smug. "It's my potion too," he mumbled, raising his head, when he realized that the lump of crushed tarragon wasn't as wide as he remembered it to be. Malfoy must have scooped some of it up when he did the wormwood, not realizing it in his haste. He blinked when the hissing sound from before returned, and he whipped his head to look at their furiously sizzling potion. "Um, Malfoy?"

"What is it now, Pot –"

BOOM!

Quiet.

And then…

"Ten points from Gryffindor for sabotaging Mr. Malfoy's potion, Potter," Snape's snide drawl cut through the silence and the black smoke of the room. "And stay behind after class for your detention," he sneered.

Malfoy's scowl at having the cauldron blow up on his face immediately disappeared at the mention of Harry's detention. He flicked his wrist and Scourgified himself effortlessly, before remembering something. The scowl returned. "Thanks a lot, Potter, now we're going to have to re-do the potion."

Ron and Hermione each gave him sympathetic looks and pats on the back as they left him to his doom. Malfoy smirked at him with malicious glee as he too left the room with Goyle. Soon, it was only him and Snape who looked at him in that way of his that was haughty and insulting without him even trying.

It was Malfoy's fault, was on the tip of Harry's tongue, which was true, really. It was Malfoy who put the tarragon in the cauldron, though he didn't think that Snape would see that reason justifiable like he did. You'd think that the man would have softened up to him after the war and all, or at least after finally being openly recognized for his efforts in aiding the Wizarding World against good, old Voldemort, but Harry was obviously expecting too much.

While Harry didn't hate Snape's guts anymore, he still thought his professor was a slimy git. (which was okay to think, since the feeling was probably mutual.)

"Clean this room, Potter," Snape started menacingly, looking down his crooked nose at him. "I want the ingredients stored where they are supposed to be, and the tables, the floor and the ceiling positively sparkling when I return in half an hour."

So that was why Snape didn't tell the class to clean up their own tables, Harry thought sullenly.

"Leave the cauldrons to brew." And with that, Snape passed Harry with an impressive swoosh of his robes and out the door.

…But, okay, so maybe Snape did soften up after all.

He didn't take away Harry's wand, so all Harry did was go crazy with Scourgify and the room was spic and span. The ingredients would have to be stored manually though, since he didn't want to accidentally put moonstone together with monkshood. Time to get started then.

Of course, it didn't leave his attention that he really wasn't supposed to be doing this. It was Malfoy's fault. Arrogant git always trying to torment him as always. Though, Harry mused, nothing new there. It was comforting, honestly, to retain something normal for once. At least, the closest thing to normal that he ever got. After the war, everything just suddenly swerved and ceased to make sense. The Wizarding World treated him like their god, and so did the rest of the population of Hogwarts.

He agreed to go through the so-called eight year when McGonagall asked him, only because he wanted to stay on familiar ground and probably get back that sense of normalcy that Voldemort stole from him. The idea sounded good at the time, well, it's still good now, but he just didn't expect first years to line up in front of him asking for autographs or crowds gathering asking how did you do it how did you do it.

Thank goodness his friends still treated him like the same, old Harry. Ron and Hermione finally got together, as in really together, and it was really nice seeing them publically and comfortably showing their love to one another. But then Neville and Luna got together too, and Ginny became more aggressive with him, which… really shouldn't bother him, but it did.

After all, he liked Ginny… He could imagine them getting married and having kids. He liked Ginny after all, just…

Harry frowned.

Maybe just not like before.

Bottom line was, everything's all crazy now. Well, 'everything' had been crazy all his fucking lifebut he thought, okay, the psychotic Dark Lord hell bent on taking over the world and killing everyone else is gone and down, so it's time to live like a normal wizard boy now! (He's eighteen now, hardly a boy anymore, but still…)

Admittedly, even Harry had to admit that he had been too hopeful that everyone would forget about The Boy Who Lived Twice. It was too good to be true, after all. Being simply Harry, that is –

A shrieking laugh interrupted his musings.

"Oh, Potter, you Rotter –"

"Peeves!" Harry scowled, looking up as Peeves floated through the wall and flew in circles above him, cackling gleefully.

"Oh, Potter, how charming! Think he's so dashing! His big head a-swellin'! Until it go poppin'!" Peeves sang, grinning maliciously and showing his teeth. He darted away when Harry swiped at him with his hand and promptly busied himself with the bottom shelf of the ingredients cabinet, working his way up.

Harry watched in horror as jars and bottles flew from the cabinet to the opposite wall with a crash and a thunk and – a blub? What? –

BOOM!

He whipped his head towards the wall in panic, half-expecting to see a hole. There was no hole, but he really didn't find relief in that because Peeves was having his wicked way with the ingredients cabinet. He did not know how to strangle a ghost, but damn, he wanted to find out!

"Snape'y not happy when he sees Potty –" Peeves sang on, almost giggling with joy as he turned away from the cabinet and did somersaults in the air, then invading Harry's personal space when he went down, enjoying the boy's expression of horror, panic and anger in close-up. "Poor Potty is he –"

The door slammed open.

Both Harry and Peeves froze, heads whipping towards the door where Snape stood, shocked, and body stiff with repressed fury. Harry would have felt sorry for him if he weren't busy feeling sorry for himself.

Especially when Snape started shaking and Peeves very conveniently rushed off and disappeared through the ceiling.

"I-it wasn't me!" Harry squeaked out.

Snape wheeled in at him, and sneered. "I know that, Potter!" he snapped. "Now get out of here before I make you clean this up too!"

Harry bolted out of the room as fast as his feet could carry him.

"Damn poltergeist –" was the last thing he heard before he scrambled out of the room and up towards Gryffindor Tower.

Let it be known that Harry Potter wasn't stupid. He knew escape when it was presented to him on a silver platter.

Poor Professor Snape, though.

But on the other hand…

Poor Peeves.

He was already close to the portrait of the Fat Lady; all he had to do was cross the seventh floor corridor, and so he hurried his pace – and a square of the floor under him completely disappeared.

He cursed, one hand grabbing his wand from his pocket and the other scrabbling for whatever else he could grab even though there was nothing close to him as he fell. He let out a pained 'oof' as his fingers frantically reached out and clung to the edge of the floor, and he hissed at the impact of stone against his cheek, his hip and his knee, as well as the sudden strain on his fingers at having to hold up his entire weight.

Harry exhaled deeply, not sure if he should thank his lucky stars for his reflexes or not at all for having put him in this situation, again. With his hands occupied, he didn't think he'd manage to do any fancy wand-waving.

He clung to bits of stone on the floor using his nails and pulled himself up with great effort, using his elbows when he finally could.

Last week it had been a broom closet, yesterday had been a wall…

As soon as Harry got himself out of that hole, he immediately stood up and ran the remaining distance to the portrait of the Fat Lady. He wasn't taking any chances if more of the floor decided to eat him up.

He burst through the portrait, immediately rushing to Ron and Hermione who were bent over their homework in front of the fireplace. (At least, Hermione was.)

"The castle is trying to eat me!" he burst out, succeeding in making his two best friends and possibly a few other Gryffindors who were closest to them look at him as if he had finally gone bonkers.

"Um," Ron started out, slowly and a little nervously. "You okay, mate?"

"What do you mean the castle's trying to eat you?" Hermione asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Well –" Harry started, then blinked. Now that he thought about it, the explanation he had on mind sounded like he really was off his rockers. It sounded good a while ago, and really, the more he thought about it, the more it was… unbelievable. "I'm not sure," he finally said, collapsing on a chair. "I'm probably just being clumsy," he shrugged.

Ron laughed at that. "And you go and blame it on the castle?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh back at that.

As he lay in bed that night, he thought that maybe they were just accidents.

He probably just tripped over something and ended up falling into the broom closet, and he did lean on the wall yesterday, so that must have triggered something… He must have done something to trigger the floor as well.

Well, at least he didn't fall through the hole like he did with the wall yesterday. It took him three hours just to figure out how to get the wall to open again, and by the time he got out, it was already past midnight.

He wanted a complete night's sleep, thank you very much.

Considering what happened in the Potions classroom, he probably needed it to prepare himself for utter hell in the morning.

Snape was in a bad mood, and when Snape was in a bad mood, everyone was in a bad mood because that meant more points taken and more snide remarks. When Snape got like this, even the Slytherins weren't safe from Severus Snape's inherent skill of tongue-lashing.

Harry sank even further in his seat, feeling like it was his fault somehow but guiltily thankful that Snape didn't decide to dump his bad mood entirely on him. Of course, he already got 10 points off Gryffindor just fifteen minutes into the class, but at least he wasn't the only one.

They had Potions as their last subject yesterday and their first today, so their cauldrons were right where they left them.

"I'm guessing this has something to do with you, Potter," Draco muttered beside him, raising the small glass of Polyjuice Potion that Snape provided them to peer at it.

"What? The Polyjuice Potion?" Harry asked, confused.

"No, you twit, Professor Snape's sudden inclination with wanting to bite all our heads off."

Harry turned away so that he could hide his guilty flushing. "Sudden? He's always had an inclination to bite all our heads off."

Draco scoffed. "Your head, you mean. Slytherin's had ten points taken off already!"

"Don't complain, Malfoy," Harry said mournfully. "Gryffindor's had thirty."

Draco smirked. "So it is your fault then?"

Harry turned his head to glare at him. "No, it isn't," he said hotly.

"Okay, partly then," Draco replied, shrugging.

Harry had no idea how to reply to that so he settled for grumbling as Snape finally finished harassing Lavender Brown and told them all to start trying out their potions.

Draco looked at the Polyjuice Potion with disgust. "I can't believe I'm drinking something with your hair in it, Potter. The mere thought of it is revolting."

Harry, who was about to pull out a few strands of his hair, smirked at him evilly. "I could always spit in it, Malfoy."

Draco turned green at that. "Must you be so crass? Hurry up and put your hair in it while I'm not looking so I can pretend that it's not there," he snapped.

Harry merely fingered his hair a little more. "We can always exchange places, you know. I'll try out the potion."

He had no idea why Malfoy suddenly found it his obligation to be the one who always tries out their potions, though he figured it was to take learning about potions to a next level. After all, what better way to study potions than to actually experience them?

"No, Potter," Draco rolled his eyes, pushing the glass of Polyjuice towards him again. "Now hurry up."

And so Harry did, pulling out a few strands and dropping it in the glass. It sizzled for a bit and started turning into a clear, bright-gold color. "Cheers, Malfoy," he grinned.

Draco turned towards him, a little bit paler than usual. He scrunched his nose up at the glass. "Anything with you in it has got to be poison," he muttered, before downing it, looking like he did so with great effort.

Harry turned away, thinking that Malfoy would want a bit of privacy. He remembered his own experiences with Polyjuice and while it wasn't exactly painful, it still felt weird. He looked around the class and was amazed by what he saw. Two Blaise Zabinis, two Lavender Browns, two Padma Patils, two Hermione Grangers, two Ron Weasleys, two Gregory Goyles… He turned back to his own partner, and couldn't help the laugh that escaped him as his own splitting image stared back at him in wonder.

At his laughter, Draco-Harry sneered at him. "I'm glad you find this hilarious, Potter. That was absolutely horrid." Then he paused, surprised at Harry's voice coming out of his mouth.

Harry laughed some more. At least now he knew that a sneer did not fit him.

Draco turned himself around, looking down at himself. He grinned evilly. "Taking the Restoration Potion seems like such a waste now. It'd be so much fun dancing on top of the Gryffindor table like this."

It was during times like these that made Harry wonder what life would have been like had he taken Draco's hand back in first year. At the peak of the war, the Malfoys suddenly turned against Voldemort and Harry remembered being surprised at how relieved and lighter he felt after he found out that Draco and Narcissa were on their side. Lucius, however, stayed firm beside the Dark Lord and was now currently locked up in Azkaban.

Various groans around the classroom got their attention, and one by one, the Polyjuiced students returned to their original selves after drinking a glass of the Restoration Potion.

Draco-Harry sniffed remorsefully. "Shame," he said, shrugging as he Scourgified the glass that held the Polyjuice earlier before proceeding to transfer the Restoration Potion in their cauldron to it, filling it up halfway.

"Shame, indeed," Harry replied dryly.

Draco-Harry raised the glass to him in mock-toast before downing it in one go. He shuddered at the taste, setting the glass on their work table –

And Harry watched as Draco crumpled to the ground before him.

He panicked, jumping off his stool. His knees bumped painfully against the floor as Malfoy fell against him, shaking violently.

Snape was beside them in an instant. "What did you do, Potter?" he hissed.

Harry opened his mouth, eyes wide as he looked at the body convulsing in his arms. "Nothing! I – he suddenly –"

Then Malfoy suddenly went still, collapsing limply against Harry.

Harry took in a deep breath, turning him around to look at his face and feel for a pulse. He let out a shaky breath when he found one.

Everyone was around them now; scared, angry, shocked and curious faces crowding.

Snape cast a lightening charm on Malfoy, hissing at the other students to get out of the way as he picked Draco up in his arms. "Class is over, clean your workplaces. Granger, take charge." Then, he rounded on Harry, sneer in place. "Potter, come with me," he snapped, before he rushed out of the classroom, robes flying furiously behind him.

Harry took one last look at Hermione and Ron's white faces, before scrambling to his feet and towards the infirmary.

Draco woke up feeling light-headed for some reason, and he squinted at the white that was the ceiling. He could hear Snape's voice, and was that – Potter? And also Madame Pomfrey. He blinked – then groaned as he realized that he was in the infirmary.

With no idea why, he thought sourly.

He sat up, then groaned as a small wave of dizziness hit him.

The voices immediately stopped and suddenly there were hasty footsteps coming closer.

Draco blinked to get his vision in focus, before looking to his right where Madame Pomfrey was walking hurriedly towards him. He frowned. He blinked harder, because there were clear spots dancing in his vision. They became more visible as Madame Pomfrey came closer.

He stared dumbly.

Madame Pomfrey was finally beside him, talking to him with words that he wasn't listening to because he was busy staring at the… Well, they weren't spots anymore. Like a faint shimmering surrounding the witch. It was actually sort of pretty.

"I'll just do a few spells, Mr. Malfoy, just a quick check-up, okay?" Madame Pomfrey said, flicking her wand several times before she frowned.

Snape was now behind her, glancing at his student. "Is there anything wrong, Madame Pomfrey?"

There was that faint shimmering thing around Snape too.

"Nothing at all, Professor Snape, he's…" Madame Pomfrey trailed off, looking at Draco with confusion. "He's perfectly fine."

Snape raised an eyebrow at her.

"What was the potion that he took, again?"

At that, Snape glowered and Draco's attention was brought to Potter as he stood by the end of the bed, looking nervous and guilty and just confused. The same shimmering light surrounded his figure.

"Restoration Potion, supposedly," Snape replied, putting emphasis on the last word. He glared at Potter. "What did you put in the potion?"

"Nothing!" Harry said, waving his hands in front of him in defense. "Well, there was tarragon – wait, no, that was the one that blew up, but we followed the instructions perfectly the second time!" he let out sullenly.

"So you put nothing in it?" Snape said dryly.

"I already told you, nothing!" Harry replied, getting annoyed despite himself.

"It's possible, Professor Snape," Madame Pomfrey began, and all heads turned to look at her. "That Mr. Malfoy may have just had a bad reaction with the potion." She turned to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, do you feel anything different?"

Draco shrugged, rubbing at his eyes. The shimmering was still there, around the three of them. "Not really, but you're all… shining," he finished dryly.

They all looked at him in incredulity.

"Shining," Snape repeated, unamused.

"Alright, dear, I think you need some more rest," Madame Pomfrey said. "You may be in perfect health, but that potion knocked you out pretty good."

Draco nodded, thinking that he was just still sleepy and he did feel a bit nauseated and dizzy…

"I'll wake you up before lunch, dear, now go back to sleep," Madame Pomfrey told him, before promptly closing the curtains around his bed.

He heard her shooing Professor Snape and Potter away, telling them not to disturb her patients.

Chapter Text

When Draco woke up again, he wasn't surprised to see Madame Pomfrey leaning over him. He was surprised, however, to realize that the weird, shimmering light was still there, around the witch.

He let out a cough, to let her know that he was awake so that she could move away for him to sit up. He saw Snape and Potter were once again in the infirmary, a good distance away and talking heatedly. He sort of felt sorry for Potter, having Snape breathing down his neck like that. Honestly, he believed that Potter didn't put anything in their potion.

It would be un-Potter like, after all, and Draco liked to think that while they still fought constantly, their animosity had lessened to a lower degree. Potter was still an irritating git though, he added as an afterthought.

"I had originally planned to release you for lunch, Mr. Malfoy," Madame Pomfrey said, cutting his train of thought. "But it seems that Professor Snape still wants a word with you."

As if right on cue, a house-elf appeared with a crack and left a tray of food on his bedside table.

Madame Pomfrey spoke with the house-elf, but Draco wasn't really paying attention because Snape and Harry had realized that he was awake and was talking towards him now. Once again, as they neared, the shimmering around them became more and more pronounced.

He sighed. Really, his godfather could be as overprotective as his mother sometimes. He did not want to think about Snape cooing at him and asking if he'd eaten breakfast yet, so he quickly squashed that thought.

"Anything new, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked him, though his eyes were still rooted beside him, glaring at Potter who glared at the floor.

Madame Pomfrey gave her wand a few flicks, before turning to the Potions professor. "He's really fine, Professor. I don't see anything wrong with him."

Snape removed his gaze from Potter to look at him. Draco shrugged. "You're all still shining," he said, mainly because he knew that the expressions he was going to get would be amusing.

Sure enough, Madame Pomfrey looked confused as hell and Snape looked more stiff and twitchy than normal. He was surprised, though, when Potter grinned at him and chuckled.

Snape rounded on Potter immediately. "And what's so funny, Mr. Potter?"

Harry immediately came on the defensive, the grin off his face. "Nothing, Professor!"

At that, something happened. Draco's eyes widened as the clear light surrounding Potter didn't seem so clear now. It was a startling black. "Woah!" he yelped in surprise, jerking backwards towards the headboard of the bed.

All heads turned to him.

The black… thing flittered around Potter's figure, not enough to seem as if it were eating him, but still… there. Later, Draco would describe it as small, black Snitches fluttering together but now all he could do was gape at Harry.

Harry gaped at him right back.

"What is it, Mr. Malfoy?" Madame Pomfrey asked, instantly beside him and sounding troubled.

"What the bloody hell is that?" Draco burst out, waving at Potter frantically with one hand.

Confused and just a little bit shaken, Harry looked down at himself. "Um," he said, when all he saw was his normal robes. He had half-expected to see a baby acromantula gripping his torso with all his legs, but there was not even a normal spider on his robes. Not that he could see, since his robes were dark, so he ran his hands down his robes, looking for what it is Malfoy was seeing.

Cautiously, he looked at Snape, who looked as baffled as he did.

He turned his head towards Madame Pomfrey, almost pleadingly.

"Um," Harry said again, looking at Draco. "What the bloody hell is what?"

The black was now slowly turning back into its original state, that clear and light fluttering.

"T-that!" Draco persisted, waving at Potter, eyes raking up and down as he took in the slowly disappearing blackness of the… whatever that flittering thing was. "Those… black…" he faltered, annoyed at how stupid he was sounding.

"My robes?" Harry let out, confused.

He was surprised when Draco glared at him.

"No, Potter," Draco said, chin raised in haughtiness. "Do you think I'm stupid?" he snapped.

"No," Harry said quickly, waving his hands for emphasis.

The black was completely gone now, and Draco stared at it, confused but not panicking anymore. He slightly relaxed against the bed, scrunching his nose up in concentration.

Harry fidgeted in his place, nervous at Draco's intense scrutiny.

An awkward silence passed in the infirmary, between the four individuals as Draco crossed his arms and stayed silent. The pretty lights were back now, with no traces of black, but Draco continued to stare anyway because Harry continued to fidget.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said calmly, cutting the tension with a knife. "Tell me everything that happened during our class yesterday, after the… explosion," he finished dryly.

He sounded so calm that Harry couldn't help but break out into a cold sweat. Even with his new found respect for the man, he still found him intimidating. Back then, it was easy to fight back because there was a reason to, but now, even Harry himself was feeling guilty, even though he knew he did nothing.

"Err, well," Harry started lamely, wiping his hands down his robe because they were starting to become sweaty. "We cleaned up the cauldron and started to work on the second potion," he said slowly, wondering how detailed Snape wanted him to be. "We filled the cauldron with Erumpent Exploding Fluid, before adding in the rat tails. Three of them," Harry added quickly. "Malfoy stirred it twenty-three times, counter-clockwise –" At Snape's impatient grunt, Harry immediately swallowed down his details about the temperature. Okay, obviously Snape didn't want him to be that detailed. "Then added the crushed wormwood."

They had followed Snape's instructions perfectly. Of course they did, with Malfoy being his obsessive-compulsive self.

"We let it boil until the end of class," Harry continued, mumbling now. Draco was still staring at him which was really getting unnerving. He discreetly rubbed at his nose, just in case there was dirt there.

Draco couldn't help it though. He was still thinking about the black from earlier, and he was now starting to think that maybe there really was something wrong with him. You just don't see shiny things floating around other people, nor do you see said shiny things suddenly turn a vicious black while the people around you have made it clear that they're not seeing the same thing as you are by looking at you as if you just grew a hippogriff head.

"It's true, Professor," he said, shrugging as he remembered the Potions class from yesterday.

Snape, after a while, nodded almost imperceptibly at him, before turning back to Potter. "And during your detention?"

Now, Harry found it in him to glare at his professor. "I didn't put anything in the potion," he muttered. "I barely finished cleaning the room with Scouring Spells, before Peeves came in and started wrecking –" He stopped, eyes wide.

Snape stared back at him, looking almost stunned for a moment before his usual cold demeanor placed itself back on his face. "You are to stay with Mr. Malfoy, Potter, until I return. He's in your care since it was you who placed him in this predicament," he said, scoffing.

Harry's jaw dropped. Hadn't they just come to the silent agreement that this was all Peeves fault? Well, at least Harry thought that the eye contact and the look of realization on Snape's face meant 'agreement'. Why couldn't Snape view things the same as normal, less seemingly constipated people?

"Peeves!" he cried out, at the same time Draco yelled, "Potter?"

As Snape walked out of the infirmary with a swoosh of his robes (Snape really liked doing that, huh?), Harry thought that his professor looked smug.

Draco glared at him. "Well, I hope you're happy with yourself, Potter."

Harry looked absolutely flummoxed. "Me?"

Madame Pomfrey cleared her throat, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at them.

They both shut up.

"Now," she started. "Eat your lunch, dears. I do believe that Professor Snape will come back for you soon. Before the end of lunch, seeing as you two still have your classes, and –" She gave them a hard stare. "No killing each other in my infirmary."

More flicks of her wand and a transfigured chair made itself known by nudging Harry's hip.

Satisfied, she left them to their own devices.

Grumbling, Harry sat down on the chair heavily, going back to his glaring competition with Malfoy.

"Great, now I'm stuck with The Golden Boy," Draco muttered dryly, resting his head against the headboard with a sigh.

Harry cringed at that. He hated that title, much like he hated 'The Boy Who Lived'. He thought that he should have gotten used to them a long time ago. He sighed. The war's over now. He just wanted to move on.

"Yeah, you're stuck with me," he let out, leaning back against the chair. He was tired and it wasn't even half the day yet. Harry felt justified though, because really, having Malfoy collapse on you and Snape interrogate you and pretty much breathe down your neck were rather taxing. He wasn't in the mood for arguing, especially with Malfoy.

"Marvelous," Draco grumbled, but with no real bite this time. He scooted over so that he was facing the side-table where the tray of food lay, crossing his legs under him before proceeding to pour syrup on the pancakes. "So I suppose you really don't have any idea what happened to our potion?"

"Oh, for the love of –," Harry said exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. "For the last time, no, I don't know what happened to our potion. If I did, I'm pretty sure you would too, seeing as you're my very meticulous partner."

Draco smirked at that.

"But –" Harry started, as if he just realized something. He suddenly looked crestfallen. "Well, err, if I did do something – which I don't think I did, at least, not consciously, I guess – then, well –"

There was a time when misfortune befalling Malfoy would have made Harry grin as if it was Christmas. Like that instance with Buckbeak in third year. Or Hermione breaking his nose. Yeah, those were good days. But, Harry thought sullenly, things have changed now.

Malfoy had changed, and so did he.

"Apology accepted, Potter," Draco scoffed, waving it off. "So the rumors of your ineloquence are true."

Harry flushed, looking away and grumbling under his breath about prats. He took a piece of toast from Malfoy's tray and promptly devoured it.

Draco scrunched up his nose in disgust. "As well as the rumors of your table manners," he quipped.

Harry shrugged, swallowing. "I'm hungry."

"Obviously."

Harry poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "So," he started. "What was that about earlier?" he asked, mentally noting how weird this was, to make conversation with Malfoy. Civil conversation. Outside Potions. (And even in Potions, most of their time was spent bickering.)

Draco sighed loudly. "You must think I'm mental," he mumbled, almost whining.

"Not really," Harry said sympathetically. "Trust me, I wouldn't."

And while Draco knew that Harry was talking about his past experiences where in no one believed him when he talked about voices and dreams and Voldemort, he still felt warm hearing that. That was precisely the reason why he decided to once again describe what he saw earlier to Potter. After all, if anyone understood seeing bizarre things that no one else did, it was Potter.

Draco peered closer at the light around Harry's body. To Harry, it just seemed like Draco was staring at the front of his robes.

"You're surrounded by light. Well, even Professor Snape and Madame Pomfrey earlier, and not light exactly, but…" Draco started, huffing as he found it hard to explain. He racked his brain for words to help him.

Harry waited patiently for him to continue.

Finally, Malfoy gave up and just went with his earlier description. "It's like small Golden Snitches fluttering around you!" he burst out, almost exasperatedly. He turned to his pancakes. "Well, right now they are. Earlier when I yelled at you – terribly sorry about that, Potter –" He didn't sound sorry at all. "— they suddenly turned black so it shocked me, that's all."

Harry blinked, looking down at himself, expecting to see lots of Snitches flying around him. He meant what he said earlier: he didn't think Malfoy was mental. He actually believed him. "And you said Snape and Madame Pomfrey have them too?"

Draco nodded, chewing thoughtfully.

"And… mine's the only one that turned black? Since I'm the only one you kept on staring at."

Draco would have nodded again, but then he caught sight of Harry's expression. He rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't look so worried, Potter. I'm positive it's nothing serious."

"Yeah, but," Harry shrugged. "Black." He thought about having held a piece of Voldemort's soul and couldn't help the small shudder that ran through him.

Draco gave him a hard look. "Don't worry about it," he said firmly.

Harry wondered since when did Malfoy not want him to worry about anything? But he nodded anyway and did not.

"So," he said again.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You are horrible at this conversation thing, aren't you?"

Harry flushed guiltily but tried to look indignant about it.

He helped himself to Malfoy's breakfast. "So I actually have to stay here with you, huh?" he grumbled, taking Malfoy's fork (It was the only fork.) and poking at the eggs.

"Yes, because if I am to suffer, then I'm dragging you with me," Draco said matter-of-factly, then his expression turned into one of horror as Harry raised the forkful of eggs to his mouth. "Potter, you are not contaminating my fork with your –"

Harry shoved the eggs in his mouth before Draco had the chance to finish his sentence. He smirked. "Oh, don't be such a girl, Malfoy."

Draco glared at him.

When Snape checked his list again, it didn't make any more sense than it did to him the first time he read it. After Peeves had left the Potions classroom in such a dreadful state yesterday, the first thing that Snape did was gather the ingredients and potions that the poltergeist had thrown from their cabinets to the other side of the room. He was absolutely seething and itching to grab a hold of some ghost necks, but that didn't stop him from inventorying and checking what was missing first.

(As soon as he was done with that, he fled the room to find the Bloody Baron.)

He looked at his list again, noting the checks that told him that everything was accounted for. Except for three.

He made his way towards the infirmary.

"Amortentia, Veritaserum, and Blood-Replenishing Potion," Snape told Madame Pomfrey, promptly ignoring the two boys beside them, one on the bed and one sitting on the chair.

Draco scowled at this because he had the right to know, too, since it was him they were talking about. Of course, it wasn't like Snape was trying to keep it a secret since, after all, they were talking just beside him but he still didn't take very well to being ignored like that. Harry, on the other hand, experienced Snape's attention more than any other student in Hogwarts and was immensely grateful.

Madame Pomfrey frowned. "That doesn't make much sense, Professor. How would –"

"Yesterday, Peeves –" Snape scowled darkly at this before continuing. "— made quite a show in my classroom during Potter's detention. Every ingredient and potion is accounted for, except for these three. I am guessing that one of these may have mixed with Mr. Malfoy's potion."

Harry frowned. Why did no one ever mention that it was his potion too? Though, regarding the situation, it was probably for the best that his name wasn't attached to said potion.

"During Mr. Potter's detention, you say?" Madame Pomfrey said thoughtfully, looking at Harry. "Did you witness this, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded.

"And you also think it is possible that something may have mixed with the potion that Mr. Malfoy took?"

Harry paused at that. He didn't remember much of what happened since he was so focused on Peeves flying around and trying not to get hit by the bottles that the poltergeist kept on throwing at him. He did remember the very loud explosion though, the one he thought might have caused a hole in the wall and –

He blinked, realization seeping in. "A blub."

Three pair of eyes looked at him incredulously.

Snape looked less than impressed.

Draco groaned and buried his face in his hands, resigned to the fact that he was doomed to whatever this potion was going to do to him. (Not that it's done anything other than let him see little Golden Snitches flying around other people that turn into an angry black quite abruptly, but that wasn't normal and therefore was a cause of distress.)

"A blub, you say," Madame Pomfrey murmured, looking thoughtful.

Harry nodded, pointedly ignoring the two men and talking to her instead. "Yes, like a stone being dropped into the Great Lake," he said, glaring at Malfoy who snorted at his analogy.

Bless Madame Pomfrey, she actually smiled. "Well, there you have it, Professor!" she quipped, her hands on her hips. "It looks like something did mix with Mr. Malfoy's potion after all."

"Mr. Malfoy, do you have a sudden and unexplainable infatuation with poltergeists?" Snape drawled calmly.

Draco stared at him, eyes wide and horrified that his head of house was talking to him in such strange language.

"Or, perhaps, you have a sudden desire to run away towards the sunset with Peeves and quite possibly elope with him?"

Harry would have laughed, if he wasn't busy wearing the same expression that Malfoy was because oh, God, this was all coming from Snape's mouth.

Snape looked at Malfoy's stricken expression and nodded to himself, satisfied. "Obviously, it is not Amortentia. Blood-replenishing Potion?"

Madame Pomfrey frowned. "Oh, I hope not. That would prove disastrous, considering he hasn't lost any blood at all," she commented, before turning back to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, do you feel anything like… perhaps nausea? Or the urge to vomit?"

Draco forcibly pushed the memory of Snape asking him about riding towards sunsets at the very back of his head. He glanced at the half-eaten breakfast on the bedside table. "No," he said. "I'm still quite hungry."

The Mediwitch nodded. "And what you told us earlier, about us shining, is it still true?"

Harry wondered how she could sound so casual about it, but he figured when you're in her line of work, you'd have to have seen everything.

Draco nodded.

"Potter," Snape snapped quite abruptly. He sneered. "Lie."

You couldn't really blame Harry for looking bewildered. "What?"

Snape looked menacing now, so Harry quickly opened his mouth before Snape did. "Uhm, I – I'm not Harry Potter," he let out, feeling ridiculous. As soon as the words slipped out of his mouth, Malfoy let out a yelp of surprise.

Draco quickly covered his mouth afterwards, flushing that such an undignified sound came from him. He stared at Potter. "You're, uh, black again," he explained, knowing that the other boy would understand him.

Harry blinked, looking down at himself again, but this time, he wasn't as terrified as the first time and he definitely wasn't thinking of acromantulas anymore. "Oh," he replied articulately.

Snape looked satisfied, and if one peered really hard, maybe even a little bit intrigued. "A mixture of the Restoration Potion and Veritaserum it is, then," he murmured, almost to himself. Then, recovering, he turned to Draco. "Congratulations, Mr. Malfoy, you seem to have… ingested… the skill to determine perjurers – quite literally, in fact."

Both Draco and Harry looked at him blankly. Draco, because what Snape said was outrageous, and Harry, because he had no idea what 'perjurer' meant.

Madame Pomfrey, bless her once again, explained. "Mr. Malfoy, considering that you can see us shining, and this shine which as you said turned black when Mr. Potter spoke a lie… Well, it seems that you can tell if someone is being untruthful."

"Like a Sneakoscope?" Harry supplied helpfully.

Snape was about to give out a sharp retort when he realized that yes, quite like a Sneakoscope.

Once more, Draco groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, God, I have been degraded to an object," he muttered mournfully. His father must be having a fit in Azkaban right about now, going about the regality of Malfoys.

"I think it's kind of cool," Harry said, grinning at Malfoy's mortification.

"Not helping, Potter," Draco mumbled against his hand. He raised his head to glare, but blinked instead when he realized that the light around Potter had gone clear again. He was going to have to figure this truth-lie thing if he wanted anything to make sen –

He gasped, suddenly feeling his chest tighten and he doubled over, forcing himself to breathe and his chest to not hurt so fucking much. There was blood rushing in his ears and he could barely make out the panicked voices beside him, and oh, God, his throat was burning and – with a heave – Draco coughed furiously, blood staining the clean white sheets of his bed.

He fell back against his pillow, eyes wide and chest heaving, taking in lungfuls of air as soon as he realized that yes, he could breathe again.

Something cold touched his forehead and he realized belatedly that someone was wiping at his forehead with a wet towel. It felt nice, and he shuddered, closing his eyes and concentrating on breathing.

Soon, the voices became clearer now and Madame Pomfrey was softly cooing in his ear. "Mr. Malfoy, are you alright?"

No, he was not all right. "Peachy," he rasped out, his throat still feeling like it was scratched.

Suddenly, Snape cursed. "The Erumpent Exploding Fluid must have reacted with the Dragon Blood of the Veritaserum, I should have known…" He was muttering to himself, looking quite shaken as well.

Draco closed his eyes now, not wanting to look at Potter's face. He felt mortified that Potter had to see him in this embarrassing state but then – he wasn't going to make it look like he was afraid, so he forced his eyes open and looked pointedly at the other boy –

– who was no longer sitting but was standing upright, looking pale and stricken and also… worried?

Draco wanted to laugh. Saint Potter, indeed.

He couldn't resist. "Don't look like that, Potter," he let out, raspy. "You look like Moaning Myrtle." He laughed lowly at his own joke, remembering sixth year.

"Are you…" Harry started, shakily, unsurely. He looked at Malfoy for a moment, before nervously drifting his gaze to the side.

"Professor," Madame Pomfrey said suddenly, dropping the towel back in the basin of water that Draco did not remember being beside him on the bed. She turned to the Potions Master who halted his muttering to look at her. "How long before the Potion wears off?"

At this, Snape frowned and almost looked unsure. "The Restoration Potion is a type of potion that works immediately upon consumption, though the Veritaserum…" He paled considerably. When he spoke again, it was almost soft. "I seem to remember that I had a whole vial of Veritaserum in my supply closet."

If Draco wasn't already pale from the fit earlier, then he certainly would have blanched now. "A whole bloody vial? That's enough for someone to spit out their secrets for a month!"

When Harry was done feeling panicky over Malfoy, then he was going to work on being jealous because why couldn't he talk back to Snape like that and not have fifty points taken in a heartbeat?

Despite Draco's outburst, Snape regarded him calmly. "What's your name?"

Draco stared at him, confounded and absolutely flummoxed. "What?"

"Seeing as you failed to tell me your name when I asked it of you, I'm fairly certain that you won't be spewing any secrets, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said. "You were correct when you said that a whole vial of Veritaserum stays in the system for a month, though since the Erumpent Exploding Fluid reacted unfavorably with the Dragon Blood, it's uncertain how long this Potion will take effect. Fortunately, it'll have to go away on its own sooner or later."

Draco grumbled. "Sooner or later, huh," he muttered.

"Well, there you have it then," Madame Pomfrey quipped, quite cheerfully. "So long as you're not in grave peril, Mr. Malfoy. I believe you'll be just fine until the Potion wears off."

And Draco, now that there was sufficient oxygen in his brain again and his chest wasn't hurting anymore, realized that yeah, maybe he will just be fine. Besides, he was a Slytherin. Knowing when someone was being untruthful to you definitely had its perks. Oh, he was so going straight to Blaise after this and ask him if he has the hots for Longbottom.

"Drink this, dear," Madame Pomfrey said, giving him a small bottle. "It's for your throat."

Quite abruptly, Draco was reminded of his earlier coughing fit and realized that okay, so maybe he wasn't going to be just fine.

Apparently, Snape was reminded of that as well because he turned to Potter, sneering. "I expect you to be with Mr. Malfoy until the Potion wears off, Potter. We can't have any accidents when Mr. Malfoy is… unsupervised."

Draco and Harry both wore similar looks of disbelief.

When Madame Pomfrey said "I also believe it's for the best, boys.", the looks of disbelief quickly changed into that of horror.

"Malfoy," Harry let out, strangled. He looked at the boy on the bed, almost pleading. "Please tell me they're joking."

Draco realized, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, that the shining light surrounded Snape and Madame Pomfrey were, in fact, very clear and translucent. No hints of black in them at all.

"This is your fault, Potter," he muttered and couldn't even bring himself to enjoy the cry of dismay that came from Potter's lips.

Chapter Text

Draco was excused from the rest of classes after his little coughing episode, and Harry had looked up at that, face shining with hope which Snape had ruthlessly trampled on.

"What are you waiting here for then, Potter? Get back to class."

So off he went, grumbling about injustice and slimy Potions masters, but not without the instruction that he was to return immediately to the infirmary after class.

"You have to WHAT?" Ron bellowed, when they were sitting comfortably in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. His face was a striking white against his bright hair. "Oh mate, I'm so sorry," he whimpered.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Ron!" Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "You make it sound like you're in mourning!"

"I might as well be!" Ron replied, still looking stricken. "Harry has to be with Malfoy 24/7! Malfoy! 24/7!"

"I'm not going to follow him in the bathroom, Ron," Harry mumbled sulkily, but was unheard as Ron conjured up undesirable images of what-happens-when-eternal-rivals-are-forced-to-be-civil-to-each-other which included warts and stink pellets and Ever Bashing Boomerangs and the good, old fist fights.

"Really," Hermione huffed. "I thought you'd outgrown your little quarrel during the war."

"Little quarrel?" Ron squeaked out, looking at his girlfriend with wide, unbelieving eyes. "You're mad, Hermione! Quarrel?"

"Yes, Ron, quarrel," Hermione said firmly, raising an eyebrow and standing akimbo. Ron did not dare to make a sharp retort to that, because one does not make sharp retorts when one's girlfriend is standing over you akimbo.

Harry very wisely shut up as well because one does not interrupt when Hermione is standing over someone akimbo.

She continued, "And the fact that you haven't hexed each other once this year proves that! You still don't hate him, do you?" she asked, looking curious now.

"Well –" Ron started, before he paused. Then he grumbled. "Okay, no, I don't hate him. But he's still a bloody irritating git. You can at least admit that."

Harry snorted.

"Of course," Hermione said dismissively, "But you don't hate him, which states that he's changed and you've changed, and I'd like to think that time spent during the war making strategies together had something to do with that."

"Well – yeah, but –"

"And if you two – of all people to, bless me, work together – managed to set aside your differences to at least agree not to hex each other's noses off, then I'm sure Harry will be just fine," Hermione finished, smiling triumphantly as she returned to her book.

"But what – hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

Harry flashed Hermione a grateful smile.

He was lucky to have a friend like her. Hermione just sees everything. And she's pretty persuasive that not only Ron stopped panicking about it, but Harry too. In his mind's eye, he could still picture Ron and Draco sitting in one of the libraries in Grimmauld Place in a heated but very (surprisingly) civilized conversation. It was a funny memory, even if they were only talking how to best cut Nagini's head off.

He figured, if Ron could do it, then why couldn't he?

After all, they've outgrown their past hostility, after Malfoy had to stay in Grimmauld Place under the protection of the Order after some Death Eaters found out that he was a spy.

Maybe… maybe they were even friends. At least, Harry wanted to be friends.

He'd spent much of his seventeenth year of existence, when he wasn't thinking about Avada Kedavra-ing madmen, struggling with his thoughts about Draco Malfoy. More specifically, trying hard not to punch the living daylights out of him for all the things he's done during their early school years. During Malfoy's short-lived stay in Grimmauld Place, they had fought only once, on the second day.

No wands, just fists and broken noses but once that had been out of their system, a shaky but there kind of camaraderie fixed itself into place.

At some point, Harry had begrudgingly accepted that Malfoy was good company. They… understood each other, without really having to say anything. Perhaps they were more alike than Harry first thought. (He had snorted once he realized that he was actually comparing himself to Malfoy.)

Okay, so maybe they've graduated from their petty elementary animosity, and maybe they were even friends, and Harry did enjoy Malfoy's company (…sometimes.) but…

He still wasn't too keen about spending a whole month with Draco Malfoy though. There was just something wrong with that thought.

"Harry?" Hermione cut into his thoughts, voice suspiciously polite and comforting, though Harry was sure nothing bad had happened while he was stuck in the infirmary (other than the whole forced to look after Malfoy thing) which only meant that the 'something bad' was only about to happen.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"We appreciate you coming down here to tell us about you having to tend to Malfoy 24/7, but… aren't you supposed to be tending Malfoy 24/7?"

The stress on the last part was not lost on Harry as he jumped off the sofa, cursed and all but ran towards the portrait hole, almost tripping over his own legs.

Nor was Ron's snigger.

Snape was going to kill him!

Or maybe not, seeing as Snape was nowhere in sight when he caught up with Malfoy in the infirmary.

"Where have you been, Potter?" Malfoy scoffed, narrowing his eyes at him as he got off the bed. He was already dressed in his school robes and looking as royal as ever.

"I, uh –" Harry started, flushing in shame.

Draco snorted. "You forgot, didn't you?"

Harry turned defensive. "Well, I thought you didn't want to go through this as well!"

At that, a vulnerable expression flitted across Draco's face but it was gone so quickly that Harry simply crossed it off as his imagination.

"Unlike you, Potter, I don't have half a brain, so when Professor Snape tells me to wait here for you or else, then I make it a point to remember his instruction because cleaning the trophy room with a bloody toothbrush is not very favorable to me."

Sometimes, Harry was amazed with how many words Draco could use to say 'you're stupid'. He scowled. Ron was right. Animosity may have been forgotten, but Malfoy was still an annoying git. "Well, I'm here now, aren't I?"

Draco snorted. "An hour later, yes, you are." Then he paused, looking… nervous? But he quickly caught himself with the composure of a Malfoy. "Really, Potter, if you find my company so distasteful, you can just say so and we can just pretend we're doing what we're supposed to be doing to avoid Professor Snape breathing down our necks, which is rather irritating as I'm sure you know," he said, sniffing disdainfully. "Sometimes I believe Professor Snape has the potential to be a bloody Gryffindor," he added as an afterthought, with a mild cringe of disgust.

"No – no, Malfoy," Harry found himself saying, looking torn as if he couldn't believe that he was about to say what he was about to say. "I don't… find your company distasteful."

Draco stared at him.

"Okay, so maybe you're an annoying and royal pain in the arse," Harry muttered, to which Malfoy shrugged at. "But well, err, it's my fault you're like this and yeah, that scene you pulled earlier was really kind of scary…" he shrugged, looking at the floor determinedly.

When silence reached him, he finally looked up and while he knew it was so very impossible, he sort of wanted Malfoy to look touched and Hufflepuff-y but not… horrified.

Draco groaned pitifully. "I'm stuck with a bloody Gryffindor!"

Harry looked insulted. "Hey, I'm being concerned here!"

"Your concern touches my heart, really," Draco replied, pained.

"Okay, now you're just being a git on purpose," Harry muttered, narrowing his eyes at him.

Draco shrugged as they started walking out of the infirmary. "What can I say? It's my charm."

Harry rolled his eyes. "So, err, how do we go about doing… this?"

Draco stared at him. "You have got to do something about this articulateness of yours, Potter. It's embarrassing."

"Stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"Being a git."

"I told you, it's my charm."

Harry thought that this was going a long, painful month. "Just answer the question."

Draco did, but his smirk remained. "Apparently we have to spend every waking moment together. Or, at least, every waking moment where in Professor Snape sees us."

Harry blanched at that. "Every… waking…" he trailed off meekly.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Potter!" Draco said, rolling his eyes. "I have no interest in bathing with you within ten foot proximity of me! And I did say every waking moment where in Professor Snape sees us. I don't think that Professor Snape's going to follow us to the bath –" Then he blanched too. "Oh, God, I just thought of something disgusting."

Harry did, too, and he cried in dismay. "So what about meals?" he asked quickly, desperate for a change of subject.

Draco raised an eyebrow at him. Then the smirk came back. "What, you want to feed me, Potter?"

Harry spluttered and flushed a lovely shade of red. "What? No!"

"You're such a prude," Draco scoffed, sniffing in disdain. "Horrible that the She-Weasel had to get stuck with you."

"Don't call her that," Harry said, more of a reflex than with any real heat. Then he paused. "And we're not together."

At that, Draco paused too. He peered at Harry suspiciously. "Not together or not together anymore?"

"Oh, look, there's the Great Hall," Harry said suddenly in a very obvious attempt to change the subject.

Draco kept on looking at him.

Harry self-consciously bit his lip, wondering if the light around him was turning black again. If it was (or wasn't), Malfoy said nothing.

"Alright," Draco said smoothly. "I suppose this is where we part, Potter."

Harry nodded. "So, uh, we don't eat… together or anything?" he asked, sounding pained.

Draco scrunched his nose up in disgust. "Oh, God, no, Potter. Don't be such a girl."

"Just checking," Harry muttered as they opened the door to the Great Hall.

Expectedly, all chatter ceased as they entered. All eyes turned to them and it was like time stood still.

Harry hated times like these. He's had to experience them more times than what was normally acceptable.

He couldn't blame them though. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy entering at the same time (with no wands pointed to each other's throats) was truly a sight to behold, even if the whole school knew about their ceasefire. And, judging from the whispers of 'Potter poisoned Malfoy! I knew they were just pretending to be civil!', what happened that morning had already gotten around the whole school.

Ten hours, Harry counted. The rumor mill was slow today, huh.

He looked at Draco, and was surprised when he saw that the other boy wide-eyed. After a moment though, his calm façade returned, and he nodded at Harry before walking towards his table.

"Sorry, mate," Ron said, shrugging as Harry sat down beside him. "It kind of exploded when Snape appeared."

Sure enough, Snape was sitting at the teacher's table, looking as sour as always.

"We tried to keep it low, Harry," Hermione started, passing Ginny the treacle tart. "And Snape wasn't at lunch, so we've managed, but it's just sort of blown up now."

Harry shrugged, filling his plate up with food. "It's okay. I rather like the thought of myself poisoning Malfoy," he grinned, imagining Malfoy's horrified expression at the thought of 'Potter? Poison me?'.

He looked towards the Slytherin table, and sure enough, Malfoy was glowering at his plate as Pansy told him what everyone was gossiping about.

"Oh, don't mind them, Harry," Ginny started, grinning at him. "You know it'll pass by tomorrow."

His relationship with Ginny may be complicated, but one thing was for certain. She was still his friend, first and foremost.

He smiled back. "Thanks, Ginny."

When Draco entered the Great Hall, the brightness of it overwhelmed him. It was supposed to hurt his eyes, burn his retinas, but surprisingly… he just thought it was pretty. Some parts of the Hall flickered black for a moment before returning to its normal, bright state, and it was like a dance, the flickering of the black. He wished that the color was anything but black, then maybe he could have pretended it was a light show.

Apparently, Draco thought with a mental snicker, a lot of people lied on a daily basis.

It was still rather shocking though, and he took a minute to get his bearings together, which was when he realized that Potter was staring at him curiously.

Speaking of Potter… Apparently, this truth-lie thing doesn't work if the speaker wasn't saying either a truth or a lie.

Like earlier, when Potter avoided answering his question about the She-Weasel and changed the subject by saying "Oh, look, there's the Great Hall.", the light around him didn't turn black because the Great Hall really was there.

Though, when he did say that "we're not together", it didn't turn black either.

Draco reasoned that the warmth in his belly was because of the soup, not because of anything… else.

You're pathetic, Draco, he thought sulkily as he shoved some more pudding in his mouth. Eight years of mooning pathetically over a boy who hated his very guts the first time they met. Oh, if his father knew, Draco would have been Crucio'd on the spot.

He was rather satisfied now that he and Potter have managed to be on civil terms with each other. (Okay, the very reason why he and Potter weren't on civil terms in the first place was pretty much his fault, but he was only following his father's orders… At least, until he stopped listening to his father altogether and only continued to embarrass Potter simply to get his attention.) But this whole… what did Snape say again?

I expect you to be with Mr. Malfoy until the Potion wears off, Potter.

That was just torture.

"Goddamnit!" Draco growled, slamming his fork on the table.

The nearest Slytherins immediately stopped their chatter and looked at him.

"Draco, you're scaring the first years," Blaise remarked idly, not even looking up from his food.

"I don't care," Draco cried, almost whining. He was very irritated with himself. Oh, what would Mother say? Wait, no, his Mother probably wouldn't care. What would his father – no, Draco didn't care what his father said anymore.

The closest thing to family that Draco had left now was… Snape, and Snape would probably readily send him to St. Mungo's if he found out.

"I hate Potter," he muttered, picking up his fork again.

"Of course, you do," Pansy cooed, not even sparing him a glance. They were used to Draco's little 'Potter' episodes that happened every now and then, which resulted in the boy declaring his utter loathing towards the Golden Boy and ended up with –

"Pansy, why couldn't I have hooked up with you?" Draco mourned pitifully. Then he muttered under his breath so that no one but Pansy and Blaise could hear. "I should have been bloody straight."

"We tried that, Draco, during fourth year," Pansy reminded him. "You wanted Potter and I wanted… someone who wasn't more of a girl than I –" she ducked out of the way when an apple flew at her face.

"You know, you're the only one who can insult me like that and not be horribly castrated," Draco said, sniffing haughtily.

Pansy grinned charmingly at him. "It's a privilege I abuse, I admit."

Draco turned to Blaise. "Blaise –"

Blaise held up a hand. "I told you already, I'm straight."

Immediately, Blaise was enveloped in black. Draco blinked. He had forgotten about the light around people now, because now that the whole Hall was lit up like a bloody Christmas Tree, it started to look… normal.

He smirked, his inner Slytherin making the cogs in his brain turn. "Oh, are you now?"

"Yes," Blaise replied with a scoff.

The black didn't go away.

It was too early to ask him about Longbottom though, and Draco believed in the beauty of the hunt, so he settled for a cheerful "Alright, then."

Blaise looked at him suspiciously.

"I still hate Potter," Draco declared.

"Of course you do," Pansy answered, automatic.

And Draco really, really did.

So he knew he was really fucking pathetic for feeling light-limbed whenever he recalled what happened earlier, when Potter went "I don't… find your company distasteful." and the light around him did not turn black.

Draco almost dropped his spoon when he realized that Potter was standing in front of him. At the Slytherin table. That had immediately hushed at Potter's arrival. He raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably in place. "Snape kept on glaring at me," he said slowly. "Then I realized what he said, about me, uh… and you..."

At that, Pansy's eyebrows raised and she looked at Draco with a questioning look. "You and Potter?" she asked smoothly.

Draco almost slapped his forehead. "God, Potter, we need to get you speech lessons," he muttered, rubbing his temples. Then he looked at Pansy, glaring. "Not like that, Pansy."

"Oh," Pansy said, looking put down.

"So you're to follow me around?" Draco asked dryly, turning back to Potter.

Harry frowned at him. "I'd much rather be doing other things too, Malfoy," he grumbled.

Draco sighed, pushing his plate away from him as he stood up. "Alright, then," he said, before turning back to Pansy and Blaise. "I'll see you at the common room. I'll be at the library," he continued, quietly, but a few other Slytherins heard him anyway.

So he quickly strode away from the table and out the Great Hall, confident that Potter was following him, and wishing he heard wrong when voices around his table began to whisper 'Illicit love affair between Potter and Malfoy? Who would have thought?'.

Judging from Potter's red face, he heard it too.

"I should kill Professor Snape for this," Draco said, moaning.

"Get in line," Harry muttered.

"Alright, then," Draco sighed, composing himself. "I suppose the mudblood –"

"Don't call her that."

"Granger gave you your notes?"

Harry looked at him, horrified. "You were serious about the library?"

"Of course," Draco said, scoffing. "Some people actually care about their NEWTs, Potter."

If possible, Harry looked even more aghast. "It's October!"

Draco shrugged. "And I need to catch up on the lessons I missed today."

"Oh, God, I'm stuck with another Hermione."

"Serves you right for being so bloody Gryffindor earlier," Draco grumbled, as they made their way towards the library.

Studying with Potter was distracting in so many ways.

Draco had noticed several things already about Potter during the half-hour they spent being mercifully silent in each other's company, in an effort to study. One, Potter's lashes were quite long. Two, he bit his lip when confused. Three, he grabbed at his hair when frustrated. (Must be the reason why his hair looks so messy all the time.) Four, he raised his glasses with his pointing finger rather his middle. Five, his eyes are brighter without the glasses, and the fact that Draco could literally see him glowing because of the Golden Snitches (or whatever they are) fluttering around him only made it more breathtaking.

Of course, Draco knew all of these already.

He just couldn't help noticing them again, because that's what always happens whenever he'd stare at Potter, which happened more often than he preferred.

It was also distracting because Potter was… vocal with his expressions. It was hard to focus on his own book.

Right on cue, Potter growled low in his throat.

Draco whimpered mentally, because that was indeed a very hot bedroom sound.

Outwardly, he put his book down with a sigh. "What is it, Potter?"

Harry looked up at him, surprised, before he blinked and looked down at his parchment. He bit his lip, pausing. Then he shrugged and pointed at the problem. "I think I'm doing it wrong."

"Let me see."

At that, Harry looked surprised, but gave it to Malfoy anyway.

Draco gave him a sideways smirk. "That's because you are."

"Git," Harry muttered.

"Here," Draco said, putting the parchment on the table and twisting it sideways so that they could both read it properly. "Three dove hearts here, not two. If you put three, then you'll be making a whole new potion. And ignore this part. This part's here just to confuse you. "

Harry's jaw dropped. "So that's why the other ingredients don't add up!" He took the parchment from Malfoy and began scribbling furiously, just in case he forgot the new information presented to him.

Draco noted, with smug satisfaction, that Potter finished his parchment with no lip-biting and hair-pulling. (Though that was cute t – Oh, Draco, you really are pathetic.)

When Harry finished writing, he looked up at Malfoy, looking nervous but grinning anyway. "Thanks, Malfoy. Didn't know you could do nice," he commented playfully.

Draco sniffed haughtily. "The last part was unnecessary, Potter."

But he was quite confused, because the light around Potter had flashed black when he said the last part. So Potter thought that Draco could do nice?

That was… nice… to know.

Half an hour before curfew, they parted with a few awkward words –

("So, uh, I'll meet you at breakfast?"

"God, Potter, that's disgusting. You should have been a Hufflepuff. I pity the women who have fallen victim to your pathetic flirtation."

"That's a yes then."

"No, since Madame Pomfrey wants to see us in the morning. Unfortunately, we'll be seeing each other earlier than breakfast."

"Oh, God, my stomach won't be able to handle it.")

– and went in opposite directions; Harry towards Gryffindor Tower and Draco towards the dungeons.

So maybe this wasn't going to be so bad…

Okay, it was bad and Malfoy proved himself a git time and time again but it wasn't… horrible, Harry realized. And he did mean what he said earlier. He didn't find Malfoy's company distasteful, quite the contrary in fact. It wasn't exactly a walk in the park during springtime, but it was interesting and Malfoy's sense of humor was refreshing. (He could admit that now, when Malfoy wasn't laughing at him… Err. Much.)

The times they had talked in Grimmauld Place was mostly for strategy planning, so talking about homework and how much of a slimy git Snape was (Harry's words, not Draco's.) was kind of new. And preferable.

With a skip in his step, Harry rounded the corner –

And smashed headfirst into a statue that Harry remembered did not exist in the sixth floor corridor. Especially in the middle of the hall! With a grunt, Harry stumbled backwards –

And backwards and backwards and where was the fucking wall? until he tripped over his own feet and landed in a tangled heap on the dusty floor. The sound of stone grinding against stone made Harry panic, and he looked up just in time to see a stone door sliding closed. Beyond the door was the statue and –

The sixth floor corridor.

The door closed with a loud and ominous crash, and Harry groaned in frustration. Great. He just went through a hole in the wall. A hole that should not exist. (In the Marauder's Map anyway, and Harry believed in the Marauder's Map with his whole being.) It wasn't even a passage! It was just… a room. A small room. Just a little bit bigger than his cupboard at the Dursley's house.

He ran a hand down his face – or, at least he tried to because his glasses were in the way and were… currently broken. Snapped in half, actually, now that Harry moved them. And there was something wet and sticky on his hand. He pulled out his wand, and whispered, "Lumos."

He blinked at his hand, peering through the blurriness of his vision.

Okay, his cheek was bleeding. Not much, fortunately. Probably just a cut.

He discarded his Lumos and the room was pitch-black once again. Pointing his wand at what he hoped was his glasses, he whispered, "Reparo."

He slipped them on, before casting Lumos once again.

He surveyed his surroundings, but from what he could make out, there was nothing special about the room. The ceiling, the floor and the walls were all flat stone, and the room smelled dusty.

He sneezed.

Right.

He wasn't claustrophobic, not at all, but staring at the very small room for a long time started to make him uncomfortable.

He looked for any jutting details.

None, other than the slight crack on the ceiling.

Sighing, he set to work with feeling around with his hands.

Harry was exhausted. Not that he did any real physical exercise, but he just really wanted his bed right now. He didn't know what time it was, only that it was probably way after curfew already.

He twirled his wand with his fingers.

He'd thought about using Reducto on the wall, but the last time he did that (a few days ago, actually, when he was shoved in a hole in the wall, much like this, but the room that he got locked in was bigger and farther from the corridor.), he nearly buried himself alive. Only his Seeker reflexes managed to save him when he darted through the falling rubble and out the crumbling door.

He took a deep breath, and ended up coughing in short spasms.

Okay, so it was either be buried alive or die from lack of oxygen.

Fun.

Sighing, he stood up and readied to run, just in case what happened before repeated itself.

Pointing his wand towards the door, he yelled, "Reducto!"

And the door exploded outwards with a terrifying blast and, ignoring the pain in his shoulder where a particularly large block of stone made contact with it due to the explosion, he rushed out into the sixth floor corridor, scrambling towards the other wall to catch his breath.

He looked back at the room and the mess he made, and sighed in relief. The ceiling hadn't caved in, so he needn't have worried about being buried alive.

The statue… the statue was gone.

Cursing whoever built the monstrous structure of Hogwarts, Harry ran the rest of the way towards Gryffindor Tower, making sure he didn't crash head-first into any more conspicuous statues. (Or Filch.)

The common room was empty when he arrived and he looked at his watch. Past midnight. No wonder he felt so sleepy.

He wasn't even going to bother to get cleaned up now. He just wanted sleep and the pain in his cheek and shoulder could wait until tomorrow. He'll go to Madame Pomfrey in the morning.

Bloody Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

If Harry was looking forward to a peaceful sleep after an exhausting day, then he was sorely disappointed. When he woke up, it was still dark outside, the room was deathly cold, and his shoulder was telling him how much of an arse he was for not taking care of it sooner. Stubbornly, he burrowed back under the covers and promptly ignored the pain.

Or he tried to.

It didn't even hurt that much, just… a throbbing itch. One that he couldn't scratch because it only hurt when he touched it. Or moved it.

Disgruntled, he sat up and shoved his glasses on his face, casting a quick Tempus.

Barely six in the morning. With a grumble, he got off the bed and into the bathroom, wanting to look at least presentable when he barged into the infirmary and deprived Madame Pomfrey of her beauty sleep.

He looked pale and horribly sleepy, but that was nothing new. What was new, however, was the small bruise on his right cheek and he winced as he touched it. He must have hit it when he fell through the wall.

Sighing, he washed his face and since he hadn't changed his school robes from the night before, he quickly rushed off to the infirmary.

When Harry graduates, he's going to make a shrine dedicated to Madame Pomfrey, the woman who never tired of re-growing his bones every week for the past eight years. (Sort of.)

Somehow, even though he was already on his way towards the infirmary, he couldn't find it in himself to wake her up so he decided to just wait on one of the beds (and maybe catch a few more minutes of sleep.) but when he got there, he found that he didn't need to.

Madame Pomfrey was already up and fussing over another student lying down on one of the beds, and when she saw him, it just proved that he'd been there way too many times that she didn't even look surprised. "Mr. Potter," she acknowledged.

A groan came from the bed and resounded in the room. "Potter," the student said dryly, voice scratchy and rasping. "Couldn't wait to see me, I suppose."

"Malfoy," Harry replied, just as dryly even though he couldn't help the concerned tone from his voice as he continued. "What are you doing here?"

Madame Pomfrey moved aside so he could get a better view of the bed. Draco had his eyes closed and he looked normal enough, though Harry wasn't sure if he'd gone a tad bit paler. (He was already so very pale to begin with.)

"It happened again, I'm afraid," Madame Pomfrey provided, frowning at Draco. "I've just given Mr. Malfoy here something for his throat. I'll have to talk to Professor Snape."

Harry started at that. "Oh, err," he mumbled, feeling as if he were being an inconvenience. "It's okay, you can talk to Sn – Professor Snape now. I can wait."

At that, Draco's eyes fluttered open, now curious as to why Harry was in the infirmary.

"Nonsense, Mr. Potter!" she huffed, now turning towards him. She blinked at the bruise on his cheek. "Is that all then?"

"Oh! Err, no," Harry replied, fidgeting nervously under Malfoy's gaze. "My shoulder," he supplied.

Madame Pomfrey nodded, giving her wand a few flicks. An invisible force hit Harry's shoulder and knocked the breath out of him, almost toppling him over as he let out a grunt. It still caught him by surprise every time.

Another few flicks, and Madame Pomfrey nodded, satisified. "The swelling will go down in a while. Now, I want you to get yourself something for the pain – you know where those are, of course – and get yourself into bed. If I don't see you in bed when I return –"

"I'll get into bed," Harry replied quickly and meekly, already having suffered her wrath before during some of his lesser-brained moments. (Rule of thumb: Pomfrey is law… and he was still sleepy.)

Madame Pomfrey nodded again, giving him one last firm stare, before promptly walking out of the infirmary.

Harry caught Malfoy's questioning look, and he shrugged. Then he remembered that his shoulder didn't like him very much at the moment and he quickly made the decision to get that pain-relieving potion. He crossed the room towards the cupboards, wishing that Malfoy wouldn't ask because that would be awkward and just very –

"Okay, Potter, what happened?"

Harry hit his head on the ceiling of the cupboard he was currently rummaging in.

"Ow," he said.

"Yes, I see," Malfoy said.

Harry glared at him. "You're supposed to be sick. Preferrably sleepy and too weak to talk," he mumbled.

Malfoy looked amused. "So? What happened?"

Pointedly not looking at him, Harry reached to grab hold of a particularly nasty looking potion. "Trip jinx," he muttered.

"You forget I can tell you're lying," Draco replied smoothly.

And Harry realized that oh, right, shite. "I don't want to talk about it," he said instead, with no heat. He sighed as he finally turned to Malfoy who was now sitting up on the bed, regarding him with a cool expression. "I'm just really sleepy."

"Not surprising. You look like a troll."

Harry glared at him again. "Less talking, more being sick. You? What happened to you?"

"You're supposed to be sick. Preferrably sleepy and too weak to talk," Potter mumbled.

The light around him stayed gold.

Draco resisted the urge to grin at that, because that meant that maybe, Potter cared enough to at least not want him to be sick. Of course, it was Potter and his hero complex again, but it was something. "So? What happened?

"Trip jinx," Potter muttered as he finally retracted himself from that cupboard he was rummaging in.

The golden light that blurrily lit his form even in the darkness of the infirmary quickly turned black.

"You forget I can tell you're lying," Draco replied smoothly, not surprised that Potter lied to him and adamantly ignoring the twist in his gut at that realization.

"I don't want to talk about it," Potter replied, sounding tired.

Gold. True.

"I'm just really sleepy."

Gold.

Draco almost pitied him. He was also almost worried.

Almost.

(…Err.)

"Not surprising. You look like a troll."

Well, if Potter didn't want to tell him, then he could respect that.

For now, anyway.

The glare that Potter sent him almost made him relieved because that meant that Potter wasn't too tired.

"Less talking, more being sick."

Black.

Draco was amused yet again.

"You? What happened to you?"

"Why? Are you worried, Potter?" Malfoy asked, a smirk in place as if he found the thought funny.

Harry paused, fingers playing with the small bottle, before shrugging – and wincing at the action. "Yeah, I am," he muttered, because he was.

He couldn't deny that Malfoy was, git or not, somehow… his – dare he say it? – friend. Or, err, at least something close to that. And he did already admit to himself just a day or two ago that he wanted to be Malfoy's friend, now that he realized that Draco Malfoy wasn't all bratty and snotty.

(Perhaps they've all changed because of the war.)

The silence that greeted him was unexpected, and he felt vaguely awkward. To resist fidgeting in his place, Harry busied himself with the potion instead, downing it in one go and immediately regretting it.

"Potter," he heard Malfoy say in a serious tone.

Taking away the grimace off his face and swallowing the disgusting aftertaste in his mouth, he looked at Malfoy, immediately awkward again. "Yeah?"

"Stop flirting with me," Malfoy sighed in mock-swoon.

Harry flushed and flipped him the finger.

Oh, how Harry wanted to sleep. How he wanted to slumber peacefully and jump over fences together with the sheep he was counting in his head. It was also cold and he very much wanted to stay under the blankets.

Snape had other ideas.

With a sullen glare and a whole lot of grumbling, Harry pushed the covers off him and got off the bed, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. One bed over sat Malfoy who looked as disgruntled as he was. He was probably forced out of bed as well.

"What happened, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked, expression almost concerned. He looked as prim as always, as if it weren't some ungodly hour of the night. (It probably wasn't. Breakfast would most likely be served soon.)

"Same thing as yesterday," Draco replied, mumbling through his half-asleep state. He rubbed his eyes to keep them open.

At that, Harry had to hide a grin.

Snape continued. "And what's this I hear about… vomiting?"

Draco paused, staring at his godfather who probably already knew everything from Madame Pomfrey. "Blood," he muttered.

Harry's grin fell. Nobody said anything about blood.

While Snape muttered more things under his breath about Dragon's Blood, Harry looked at Malfoy pointedly, who looked back at him and shrugged. Nobody said anything about blood.

Suddenly, Snape turned to him. "And where were you, Mr. Potter?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but he was surprised when he heard Malfoy sigh exasperatedly. "He was sleeping, Professor Snape. Surely you're not going to fault him for that?"

And even more surprisingly, Snape just nodded and mumbled more to himself about Erumpent Exploding Fluid. (Harry wished he could talk back to Snape without the risk of losing house points. Just once.)

There was a silence that enveloped the infirmary, which Harry took advantage of to wonder when the world turned over and made it so that Malfoy was now actually defending him.

Finally, Snape and Madame Pomfrey shared a look, which did not go unnoticed by both boys. Draco blanched, because he knew that anything they share could not possibly be good.

"There's nothing else for it, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, maintaining his cool expression.

"What?" Draco squeaked out. He groaned. "What are you going to make me do this time?"

"We're not going to detain you in the infirmary, but you're going to have to retire here for the night," Madame Pomfrey told him gently. "Your necessities will be sent here later in the morning."

Draco stared at her. "I can't even go back to my own bed?"

Harry felt bad for him. He knew how lonely and boring nights at the infirmary were.

"As much as it pains me, I can't send Potter to Slytherin to watch over you –" Snape paused, just to appreciate the looks of horror that both boys sent him. "Nor you to Gryffindor." The horrified expressions stayed. "The Headmistress won't allow that. Nevertheless, we need someone to monitor you –" Here, he stopped, as if hesitating.

Draco waved it off impatiently. "In case it gets worse, right?"

Snape nodded stiffly.

This time, it was Harry who blanched, because he didn't really think that this was going to get worse, or that it was that bad to begin with. They were in Hogwarts! Pus-oozing warts suddenly appearing all over your body and falling down stairs because they kept on moving was a normal daily occurrence.

Snape looked uncomfortable, and Draco softened at that. "Alright," he said finally, showing nonchalance. Snape was the only one closest to a family he had left, and he knew that it also applied the other way around.

Madame Pomfrey nodded at his reply. "You'll still have to go to classes, and you can take your meals in the Great Hall. All I ask is that you be here by curfew."

Draco nodded.

Snape turned to Harry. "And you, Potter," he started, though with surprisingly no malice. "Your post stays."

And Harry found himself nodding too.

"Well, off you go, then!" Madame Pomfrey started, waving for the door. "Breakfast's already started and I imagine we're all famished!"

"Was it really that bad?" Harry asked suddenly as soon as they were out of the infirmary and walking towards the Great Hall.

As they passed some of the suit of armors, Harry took the chance to look at his reflection. As Madame Pomfrey said, the swelling had already gone and he tentatively touched his shoulder, relieved when it didn't hurt. It must have gone away when we has in bed, trying to sleep. (And Harry had wondered why Snape didn't comment on it.)

Draco, who was still pondering on what was said in the infirmary, didn't look up and responded almost by reflex. "Why? Are you worried, Potter?"

Harry looked at him confusedly, if not a bit annoyed. "I thought we'd already established that. Yes, I'm worried about you, Malfoy," he said dryly.

At that, Draco's head snapped up and he looked at Potter.

Gold.

Unlike earlier when Harry very determinedly stared at the floor when he made the same declaration, this time he saw Malfoy's expression and he stared, surprised, as Malfoy flushed red.

"Stop flirting with me in public, Potter," Malfoy said in mock-sigh, pointedly looking away. "I have a reputation to keep."

At that, Harry just shrugged and grinned. "Sure, you have. Draco, the bouncing ferret."

As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes widened and he thought, panicking, if he'd overstepped a line.

Draco watched as the grin turned into a panicked expression and couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed… And, well, Harry just said his name. (Pathetic, Draco, his inner Pansy told him.)

"Very cheeky, Potter," he said haughtily instead. "And just because you're our Golden Boy," he shot back, just so they were even.

And Harry realized that too, and he relaxed visibly but still looked sheepish. "I hate that name," he said, shrugging.

Gold.

"Oh?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "So you're not the attention-seeking, media-hogging hero we've all come to know and love?"

Harry flushed. He glared at the other boy. "Snape would beg to differ," he muttered.

"Really," Draco was amused. "I thought you and Professor Snape had already put aside your differences, Potter."

Harry shrugged. "Old habits die hard," he said, sighing mournfully. "Plus, he really does make it a point to make my life hell."

Draco couldn't disagree to that.

They finally reached the Great Hall, and they pushed the doors open, not realizing that all heads whipped towards them because they were too busy nodding their goodbyes to each other. The noise that filled the Great Hall may have quieted down before fluctuating again, but neither boys noticed as they walked to their respective tables.

"Harry," Hermione greeted, nodding to him as he sat down across from her.

It was like automatic. Everyone near him on the Gryffindor table kept watch over him out of the corner of their eyes and the conversation around him all sounded very much forced in an effort to remain discreet, but he remained blissfully oblivious.

"Mate," Ron greeted and nodded as well, albeit a little more stiffly. Beside him, Ginny may or may not have coughed as Harry scooped himself a great heaping of mashed potatoes.

"Where were you, Harry?" Hermione asked, calmly pouring Ron a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Infirmary," Harry replied, grinning at her sheepishly. "Trip jinx," he offered, knowing that both Hermione and Ron will easily see through his lie, as was his intention. It was also a message that Harry will tell them the truth later. The problem was: Harry didn't really know what to tell them.

Hogwarts wants to take revenge on me for destroying nearly half of it in the Battle of Hogwarts and is trying to eat me didn't seem like a very proper thing to say.

At that, Ron choked on his pumpkin juice and Hermione gave him a look. After getting his breath back, he nodded weakly at Harry, face pale.

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not that bad, Ron." Because before the war, Ron always overreacted whenever Harry would say that he had something to 'tell them' and would instantly think it was because of Voldemort. (Which, well, most of the time, it was.)

"Okay, mate," Ron said meekly, fidgeting. Hermione elbowed him. "Ow! I-I mean, okay. I trust you," he finished, more firmly this time.

Harry blinked, peering at him with a raised eyebrow. "Um, thanks… I think."

"So, Harry," Hermione started coolly. She smiled at him innocently. "You seem happy today. Did something good happen?"

"Really?" Harry asked, shrugging. Nothing particularly good happened today, with his lack of sleep and Malfoy coughing out blood and generally Snape, but – "I just found out something funny," he said, laughing a bit.

Hermione nodded. "Do share."

"Don't think of me as mental or anything," Harry continued, still chuckling to himself as he lowered his voice. Ron and Hermione had to lean over the table to hear him. "But Malfoy actually blushed earlier! Can –"

Ron then promptly proceeded to choke on a treacle tart.

Ginny squeaked, face flushed as red as her hair as she very pointedly not looked at Harry. Hermione sighed, stood up with a roll of her eyes, and performed the Heimlich maneuver on her boyfriend.

Harry stared. He knew that it did sound completely mental, but he didn't think that Malfoy blushing was worth choking for.

Their fellow Gryffindors, irked at having not heard what Harry said that prompted Ron to choke to his seeming death, abandoned all discretion and whipped their heads to look at the scene.

With a wheeze, Ron slammed his hands down on the table and looked at Harry squarely in the face. He looked determined, but then again, he also looked like he just vomited slugs again for the second time in his life. "Mate, I'm with you a hundred percent," he squeaked out, but very firmly. "No matter what you do, no matter where you go, no matter who… you –" At this, Harry feared that he was going to start choking again. "— love," Ron finished with great effort.

Hermione looked at him with beaming pride, tears in her eyes.

Ginny looked like as if her face didn't know whether to turn red or blanch as she still very pointedly Not Looked at Him.

Everyone who was anyone that sat near him (even the ones from the other tables) all shut up into silence.

And promptly collapsed into applause.

Thing was, Harry was pretty sure that they should have been applauding Ron, not congratulating himself on…

"Congratulations, Harry!"

"Can't say I expected it, but you show 'em, Harry!"

"I didn't know you were a… a…"

"I gotta say, I kind of saw it coming."

"Took you two long enough!"

…whatever he did.

Then Neville turned to him and beamed.

"I wish you and Malfoy all the best, Harry."

Harry's eyes bulged out of their sockets at the same time that a loud noise was heard in the direction of the Slytherin's table.

He looked up and caught Malfoy's own horrified ones. Looked like Malfoy found out at the same time he did.

He could almost hear the other boy's voice from across the room, mirroring his own words.

"What the bloody hell?"

"Malfoy and I aren't – well – whatever you think we are!" Harry spluttered indignantly, face a bright red as he finally comprehended the reason why all his friends were acting so weird.

Everyone who heard him didn't look convinced.

"It's okay, Harry," Hermione said quickly, soothing. "We really don't mind. In fact, we're actually really happy for you –" Ron squeaked but slapped a hand to his mouth when Hermione elbowed him. "And, well, we only wish that you would have told us or something –"

"No," Harry said firmly, staring at his two best friends with incredulity. "I swear, Malfoy and I aren't… Well, we just aren't!"

"Oh, don't worry, Harry," Hermione waved it off with a beaming smile. "Ron and I aren't mad at you or anything! And well, it was pretty obvious, I suppose, considering how you've been obsessed with Malfoy since we were eleven –"

Various gasps surrounded them as this little piece of news flittered all over the Gryffindor table, eventually reaching the Hufflepuffs.

Harry looked aghast. "Oh, God – no, just no."

"But –" Ron started weakly. "Yesterday – during dinner – and – you weren't in bed last night, and Malfoy's friends came in today without him, then we see you two coming in together –"

Harry shook his head furiously. "We both have a perfectly good explanation for that! We were in the infirmary."

It was only when Ron turned as red as his hair that Harry realized the wrong implications of his words. Maybe Malfoy was right when he said that Harry needed speech lessons. "No, not like that, Ron – please don't think about that – oh, Merlin, don't imagine it!" Ron cried out in dismay. "I mean, we were both injured – in two separate situations, okay? That's why we were in the infirmary, not the… other…" Harry stuttered out.

"But, yesterday –" Ron continued, but less stricken now. "You and Malfoy went to the library, and who the hell goes to the library when it's only October? Merlin knows that the only reason why two people go to the library in October is to – to –"

"Ron!" Hermione glared at him. "I'll have you know that there are a lot of students who go to the library to actually study."

Ron scrunched his nose up, but was wise enough not to reply. He peered at Harry closely. "So… you're really not…?"

"No!" Harry quickly hissed out for what seemed the umpteenth time, and breakfast wasn't even done yet.

"Well," Hermione started, flipping her bangs away from her eyes with a sniff and peering closely at Harry. "Even if you were, we wouldn't mind, right, Ron?"

Ron nodded quickly but still looked quite pale.

With his friends calmed down, Harry finally realized the amount of attention he was receiving. The Great Hall, if they weren't looking at Harry, they were looking at Malfoy. Harry sneaked a peek at the professors' table and quickly looked away. He blanched. "Um," he started very eloquently as always. "Don't tell me everyone's been… talking about this… since…?" he squeaked out, words failing him when Ron nodded with a sympathetic look on his face.

"Dinner last night," Ron said mournfully.

"Oh, God."

"Well, you can't really blame us, Draco," Pansy scoffed, sniffing haughtily. "You were the one who went with Potter to the library— yes, the emphasis is deliberate—yesterday and then Blaise here tells me that you weren't in bed this morning."

"I was there that night! Before curfew!" Draco hissed.

"I wouldn't know, I sleep early," Blaise shrugged, smirking behind his glass of pumpkin juice.

"Goyle!" Draco growled, glaring towards the boy who was currently hunched over his breakfast.

Goyle shrugged. "They didn't ask."

Draco slapped his forehead. "Nott," he let out, almost pleadingly.

Nott shrugged as well, looking like he didn't care much for Draco's mortification. He probably didn't. "You might have sneaked out in the middle of the night."

Draco groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"I don't see why you're so worked up over this, Draco, dear," Pansy quipped, smiling slyly. She sidled up closer to him and wrapped her arms around him to whisper in his ear. "I thought you'd be jumping up and down over this."

"What, everyone thinking that I'm shagging Potter? Oh, yes, very excited," Draco mumbled mournfully against his hands. "There's just one problem: it's not true."

He looked up suddenly, and glared at the rest of his table who were all staring at him with curious, wide eyes. "Fuck off, goddamn it!" he growled.

Everyone suddenly became very interested in the ceiling, which showed the very gray weather outside.

The Great Hall, just like yesterday, was filled with flickering gold and black lights. Draco didn't need to ask to know that everyone was talking about him and Potter, either spreading purposively false rumors or spreading false rumors that they believed were true.

Oh, bloody hell.

"So where were you then?" Blaise asked innocently, but Draco knew better.

"Shagging Longbottom," he replied dryly.

Blaise sent him a dirty look.

"I was in the infirmary," Draco said instead, shrugging nonchalantly.

Pansy immediately sent him a furrowed-eyebrow look. "What for?" she asked worriedly.

"I would have told you the reason why, but then everyone started all this shagging Potter crap," he muttered sarcastically, unable to help himself.

Pansy raised an eyebrow at that. "Is shagging Potter really all that crap?" she quipped.

"It is when I'm not the one doing the shagging," Draco replied sulkily under his breath.

"Then pin him down to his godawful Gryffindor table and just do it," Blaise said, rolling his eyes, not remembering to lower his voice.

The two fifth-years next to him squeaked and their eyes turned big and round. Draco showed off his colorful vocabulary and clutched his wand. The fifth-years doe-eyed expression turned panicky, and in an instant, they were off their seat and limping painfully out the Great Hall.

Everyone else seemed to move away an inch or two after that. Or ten.

"You know, Draco, honey," Pansy started soothingly, turning to him and blinking her long lashes at him. "You're not really denying it to anyone," she said sweetly, but a sly grin was on her face. "That you're not shagging Harry Potter."

Draco scoffed, poking his breakfast and looking over at the Gryffindor table, where Potter was busy explaining to his little friends that he was Not Having Sexy Escapades with Draco Malfoy in the Library.

It was just too bad that the light around him wasn't even showing any signs of black.

He shrugged. "Of course not," he said haughtily. "Where's the fun in that?"

Harry was almost scared to talk to Malfoy again, expecting the awkwardness and maybe more of the 'Potter, you bloody git, I'll sic my father on you, just you wait!'.

Okay, maybe not. Malfoy didn't talk about his father anymore. In fact, when he stayed in Grimmauld Place, whenever the Order would talk about Lucius Malfoy, his face would twitch a bit into a sneer but would nevertheless remain as his cool façade. It took Harry a long time to realize that the sneer wasn't directed at the Order talking badly about his father, but towards the thought of Lucius himself.

Harry was curious just when Malfoy stopped hailing his father and started sneering at the very mention of him.

The Great Hall was more or less starting to swerve away from the gossip that was 'Harry and Draco's Illicit Love Affair' (dubbed by Lavender Brown) and turning into more normal conversations, like, Snape's hair for example and Lupin looking like he was going to be sick again. Of course, there were some people that just couldn't move on and Seamus had been peering at him in a very non-discreet manner for the past ten minutes now.

Ginny was still Not Looking At Him and he wasn't sure if that was a bad thing or a good thing. Good thing because maybe Ginny will finally consider the fact that Harry really didn't want to get together anymore, but bad thing because Ginny was his friend too and he kind of liked talking to his friends, which was hard to do when they were Not Looking At Him. And Ginny thought he was doing the nasty with Draco Malfoy.

Harry's face colored at the image that thought produced.

"Potter," said a very familiar and most unwelcome voice from behind.

The Great Hall immediately hushed into silence.

"Err," Harry said, feeling the itch growing at the back of his neck because Everyone – yes, Everyone – was now looking at him. Even Ginny, who was Not Looking At Him earlier, and even – oh, God, Merlin, fucking Dumbledore – Professor Snape.

I'm going to fucking kill you, Malfoy, Harry promised as he let out a very feeble reply. "Yes?"

"I'm going to the library to go through my homework," Draco said coolly, unable to resist the slight turning up of his lips into a small smirk. "Are you coming?"

Everyone held their breath.

Harry wanted to cry.

"Uhm," he replied.

Snape looked like he wanted to Avada Kedavra him.

Go with Malfoy, have Snape – God forbid – think that Harry really was shagging his godchild or don't go with Malfoy and have Snape Sectusempra him anyway because he wasn't doing what he was supposed to be doing, which was be with Malfoy (more or less) 24/7.

Well, easy enough decision.

If Harry was going down, then he was going to make sure that he left Snape with an ulcer just thinking about all the things Harry was doing to his godchild.

(Harry pushed down the inappropriate images that popped up with that.)

"Okay," he said, and stood up.

And almost fell back down at the unguarded grin that Malfoy sent his way.

Harry thought that Malfoy looked better that way.

"What the hell was that?" Harry asked, all wide-eyed and accusing.

"What do you mean?" Draco replied, giving him his most innocent expression.

Harry faltered. Get a grip, Harry, he told himself sternly. Damn it, all the gossip in the Great Hall was getting to him! He scowled, but only succeeded in looking sulky. "You know what I mean."

Draco shrugged, dropping the innocent act as he grinned widely. "I just love knowing that I'm your cause of distress, Potter."

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. "This is all your fault," he mumbled depressingly.

"Mm, oh, yes," Draco agreed.

"Are we really –" Harry started, looking like he was going to be sick. "— going to the library?" He said the last word like Neville saying 'potions'.

"To check on my homework, yes," Draco said. He raised an eyebrow at Harry, amused. "Unless you'd rather we do other things."

Harry flushed. "I don't have my stuff," he said instead, mumbling. "I'll meet you at the library." With one last glare at Malfoy's gleeful expression, he turned the other way up to Gryffindor Tower in an effort to save himself from further embarrassment.

Draco was smug.

Draco really didn't have his books either since he had rushed to the infirmary when he woke up earlier in the middle of the night, but since the dungeons was closer than the Gryffindor Tower, he made no move to hurry.

He hadn't actually planned on going through his homework again, but Potter was just too easy.

After a very torturous twenty minutes in the library where Draco laid his verbal innuendo arsenal on the table and Harry tried to stop himself from imagining up all sorts of things that he wasn't supposed to imagine, it was finally time for their first class.

For Harry, this meant relief because Harry had Transfiguration while Draco had Arithmancy, and that meant no more matter-of-factly said innuendos.

He was more relieved at the fact that he was saved from the whisperings and stares because his eight-year classmates were more mature than the rest of the school population. They also knew Harry better.

But while there were no pointed fingers at him, there was, however, an influx of painful bluntness.

"Hiya, Harry," Seamus quipped cheerfully, wagging his eyebrows, when Harry entered.

Professor Holly Bridgewood took one look at him, squeaked, turned a gracious shade of red, and promptly Not Looked at Him. Well, that was becoming such a hobby these days, Not Looking at Him.

Bridgewood took up McGonagall's place as Transfigurations professor when the latter became Headmistress. She was a thin, tall lady with the same demeanor as Professor Trewlaney without the big glasses, and instead of the bushy hair, Bridgewood's was long and straight.

…Too long, Harry thought, seeing as it almost reached her knees.

He kind of missed having the stern and uptight atmosphere of the classroom when McGonagall taught Transfigurations.

Now Seamus had no problems jumping out of his seat and throwing an arm around Harry's shoulder as they walked to the latter's desk.

Ron and Hermione both gave him sympathetic looks as he passed.

"So, Harry," Seamus said. "I hear you're playing for the other side of the fence."

(Ron blinked and looked at Hermione. "Playing for what?" he whispered.

"Muggle thing," Hermione replied.)

"No, I'm not, Seamus," Harry said, dryly. He sighed, looking at his friend almost pleadingly. "Whatever you've been hearing, it's not true."

"Sure, Harry," Seamus nodded. "For the record, I hear that Malfoy's a great kisser."

Harry spluttered.

"Oh, you haven't done it yet?" Seamus blinked at him, before nodding once again, this time in humble understanding. He grinned brightly at him. "Well, now you've got a heads-up!" And he blissfully skipped back to his seat.

Harry looked at Ron, dumbfounded. 'What the hell was that?' he mouthed.

'Bet,' Ron mouthed back, pointing to Seamus, then to Dean.

The class started with Harry thinking what wonderful friends he had.

"Okay, tell me everything," Pansy said, as soon as their professor started droning about the charts on the board.

Draco made a face at her. "Must you always know everything?"

The room was lit golden, no hint of shapeless black tint in sight. If Draco thought that the Great Hall was beautiful with its lightshow of gold and black, then this was even more so. It was relaxing, somewhat.

Now if only Pansy could stop disturbing him.

"I'm the only female friend you have," Pansy shrugged. "So yes."

"No, you're not," Draco said. "There's…" He thought very hard. "Millie," he said triumphantly.

Pansy raised a delicate eyebrow. "So you'd rather tell Millie?"

Draco's triumph was cut short. He blinked. "Good point."

Pansy was smug.

"Can't we talk about this some other time, though?" He tried again. "I'm kind of behind." He motioned to the class where half were either at the edge of their seats listening aptly, or slumped against their desks, blinking their eyes into wakefulness. Some were like them, talking to their seatmate while pretending to take down notes, except Pansy and Draco had mastered the art of multitasking since second year.

"You're lying," Pansy said without missing a heartbeat.

Draco paused. He peered at her suspiciously. "How do you know?"

"I can tie you to your bed for a week and you'll still ace all our quizzes," Pansy pointed out, frowning.

"Oh, right," Draco said, feeling foolish. He had thought that since he could tell if other people were lying, maybe other people could see if he was lying too. Maybe warts would appear on his forehead and shape the word 'LIAR' or something. He frowned. That wasn't a very nice picture.

Then he realized what Pansy said, and that the light around her didn't even darken a tad. "I'm glad you think so highly of me," he said as nonchalantly as he could.

Pansy smiled at him anyway.

Now, why couldn't he have fallen in love with Pansy instead? It was public knowledge that Pansy fancied him, at least until fifth year. Here was a charming girl right next to him, ready to listen to his woes and mishaps, but no.

He had to be bloody smitten with Harry fucking Potter instead, who hated him (okay, maybe not anymore.), wasn't even gay and was probably going to end up living a happy ever after with the She-Weasel.

Okay, he was depressing himself.

He sighed and told Pansy everything.

As soon as Transfiguration was over, Harry pulled Hermione and Ron aside and quickly dragged them into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"Okay, first of all, I don't want to hear anything about fancying Malfoy," he said firmly.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other, and then shrugged. "Alright."

"And I dragged you here because we won't have time alone after this," Harry started, feeling uneasy as he prepared himself for the question he knew was about to come.

"Why?"

It was Hermione who asked, so Harry took that as an excuse to avoid looking at Ron.

"Because I'll be, uh, somewhere else."

"Where?"

Harry closed his eyes, and rubbed his temples. He had no proper answer to that, except – "Wherever Malfoy is."

A squeak sounded to his left, and Harry made a mental note to have a talk with Ron later about masculinity and squeaking. "Remember yesterday? When I was telling you about having to look after Malfoy after I allegedly poisoned him with our Restoration Potion that ended up not a Restoration Potion?"

Hermione nodded, catching on quickly. She looked curious, all thoughts about Harry's illicit love affair with Malfoy forgotten. "You haven't told us what exactly happened to Malfoy."

Harry relaxed a bit, sensing that they were steering into more comfortable ground. "Snape thinks that our Restoration Potion got mixed with Veritaserum. That's what Malfoy drank in Potions the other day, so now he sees this… light thingy around people that turns black whenever they tell a lie."

"You don't say," Hermione murmured thoughtfully.

Ron stared at her. Then he looked pleadingly at Harry. She's going to drag me to the library after this, was the unsaid thought. Harry gave him a sympathetic look.

"So why do you have to look after Malfoy?" Hermione asked, oblivious to her boyfriend's internal distress.

"Well," Harry started, feeling uncomfortable now. The worry that plagued him earlier when he learned that Malfoy was drawing up blood as a side-effect slowly seeped back into him. "Snape says that the Dragon Blood from the Veritaserum and the Erumpent Exploding Fluid from the Restoration Potion reacted badly," he said, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to remember what Snape had been mumbling to himself about. "So Malfoy gets this really bad coughing fit from time to time. This morning, when I went down to the infirmary, Malfoy was there because he'd coughed out… well, blood," he finished grimly.

Hermione let out a small gasp.

Ron frowned. "That's horrible, mate," he said, honestly.

Harry nodded.

"I'll look up on it," Hermione said earnestly. Harry and Ron let out a small chuckle, because they both knew that without Hermione having to say it.

And Harry realized that time spent in Grimmauld Place made them closer to Malfoy than they originally thought. Maybe.

"So," Hermione started coolly. "Why were you in the infirmary, Harry?"

Harry winced. Trust Hermione to never miss a thing.

Ron crossed his arms. "You weren't in bed when I fell asleep, and when I woke up. If you weren't with M-Malfoy–" He made a face, which Hermione elbowed him for.

Harry quickly cut that thought short. "Remember when I told you that Hogwarts wanted to eat me?"

Hermione blinked. "When?"

"The other day," Harry said, still annoyed that they hadn't taken him seriously. He couldn't blame them though. He still wasn't taking himself seriously. "Well, not that Hogwarts really wants to eat me, but I think when they rebuilt the school, they added some new… things or something."

Ron nodded. "Dad was telling us about that during summer. Nothing big though."

"I've been getting into all sorts of traps," Harry let out slowly, feeling embarrassed to admit it. "Walls, floors," he said, shrugging. "Yesterday I fell through the wall in the sixth floor corridor –" He paused. "Actually, I blasted it to bits to get out. The mess should still be there. I didn't pass by it when I went up earlier, so I'm not sure if Filch already cleaned it up."

"Let's check," Ron said eagerly.

"No," Hermione hissed out, but looked undecided herself. "We're already late for class as we speak –"

"History of Magic, Hermione," Ron reminded her. "Do you really think Binns is going to notice us gone?"

"He might!" Hermione replied huffily.

"He's a ghost, 'Mione –"

"I heard that!"A whimpering voice resounded from above them, sounding like all it wanted was to wail and sob. "You think ghosts are stupid, do you?"

Hermione blanched. She gave her most winning smile towards Moaning Myrtle, whose puffy face looked back at them accusingly. "Of course not, Myrtle! Ron was just kidding around, weren't you, Ron?"

Ron nodded quickly, face pale. "Y-yeah, 'course, I was!"

Myrtle gave a big sniff. "I'll have you know, ghosts have feelings too!"

Harry looked at his friends helplessly. He turned to the ghost, trying to placate her. "We know that, Myrtle. We didn't mean anything by it."

At that, Myrtle's face seemed to swell a little less. She swerved down towards them, making Harry jump as she invaded his personal space and peered closely at him. Then she smiled shyly. "If you say so, Harry."

Harry nodded, stepping back quickly to put a little distance between them.

"Did something happen to Draco?" Myrtle asked him, hovering still as she wiped silver tears away. "I couldn't help but overhear, and I do worry about him. He doesn't come by anymore like before."

"I'll, err, tell him that," Harry said earnestly, though a bit taken aback by the sudden change of subject. Then amusement settled in as he thought that Malfoy had a lot of people caring for him after all.

Myrtle nodded, giving out a small smile of her own. "Did something happen then?"

Harry caught Hermione and Ron's eyes. "Well," he started nervously. If he lied and Myrtle realized that, then they were in for a flooding of the girls' bathroom yet again. So he told her, though less detailed.

"That's easy," Myrtle said when he finished. She smiled widely, which looked off considering it was her, but it must have really made her happy to be able to help. "You can just keep on giving Draco a Blood-Replenishing Potion! Peeves was talking about it the other day. Oh! I remember during my time, those were rather famous. Everyone stocked up on those, when someone suggested that the monster inside the Chamber of Secrets was a vampire," she sniffed, remembering. "As if, really."

"But –" Hermione started, nervous to disagree with Moaning Myrtle. She looked at Harry questioningly. "Didn't Madame Pomfrey administer that to Malfoy this morning?"

"I didn't see," Harry shrugged. But a smile was on his face, and he grinned brightly at Myrtle who was busy glaring at Hermione. "But that's a good idea, Myrtle! We could make Malfoy stock up on Blood-Replenishing Potion, just in case. I mean, okay, so Snape told me to look after him, but what do I do when he finally goes through that coughing fit again?"

Myrtle beamed. She floated away, humming happily to herself.

"So you're going to talk to Snape?" Ron asked when they were finally out of the bathroom and walking towards Professor Binns' classroom. He looked at Harry sympathetically.

Harry froze. And promptly slapped his forehead. "Right. Snape has the potion," he muttered.

"I'm sure Snape would gladly give it to you, Harry," Hermione comforted him. "Seeing as its about Malfoy."

"Oh, he'll give it to me, alright," he said, sulkily. "I'm just not sure about the 'gladly' part."

"Really, mate," Ron said thoughtfully. "You're really taking this Malfoy thing seriously."

Harry flushed.

Then Ron realized the implications of what he just said and he, too, turned red. "I-I-I didn't mean it like that – well, unless – unless you do, which –" he trailed off weakly. "You don't, right?"

"Oh, honestly, Ronald!" Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. "Why can't Harry be concerned over a friend? I mean, even you're worried, aren't you?"

Ron's shoulders slumped as he grumbled under his breath but made no move to deny it.

Hermione looked triumphant.

As they continued walking, Harry realized that yeah, maybe he was more worried about Malfoy than he thought he'd be.

But that was only normal though, seeing as they were now kind of, sort of friends.

Yeah, that must be it.

Chapter Text

"So let me get this straight," Blaise said slowly, furrowing his eyebrows as he peered closely at Draco, taking in all the little details that may have changed overnight. Hmm. Draco's left eyebrow was a degree higher than usual. "You can read minds?"

Flitwick's pitchy voice reached them from the front and they pretended to listen as their professor taught them complicated spells that the three of them already knew.

Draco scrunched his face up. "Are you stupid?"

Blaise shrugged. "Yes."

The light around him turned black. Cocky git, Draco thought, and that must have showed on his face because Blaise smirked smugly.

Pansy inspected her nails and thought dryly, Boys.

"I certainly hope that you did not just come from a tryst with my godson, Potter," Snape drawled, glaring down at Harry as soon as the boy was within a good distance.

They were in an empty dungeon corridor, where Harry had ran into Snape after an hour worth of trying to stay awake in Professor Binns' class. He was actually on his way to the Potions classroom to ask Snape about the Blood-Replenishing Potion, so he couldn't imagine his luck when he turned a corner and there Snape was, looking as cheerful as ever.

And Harry, after all his running, looked flustered and more unkempt than usual.

At Snape's words, Harry fought down the flush that threatened to consume his face and, even as he self-consciously fixed his rustled robes, remembered his promise to himself to endow an ulcer upon his Potions professor as his memorable legacy. "No, Draco—"(Well, that was easier to say than 'Malfoy'.) "—and I are meeting up later. You know. I have to keep an eye on him and all. I get really worried," Harry said as innocently as possible, nodding firmly to himself and trying not to think about the truth behind his words.

Snape glowered menacingly. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Professor," Harry started, thinking it wise to change the subject now (and to change it politely). "I actually came to ask you about Blood-Replenishing Potions."

"What for?" Snape raised an eyebrow. Over the months, Harry realized that Snape had learned to be more of curious about his 'adventures' rather than suspicious.

"Draco," he replied simply.

Acknowledgement appeared in Snape's face, before he nodded. That didn't mean that he was done with his verbal abuse though.

"It seems to have missed your mind, Mr. Potter," he drawled, sneer in place as he looked down at Harry with narrowed eyes and haughty expression. "That the Blood-Replenishing Potion is one of the three potions that are missing in my list."

Harry frowned thoughtfully, unfazed by his professor's cold demeanor. It was one thing to deal with Snape with an audience, but he found it easier to stand him when they were alone. Less public humiliation. Snape was still as irritating and greasy as always, but you can't have everything. "You don't have any more?"

Snape frowned right back. "The last one was given to Draco this morning. I'm working on a new batch."

"Oh," Harry said. He thought very hard. "But it's only October…" he let out slowly, almost cautiously. "Why would you run out?"

Snape's face darkened considerably at that, but it wasn't directed at him. "Professor Lupin, of course, and… Bridgewood." He said the last name with distastefulness, lips curling into a new sneer.

Harry had the feeling that Snape didn't like Bridgewood very much ever since the first day of school, when McGonagall had introduced Bridgewood to the students. Out of habit, Harry's eyes had strayed towards the teachers' table. He wasn't surprised when he didn't see Dumbledore, but that didn't lessen the heavy feeling in his gut. His gaze swerved— out of habit yet again – towards Snape instead, who was looking on with disgust at Bridgewood's shy and timid greeting. He reckoned that Snape didn't like the spineless types.

(Well, it makes sense. His mother could have been mistaken for a Weasley, and not just by her appearance.)

"What's wrong with Professor Bridgewood?"

"Bridge… Professor Bridgewood can't defend herself even against students," Snape scowled, disapproving. "The fifth years find hexing her quite… enjoyable."

Harry gaped. "That's awful."

"Quite," Snape drawled. Then his eyes flickered behind Harry, and he straightened. "I shall call for you when the Potion is finished. Trust me, Potter," he looked at Harry down his crooked nose. "I want to believe that my… godson is in good hands."

And then he turned and walked away with a swish of his robes.

Behind him were Hermione and Ron, who was sniggering under his breath.

"Mate, I think he just complimented you."

Harry turned to him and blinked in confusion. "Really?" he said. "It's kind of hard to tell."

"We've checked the sixth floor corridor you were talking about, Harry," Hermione said as they briskly walked to their next class. Students passed by them back and forth as they all rushed to their next subjects, but the most obvious were those hurrying to Potions, pale and almost having panic attacks.

"Yeah?" Harry panted out.

All of their legs felt heavy, after having dashed out and away as soon as History of Magic ended; Harry to the dungeons, Hermione and Ron to the sixth floor.

"It's all clean," Ron wheezed, ducking as a big fifth-year scrambled past him.

Hermione nodded furiously. "Filch… must have… cleaned it… already…" she said, huffing as they burst out the castle and onto the courtyard. Greenhouse 2 waved at them from the distance, almost insultingly.

Also in the distance were Professor Sprout and a burly young man, walking towards said greenhouse.

The trio hurried their pace in an effort to get there first.

The burly young man was Morgan, Professor Sprout's 'assistant' though everyone knew he was really there because he was one of the people in charge of placing the finishing touches on the 'new' Hogwarts. He just had a great love for plants that Professor Sprout was simply overjoyed to bring him along to her classes. (Morgan and Neville got along really well, quite expectedly.)

He was of Irish descent, and reminded Harry of Seamus with his 'happy chap' demeanor.

The three only had enough time to inhale a lungful of oxygen before Professor Sprout burst in with a sunshine smile.

By the time lunch rolled in, Harry was too drained both physically and mentally to care what people were still saying about his Illicit Love AffairTM with Draco Malfoy. His lack of sleep was finally getting to him as the adrenaline of the morning settled down, and he leaned his chin heavily on his palm, making his elbow dig against the Gryffindor table. His legs felt like lead and though his stomach rumbled in complain, the food in front of him just didn't look very tasty.

The only thing funny about this was that Hermione and Ron looked the same as he did.

…Okay, maybe not Hermione.

She was as attentive as ever, like a child high on caffeine.

"Filch should have been grumbling all day about the mess you made, Harry," Hermione murmured beside him, discreetly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she glanced over at the teacher's table, where Filch was eating at the far end while happily scratching Mrs. Norris' ear. "If he really did clean it up."

Harry jumped at that, blinking, realizing that for the first time. "If he didn't, then who did? The professors wouldn't have, without at least asking us about it after."

"Maybe the Patching Team added some extra features to the castle?" Ron offered sleepily in front of him, pausing in gobbling up his lunch. "You know? Hogwarts cleans itself up or something. Maybe that's why Filch's less of a wanker lately."

The 'Patching Team', as the students called it, was the group of people that was left behind to continue the complete rebuilding of Hogwarts when the school year started. Charlie, who had been part of the original team that worked on Hogwarts during the summer, told them that the castle was more or less functional already. The Patching Team was only there to fix any magical errors or improve them.

All members of the school staff was part of the Patching Team. There was also Morgan and a few others that could be found loitering in various parts of the castle, class hours or not.

"As plausible as that is, Ronald," Hermione started, face scrunching up at the mess Ron was making out of his food. "You're certainly proving yourself wrong by spilling food everywhere. I don't see it magically Scourgifying itself."

Ron shrugged, grabbing his glass of pumpkin juice with oily fingers. "Maybe it will, after I'm finished eating."

"I see," Hermione said, not really seeing.

The door of the Great Hall opened and as Hermione and Ron continued their intellectual talk, Harry automatically followed the blond hair as it walked towards the Slytherin table. It was a habit made since sixth year, when he religiously followed Malfoy around. When they returned for their eight year, Harry realized that habits really were hard to break.

Not that he was trying very hard.

A few seats down the Gryffindor table, Ginny – confused and heart twisting just a little bit – watched him watching Draco.

"I better go check on Malfoy," Harry told Hermione and Ron as he stood up from his seat.

They looked at him and nodded in understanding, Hermione looking more worried than Harry and Ron did.

Then Harry felt that uncomfortable feeling at the back of his neck again, where goosebumps prickled his skin – and, with a horrible sinking feeling, he realized what he had just said out loud.

Apparently, when Harry Potter tells you something along the lines of 'Voldemort's back and he really wants to kill us all' or 'I'm not shagging Draco Malfoy', you are not to believe him.

The silence that had covered the Great Hall at his declaration of concern suddenly burst back into noise, sounding almost like forced conversation as they very pointedly Not Talked About Harry and Draco.

Harry sighed exasperatedly, almost sitting back down in his annoyance.

But then he looked up and caught Draco's eyes. Draco was looking at him with a raised, questioning (if not amused) eyebrow.

"Draco awaits, Harry!" Seamus quipped beside him.

When did Malfoy become Draco? Harry thought dryly, and then, Oh, fuck it.

He made his way towards the Slytherin table, twitching as he realized that all eyes were on him; some discreetly, some not so much. Even Malfoy was looking at him, lips twitching up in amusement.

He really did look better that way, Harry thought.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted when he neared, trying his hardest to ignore everyone staring at him.

"Harry," Draco greeted back, coolly.

The Great Hall descended into stunned silence yet again.

This time, if he just looked past the point of mortification, even Harry found it funny so he let it slide.

"You seem fine," he said slowly, letting Malfoy catch up on the translation. Did anything happen?

Malfoy just smiled at him, almost business-like. "I am, very." No, Potter, so don't worry your precious little head over it.

Whether Harry caught up on the last part of Draco's intended meaning, the blond couldn't tell but Harry nodded anyway and walked briskly back to the Gryffindor table.

No one got what they were talking about so Lavender Brown immediately gathered her loyal followers and told them stories about Relationships Wherein the Lovers are the Only Ones who Truly Understand Each Other.

Hermione dug her fingers on Ron's arm when he leaned in closer to hear.

In eight year, most of their classes were joined with one other house since the Professors didn't have enough time between teaching the first to seventh years. For example, they had Transfiguration with Hufflepuffs on Mondays, with Ravenclaws on Tuesdays, and with Slytherins on Wednesdays. In Care for Magical Creatures, Mondays were with Slytherins. The only subjects deviating from this were Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Gryffindors were doomed to suffer Potions with the Slytherins for the whole year, and DADA was the only subject they had that didn't pair them up with another house.

Sometimes Harry wondered where Lupin got all of his time from. On his lesser-brained days, Harry thought that maybe the reason why Lupin was looking so exhausted and weak lately was because of the fatigue he got from teaching, but really, he knew better.

Besides, fatigue or not, Lupin still instructed them marvelously and without respite. Harry was proud just watching him.

"Hullo, Harry," Lupin, smiling, greeted him as he entered the classroom. "There are still ten minutes left before class starts. You're certainly excited."

He sat in front of the empty classroom, behind his desk with piles of parchment in front of him. He looked small and weary, but it was amazing how his smile lit up his entire face.

Three days left. Harry had been keeping track, in spite of himself.

"Hello, Professor," Harry said as warmly as Lupin did, grinning back. He did not register the sly undertone that Lupin's held though. "I'm actually here to ask you something."

His professor tried to look serious. "I'm guessing this has nothing to do with Scandinavian Goblins?"

"No, I'm saving that question for Hagrid," Harry replied dryly, but he chuckled soon after. "It's actually about the Patching Team."

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "I really wish students would stop calling us that. It sounds ridiculous."

Harry shrugged. "It works."

"Alright," Still, Lupin scrunched his nose up in distaste. "What about… the 'Patching Team'?"

Harry laughed at his expression.

Even after all this time, even though the Dursleys have pretty much cut all contact with him and he haven't spoken to them in months, and even though he's surrounded by so many good people who wants to take him in, he still thinks about what life would have been like if Hagrid had given him to Sirius and Sirius wasn't falsely convicted. He thinks about what life would have been like if he had grown up with Sirius and Remus instead.

Of course, he's had his happy ending, somehow. He won the war, Voldemort was dead, the wizarding world was safe, except… except Sirius was gone.

"I just wanted to know," Harry started, not sure if the Patching Team was forbidden to speak of certain details about their job. "If you added some other things to Hogwarts. You know, enhanced it, or something."

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "It depends on what you mean by 'other things'."

Harry wasn't sure. "Trap doors?" he said lamely, almost sheepishly.

Lupin blinked at him, staring at him for a long time before nodding slowly. "Not trap doors. They're actually safety rooms, for hiding."

Harry was confused. "What for?" he blurted out. "Hogwarts is the safest place there is."

Lupin nodded. He knew that Harry wasn't stupid so he didn't mention anything about the events that happened during the war because obviously Harry wasn't talking about that. "It is. Usually, it's only for emergencies, which leads me to ask, Harry," he said calmly. "How do you know about them?"

"Err," Harry started slowly. He didn't feel guilty because there was really nothing to be guilty about, but he was embarrassed. "I've been falling through them," he admitted sheepishly. "They need more work, Remus."

Lupin looked surprised. "What? But they're –"

"There you are, Harry!" Ron burst in the classroom, huffing and looking panicked.

Harry was almost immediately alert, and met him halfway. "What is it, Ron?"

Ron grabbed his shoulders almost desperately. "You have to save me! Hermione decided that she wants to spend the latter half of lunch in the library everyday! The library!"

"Oh," Harry said. He relaxed, and tried to hide a laugh. "And that's a problem because?"

Ron looked at him in disbelief. "Because that means Ihave to be there with her!"

"And why is that?" Harry asked, unable to resist a laugh now. "You know Hermione won't force you to stay with her if you don't want to."

Ron opened his mouth, thought for a bit, and then closed it again, looking sullen.

Harry answered for him. "Except you want to."

"Not in the library though," Ron muttered under his breath.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Weren't you the one who said that the only reason why people go to the library in October was to, err, well. Shag?"

Ron blinked at him confusedly. "You think Hermione wants to go to the library to shag?"

Harry didn't think so. He was a good friend though. "Maybe?"

Lupin coughed loudly. He looked uncomfortable. "I'd rather not hear about my students' trysts in the library, if you please."

It only occurred to Harry much later in the day, with profound horror, that maybe Lupin was also referring to him and Malfoy.

The rest of the afternoon went by without any deviation from the normal routine of a student, that Harry was almost glad when their last subject came. Almost, because their last subject was Potions.

Malfoy was already sitting in his seat when they arrived and Harry awkwardly sat on the chair next to him.

He wondered why the hell he felt so awkward because really, there was nothing to be awkward about. (Minus the whole school thinking they were shagging each other.) He also wondered, rather anxiously this time, why the hell Malfoy looked so beamingly happy. He wasn't really expecting anything painful or what – they've gone past that point already – but just something… possibly embarrassing.

"So, Harry," Malfoy started, turning to him with an innocently pleasant expression as he sat down.

"Err, yes?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Well," Draco continued coolly. He blinked long lashes at the other boy. "What's this I hear about you being obsessed with me since you were eleven?"

Harry didn't even pay attention when Pansy burst into gleeful giggles and instead proceeded on damning the world. He glared at Hermione, who shifted guiltily in her seat beside Pansy and Not Looked at Him.

So Harry glared sullenly at Malfoy instead. "It's not true, Malfoy," he mumbled dejectedly under his breath, for the first time wishing that Snape would hurry up and start class already and maybe take off more points from Gryffindor.

"Of course, Harry," Draco replied, still smiling brightly, if not a bit smugly.

The light around Harry had turned black.

Chapter Text

Potions went on in due course. Snape introduced to them a new potion, gave them homework consisting of a three-foot long essay, and deducted points from Gryffindor as per usual. Sometimes, a little routine was good. Harry didn't want any more surprises today; he's had enough to last him the school year, but while Snape did give him this small relief, he still felt very disturbed by the way Snape narrowed his eyes whenever Harry and Draco would sit too close to each other. (They hadto, since they were using only one cauldron!)

Snape had dismissed them with his trademark sneer and they all sighed in relief at that signal of not only the end of the day, but the end of the week.

Hallelujah Merlin's beard.

"When's the essay due again?" Harry asked, hands rubbing at his eyes as he fought down the urge to yawn.

All around them, students were cleaning their worktables and fixing their things, excited to spend their Friday night finally worry-free.

Well… mostly.

"Monday, Potter," Draco replied, casting one last Scourgify on the table before nodding to himself in a satisfied manner.

"Joy," Harry said mournfully. "I'll see you after dinner then?"

Draco started at that, turning to him and looking confused. "What for?"

Harry blinked. "Uhm. Well. It'd be bad if you suddenly keeled over in an empty corridor, Malfoy."

At his choice of words, Malfoy glared half-heartedly at him. "Ha, ha. I'm starting to think you're simply doing this out of pity," he sighed dramatically.

Harry found himself smiling at his antics. "Drama queen."

Draco raised an eyebrow at him challengingly, smirking. "Wow, that was almost an insult."

Harry rolled his eyes and simply went back to collecting his own set of common ingredients.

Draco, unbelievably, pouted at him. "You're no fun."

Harry felt almost guilty, then he realized that there was nothing to be guilty for! Really. "Sorry, Malfoy, I'm just –" Ah, the yawn prevailed. "— really tired," he finished.

"Ah, our nightly escapades tiring you out, Harry? Oh, don't worry. I'll be gentle tonight."

A squeak resounded from the other table and Harry didn't need to look to know that it came from Ron. Actually, Harry wasn't looking at anywhere right now, except maybe Malfoy's shoes (Oh, they were very nice shoes. Very… black.) because his face felt really hot at the moment.

"What is this talk of being gentle, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape's icy voice crawled over to them from the front of the classroom. "If you are going to do anything, then I certainly wish to see bruiseson Mr. Potter tomorrow."

The room was deathly silent.

Harry was dumbstruck. Did Snape just make a joke? With innuendo?

Draco looked proud.

Harry whimpered pathetically. "Oh, God, I'm going to barf."

He didn't have much of an appetite during dinner. He was busier trying to focus on staying awake rather than on his untouched and fork-abused dinner. Hermione was telling him something about Blood-Replenishing Potion and he tried to listen to her, really, but the words just weren't sinking in.

Dinner was the same as lunch, though thankfully less humiliating. Harry actually managed to go through dinner without horribly embarrassing himself or announcing to the world just how much of a pouf he was (which he absolutely wasn't). He was so busy thinking just how much of a non-pouf he was that he almost jumped when a warm hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"Harry."

Oh, this was like déjà-vu, except less shocking now since he had already experienced it once, yet it was no less nerve-wracking.

"Library?" Draco asked, all innocent expression and eager smile.

Harry stared dumbly at that, cheeks coloring slightly. (Later, he would argue to himself that it was because of the verbal innuendo, not Malfoy's expression. Honestly. Oh, God, these not-true rumors really were getting to him.) "Uhm. Okay."

And Draco's smile widened at how easily Harry abandoned his dinner and said goodnight to his friends with a slight nod. Before the war, during some of Draco's weaker moments, he would fantasize about first year and Harry choosing him over Weasley. Now, it was pathetic how this simple action made him feel warm all over.

They left the Great Hall together, Harry twitchy from all the eyes that curiously followed them. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Malfoy (This was starting to become another habit, he realized with panic.) but the blond didn't even seem perturbed by the stares. Instead, his head was held high in his familiar haughty way along with his usual smug expression.

As the Great Hall's door shut, muffling the conversations of the whole Hogwarts population, Harry quickly averted his eyes away from Malfoy.

"Tired?"

Harry raised his head in surprise, and found himself staring at Malfoy's amused smile.

"You should smile a lot more," he found himself muttering with another yawn. "Makes you look less menacing," he finished, a wry grin on his face.

Draco was honestly surprised at that. He blinked, and then turned away with a disdainful sniff. "The last part was unnecessary, Potter," he huffed.

Harry grinned. "Malfoy, are you blushing?"

Draco did not turn around. "Think what you will. I'm retiring to the infirmary."

Automatically, Harry fell into step with him. "Alright then."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Potter, I'm pretty sure I can go to the infirmary on my own."

"Well…" Harry was confused. "Why call me out then?"

"You seemed like you needed a break," Draco said, waving his hand. "Now pledge your eternal gratefulness to me and be on your way."

Harry laughed at that. "Right. I'm on my way right now."

Draco sighed exasperatedly and stopped walking. He turned to Potter, and crossed his arms. It struck Harry just how authoritative Malfoy could easily be. "Really, Potter, let me reiterate," Draco sighed yet again. "As much as I do enjoy your company—" He really did. "I would appreciate you not considering me as another way to satisfy your hero complex."

"I don't pity you, Malfoy," Harry blurted almost immediately. Suddenly, he felt irritated somewhat. "Okay, at first it was because I felt guilty since it was sort of my fault—" How it was his fault, he couldn't really explain, but somehow it just feltlike it, you know? "—but do you really think I would have stuck by this until now if I didn't want to?" he let out, feeling a sense of rush hit him. He thought maybe it was the lack of sleep getting to him, making him have horrible mood-swings. Pepper-Up Potion tomorrow. Yes.

He then remembered Hermione's words earlier. "Can't I just be worried about you as a friend?" he muttered, and even though he was frustrated, he still managed to flush at his words. Okay, now that he was done rambling, he was starting to feel embarrassed. And awkward.

Especially since Malfoy wasn't saying anything.

When Malfoy did, however, his voice was soft. "You can," he said quietly, almost stiffly as if he wasn't used to saying such open things.

Harry looked up at that. He looked into Draco's eyes, held his unwavering stare, and then nodded. He exhaled heavily, smiling. "Good."

Well, that made him feel lighter.

It felt like… something big had happened just then.

And it was a good thing. At least, it felt good.

"By the way," Harry started conversationally as they neared the infirmary.

"Oh, ten points for Gryffindor, Potter. You're improving at this social conversation thing."

Ah, there it was. Malfoy's fresh humor. (Heed the sarcasm.)

"Git."

"Mm-hmm. Only to you."

"I was saying," Harry said, more loudly and more firmly with a roll of his eyes. "Myrtle says she misses you."

Draco paused in surprise, halting his steps. "Oh," he said.

"Yes," Harry replied, indulging him.

A smile flitted across Draco's face, before it suddenly changed into an expression of discomfort.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, stopping as well.

"Erm, nothing," Draco said, shaking his head. He resumed walking.

Harry followed. "Right," he replied dryly. "Really. What's the matter?"

"I said nothing, Potter!" Draco spat suddenly, rounding on him with a glare that effectively shut Harry up. Then, with a scowl, he turned tail and finished the remaining distance towards the infirmary, leaving Harry alone in the middle of the corridor.

Harry stilled, dumbfounded. Then he felt anger bubbling inside of him as well as the stress-induced frustration from earlier and he glared at the door to the infirmary. "Well, fuck," he growled to it, raising a hand to press fingers on his temple. "Fuck you, Malfoy," he muttered angrily, before striding furiously in the other direction –

– and promptly falling through the floor.

Draco felt like a horrible arse, he really did. He felt like an arse for snapping to Harry like that out of the blue, but if he was going to be more honest with himself, he felt like an arse because anything about sixth year was still a sore spot for him, no matter how much he pretended otherwise to everyone else.

He had known that it wouldn't be easy to move on, much less move on at all because if he really tried to, he could still make vivid the thundering fear of having his family's life hanging on his actions. He could still make vivid the sickening realization that he needed to killor else someone would kill him and his family.

Draco was a Slytherin. When the choice was presented to him, he had only two thoughts: Not kill Dumbledore, fail his family, but have Potter alive. Kill Dumbledore, save his family, but ultimately have Potter killed in the long-run. It was only after that that Draco thought about the wizarding world as a whole.

It had been an easy decision to make – Family came before everything. He was a Malfoy first and throughout… and he definitely wasn't a martyr. – though a hard one to stomach. To have guilt eating at you from both sides during the day, and to have no ease even when you're asleep. To be forced to work for a madman under threat. To think about the what-ifs and the what-could-have-beens.

To decide who was to die or not.

And then… then Dumbledore provided him a way out. Safety for him and his family. And Draco desperately grabbed at that.

But it was too late.

Whether or not Draco decided to go through with it, Snape was still obligated to point his wand.

It wasn't easy, deciding to turn against your family.

But he was a Slytherin.

A Slytherin was sly and cunning.

Not a murderer.

It had been nerve-wracking, yes.

But worth it, Draco supposed. In the end. He still felt guilty for a lot of things. He could care less about his father in Azkaban now, and his mother was safe and content in France, so his shame now was mainly about things concerning Potter. About the things he had done and had not done.

It was almost too much, being… friends… as Potter have put it earlier.

Too lucky.

But the war's over now.

And Potter had managed to put it behind him. Now Draco should do the same.

Draco sighed, closing his eyes and relaxing against the bed.

He'll apologize to Potter in the morning.

Hmm, well.

If Harry got through his initial shock and frustration, then he could say that yeah, this room was nice. No lavish furniture here, obviously – There was no furniture at all. – but the marble walls, floor and ceiling looked bloody awesome. They also felt bloody cold. Harry suddenly had this dry, satirical thought that he was going to die here, pressed against marble that was currently freezing his arse.

He was in a closed room, for goodness' sake! It was supposed to be really hot, seeing as there was no opening for a breeze or air (much less oxygen) to pass through. And he was supposed to be suffocating.

…Well, he sort of was. Or maybe it was just the lack of sleep.

He had no idea how long he'd been there, sitting on his arse on the cold floor and staring at the ceiling that swallowed him whole. He had a broken ankle after a bad landing (Marble floor, not cottony goodness.) and it was swelling up pretty bad. Harry had it pressed against the wall (Ouch, okay, sort ofpressed against the wall.), because the wall was cold. He wished Hermione was here, or Luna. He didn't trust himself with healing spells.

He was still angry, mind you.

But not as much, because he'd had time to cool down after time – minutes? Hours? – spent down in this… 'safety' room.

Harry snorted.

Safety room. Right.

Well, if this was a safety room then –

He stopped. And blinked, eyes going wide. Well, he had knownthat there was a way out, obviously, but maybe… maybe it had a password or something or a spell or – or –

"Fizzing whizbees! Flibbertigibbet! Acid Pops! Chocolate Frogs! Amortentia! Veritaserum! Open! Goddamnit, open!"

Harry thunked the back of his head against the wall hard, growling in frustration.

He was reallysleepy. The only thing preventing him from succumbing to sleep was the fact that he knew he was going to die from lack of oxygen if he did. Well, he was doing to die from lack of oxygen otherwise, but he kind of wanted to be aware of it, you know?

…Wait, no, maybe he shouldsleep.

He groaned. If he was seriously contemplating this, then he really needed to get out of here.

He'd been saving Reducto-ing the ceiling for last because unlike the last time when he'd been stuck in the wall, this time he was stuck in the floor and he reallywas going to bury himself alive if he did it wrong.

He sighed heavily, rubbing furiously at both of his eyes with his hands.

It wasn't like anyone was going to come looking for him. Ron and Hermione thought he was with Malfoy, and Malfoy… well, it wasn't like he caredmuch about what happened to him, Harry thought bitterly.

He wondered, if he yelled, would anyone hear him? Or were the walls too thick?

"Dumbledore's probably turning in his grave at the things they've done to Hogwarts," Harry muttered sullenly to himself, missing his old professor. It still hurt, thinking about how he died, even though he knew the truth now.

If Dumbledore was here, things –

Well. No. Things wouldn't have been easier. In fact, they would have been more mind-boggling, but at least he had someone to blame.

Just then, a loud, grinding sound made him jump in shock and he stared, amazed, as he realized that the ceiling had been slowly opening up, sliding aside and revealing the ceiling of the infirmary corridor. Harry was dumbstruck.

"That's the password? Dumbledore?"

Well, what do you know. Dumbledore really does make things easier after all.

Okay, now the problem was getting out of here and up there.

"Oh, God," Harry wheezed out, collapsing against the floor of the infirmary corridor. Vaguely, he heard the grinding sound of the hole on the floor sliding closed but he was more preoccupied with refilling his lungs with oxygen. He had literally crawled out of the hole using his elbows and chin, and every part of his body was aching with exertion. He exhaled heavily. Right.

Ankle still broken. Gryffindor Tower is… a tower. Up there. Way up there.

Harry sighed.

He felt really bad for inconveniencing Madame Pomfrey almost daily like this, but his ankle was swelling and the infirmary door was right there, almost tauntingly. It'd be stupid to ignore it. He just needed… to crawl… to it.

Joy.

The infirmary was empty and silent when Harry finally reached the door and limped inside. All of the bed curtains were open, save for one where the faint sound of rustling blankets was heard. Madame Pomfrey's quarters were just beyond the portrait at the end of the room, impossible to get into but easy to knock on. Madame Pomfrey – Bless her, really – almost always immediately answers after the third knock.

Harry didn't even have the strength to remember his anger towards Malfoy earlier. He glanced at the beds with hungry eyes as he limped by, and whimpered pitifully as the sound of rustling blankets became louder. Blankets and a nice pillow sounded really nice right now.

Well, he didn't know that Malfoy was a restless sleeper. From the sound of it, he was keeping on turning around. Harry paused. Bad dream, maybe?

Harry knew all about bad dreams. They were… bad.

And okay, so he was curious.

And Malfoy sounded really restless.

But, well, his ankle hurt.He tried to move it, experimentally, and –

A pained groan echoed throughout the infirmary, making Harry look up. Yes, his ankle hurt like hippogriffs stampeding on it but he was pretty sure that the groan didn't come from him.

Indecisiveness forgotten, Harry turned away from the portrait to limp back to Malfoy's bed, quickly drawing the bed curtains aside.

On the bed lay Malfoy, sweating and looking like he was in very much pain. Even in the dark, or maybe especially because of the dark and the moonlight, he looked really, really pale. He was clutching desperately at his chest with one hand while the other fisted against the sheets as he gasped for air.

Harry panicked, instinctively reaching for Malfoy's shoulders to shake him awake, but that made Malfoy hiss in pain so he stopped that quickly. Malfoy's hand that was clutching at his chest reached out to grab Harry's wrist in a vice-like grip, and suddenly, he lurched forward with a great cough and a wheeze, and Harry stood, frozen and batshit scared at the blood on his robes that gleamed almost tauntingly under the moonlight.

"Oh, God, Malfoy," he let out breathily, as Malfoy collapsed into a coughing fit, but Harry was relieved to see that he wasn't spewing any more huge amounts of blood. "Madame Pomfrey!" he yelled shakily, his voice craking. He swallowed with great effort, before trying again. "Madame Pomfrey!"

Malfoy's grip on his wrist stayed, tightening with each cough, and Harry wrapped his free arm around Malfoy's shoulders, letting the other boy lean on him as he leaned his good leg on the bed so as to not overbalance since he couldn't really use the leg with the broken ankle.

He clutched Malfoy close to him, fear making him hear blood rushing in his ears.

Fucking hell, where the hell was –

"MADAME POMFREY, GODDAMNIT!"

And the portrait swung aside as Madame Pomfrey burst out with messy clothes and even messier hair, and though her eyes could have been more awake, she was all alert and business as she immediately rushed to Draco's side. She flicked her wand in quick succession, over Draco and to summon potions from the cupboards. An "Acciochair" was also squeezed in there somewhere but Harry was still too stricken to move, arm still clutching Malfoy to him even as Malfoy's grip on his wrist loosened and he slumped against Harry, breathing heavily but otherwise still exhaustedly asleep.

Harry was too busy going over his plethora of curse words.

"Fucking Merlin."

When Draco woke up, it was to a head-splitting headache and a sore throat. He'd had better mornings; that was for sure. He groaned, almost deciding not to open his eyes because of the sunlight that he knew was there and would burn his eyes. Even his groan sounded awful. It was scratchy and raspy, much like how his throat felt right now.

Thank Merlin for Saturdays.

The white of the infirmary ceiling against the white of the infirmary walls made him even grouchier. He wanted his green bed curtains back. The beds in the infirmary were heaven indeed – Students talk about how it must be charmed. – but it just didn't feel… homey. Add to that the fact that staying in the infirmary made him feel like an invalid which, honestly and judging from his throat, didn't seem far from the truth.

He shifted and tried to sit up – only to freeze as his hand made contact with something, or rather, someone.

So, as Draco looked and marveled at the boy on the chair beside his bed, sleeping peacefully with his head and arms on the mattress, he remembered just why exactly he couldn't have fallen in love with Pansy Parkinson no matter which way you turn the world over.

Pansy wasn't Harry Potter.

Chapter Text

Harry couldn't remember the last time he felt safe in sleep. Or warm. Harry had firmly decided to himself not to mull over the war anymore, but the nights were the hardest. It's been almost half a year now and he was getting better, really, but his slumber was more often than not restless. When the letter from Hogwarts came, he had grabbed at it almost desperately, yearning for a reprieve. Hogwarts had brought back memories, yes, but it was also the closest thing to a home that he had, other than the Burrow. (Grimmauld Place was his, but he wasn't quite ready to call it home yet. It only was when Sirius was there.)

Then all this falling-through-walls thing started, and sleep evaded him so much that even the nightmares were better.

Harry wasn't really awake. Oh, far from it.

But he was aware of the fingers gently threading through his hair, and he sighed in contentment, dreaming of blond hair and libraries.

The fingers soon went away, taking the dreams of blond hair and libraries with it. Replacing them were dreams of a different kind, of cupboards and rooms that made him feel claustrophobic. There was still that blond hair and pale, pale skin, only that it was accompanied by –

Harry jolted awake.

Blood.

He blinked his eyes open, only to close them again as they burned at the sudden light. That, and at the incomplete sleep. He didn't know how long he'd been sleeping; just that he knew that it wasn't long enough. He pressed fingers against his eyelids firmly, feeling a headache coming on.

"Bad morning, Potter?"

Without knowing why, Harry sighed in relief. Then, he remembered his dream and he cracked an eye open to look at Malfoy, who was sitting up on the bed with a tray of breakfast in front of him, looking pristine in his white pajamas against the morning light. Harry blinked at his bed hair. "Time?" he rasped out, pulling away slightly from the bed where he had been resting his arms and head to stretch his neck and shoulders.

"Eight," Draco replied, watching amusedly as Potter wriggled his fingers to get blood back in them. "The house-elves brought us breakfast, and I very graciously saved you some bacon, Potter, so you better be –" He stopped as Potter suddenly winced. He furrowed his eyebrows in concern. "What is it?"

Harry slumped his upper body back against the bed, hand gripping at the sheets that covered Malfoy's legs. After getting blood into his fingers, he had shifted his leg and was promptly reminded of his very broken ankle that he was almost scared to even look at right now. "Right ankle," he muttered mournfully against the mattress.

"What?" Draco was confused. "What about your ankle?" He picked up the tray of food and set it on the bedside table instead, before getting off the bed and going over to Potter's side.

Harry was still wearing his school robes (Draco had saved the question regarding that for later.) and his trousers and black shoes didn't give Draco much of a view of his ankle. Harry laughed humorlessly at himself. Oh, he was certainly awake now. "Do you know how to fix a broken ankle? Episkey it or something," he asked, sounding slightly strained.

Draco was even more confused. "How the hell did you get a broken ankle?" he asked suspiciously. He remembered their past Hogwarts years and how furious he would get at the fact that Harry Potter was involved in every little thing that happened school year after school year after school year. After a while, the furiousness gave way to curiosity, and maybe even envy. Now, it held a touch of concern.

Oh, Draco, how low you have fallen, he thought dryly.

"Fell," Harry mumbled.

The light around him stayed gold, so Draco knew that to be true. But he was a Slytherin, so he also knew that there was more to the story than just 'falling'. "Let me see, Potter," he muttered, kneeling on the floor to pull the other's trouser leg up.

Oh, if his father could see him now, kneeling at Harry Potter's side. Not that Draco cared much, really. His mind was busy producing the most enjoyable images that included 'kneeling' and 'Harry Potter', but he quickly returned to the task at hand when Potter hissed in pain once again.

"Sorry," Draco said, pulling the trouser up more carefully. "I'm going to have to take off your sock and shoe, Potter."

Harry let out a strangled sound of distress. Then, after a moment, he nodded in resignation.

Despite Potter's obvious pain, Draco couldn't help but enjoy this chance to touch him and to see him vulnerable. It wasn't from any kind of sadism, more like… from a desire to be close to him, both physically and emotionally.

Harry bit his lip to keep from making any more pitiful noises when Draco slowly slid his shoe off his foot. He was torn, because Draco's fingers hurt when they pressed too hard but the coldness of it felt nice against his skin. Next came the sock, and this time, Harry couldn't stop the hiss that slipped past his lips.

Draco stared in shock. "Shite, Potter," he murmured, fingers very carefully avoiding the discolored part of Potter's skin.

Harry swallowed. "That bad?"

"I'm pretty sure that skin's not supposed to be… purple and green at the same time," Draco drawled, but his voice was shaky.

Harry gave a short laugh. "Me too."

"Madame Pomfrey went out to talk with Professor Snape," Draco continued, frowning. "And I would rather not use you as a test subject for my healing prowess," he lied. He was good with healing spells. He'd made it a point to learn as much healing spells as he could when he had realized, stricken and fifteen years old, that he wasn't going to get out of participating in the fucking war. It had come in useful during his time as a spy, and most especially during the climax of the war itself.

At the Battle of Hogwarts, he had fixed Ron's smashed hand. That was probably the moment when they had – officially – come to a sort of truce.

He wondered if Potter knew about that.

Harry chuckled weakly. "You strike me as someone with good instinct. Try me."

Apparently not.

Draco looked up at that, eyes going wide in wonder as he stared at Potter's hunched form against the bed. "Seriously?"

Harry nodded, moving his head so that he could look at Malfoy. "I've never tried Episkey-ing broken bones."

"I haven't either," Draco replied quietly, persisting in his lie. When he looked down at his hand on his lap, he idly wondered why he didn't have that sort of freaky light. If he did, then it would be probably be as black as Snape's robes right now. Or Potter's hair. Potter's hair was nicer to think about. "We should wait for Madame Pomfrey…"

Harry frowned at his sudden change in demeanor. "Uhm, Malfoy? It kind of hurts."

Draco rolled his eyes at that. "I figured. But I think you'd be safer Episkey-ing your own bone, rather than have me do it."

"Malfoy," Harry said, sighing exasperatedly. "Are you doing this on purpose just to have me admit that you're the better wizard? You learn anything on the first try and you pretty much top everything."

Draco flushed at the praise, and he saved that to preen at later. "No, I don't," he said instead. "Granger does."

Harry shot him a pointed look. "Hermione's not normal. She doesn't count."

"Ah."

"But alright," Harry continued, trying to relax against the bed. If he didn't move his ankle, it didn't hurt so much, it just… throbbed, but at least then it was bearable. "I don't mind waiting for Madame Pomfrey," he murmured. His eyes were closing of their own accord, the pain having made him exhausted.

Silence answered him, and moments passed just like that. Harry was halfway asleep, when Draco finally replied. His voice was quiet and raw with strangled emotion.

"You seriously trust me to point my wand at you, Potter?"

Harry opened his eyes in surprise, looking at Malfoy still on the floor beside him. Draco was watching him with a serious expression, and Harry marveled at how vulnerable and insecure he really was.

How could Malfoy still be insecure about this, when he had turned his back on his family and everything he ever believed in to fight in a war that wasn't his to fight? When he had joined the other side instead, and made the sacrifice to take on the responsibility as a spy for the Order? When he joined Harry instead, fought alongside him and the people he'd grown up despising, and placed his whole being on the unsure bet that Harry was going to win?

Did he really trust Malfoy to point his wand at him?

"Yes."

And if there was anything at all about Malfoy that he knew to be true, it was the fact that he wasn't heartless. He was absolutely mean, yes, and probably the most annoying git that Hogwarts had ever encountered, but he was humane. At least, he had grown to be.

And deep down, Harry had always respected that about him.

Draco did not know what to do with this trust.

He stared, waiting for the light around Potter to turn black, but it remained positively golden. He would have scoffed and not believed Potter at all, if he wasn't currently under the effects of a Potions experiment gone wrong. He'd have inserted some crafty insult or two there too, just to make him seem superior.

But the thing was, he was currently under the effects of a Potions experiment gone wrong and Potter's almost brutal honesty – and his trust, dear God, how did Draco come to deserve it? – had him speechless and his heart thumping fast against his ribcage.

So he looked straight in Harry's eyes instead and tried to tell him how grateful he was with that gaze.

He took his wand from his bed and swished it effortlessly, while muttering 'Episkey'.

Harry let out a surprised grunt against the mattress as he felt something in his ankle shift abruptly, and he hissed in pain for the umpteenth time. Then, he let out a shaky laugh. "You're such a git, Malfoy."

Draco raised an eyebrow, standing up from his position on the floor and crossing his arms. "You're welcome, Potter," he said dryly, but he was amused at the image that Harry provided him, hunched over the side of the bed and laughing with mirth.

"Not good with healing spells, my ass," Harry muttered with another chuckle, rolling his eyes. He tried to move his ankle experimentally, and regretted it almost immediately. Okay, give it time. Right.

At that, Draco sobered. He looked at Harry, eyes searching. He suddenly felt very small again. "I just wanted to make sure…"

Harry chuckled once more, softly now. "Yeah," he murmured, eyes drooping closed again.

And Draco warmed at that, both at his simple reply and his actions because Potter was actually letting him see him vulnerable like that, eyes closed and almost incoherent with sleep.

…Or maybe it was because that Potter was incoherent with sleep, that he was letting Draco see him like that.

Nevertheless, Draco knew how to appreciate his blessings.

"Get to bed, Potter," he said exasperatedly. "I'm surprised your head hasn't fallen off your shoulders yet."

Harry blinked his eyes open blearily, before he nodded and leaned away from the bed, finally sitting up on the chair. Then he promptly stood up and plopped himself down on Draco's hospital bed.

Draco was amused. "That's my bed, Potter."

Harry made a noncommittal mumble, and Draco leaned in closer to listen, before he realized that Potter was already asleep.

He raised an eyebrow. Just how long did Potter sleep in that chair anyway? Beside his bed? He surreptitiously glanced around the infirmary to see if anyone else was there, out of the habit that he'd done most of his life whenever coming too close to the other boy.

With his heart close to bursting, he stared at Harry's sleeping, peaceful form on the bed with a look that was yearning and almost desperate. He pulled Harry's glasses off and laid them on the bedside table, only managing to stop himself from reaching out for a longer caress. Still, he couldn't have stopped himself from lying down on the bed beside Harry and pulling the covers over them both. Their arms touched, and Draco felt warm.

The breakfast tray was forgotten, and he quickly followed Harry to sleep.

The next time that Harry woke up, it was to a certain sense of calm and warmth, despite the October air. He sighed in contentment, and moved to roll over – only to freeze when his back hit something hard. He vaguely remembered Malfoy and his ankle and then 'bed', and Harry's face colored at the realization that he had just jumped into Malfoy's bed that morning. Still, he was too sated to feel anything besides light embarrassment, so he relaxed once more, shifting to give Malfoy space.

Their bed curtains were closed, he noticed. It was quiet, and everything looked… gray. Still, there was this feeling of tranquility that Harry savored. It was the first time in a long time that he really felt… safe.

He turned around carefully, lying on his back and hummed pleasantly. He could feel Malfoy's breath on his shoulder, and his warmth even through the school robes that Harry was still wearing.

Unable to resist, he turned his head and looked at Malfoy's sleeping face, awed at the peaceful expression that he found there. Malfoy was pretty when he wasn't sneering, Harry mused. On second thought, perhaps pretty wasn't an appropriate word for a boy. Handsome. Malfoy was handsome, with his sharp features and that blond hair against pale skin. His lips were chapped, which Harry found surprising because he had figured Malfoy to be the type of guy who busied himself with branded skin products.

Ponce, Harry chuckled to himself.

"Fancy me yet, Potter?" came Malfoy's sleepy albeit amused drawl.

Harry flushed at having been caught staring, and he quickly sat up, fixing his clothes self-consciously. "You wish, Malfoy," he muttered lamely, face burning as thoughts of him and Malfoy holding hands flittered across his mind. What made him flush darker though, was the fact that he was actually letting himself picture these thoughts!

Malfoy snorted, rolling on his back and stretching.

Harry pointedly looked away.

"I don't have to," Draco replied, a smug smirk on his face.

Harry rolled his eyes. Two can play at that game. "Can't resist me so much that you have to start flirting with me the moment you wake up?"

At his response Draco beamed at him. Then he chuckled. "You're the one who climbed in my bed, Potter."

That did it. Harry was as red as he could possibly go and his face felt like it was on fire. Draco felt a surge of triumph (and maybe adoration) pass through him. The thought that he could affect Potter like made him grin widely.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry muttered pitifully, looking away. The problem was, since the bed curtains were closed, there really was no 'away' to look at. "I was tired, okay?"

"Mm-hmm, so you've been saying," Draco said with a raised eyebrow. "For the past two days, actually," he mused thoughtfully.

Harry started at that. "Oh, no, I don't mean I'm tired because of you, Malfoy –"

Draco hadn't even thought of that but was placated nonetheless. Still, he would have liked Harry being tired because of him, if it were because of other more likeable reasons that he'd obligingly list down if Harry asked.

"— just that I haven't had much sleep lately and –"

It was then that Draco remembered one important detail. "Don't tell me you really did sleep all night beside my bed, Potter?" he asked, voice half-curious and half-incredulous. His eyebrow was raised in disbelief.

Harry flustered even more. "No, I –" then he quickly stopped himself, because Draco was looking even more incredulous than before and he almost slapped himself because right, Draco could tell if he was lying.

True enough, Draco marveled at how the light around the other boy had turned black.

Grudgingly, Harry muttered. "I might have."

He had half a mind to blame Madame Pomfrey for not waking him up, because really, you normally wake people up when they fall asleep in chairs unless – unless they refuse to, which Harry might have done considering how desperate he'd been for sleep.

"Speaking of which," he started, hastily changing the subject. He peered at Draco. "Are you okay?"

Draco was surprised at the sudden question. He blinked, before nodding slowly, eyes carefully not leaving Harry's face. Harry still hadn't put his glasses on, and his eyes really were more beautiful up close like that. "Madame Pomfrey gave me something for my throat and a Blood-Replenishing Potion, if that's what you're asking about." Then, he frowned. "What happened yesterday?"

Harry tilted his head in confusion. "Madame Pomfrey didn't tell you?"

An eyebrow rose. "No. When I woke up this morning, she just gave me the potions and the breakfast and went off to talk with Professor Snape," he muttered, feeling the beginning prickle of irritation at not knowing what they knew about him. He cast a quick Tempus.

"It's only 2 PM. If it's already this dark, then the weather must be awful," he commented, scrunching his nose up in disdain. He reached over to grab the edge of the bed curtains to yank it aside. The infirmary was empty. No sign of Madame Pomfrey anywhere.

A sudden thought appeared in Harry's mind and he blanched. "Malfoy," he choked out. Draco looked at him strangely. "Were you the one who closed the bed curtains?"

"No…? I don't think so –"

"Oh, Merlin, what did Madame Pomfrey think, seeing us in bed together when there are a million other beds available to occupy –"

Draco couldn't help it. A self-satisfied smirk was slowly working its way to his lips. "Sod it, Potter. It's not like the whole school doesn't know we're buggering each other."

Harry's face turned from white to red almost instantly. "D-d-don't say that!" he spluttered, aghast.

"There's no need to be shy about it, Harry," Draco scoffed, looking mock-hurt but the effect was ruined when his grin eventually won over his mock-indignant expression.

"Ponce," Harry muttered, eyes shifting around the infirmary in search of salvation from this humiliation. He then remembered to put on his glasses, so he quickly put them on, much to Draco's disappointment. "Look, are you – really – uhm," Harry started awkwardly, flushing. "You know."

Draco raised an eyebrow and didn't say anything even though he knew what Harry meant, just because the other boy being so embarrassed was amusing.

Harry swallowed and called forth his Gryffindor courage. "Do you really like… guys?" he said, trying to sound nonchalant but he figured he rather failed.

Draco beamed at him. "Only you, Harry."

Draco wasn't joking. Far from it. But he let Harry think what he wanted to think, and it didn't hurt that it still made him fluster.

Harry stared at Draco's beaming smile and swallowed the lump in his throat that came with the grudging, horrified acceptance of the fact that that expression was one that was going to follow him around for at least the rest of the day. Or week.

Just then, Harry's stomach grumbled, and with the almost deafening silence of the empty infirmary, Draco heard it clearly. Harry flushed and prepared himself for the onslaught of Draco's sharp tongue, so he was surprised when the other boy merely frowned at him.

"You haven't eaten anything yet, have you? Since dinner, I presume."

Harry shrugged, then slowly nodded.

"It can't be helped then," Draco sighed, sniffing haughtily as he waved his hand. "I myself am quite famished. Fancy calling on your little house-elf friends, Potter?" he said politely, but a grin was on his face.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Lazy git," he muttered, and then, "Dobby!"

Harry remembered the first time he called on Dobby after Draco had moved in to Grimmauld Place during the war. Both Dobby and Draco's eyes bulged spectacularly in a similar fashion, and he and Ron didn't stop laughing at least until Hermione threatened them with no dinner.

("Potter, what the hell is my house-elf doing with you?"

Harry at least had the decency to look sheepish. Ron had not. "Well, he's not your house-elf anymore, is he, Malfoy?"

Draco glared at him, before crossing his arms with a huff. "I was wondering where Dobby went."

Dobby let out a huge wail. "Dobby is sorry, Master Draco! Dobby will hit his self with a bludger later but Master Harry freed Dobby and Dobby is very glad but Dobby was not meaning to leave Master Draco alone in the Malfoy Manor! Dobby should be punished for leaving Master Draco alone with those Dark –"

"Stop hitting yourself with that blasted Muggle contraption, Dobby!" Draco intervened quickly, not liking the way Harry's head had snapped up to look at him curiously.

"It's a microwave, Malfoy," Hermione helpfully supplied.)

With a crack, Dobby appeared beside their table, all boggly eyes and big ears. When he saw them, his eyes grew impossibly wider, which Harry would have found funny had he not been reminded that he was in bed with another boy. With Draco Malfoy.

"Uhm," Harry started, swallowing nervously, already feeling the impending doom that was about to come in the form of a masochistic house-elf. "Dobby, can –"

He wasn't disappointed.

"Dobby is not understanding, sir," Dobby squeaked out, all watery eyes and lower lip quivering. He sounded like he was choking on a pea, but then again, that might have been his normal voice. "Why Master Harry is in bed with Master Draco."

"We've consummated our burning love for each other, Dobby," Draco quipped nonchalantly and a bit too cheerfully for Harry's liking.

Harry whipped his head to stare at him, aghast, before staring at Dobby, horrified. Dobby was misty-eyed.

"Oh, Dobby is joyful, sirs, that both his Masters are toge –"

"Dobby, just get us some food!" Harry all but shrieked, face burning with embarrassment as Dobby nodded enthusiastically, making his ears flop up and down, before disappearing with another loud pop. "Oh, my God, Malfoy. Now even the house-elves think we're shagging each other!"

Draco hummed in agreement. In truth, he wanted everyone thinking that he and Harry were shagging each other.

Even if it wasn't true.

(Later, he'll tell this genius plan of his to Pansy, who'll look at him sympathetically and burst his bubble by telling him once again just how pathetically sad he was.)

"So, Harry," Draco started conversationally, ten minutes after Dobby had returned with a heaping tray of breakfast. He reckoned the only reason why the tall pile of food was able to stand upright was because of elf magic. Well, elf culinary magic.

Harry paused his devouring of his roast chicken to look at Malfoy warily. One, because any conversation with Malfoy starting with 'So, Harry' meant bad stuff, usually embarrassing ones. Two, because it was 'So, Harry', not 'So, Potter'.

"Care to tell me what happened to me last night?"

Harry looked at him incredulously. "You seriously can't remember what happened last night?"

Draco frowned in confusion. Harry almost made the mistake of thinking adorable when Draco opened his mouth. "What, we really did shag each other senseless and I can't remember a thing? Goddamnit," he said in utter seriousness.

Harry's face burned. "Yes, shame indeed," he shot back dryly.

Draco grinned at him, and it was contagious, the way his grin almost split his face, that Harry couldn't help but grin back. Sitting in the infirmary with a tray of food and his ex-rival-now-friend, he couldn't remember the last time he felt warm like this, just content, and he didn't want to have to get up and face the world again.

Unfortunately, he had to. "Obviously, something bloody happened yesterday, probably literally, since Madame Pomfrey was adamant on my downing of the Blood-Replenishing Potion," Draco mused.

Harry's grin was immediately wiped off his face as he remembered the scene last night, how Draco's body had shook and how his own robes had been covered in blood. Draco's blood.

Draco looked at him sharply, because all the color slowly drained from Harry's face. "Potter?"

Harry shook his head, clearing his mind's eye and swallowing the lump in his throat. Instead, he looked down at his robes and saw no sign of blood. Madame Pomfrey must have Scourgified them in his sleep. "You had another of your coughing fit," Harry supplied, waving Draco's worried look away. "It was pretty bad, I'm surprised you didn't wake up."

Draco simply nodded slowly, as he registered this information. "Well, that certainly explains the massive headache and the sore throat I had this morning," he muttered, but didn't dwell on it since remembering them made him remember waking up to Harry by his bedside, and that made him lighten up. "I'm assuming you were there when it happened?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, shrugging nonchalantly. It still made him ill to think of Draco like that, bloody and shaky and unconscious.

Draco raised an eyebrow, looking at him coolly. "Why?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Harry paused. "My ankle," he said carefully. He knew what the question next would be and he wasn't sure if he was ready to tell everything. Harry blinked. Well, there really was no reason to lie, was there? Other than the fact that Draco may as well laugh at him in disbelief and tell him that he's mental, or laugh at him for losing to a building. In Harry's defense, it was a magical building.

He was surprised when Draco stiffened and took on a haughty, nonchalant expression. It was his defense mechanism, as Harry had found out during the time spent together in Grimmauld Place. He wondered why Draco needed it now.

"Right," Draco started, reaching towards the bedside table to idly pour himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "I don't suppose I should ask about it."

Usually, Draco was pretty good at getting what he wanted. If he really wanted to, he could have asked Harry questions and watch out for the flicker of gold and black of the light surrounding him, but more than that, he wanted Harry's trust. Not just as an ally, like in the war. Like how Harry had trusted him earlier to point his wand at him and Episkey his ankle.

He wanted Harry's trust as a friend.

("You're a bloody Hufflepuff," his inner Pansy told him. Draco agreed morosely that yes, Harry bloody fucking Potter was making him one.)

Harry looked at Draco's back with an amused smile. "That's okay, you don't have to. I'll tell you." His smile widened when Draco spilled some pumpkin juice on the table in startlement.

Draco turned to him and peered at him suspiciously, then simply blinked in bemusement. The light around Harry stayed gold. "Alright," he said dumbly, too stunned to think of anything else.

Harry really considered them as… friends, didn't he?

"I'm not really sure what's going on myself, but I think it's because the Patching Team's still making changes in Hogwarts," Harry started with a shrug, oblivious to Draco's internal conflict.

Draco frowned and raised an eyebrow. "What does the Patching Team have to do with you twisting an ankle?" Then he paused, eyes widening just a little bit as he remembered yesterday morning. "Is this related to your shoulder the other day?"

"Sort of," Harry admitted, flushing. If saying that you tripped to someone else was embarrassing, then saying that you kept on falling through not-traps on a daily basis was even more so, even if it wasn't his fault.

"What, someone from the Patching Team's been hexing you?" Draco asked calmly, already feeling irritation prickle underneath his skin at the thought. He was concerned about Harry's injuries, yes, but Harry's been saying that he fell, which Draco believed was true since it didn't make the light around him turn black.

Harry's eyes widened and he shook his head furiously. "No! I didn't mean that!"

Well, that was a ridiculous thought. Someone from the Patching Team hexing him.

Harry busied himself with poking the remains of his roast chicken. "I meant, some parts of Hogwarts are still a little wonky, and sometimes I activate stuff without meaning to," he muttered, trying to say it in a… less humiliating manner.

Draco was even more confused. "What the hell are you saying, Potter?"

"I've been falling through traps," Harry said exasperatedly, almost sulkily.

"Traps?" Draco asked, voice higher an octave than usual, and Harry realized his wrong choice of words. Still, the worried look that Draco sent him warmed him unexpectedly.

"No, no, not traps," he said quickly, assuredly. "Well, I thought they were traps but they're actually safety rooms that the Patching Team's been installing all over Hogwarts. You know, in case of emergencies? And it's got some bugs in it and I don't think they're done testing it out yet so I've been falling through them by accident, and, I thought that maybe Hogwarts was trying to eat me, and well –" Harry stopped himself abruptly, flushing even more when he realized that he had rambled. "Yeah, that's pretty much it," he muttered. "Don't laugh."

Draco's reply made him look up in surprise. "Why would I?" Draco asked with a snort and a roll of his eyes. "It seems to me that you're the one who should be monitored 24/7," he commented with amusement, trying not to look worried.

Okay, so he was a bloody Hufflepuff. Didn't mean he had to start acting like one.

Harry stared at him incredulously.

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his place. "What?"

"You actually believe me," Harry mumbled, blinking at him. Then, he paused and chuckled softly to himself. "Right, you can tell if I'm lying. I forgot."

Draco frowned. "What? Granger and Weasley didn't?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't blame them. When I first told them, I said that Hogwarts was trying to eat me. It was only from Remus that I found out about the safety rooms."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Potter. Even if I weren't currently a Potions experiment gone wrong, I wouldn't think you'd have made that story up."

"Oh," Harry said. Draco didn't know what he said to have made Potter smile that big, but he was glad he said it.

Actually, it was because he had pretty much just told Harry that he believed in him.

The door to the infirmary opened loudly, and in came Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape, who raised an eyebrow at the sight of the boys in the same bed.

Granted, they were both sitting up on opposite ends of the bed with food between them, but Harry flushed nonetheless.

"Oh, you're both awake!" Madame Pomfrey commented with a knowing smile that made Harry remember with dread that she had seen them lying in bed together. He inwardly groaned at how wrong that sounded. She turned to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, how are you feeling?"

As they conversed, Snape rounded in on Harry, who was sitting on the foot of the bed.

"Mr. Potter," Snape started in a low voice, locking a piercing gaze on Harry. Harry wanted to tell him even though your godson and I are in the same bed, it's not what it looks like but thought it wiser to simply stay mum. "The potion you've asked for is in my drawers. I'd like to believe that you're not going to use them for anything else, especially for your… shenanigans."

Harry was confused at first, but comprehension dawned on him as he remembered his conversation with Snape yesterday about Blood-Replenishing Potions. He nodded.

"Get them now," Snape ordered. "Before Professor Bridgewood takes them," he muttered, a sneer forming on his face.

Harry wondered why Snape disliked Bridgewood so much, but he figured it was along the same dislike that Professor McGonagall once had for Professor Trewlaney. He glanced at Draco, wondering if it was alright to just leave. Draco had just finished talking with Madame Pomfrey and looked at him back, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Go, Potter," Snape barked again, almost in exasperation. "You'll see Mr. Malfoy again during dinner."

Harry turned red. Snape thought that the reason why he looked at Draco first was because he was reluctant to leave and be apart from Draco, his so-called… boyfriend.

Well, this was embarrassing.

And Malfoy, being the git that he was, was looking way too happy with this scenario.

…Actually, Harry didn't know why he was reluctant to leave. It was just that he and Malfoy were actually having a pleasant time together, that it sort of felt weird to suddenly get up and go.

"Err, right." Nevertheless, Harry jumped off the bed with a burning face and awkwardly nodded his goodbye to the three of them.

Before doing anything else, Harry headed straight towards Gryffindor Tower, mind-set on getting out of the school robes he'd been wearing for more than twenty-four hours already. Hermione and Ron weren't in the common room, so Harry simply waved hello to Seamus and Dean and tried not to think too much about Seamus' smug smirk that may have been because Harry didn't sleep in the dormitory again. He also waved hello to Ginny, who turned as red as her hair again at the sight of him but weakly waved back.

Then he retreated to the boys' bathroom for a much-needed shower.

"What's so important that you had to send Harry away, Severus?" Draco asked with amusement, when Madame Pomfrey finally left them soon after Potter's own departure.

Snape's grim demeanor didn't change. "I heard you had another of your… episodes."

Sensing his godfather's mood, Draco immediately sobered up. "I can't remember any of it," he admitted. "Harry says it was pretty bad."

"It is," Snape replied, almost immediately. He was worried, Draco could see that. "Madame Pomfrey and I have a theory."

Draco nodded slowly. He squashed down any sense of dread because he knew that it wouldn't do good to jump to conclusions. He may be a coward, but he was a practical one. "So you're telling me that there's more than a bad mixture of two potions?"

"It's only a theory," Snape murmured, almost as if it were to comfort also himself.

"Alright," Draco said coolly. His expression softened when he realized just how stiff his godfather was holding himself up. "I can take it," he said firmly.

Slowly, Snape nodded. "Dragon's Blood and Erumpent Exploding Fluid is a bad mixture, you know that much," he murmured. "Madame Pomfrey did some tests to you while you were sleeping," he paused at this, choosing his words carefully. "The Erumpent Exploding Fluid may be making the Dragon's Blood more reactive than it should be…" he trailed off.

He knew how clever Draco was.

It didn't take long before all color drained from Draco's face as comprehension dawned.

"Bloody hell," Draco squeaked out weakly. "It's burning my internal organs."

"No," Snape snapped sharply, back stiff and face carefully straight. Draco looked up at him in shock. "No," Snape repeated, more softly this time. "The belladonna in the Veritaserum's preventing that. It was good after all, that you consumed the whole bottle of Veritaserum."

Draco let out a short, humorless laugh at that, but nevertheless felt warm relief flowing in his veins. "But there's more, isn't there?"

"It's not as bad as you seem to be thinking, Draco," Snape said. "We're just not sure how much of it the belladonna is preventing."

Draco nodded slowly. "So what now?"

At this, Snape paused once again. "Madame Pomfrey and I were discussing on taking you to St. Mungo's –"

"No," Draco said sharply, glaring.

Snape didn't seem fazed. "That's what I said," he continued. He watched as Draco calmed visibly, his shoulders losing its tension. Snape's lips thinned. "You fought in the battlefield against Voldemort, Draco," he murmured.

"Doesn't change the fact that I'm still a Death Eater's son," Draco muttered bitterly.

Snape sneered at him. "And you'll allow that fact to change you?"

Draco closed his mouth, stunned.

Snape was satisfied. "I have told Madame Pomfrey that I am not allowing you to be sent to St. Mungo's," he said firmly. "However, we are still going to ask for their Healers' opinions on how to proceed. In the meantime, you'll have to take belladonna tinctures whenever you have your… episodes. Inform Potter of that."

Draco blinked in confusion. "Harry? What for?"

Snape's lip twitched. "Because he's your lover?"

Draco couldn't help it. He let out a short laugh. Suddenly, the atmosphere felt lighter and he didn't feel as dreadful as he did earlier. "Right."

"One more thing, Draco," Snape said almost exasperatedly, hand rising to rub at his temples.

When he spoke, it was with great difficulty.

"Must you call him 'Harry' in front of me?"

Draco's grin was wicked.

Chapter Text

Harry wondered how much truth was there in Snape's words. If Snape really did finish the Blood-Replenishing Potions and put them in his drawers, then there was no way that Professor Bridgewood would look for it there. Professors' desk drawers were considered personal, so it would be very rude of her to look inside and Professor Bridgewood seemed like the epitome of respect and politeness. Unless Professor Snape told her to, which was as likely as a Gringotts goblin smiling at you with a greeting of 'Hullo there, good chap. Fancy seeing you here today. Would you like a cup of tea?'.

Besides, Harry knew – from numerous detention sessions spent cleaning every nook and cranny of the Potions classroom – that Snape kept his potions at the bottom of the ingredients cabinet. Still, he knew how to take a hint, so he had quickly made his exit to leave Draco to his godfather. He decided that by the way Snape had so obviously belied the importance of getting the potion, he was in no hurry to complete that task yet. He still had time to take a much-needed shower and finally get out of these school robes.

(Honestly, he really was rather curious though, as to what Snape had to tell Draco.)

Now newly-showered, he made his way towards the dungeons. Ron and Hermione still weren't in the common room, something he wasn't surprised about because ever since they got together, officially, they had moments where they would suddenly disappear off somewhere. Probably for some time alone without Harry Not Looking at Them whenever they'd snog. Harry didn't mind, really. In fact, he thought it rather sweet, just… hard to get used to. Especially since they were his two best friends, but he reckoned he'd learn to get used to it in time.

As he crossed the Entrance Hall to get to the staircase leading to the dungeons, he saw Professor Bridgewood and Morgan talking just outside the Great Hall. Professor Bridgewood was looking as timidly polite as always, and Morgan was talking animatedly to her with a big sunshine grin on his face.

"I'm happy for you, Professor! You shouldn't let those lads get your knickers in a bunch!"

Professor Bridgewood turned a rich scarlet. "My… my knickers?" she asked, aghast.

Morgan had the decency to look sheepish. "Oh, sorry, Professor. Some students o'er in the Greenhouse were talking, and I thought it was funny. Muggle idioms are amusing, aren't they? Very crass," he said, grinning mischievously.

Harry nodded his greeting to them when he passed by.

Morgan's face immediately lit up like the sun. It tended to do that whenever he'd start talking to anyone. "Yo, 'Arry! Have ye seen Neville? Poor lad's stressing himself out in the Greenhouse but wait till ye see what we're doing!"

"I'm excited, sir," Harry said politely, a grin on his face as he remembered Neville's overjoyed expression last week when he first told them about the Greenhouse Project, so dubbed by Ron. Professor Sprout, delighted with her two assistants, gave them Greenhouse 3 to re-decorate as they wish. Oftentimes, Neville would show up for breakfast dazed and half-awake as it ate up a lot of his free time, but everyone could see that he was enjoying what he was doing. "And no, I haven't seen him yet today."

"Well, tell 'im Morgan here's looking for 'im! Thanks, 'Arry!" Morgan said, waving wildly. "And congratulations on getting together with that Malfoy lad!"

Professor Bridgewood squeaked.

Harry immediately spluttered, eyes wide and face burning. "We're not –"

"Oh, Neville, there ye are!" Morgan exclaimed, oblivious to both of his companion's scandalized expressions.

Neville was running down the stairs to reach them, and as he neared, he quickly started apologizing. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, panting slightly. "Trevor got lost again."

Ah, some things never change, Harry thought, trying to desperately ignore Professor Bridgewood who was Not Looking at Him and was looking at the floor with a red face. Actually, she hadn't looked at him ever since this whole going-out-with-Malfoy thing started… Okay, so maybe despite it being unsettling, it was still kind of funny.

Neville then turned to Harry. "Hi, Harry. Are you helping us with the Greenhouse?"

Harry immediately shook his head, lest they suddenly decide to reel him in for the Project. In his eighteen years of existence, he found that people had the tendency to do that. "No, sorry, I'm – err, Professor Snape wants me to do something for him," he said in a rush.

Morgan gave him a sympathetic pat on the back. "Professor Snape's a serious man, ain't he? He doesn't seem to like us very much, does he?" he added, chuckling as he and Professor Bridgewood shared an amused glance.

"That's okay, he doesn't seem to like much of anyone, really," Harry offered, chuckling as well. But now, after seven years, he knew who Severus Snape really was. Not much, but enough to say, "But he comes through. Professor Snape's just… edgy around some people."

"Understandable," Morgan said, with a puff of his chest and a wink. "Considering what he went through in the war!"

Harry nodded then and wondered if he knew anyone else as carelessly friendly as Morgan.

"Well, we're off then," Morgan quipped, giving Harry a firm pat on the back. "Professor Sprout's waiting. Doesn't do well for a gentleman to keep a lady waiting, eh?"

Neville and Harry shared a look of wry amusement at Morgan's lame joke, before Neville bid goodbye as well. "Bye, Harry. You should come by the common room later. I miss having you in the dorms," he said with a smile.

Even though he knew Neville meant nothing by it, Harry still turned red at what his friends thought he was doing when he wasn't in the dorms. Professor Bridgewood flushed, too, and only managed a squeak as her farewell.

Harry waved goodbye as the three started walking towards the Greenhouses.

"Hi, Harry," Luna Lovegood greeted from behind him.

Harry whipped around in shock, and sure enough, there stood Luna with her long, light blonde hair and Spectrespecs. He'd always liked Luna, so it wasn't hard getting over his shock and grinning warmly at her. "Hi, Luna. Hunting for, um –?"

Luna nodded with a smile back at him. "Wrackspurts. They make your head go fuzzy, you know. I was looking through my trunk just this morning and came across my Spectrespecs. I rather missed them. Your head's full of Wrackspurts."

"I don't think they've ever been empty of Wrackspurts," Harry said with amusement.

Luna's smile brightened. "That's okay, Harry. It'd be bad if your head's empty of them."

Harry scrunched his nose up in confusion. Weren't having Wrackspurts bad? Before he could voice out his question though, Luna started speaking again.

"Oh, I almost forgot, Harry. Professor Lupin was looking for you earlier. Perhaps you should visit him. He has more Wrackspurts than you do."

"Err, right," Harry said, blinking. He chuckled when he thought of Remus and Wrackspurts. "Thanks, Luna. It was nice talking to you," he finished, grinning.

Luna beamed at him. "I missed you too, Harry. I suppose Draco's eating up all your time now, not that I mind. You're less withdrawn now. I should thank Draco later. See you, Harry."

Harry was too dumbfounded to reply, so he simply watched Luna walk away with a skip in her step and a dreamy smile on her Spectrespeckled face.

He's less withdrawn now? Harry thought about this as he descended the steps towards the dungeons, quietly mulling over the past few days. He wasn't really sure if he hadchanged, but he did feel… lighter somewhat.

He thought about the past summer, right after the defeat of Voldemort. After the inevitable celebrations and all the various speeches, Harry had shut himself in Grimmauld Place for a week, remembering Sirius and all the countless of people that should still be alive. Oftentimes, he had sat in the kitchen and relived those nights that the Order spent sleepless in that very same place but full of dread and discussing battle strategies.

It was exhilarating at some points, and horrific at others.

After that week, he had told himself to get a grip and Apparated to the Burrow, where the Weasleys all welcomed him with open arms and teary eyes. He and Ron spent their summer busy by helping with the rebuilding of the Burrow, and sometimes Hogwarts with the rest of the Patching Team. Hermione spent hers with her parents.

Then Ron and Hermione had officially come out together as a couple, and whilst Harry was immensely happy for them, it made him wonder about all the sudden changes in his life.

He refused to be tied down by the war any longer.

It was just that… some days were better than others.

He had the best of friends, so much that he couldn't believe his luck sometimes, but Harry found it hard explaining to them what it really felt having the whole world on your shoulders. With Draco, it was somehow easier, since it was like Draco experienced the same thing when he was pressed to murder at the age of 16, lest his own family be Crucio-ed to death.

…Actually, what was easywas that Draco didn't demand things from him.

What happened in the war? What did you feel? What was it like living the game of kill or be killed? What did you feel when your godfather died? What was it like, watching the people who believed you would save them die one by one in battle?

Harry didn't have to agonize over what to tell him if he asked, because he was sure that Draco wouldn'task. Someday, maybe, but right now and even before, he was just… there.

Maybe it was because they started out as bitter enemies. Maybe not, but whatever it was, Harry could admit to himself that he really enjoyed Draco's company.

And it didn't hurt that the other had a refreshing sense of humor. Very… blunt.

(Wait, when did Malfoy become Draco? He scowled. It was the bloody rumors' fault again.)

But, well, he didmiss Ron and Hermione though. They haven't been hanging out as often as before, which wasn't really muchto begin with ever since the two hooked up. Still, he missed laughing with –

"HARRY!"

Something very big and something very heavy doubled against him and shoved him very uncomfortably against the cobblestoned floor of the dungeons.

"Oof."

"Ronald, get off Harry right this instant!"

"Sorry, mate," Ron rushed out, breathless and squeaky. Harry nodded from where his nose was painfully squashed against stone, and grunted. "Oh, right." Ron quickly scrambled up and off him.

It was after Harry finally stood up and decided that his nose still looked like a nose that he realized Ron was quite discolored. Ron Weasley only naturally turned into three colors: red, white or green. They weren't very good colors, and right now, he was whiter than Nearly Headless Nick.

Harry turned to Hermione, because one always turns to Hermione for help, but she was as pale as he was.

Ron couldn't seem to contain himself. "See, Hermione was looking up all sorts of stuff on the potions that Malfoy took, and we tried looking up the ingredients one by one, and really, I haven't a clue what Hermione was going on about until –"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped.

"Oh, right," Ron said again. He took a deep breath and tried to prevent himself from rambling, but couldn't stop his wild hand motions if his life depended on it. "We found out why Malfoy's puking blood all over the place!"

Harry's eyebrows rose up to his hairline. "Really?"

Hermione scoffed, not even mentioning that shefound out why Malfoy was puking blood all over the place while Ron slept and drooled all over his Potions' essay, because they all knew that. She returned to the matter at hand and looked at Harry nervously. "First of all, don't panic."

"What?" Harry started panicking.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, for –" She harrumphed then sighed exasperatedly. "Veritaserum has Dragon Blood in it while the Restoration Potion has Erumpent Exploding Fluid. Now, Dragon Blood's really safe for human consumption, but it's definitely more reactive than other potion ingredients."

Harry nodded. "Snape was muttering about that a few days ago, the Dragon Blood and the Erumpent Exploding Fluid thing. What do you mean by, err, reactive?"

Hermione looked nervous again. "Well, dragons breathe fire, right?"

Harry nodded slowly.

"It's part of them," Hermione continued. "It's in their lungs and infused in their blood. Not majorly, but enough. And the Erumpent Exploding Fluid isan erumpent, exploding fluid…"

Behind her, Ron nodded furiously, but while Harry could see that this was bad, he couldn't for the life of him pinpoint exactly why.

"Hermione, just say it!"

Oh, this was why she found Malfoy's company much more mind-stimulating when they were at Grimmauld Place. Malfoy could actually carry an intellectual conversation.

"The Erumpent Exploding Fluid makes the Dragon Blood react!It's like a catalyst!" Hermione explained, the words rushing out through her nervousness. "A lit match to spilled fuel! It's slowly… burning…" she cut off, biting her lip.

Harry stared at her, dumbfounded and face draining of color.

"But you said Malfoy took in a whole bottle of Veritaserum, right?" Hermione said quickly, not giving him any chance to react. "The belladonna in the Veritaserum's good for him. I just don't know how good, so if we keep giving him belladonna, it should be enough to keep the Dragon Blood passive until his system gets rid of the potion."

Harry continued staring at her. "Hermione, you're brilliant."

Hermione flushed. Ron looked proud.

"Snape must have already figured this out, so I don't think we should worry about it anymore," she continued, shrugging. "Judging from the amount of Veritaserum he took, the potion should wash out of Malfoy's system in a month, right?"

Harry nodded. "That's what Snape said."

"Okay then," Hermione said, exhaling deeply. She looked more relaxed now. "Just thought we should know that little trivia. I don't think Malfoy's in any danger. He's just gonna be in pain though, whenever he gets into his coughing fit."

"I'm on my way to get the Blood-Replenishing Potion now," Harry said.

Just then, Ron made a disgruntled noise.

Both Hermione and Harry turned to look at him.

He looked absolutely miserable.

"Bloody hell, we're actually worrying about Malfoy. No, wait, I'mactually worrying about Malfoy. What'll my mum say?"

Harry grinned as Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "She'll say good for you. She likes Malfoy."

Ron scrunched his nose up but grinned after when he remembered his mother scolding Draco Malfoy for eating so little. ("Young man, you'll never grow up fit and healthy that way! No wonder you're as skinny as a wand! Is this the new thing amongst youngsters these days? Well, what are you waiting for? Eat up! Don't be afraid to ask for thirds, dear.)Malfoy had looked at her like he did Buckbeak when the hippogriff broke his arm and nodded mutely.

Oh, good days. Good days.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione said softly, smiling. "I'm glad you're not carrying anything bad from the war."

Ron shrugged self-consciously, turning pink. They usually didn't talk about 'the war'. It wasn't taboo or anything, but there just… wasn't anything more to talk about. "Well, we all have to move on and stuff. I actually want to enjoy my last year in Hogwarts with you guys."

Hermione's eyes were suspiciously watery.

Harry grinned.

He had the best friends ever.

Afterwards, Harry went with Hermione and Ron to the Potions classroom. A game of rock-paper-scissors had Ron facing defeat and imminent doom at being the unfortunate one to open Snape's desk drawer. ("That's unfair, that's a Muggles' game!") Still, their caution proved to be unneeded as there were no hexes that sprouted from the drawer when they opened it. Apparently, Snape was telling the truth when he told Harry where the Blood-Replenishing Potion was, but Harry still believed that Snape just wanted him out of the room.

When Pansy entered the infirmary with a gleeful smirk on her face, Draco knew he was in trouble. Now 'trouble' with Pansy meant being humiliated or just horribly embarrassed. That was not to say that Draco was afraid of Pansy. Far from it. It was just that Pansy really knew how to rile him up and sometimes, he didn't need that kind of added stress in his already dramatic life.

So it was with great reason that he narrowed his eyes suspiciously when Pansy neared his bed, Blaise looking sympathetic behind her.

"Hi, Draco," Pansy said smoothly. "You certainly slept well. It's already sundown and you're still in bed."

"I was about to leave, actually," Draco replied just as smoothly, unfazed. "I need a shower," he muttered dispairingly.

Blaise scrunched his nose up. "You'd think they'd have learned how to make medical potions smell good."

"Imagine that," Pansy carried on conversationally, the edges of her lips quirking up even as she tried to prevent it. "Harry Potter-scented potions."

Draco looked at her and tried to look discreet even as his mind worked frantically to figure out what she was getting at. It was like a game for them, the Slytherins. Their own kind wasn't saved from their own cunning, and Pansy, as Draco begrudgingly admitted, matched him in that area. It was another reason why their relationship back in fifth year didn't work out.

They just ended up humiliating each other publicly.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "We came here this morning to visit you," he said simply as if he was talking about the weather.

As simple as that, Draco got the hidden meaning and turned red.

Pansy let out a whine. "Blaise!"

Blaise gave her a dry look. "Harry Potter-scented potions? Really? A first year would have come up with something better than that."

Pansy glared at him. "I was getting to it," she huffed. As if to prove it, she turned back to Draco and huffed again. "We wanted to see if you were up for lunch. Your curtains were drawn but we decided to bother you anyway."

Even through his embarrassment, Draco snorted. Of course they did.

Thenhe realized the implications of thatand he groaned. "No, you didn't." He squinted at them and checked to see if the light around them were gold. It was. And yes, they did.

"We did," Pansy quipped, inspecting her nails. Then, as if she'd been containing it for a while now, her face suddenly burst into a wide smile. "So? Did something happen?"

"No," Draco quickly said, looking at her, aghast.

Pansy waved it off. "Oh, don't look like that. As if you'd complain if something didhappen," she sniffed haughtily. Then she sobered, shoulders drooping. "So nothing didhappen?"

Behind her, Blaise rolled his eyes and mouthed to Draco, 'Girls.'

Draco rolled his eyes, too. "No, Pansy, so if you're looking for a little bit of a snog and tell, then go find Greengrass. She'll be happy to fill you in on about her next victim."

At that, Pansy scoffed. "Distasteful, that. Rumor says next week will be Longbottom."

Blaise jumped at that, raising an eyebrow. "Longbottom? I thought he was with Loony?"

Pansy and Draco glanced at each other knowingly. "Oh, debatable," Pansy said, sounding as if she found the topic uninteresting. "Some say they just did that to get rid of all the girls pawing at Longbottom ever since he came back from the war looking like Lockhart," she finished, sighing dreamily at that, remembering Lockhart from second year.

Draco will never know what the female species find in that man.

"Really," Blaise said and pretended to look uninterested too.

"I have another piece of news," Pansy continued, smirking slyly.

Slytherins lived for gossip. It was just a matter of being graceful about it, unlike the Hufflepuffs and the Gryffindors. Better the Gryffindors than the Hufflepuffs though. Ravenclaws were much like the Slytherins… except that they didn't know how to be discreet and sometimes ended up acting worse than Hufflepuffs. Sad, really.

"What, did Bridgewood finally grow a backbone?" Blaise said with a raise of his eyebrow, not joking.

"Please, Skele-Gro's lost on that woman," Pansy sighed, before going back to topic. She looked directly at Draco. "Do you know who Greengrass' target last week was supposed to be?" she said sweetly.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. He knew she wasn't talking about him, because the whole House knew that Greengrass had been after him since first year. At least until sixth year when she realized that she wasn't going to get anywhere with him. At that time, Draco had been too busy with… other things to even remembershe existed.

But Greengrass' supposed target obviously had something to do with him with the way Pansy was looking at him so gleefully, and if it wasn't him… then that meant –

"Oh, bloody hell no," he found himself growling out.

Pansy nodded. "Potter. Good thing the whole school found out about you two fucking, huh?" she amended with a wry grin.

Despite his earlier irritation, Draco found himself suddenly laughing at that.

"I thought that everyone believes that Potter's getting back together with the She-Weasel?" Blaise pointed out. They usually didn't talk about the 'She-Weasel', as it tended to send Draco into horrible fits of moodiness, but he felt like it was an important detail when talking about Harry Potter's love life. (Pre-Malfoy rumors, anyway.)

"But he hasn't, that's the thing," Pansy shrugged. Then she turned serious. "Greengrass was talking about Amortentia a few days ago. I overheard her in the girls' bathroom," she said with distaste, but grinned shortly afterwards. "That was the day before you pulled Potter to the library of all places!" She laughed at the memory.

Blaise couldn't resist a grin as well. "I bet you did that on purpose."

Draco didn't, actually, but that wasn't what he was thinking about. He stared at Pansy with raised eyebrows. "Amortentia? Potter?"

"Horrible, I know," Pansy scoffed, waving a hand. "Distasteful, even for a Slytherin."

"Where the hell did she get Amortentia from?" Blaise asked, frowning. "It's banned from Hogwarts, and we all know how stricter the teachers have been with that."

They did, and they missed terribly the days of creative pranks that would have made the Weasley Twins proud.

Then, something clicked in Draco's mind and his eyes widened. "Professor Snape!"

Both Pansy and Blaise exchanged confused looks, before looking at their blond friend as if he had suddenly grown a hippogriff's beak. "As if Professor Snape would give her Amortentia," Pansy said in disbelief.

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, you twit. You said she talked about it the day before I asked Potter to the library." When said like that, it almost sounded he asked Potter out for a date even though there really was no asking done. No wonder the whole school went insane after that. To the library, no less. "That was the day I took this stupid potion and keeled over," he said dryly. "You do remember what I told you guys about Peeves turning the Potions classroom over?"

If it happened to any other professor, they would have snickered then, but this was their own Professor Snape. They had a soft spot for him.

Blaise frowned. "Yeah," he said slowly, catching on. Draco had always thought of Blaise as clever. It just depended on Blaise's mood if he wanted to show it or not. "And the three potions that went missing were –"

"Amortentia, Veritaserum, and Blood-Replenishing Potion!" Pansy finished for him, looked shocked.

"Well, we know where the Veritaserum went," Blaise murmured, looking at Draco pointedly. "And the Amortentia."

Pansy's eyebrows furrowed. "You're not saying that what happened to the Potions classroom was actually… planned?"

Draco shrugged. He and Snape were going to have another long talk later. "A plan that was blown out of proportion, yes," he said, sniffing haughtily. "Though thatwas also probably part of the plan. Make it look like a poltergiest's fancy to wreak havoc, is all."

"Had to have been a Slytherin," Blaise commented firmly. "Only a Slytherin could have manipulated Peeves like that."

Pansy narrowed her eyes. "You don't think that Daphne…?"

Almost immediately, Blaise and Draco shook their heads. "No," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "The Love Potion probably just got thrown out of the classroom and she picked it up somewhere."

Pansy huffed. They weren't getting any answers, and she hated unanswered questions. It was the same with gossip. "So tell me again what the planis? Wreak havoc on Professor Snape's classroom just so that they can get a Blood-Replenishing Potion?"

Blaise shrugged. "Makes more sense if they wanted the Amortentia or the Veritaserum."

Draco nodded. "That, or they wanted something elseand didn't find it."

Silence followed that statement, the seriousness of it all weighing down on them.

They were tired of this, but it was something that was imbedded into them by their family even way before the war started. The perpetual state of being suspicious. Wary.

It was Pansy who broke the silence. "Maybe it's just a prank," she said, shrugging offhandedly though there was nothing offhanded about the way she felt.

Blaise nodded, just to reassure her. "Maybe," he said, offering a wry grin. "Then it's definitely a Slytherin's handiwork."

Suddenly, Draco sighed loudly. Just like that, they knew that the topic was over. "Speaking of Slytherin, I'd really like to get that much-deserved bath right about now. Mind if we carry this to the dungeons?"

When did mealtimes become so stressful? Harry thought as he braced himself once again to enter the Great Hall. As always, conversation ceased immediately when he entered and all heads turned to look at him, before whipping towards the Slytherin table. Of course, this made Harry look at the Slytherin table too, where he caught Draco's eye. Draco shrugged. And everyone gasped at the interaction and started speaking in hushed tones.

Beside him, Ron sniggered. "Okay, you gotta admit. This is funny."

Harry admitted it silently, but glared at him half-heartedly anyway.

They walked towards the Gryffindor table and all was well in the world.

…Well, not really.

"You're certainly busy," Seamus quipped loudly and cheerfully, before they even had the chance to sit down.

Harry felt the familiar shiver that told him of impending doom. He knew this, because it's what he felt every time Snape came near him. Or Trewlaney, though with her, 'impending doom' meant embarrassing public fiascos.

The Shiver was never wrong.

"You didn't show up last night, then you and Malfoy skip breakfast andlunch?"

The Hufflepuffs gasped at this piece of information and immediately passed on their wisdom.

Beside Seamus, Dean offered Harry a sympathetic expression. "Sorry, Harry, his head's a bit thick. I tried explaining to him that it's not what he was thinking." Here, he paused and peered at him. "Right?"

For the first time, Harry thought of simply going along for the ride instead of flat-out denying it. After all, no one seemed to want to believe him and Ron was already spilling syrup all over himself from laughing so much. Even Hermione was turned away from him, 'coughing' into her hand.

"It's not what you're thinking, Seamus," Harry said seriously.

Dean whooped. Seamus froze, looking at him in dismay. Goodbye, five gallons.

"We didn't do anything last night," Harry continued as earnestly as he could. "Just stayed up together and talked a bit, that's all."

And the wisdom passed on from table to table like waves.

When Ron was done choking on a pea that found its way in his mouth (not surprising seeing as how he'd been half-lying on the table in his fit of gleeful laughter), Harry looked towards the other side of the room and found himself grinning at the way Draco's eyes bulged out in shock and the way his jaw dropped when Millicent Bulstrode gave him the news that came from the Ravenclaw table.

Okay, now that was funny.

Harry wasn't surprised when Draco marched up to him during the latter part of dinner time.

"Granger, Weasley," he greeted.

Harry grinned. Oh, this was going to be good.

Granger smiled at him in acknowledgement and elbowed Ron when he didn't reply. "I think you broke him," she said, waving a hand in front of Ron's face.

Ron snapped out of his stupor and scrunched his nose. "I'm not used to Malfoy acting like a human being."

"Oh, you'll have a lot of time to adjust," Draco said smoothly with a winning smile that had Parvati Patil knock over her goblet of pumpkin juice. He turned to Harry and quirked his head just a little bit to the side. "Harry, are you done?"

Ron made gagging noises and Harry could practically feelSnape's stare piercing his back, as well as those of pretty much everyone.

The Great Hall held its breath.

"I am, actually," Harry said, standing up. "Shall we go?"

Draco grinned.

"Stayed up together and talked a bit?" Draco asked him with incredulity, breathless after their fit of laughter when they stepped out of the Great Hall. "Can you be any more of a pouf, Potter?"

"Look who's talking," Harry shot back, still chuckling. "Merlin, Snape's not going to let me go for this."

"Certainly not," Draco grinned. "He'll hate you for soiling his godchild."

Harry's face turned red at the image that produced. The soiling part, not the Snape hating him part. He was already used to the latter. "We just stayed up together and talked a bit, remember? No actual soiling done," he said, grinning.

Draco's eyes lit up. "Pity, that," he quipped before turning around and walking towards the infirmary, a skip in his step.

It took a while for Harry to wipe off the gobsmacked expression on his face. And the blush on his cheeks.

When they reached the infirmary, Madame Pomfrey was in deep conversation with a professor.

What was surprising was that it wasn't Professor Snape. It was Professor Lupin.

"Remus!" Harry greeted, a smile breaking out over his face, which faltered when he saw how pale and fatigued Remus looked.

Still, the smile that Remus offered him was big and bright.

Then Harry remembered what Luna told him earlier. "Luna told me you were looking for me," he said, looking sheepish. "I'm sorry, it slipped my mind."

Remus' smile turned amused as he glanced at Draco behind Harry. "So it seems."

Harry turned red but Draco just looked pretty happy with himself. "Remus, you know what everybody's been saying isn't true."

Draco's shoulders drooped a little.

"Though that was quite a scene you pulled back there," Remus chuckled. "Severus almost burst a vein."

Harry grinned at the memory.

Madame Pomfrey coughed loudly and shot him a pointed look complete with the raised eyebrow. Harry immediately sobered up. Satisfied, she turned to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, if you'll come with me. I'd like to do a few check-up tests."

Draco's own eyebrow quirked up because they all knew that 'check-up tests' only required a few swish and flicks of the wand. Still, he knew how to take a hint so he nodded at Harry and at Professor Lupin before following Madame Pomfrey to the other side of the room.

Remus looked at him seriously, and even a bit… was that nervousness? "Harry, there's something very important you have to know."

Okay, so that normally didn't mean something very good. Harry nodded and tried to pull up his confidence.

Remus closed his eyes and seemed to gather his thoughts but Harry knew better. "Sit down, Remus," he murmured softly.

Remus gave him another smile before walking towards a bed and sitting on its edge. Harry sat on the bed beside it, facing his professor.

"Remember the safety rooms we were talking about a few days ago?" Remus asked. Harry nodded. "I thought about it and asked Professor McGonagall. The safety rooms…" he paused, pressing his lips tightly together. "They're not finished. I didn't know because that's not my part in the 'Patching Team', as you so call it. Those in charge of it haven't charmed it to be triggered open yet. Meaning you can't possibly be falling through them."

Harry bristled. "What? But –"

"I know, Harry," Remus cut him off, softly. "That's what bothers me," he said gravely.

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "I don't get what you're talking about."

Remus paused for a moment, but shook his head and fixed Harry with a level gaze. "They can only be triggered open manually. With a wand and a spell."

He could see when the realization had started to sink in Harry's head. Harry had always been easy to read like that, and this time was no different. His eyes grew wide with every word that came out of his professor's lips.

Remus persisted on. "You're not stepping on anything or touching that made the safety rooms open. Someone…" he stopped there, because Harry's face had already begun to gradually lose its color.

Someone had been triggering those trap doors.

Just for him.

Chapter Text

"Someone wants to kill me," Harry muttered morosely, burying his face in his hands and groaning. "Someone in Hogwarts."

Suddenly, he gave a short, dry laugh against his palms.

Well, that wasn't really anything new,was it?

"No," Remus said sharply, and Harry snapped his head up, startled at the man's tone. "Not kill you," Remus continued, softer this time and not looking away from the boy he'd thought of as a son for the last five years, when Harry first came to him and bravely asked him to teach him the Patronus Charm at age thirteen. "Trap you, perhaps."

Harry nodded, swallowing. "They want something."

Remus shook his head slowly, hesitantly. "We're not sure. I've…" he paused, eyes flicking to the other side of the room where Madame Pomfrey continued unnecessarily fussing over Draco, who was looking more sulky by the minute. "I've told Madame Pomfrey, because she's one of the people who are working on those safety rooms. You're not the only who's falling through them, apparently," he said, pressing his lips together thinly.

Harry nodded again, only mildly surprised. Ever since the school year started, students meeting minor accidents with the 'new' Hogwarts weren't unusual. It was the same with students accidentally slipping through a few steps down whenever the staircases would move. After all, it was Hogwarts.

"When did this start?" Remus asked.

Harry thought real hard about this, remembering the first time. It hadn't been such a big deal really, so he didn't give the event much importance. He just tripped and fell through a broom closet. Alohomora-ing it was easy enough. Admittedly, there was a big chance that it could have just been a result of his two left feet. "Last week," he said. "Exactly last week. I remember it being a Saturday. I went out for some more flying. Well, that could have just been an accident," he muttered, flushing.

"Or not," Remus said seriously.

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He simply nodded slowly and asked one of his own questions. "Who else have been falling through them?"

At this, Remus paused again. Finally, he let out, "Neville Longbottom."

Harry blinked hard. "Neville?"

Remus nodded.

"See, maybe we're just taking this too seriously, Remus," Harry started, eyebrows knit together. His head was starting to hurt. "They all seem like coincidences to me. I mean, everyone's been getting into some small accident with all the new stuff in Hogwarts."

"That's why you didn't tell anyone sooner then?" Remus raised an eyebrow, almost accusingly.

Harry flushed. "Well, the first time I tried to, Ron and Hermione laughed at me," he muttered defensively. "Though it really did sound mental at the time. I came to you next, of course."

And Remus, despite knowing that he really should be giving Harry a good scolding right about now, suddenly felt warm at the boy's declaration that Remus was one of the first people that he trusted to share this to. He told himself to be more like James. What would James do?

…Probably something embarrassing like ruffling Harry's hair and hugging him enthusiastically.

Let's not even talk about what Sirius would do.

Lily. Right, Lily.

"Harry, you do know that you have this bad habit of keeping important things to yourself, don't you?" he said with a sigh.

Harry found that he liked the infirmary floor. It was… clean.

"I hate to say this, Harry," Remus murmured softly. "But there are still Death Eaters on the loose. You're not… safe…"

Harry gave a small snort. "Will I ever be?" he muttered, sounding bitter and tired. This was his last year of Hogwarts. He wanted to spend it with friends and butterbeer. Couldn't he have oneyear free from madmen after his head?

Remus felt his heart tighten painfully at Harry's tone. "I don't know."

Nodding, Harry gave Remus a reassuring smile. The man had more important things to worry about, and here he was, worrying about Harry. "I'll be more careful."

"I haven't told anyone yet," Remus replied, looking pained. "Harry, I'll be leaving tomorrow. I'll be back within the week, but –"

"It's okay, Remus," Harry said softly, smiling in a way that he hoped was reassuring once again. "I'll be fine."

Remus paused at that, but then nodded quite stiffly. "I'll tell Professor McGonagall before I leave," he murmured instead. "And Severus."

Harry raised an eyebrow, but Remus cut him off quickly with a small, amused smile. "Severus cares about you more than you think," he said, almost wistfully.

Harry didn't know what to reply to that.

"I'm rather envious," Remus continued, looking thoughtful. Harry blinked, cocking his head in confusion and was about to ask when Remus suddenly stood up. "I'm sorry, Harry, I wish I had more time. I have to get the Wolfsbane Potion from Severus."

He motioned for Harry to follow him, and together, they walked towards Madame Pomfrey and Draco. As soon as they neared, Madame Pomfrey put her wand down even though she was in the middle of a spell. Draco glowered.

Remus nodded his head at her. "I'll be off now, Madame Pomfrey."

Madame Pomfrey nodded back, before slowly glancing at Harry with a meaningful look. At that, Remus' eyes widened as he realized one important detail. He looked worried again.

Harry blinked at his elders. "What?"

"I'll be leaving tomorrow," Remus said regretfully, looking at Madame Pomfrey. He didn't pay mind to Draco's presence; the boy already knew everything about Remus' condition after fighting together in the war. "We need someone –"

Harry realized what they were talking about. He cut in, only slightly irritably. "I'll be fine, Remus. I don't need a babysitter."

Remus looked at him, unfazed. "Harry, you don't know how big this is," he said softly, before pausing.

There were so many new changes to Hogwarts, and so many more were planned. So many, that the Patching Team had to be divided into smaller teams. They've held meetings prior to the reconstruction about what needed to be done and who will be doing it, but it was still the testing period. Spells to be casted on the castle weren't specifically said or listed; they were up to the person casting them. Most spells were done by trial and error, to see if they were effective and efficient.

The Patching Team was given free reign.

That was one of the reasons why the Patching Team now only consisted of the faculty of Hogwarts, plus a few extra people that could be counted with two hands. A few extra people that could be trusted.

If one of those people…

Remus looked at Harry seriously, worryingly. "How dangerous."

It was because of his expression that had Harry shutting up whatever protest he was planning on saying. Remus shouldn't be worrying about him, Harry realized. He should be worrying more about himself.

"Alright," Harry said quietly.

"I'll make sure he won't get into trouble, Professor," came the self-satisfied quip in front of them.

Harry's expression transformed into a mixture of surprise and confoundment. "Draco, do you –"

"That's an excellent idea, Mr. Malfoy," Madame Pomfrey said appraisingly. She looked at Remus. "Mr. Potter is already tasked by Professor Snape to watch over Mr. Malfoy after all. It won't make much difference, and I can make preparations for Mr. Potter to sleep here in the infirmary."

Harry looked dismayed. As if he hadn't spent enough time in the infirmary already for the past seven years. He turned towards Remus for some sort of saving but wasn't really surprised when he saw his professor nodding in agreement.

Remus gave him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Harry, but it's for the best. It's not that I don't trust you to take care of yourself. I do, really. You know that." Then, his smile turned wry. "Would you please do this for me anyway? Just to keep me at ease."

Harry stared at him incredulously. That was unfair and Remus knew it. He sighed in defeat. "Alright."

Three triumphant faces were his reply.

After Remus left and Madame Pomfrey instructed the house-elves to bring in Harry's things from the Gryffindor Tower, Harry lay back on the bed beside Draco's, both already in their pyjamas. He gave the other boy a raised eyebrow. "Do you even know what you've got yourself into?"

"Not really," Draco said nonchalantly with a careless shrug. Then he smirked. "But it's all about keeping the Golden Boy safe, right?"

Well, this was funny. For six years, he dedicated himself to making Harry Potter's life a living hell in more ways than one, and now he's committing himself to keeping the boy safe. (Of course, he had already done so ever since he and his mother switched sides and he didn't have to listen to his father anymore but it was still different saying it out loud.) From what, he didn't even know yet. This was suspiciously –

"How very Gryffindor of you," Harry replied, smirking back.

And Draco realized suddenly, with profound horror, that he was right. He sighed dramatically. "We must all make sacrifices for the greater good, I suppose," he said dryly.

Immediately, Harry sobered up. If Remus was right and this was all some very elaborate plan that Death Eaters came up with to exact revenge on Harry Potter, then Draco might as well have signed himself up for suicide. The thought made Harry's stomach churn.

He sat up and looked at Draco with furrowed eyebrows. "Don't."

Draco was surprised at the sudden change in atmosphere. "Don't what?"

"Don't… do that," Harry mumbled, shrugging. "Don't make sacrifices. I hate it when people do that," he said frustratedly, lips pressing together and eyes on the floor as he remembered the war and Sirius and Dumbledore.

And everyone else who should still be alive.

"I'm not… someone who…"

Draco sighed, deliberately cutting him off and getting his attention. "You Gryffindors are such idiots," he muttered to himself. He raised an eyebrow at him and regarded him seriously. "You'd do the same, wouldn't you? For others?"

For me?,Draco thought but didn't want to voice it. He already knew the answer. And it hurt.

"Of course!" Harry answered immediately, as if he was surprised that Draco would even ask that.

"There you go, Potter," Draco said matter-of-factly, waving a hand and rolling his eyes. "Now stop worrying about small details. It'll give you wrinkles."

He rolled over on the bed, his back to Harry, and pulled the covers over him. His heart suddenly felt very heavy. "Good night, Potter," he drawled. "And don't go sneaking out the infirmary. I'll hex you."

And he forced himself to sleep, not even remembering to ask Harry just what he and Lupin had been talking about.

"You'd do the same, wouldn't you? For others?"

"Of course!" Harry answered immediately, decisively, thinking of Ron and Hermione and the Weasleys and Neville and Luna and Remus and the Order and Draco. As if Draco needed to ask that.

"There you go, Potter," Draco said.

Harry's expression contorted into confusion. They were back to 'Potter' now?

"Now stop worrying about small details. It'll give you wrinkles," Draco continued with a roll of his eyes before turning over in his bed and getting ready to sleep. "Good night, Potter, and don't go sneaking out the infirmary. I'll hex you."

"I wasn't going anywhere," Harry mumbled defensively, glaring at Draco's back. He stared at it perhaps a little longer than he should have, suddenly feeling like he said something wrong.

Hermione told him once that he could be either really impulsive or really dense.

Or maybe it was just his imagination.

"Good night," he said softly, before snuggling in under the covers as well and closing his eyes.

Sleep hadn't been very kind to him, really.

As a child, he used to dream of things under his bed in the cupboard after Dudley told him that a Bogeyman lived under his bed and was going to eat him in his sleep. Then he arrived in Hogwarts and his dreams became filled with chocolate frogs and flying, at least until fourth year when Cedric died.

It was his fifth year that Voldemort started to infiltrate his dreams.

Thatwas over and done with. Voldemort was gone.

But the dreams came by to visit now and then.

It wasn't anything overly dramatic, really. All of them had those kinds of dreams. Harry just accepted it as some sort of post-traumatic thing that he'd outgrow in a few months or so. After all, only five months had passed since that day his title got promoted from The Boy Who Lived to The Boy Who Lived Twice.

That was why his inability to sleep because of those damned safety rooms had been both a nuisance and a blessing. (More of a nuisance, really.) And that was also why he was surprised that he had slept peacefully yesterday, when he had slept with Draco.

Harry cracked open his eyes with a small, muffled groan against his pillow.

Cupboards. And Bogeymen that lacked noses.

He knew that he needed to get over a lot of things, but he at least thought that he was done with those.

He rubbed at his eyes, ignoring their complaint at their rest being cut short very abruptly. He wasn't really feeling up to going back to sleep, even though a quick Tempus told him that it was only half past midnight. He rested tense muscles against the bed instead, thinking back to his dream.

It was probably because of those 'safety rooms' thing. Ever since Remus told him about what falling through them mightmean, he'd been coming up with all sorts of elaborate ideas that the enemy (considering it wasan enemy) wanted to do to him.

Kill him, obviously. Or Crucio him. He had also thought about being turned into a toad.

Then there was one thing that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

If the safety rooms were activated manually, as with a swish of the wand, then whoever was trying to trap Harry … they should have been following him those nights that he fell through them.

Just the very thought of it made Harry's fingers go cold.

There was also the possibility that the safety rooms were timed to activate.

But then there had been times when Harry had been stuck in them for hours. Surely, if someone wanted to get him, they wouldn't have waited for morning, after they had drunk their morning cup of tea?

It just didn't add right.

A part of him wanted to believe that these were all just coincidences. Just magical accidents that resulted from the reconstruction of Hogwarts.

He told himself to expect the worse anyway.

With his nerves already on end, the sound of the door creaking open had him sitting upright and grabbing for his wand, a Stupefyon his lips –

"I-it's just me," a voice whispered into the darkness.

Harry breathed a loud sigh of relief. "Neville? Is that you?"

Neville echoed his sigh. "Yeah. Harry, that's you, right?"

Harry nodded but then remembered that Neville probably couldn't see him. "Lumos," he whispered.

Neville hurried to the light that led him to Harry's bedside. His eyes flickered to the bed beside Harry's, where Draco was sleeping soundly. A surprised look came over his face. "You've been sleeping in the infirmary?"

Well, technically, this was the first time he was sleeping in the infirmary officially. Yesterday didn't count, but he didn't want to say any of that to Neville lest he get any more wrong implications. "Yeah," Harry muttered, shrugging. "It's kind of complicated. Neville, what are you doing here?"

Neville put aside all questions about the infirmary and Malfoy, as he was just reminded of his purpose. He lifted his left hand to motion to his right, which just hanged at his side. "I kind of broke my wrist," he said, looking nervous and sheepish. "You know how I am. I'll probably make all my bones disappear if I try to Episkey it, and I didn't think that Hermione would be awake if I went up the Gryffindor Tower."

Harry didn't need to ask why Neville needed Hermione. You didn't really trust Ron, Seamus or Dean to fix broken bones for you. They were a funny lot, the eight year Gryffindor boys. Couldn't spell a good Episkey if their life depended on it. (Well, Dean could probably do a decent job…)

"What happened?" Harry asked, still whispering so that Draco wouldn't wake.

Neville looked embarrassed. "Well, I kind of – well, fell –"

Harry's eyebrows rose. "Through the floor?'

Neville paused, and blinked at him. "Through a wall, actually."

Harry's heart thudded in his chest. What if these were really just coincidences? "How many times has this happened to you?"

"Twice," Neville replied, shrugging. "Morgan calls them safety rooms. You know, just in case there was an emergency. They're really sloppy though. They end up opening right away after I fall through them," he said with a bit of a chuckle. "Not very safe, are they?"

Harry's heart did a somersault before plummeting at the bottom of his feet. "Opening right away?" he repeated meekly, voice squeaking.

Neville nodded. He looked sheepish again. "It's embarrassing, I know –"

"No, it's okay," Harry quickly assured him by shaking his head, just in case Neville started self-pitying himself again. He searched for another topic to give him time to gather his wits. "You – uh, you're going to have to knock on Madame Pomfrey's portrait," he said lamely, the words rushing out.

Neville suddenly looked uncertain. "Oh, I'd feel bad for waking her up just for a broken wrist…"

"Well, will you be able to sleep with that?" Harry asked, motioning towards Neville's limp wrist.

Neville looked at him hopefully. "Could you…?"

Harry immediately backed up on the bed, shaking his head and staring at the other boy incredulously. "Neville, I'd probably Vanish your wrist!"

Neville was unperturbed. "I don't think so, Harry. You and Dean are the only ones among us who can do a decent Episkey."

"You know I've never Episkey-ed broken bones," Harry replied, giving him a pointed look.

"Well, it's a good time to try, isn't it?" Neville said lightly. He glanced at the portrait of Madame Pomfrey's quarters. "I'd really feel bad waking her up just for a broken wrist. I mean, I suppose it'd be alright if I had a broken wrist andgot hit by a, err, Furnunculus or something, but simply a broken wrist just sounds…"

"Normal and really lame," Harry said, sighing as he empathized. After seven years in Hogwarts, you end up seeing all sorts of jinxes that a broken bone suddenly seemed like a very minor thing. Harry knew this very well. After all, Merlin knows how many times he'd been sent in the infirmary. "Alright, Neville, but no hard feelings if your wrist suddenly finds its way into Durmstrang."

Neville smiled at him gratefully, albeit a bit anxiously. "No hard feelings, Harry."

Before he lost his nerve, Harry quickly drew up his wand and flicked it at Neville's wrist. "Episkey!"

With a crack and a surprised yelp from Neville, his wrist aligned itself into place.

"Knew you could do it, Harry," Neville said. Or, at least, that's what Harry thought he said because he couldn't really make much of Neville's words as he wheezed it out.

"No bones missing?" Harry asked hesitatingly.

Neville shook his head. His face looked a bit purple, but Harry told himself that it was just the moonlight… or something.

"Uhm, so," Harry started, still looking nervously at Neville's wrist just in case it suddenly imploded. "Where did you fall anyway?"

"Fourth floor corridor," Neville said distractedly. His attention was towards his wrist which he tried to move slightly. He cringed as it did so.

Harry could almost feel his pain. "You better get some ice for that."

Neville nodded, before giving Harry a grateful smile. "Thanks, Harry."

Harry smiled back.

"You know, I'm not going to ask about you and Malfoy," Neville continued conversationally, glancing at Malfoy's still sleeping form. "But he's good for you," he admitted, chuckling. "I never thought I'd say that, and I'm not really surehow he's good for you, but ever since you two got together, we've been getting the old Harry back."

Harry was taken aback and a little bit confused by that sudden declaration. "Old Harry? What do you mean?" Also, more importantly – "And Neville, Draco and I aren't really –"

Draco suddenly shifted in his sleep, turning over so that he was lying on his back. Harry and Neville both froze, staring at Draco's sleeping face but his eyes remained close.

They both let out identical sighs of relief.

"The old Harry," Neville continued, shrugging. "You know. Before this whole Voldemort thing started."

It was ridiculous, but Harry's heart still swelled with pride every time Neville uttered Voldemort's name without stuttering or reluctance.

"Well, you didn't really change, but it was like something was holding you back," Neville said, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to put his thoughts into words. "You kind of let go when you're with Malfoy. Well, I'm not really sure when it started, or maybe I'm just listening to Seamus too much, but it's kind of hard not to notice after seeing you a bit down these past few months."

Harry stared at him.

"Oh, no, don't get me wrong. It's not like I'm upset that you can share your feelings with Malfoy than with us. Just glad to see you back, Harry," Neville finished, grinning.

And Harry stared some more. And flushed. Then, when he was done with that, he thanked Merlin that Draco was asleep. Oh, if Draco could hear Neville now. He'd probably snicker and make some more poncey jokes about sharing feelings.

…Okay, so that wouldbe funny.

…Oh, Merlin, he's really getting into this whole joking about shagging-each-other thing now, wasn't he? It was just that it really was admittedly funny and even though Harry had agonized about it at first, there was no stress included because Draco had always made it easy –

Oh. Oh. Well.

He now understood what Neville's been saying and what Luna had told him yesterday.

"Uhm, thanks, Neville, I guess," Harry said lamely, still a bit pink in the face.

Neville grinned at him brightly.

And after Harry had gotten over his sudden epiphany, which took him about two seconds, he grinned back.

"Glad to be back."

He still had a lot of things to think about, like the safety rooms (And Draco, his brain unhelpfully supplied, which he did not listen to.) but after this talk with Neville, Harry found that unlike half an hour ago, he felt that he could finally get back to sleep.

"You two had a fight?" Ron said the next morning, or at least, Harry thought he did because Ron's mouth was currently full of breakfast.

"Who?" he asked idly, scooping his pudding and pretending that Ron was not asking about Draco Malfoy.

Beside him, Hermione rolled her eyes but her nose remained in her book.

Ron followed his girlfriend's suit and rolled his eyes as well. He gave one big swallow. "You know," he said, motioning with his head not indiscreetly towards the Slytherin table.

Harry sighed and gave Ron a raised eyebrow. "The two of us went inside the Great Hall together, didn't we?"

Ron shrugged. "He's been pointedly ignoring you ever since you came in," he said, reaching for Hermione's pudding. "The Hufflepuffs are panicking. Penny Coulby actually burst into tears when Malfoy didn't so much as look at you five minutes after entering. Tears, Harry!"

Harry gawked at him.

"I'm not lying," Ron persisted. "She's in the bathroom right now, bawling her eyes out."

Harry gawked some more. "Ron, since when have you been worried if Draco and I are fighting? We've alwaysfought. Uhm. Remember?"

"Since you two stopped," Ron muttered, at the same time Hermione closed her book with a loud snap.

"So you two arefighting then?" she asked with one mighty eyebrow raised.

Harry shrank from it. "No," he said, more strongly than he would have liked.

Hermione's eyebrow remained lifted until Ron started snickering through a mouthful of pudding.

Harry's shoulders slumped. "I don't know," he muttered, abusing his own pudding with his spoon. "He's been like that since morning. I'm not even sure why he waited for me to get dressed so that we could go here together," he said frustratedly.

"Did you say anything to him yesterday?" Hermione asked, glancing at Draco at the other side of the room from the corner of her eyes.

"I… I don't think so?" Harry said, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "I'm not really sure, 'Mione," he sighed out dejectedly.

Hermione gave his shoulder a sympathetic pat.

"He's probably just being a drama queen again," Ron said with a shrug. "You know him."

Hermione rolled her eyes again but didn't reprimand him. Then, as if just remembering something, she gave a start and turned to Harry again. "Oh, Harry, Remus left you a message when we met up with him in the Gryffindor Tower earlier this morning."

Harry's nose scrunched up in confusion. "Remus' still here? Isn't the…" he trailed off, knowing that the other two got the hint, even though everyone already knew of Remus' condition.

The full moon was tomorrow.

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. "He was about to leave when he talked to us, said you were still sleeping."

"Alright, what did he say?"

"He wants you to keep the Marauder's Map with you at all times," Hermione said slowly, making sure that Harry did not miss her suspicious and accusing stare. Even Ron stopped eating to look at Harry. "Is there something we should know, Harry?"

But Harry's attention wasn't directed at her. His eyes were wide in shock, and he marveled at his stupidity. The Marauder's Map! Of course! Why didn't he think about it sooner?

In theory, if the safety rooms really were activated manually or at least timed, then whoever did it would have to follow Harry around to activate it.

He just needed the Marauder's Map in the safety room with him.

At least then he could finally confirm if this whole thing was just messed up coincidences.

He leaped up from his seat suddenly excited and nervous at the same time. He grinned reassuringly at Ron and Hermione who stared at him with wide eyes from surprise at his sudden movement. "I'll tell you everything when I get back," he said, and made to leave when he remembered one important detail.

He glanced at the Slytherin table, where Draco was in deep conversation with an outraged Pansy.

"Err, keep an eye on Draco. Make sure he doesn't keel over or something."

And he was off, walking briskly out of the Great Hall with sweaty palms.

He raced out into the Entrance Hall and up the stairs, running through the first and second floors.

In retrospect, he probably should have expected that something were to happen again – Remus did tell him to be more careful – but he still found himself emitting a very unmanly noise as the floor underneath him suddenly opened up with a swift grinding noise and swallowed him whole. By the time he managed to grab his wand from his pocket, he was already half-way down what seemed like a pipe slide.

With wind in his ears and prickling his eyes from beneath his glasses, he shouted a frantic "Lumos!" but it did not do much. Harry looked up and down, but only saw darkness from both sides. This reminded him very much of the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, and he desperately wished that this would not lead him there.

Finally, the pipe line made him swerve suddenly, and he tensed as he saw light. He fumbled with his wand and quickly cast a Cushioning Charm just as soon as the pipe line ended, spat him out from the ceiling of a room, and shoved him quite ungainly against a cobbled floor.

Harry groaned, cursing and grumbling about half-assed Cushioning Charms. His ankle was broken again, since he was shoved feet first to the ground. Other than that, the rest of his body didn't receive much impact because of the charm. His glasses were broken too, but that could easily be Reparo-ed. Bits of glass stuck to his skin and he winced as he moved his head and weakly raised an arm to remove his glasses.

He lay face-up, eyes still closed and trying to regain his breathing and steady heartbeat. Harry sighed exasperatedly, rubbing his temples.

Well, this was turning out to be a grand day.

And breakfast wasn't even done yet!

After getting rid of the bits of glass that threatened to embed themselves to his skin, he opened his eyes, wincing at the bright light.

That ceiling looked familiar…

Suddenly, a cold dread filled him as he realized just where he was. He sat up quickly, the pain in his ankle a dull throb compared to the apprehension that engulfed him as he let his eyes roam around the room, memories of Professor Quirrell and the Mirror of Erised and the Philosopher's Stone and Voldemort filling his head.

He groaned pitifully.

"Damn Hogwarts."

How was he going to get out now?

Chapter Text

"You idiotic, pathetic excuse for a specimen of the human male species, I ought to castrate you where you stand –"

While in the middle of eating his food, Blaise shrugged at Draco. "She's really mad, mate."

Draco rolled his eyes. Obviously. Still, the light around Pansy turned black, so he wasn't really worried about losing his equipment to a woman's wrath. Thus, he decided it was safe to sigh exasperatedly. "Pansy!" he shouted firmly, which effectively shut the girl up, just like it always did. She settled for glaring at him instead, fuming in her seat. He raised one royal eyebrow. "What in Merlin's bloody name are you talking about?"

"You!" she shrieked furiously. "What was up with that?"

Draco regarded her coolly. "With what?"

Pansy's eyes narrowed. "Don't you 'with what' me. You know exactly 'with what'," she said, before dropping her voice into a low hiss. "What was up with you practically ignoring Potter's existence? He looks like a dog being deprived of his master's tender love and care."

Later, maybe Draco could fantasize about Harry being utterly dependent on his love and care, but now he had reality to attend to.

"You exaggerate, Pansy," he scoffed, waving a hand. The light around Pansy was gold. He didn't know if it was funny or sad that she seriously thought that Harry looked like a dog being deprived.

"He's looking at you right now."

Draco's eyes automatically glanced up, trained to spot Harry amongst the sea of Gryffindors. He quickly turned away, and scowled. "It's merely a Gryffindor, guilt-trip thing."

Pansy sighed exasperatedly. "Will you then please tell me what's got your knickers in a bunch?"

Draco pulled a face at her. "My knickers?"

Pansy shrugged. "Morgan's been going around telling everyone what it meant. It's a Muggle thing apparently."

"And you're using it?" Draco said dryly, regarding her with a deadpan expression.

"Don't change the subject, darling."

Draco's shoulders drooped.

Blaise's eyebrow quirked up as Harry Potter became visibly agitated from the Gryffindor Table.

"It's just that…" Draco started, lips pursing in frustration. "He's such a Gryffindor." The last word was said with defeat more than with distaste.

Pansy merely flipped her bangs away from her eyes. "You love him for that."

Draco scrunched up his nose in reply. "That's horribly Hufflepuff of you to say."

Pansy paused. "It is, isn't it?" she said worriedly. Then her eyes widened and she glared at Draco. "Bloody hell, stop changing the subject!"

Suddenly, a commotion overtook the Gryffindor Table and they watched curiously as Harry Potter hastily retreated from the Great Hall. Weasley and Granger merely followed him with their eyes as he left, before resuming their breakfast.

Well, that was peculiar.

"Aren't you going to follow him?" Blaise commented casually.

Draco's eyebrow quirked upwards. "Why should I?" he muttered sulkily, to which Pansy and Blaise rolled their eyes at.

They all knew why Draco should follow him.

One, Snape had excessively told Draco and Harry that they were not to be separated unless during meal times or for personal hygiene. Two, although Pansy and Blaise did not yet know of this, Lupin had told them the same thing.

And three?

Draco was absolutely smitten with the accursed boy.

Last night, Draco awoke at the same time Harry did. Through his half-asleep state, he managed to realize that the noises that woke him up were actually Harry's incessant turning and feverish mumbling, and that definitely seemed to pour cold water on him. Before his body reacted on it though, Harry suddenly jolted awake, his heavy breathing echoing through the empty infirmary. (Maybe it was a good thing that Draco did not manage to act, because he probably would have done something very Hufflepuff, like… hug Harry and slide his fingers through messy black hair and whisper words of comfort in his ear. Oh, but how Draco wanted to. How mortifying was it to actually want to do Hufflepuff things.)

Draco listened as Harry's breathing evened with time, and the sound of it comforted him and almost lulled him back to sleep.

Then, the door clicked open suddenly and Draco's hand quickly and discreetly slipped underneath his pillow to grab for his wand. His days as a spy made his reflexes sharp, and he did not know if it was advantageously good or terribly sad. He heard Harry move quickly, probably to sit up and point his wand.

"I-it's just me."

Draco relaxed against the bed.

"Neville? Is that you?" Harry said, whispering.

"Yeah. Harry, that's you, right?"

"Lumos."

"You've been sleeping in the infirmary?"

Draco found himself amused at the various implications towards Harry that that statement produced.

"Yeah. It's kind of complicated. Neville, what are you doing here?"

"I kind of broke my wrist. You know how I am. I'll probably make all my bones disappear if I try to Episkey it, and I didn't think that Hermione would be awake if I went up the Gryffindor Tower."

Draco didn't need to ask why Neville needed Granger. The Gryffindor eight years were a sad lot. Didn't even know how to cast a good Episkey. Granger was probably the only one who knew how to cast healing spells. (Inwardly, Draco was pleased… and envious. The Gryffindors didn't know how to cast healing spells because other than the war, they never needed to.)

"What happened?" Harry asked, still whispering so that Draco wouldn't wake.

Draco already was though, but he wasn't about to let them know that. He wasn't eavesdropping, really… He was just too tired to make himself known.

(Okay, so he was eavesdropping.)

"Well, I kind of – well, fell–"

"Through the floor?' Harry said almost immediately. Draco was intrigued.

There was a pause before Neville replied. "Through a wall, actually."

"How many times has this happened to you?"

Well, that was an odd question. Normally, one would ask 'Are you alright?'.

"Twice. Morgan calls them safety rooms. You know, just in case there was an emergency. They're really sloppy though. They end up opening right away after I fall through them," Neville said with a bit of a chuckle. "Not very safe, are they?"

Safety rooms. Didn't they have a talk about that before? That detail suddenly seemed very important. Draco felt like an epiphany was impending.

"Opening right away?" Harry replied meekly.

Draco found himself worried at Harry's weak tone. Oh, that was definitely an important detail. He would have turned over to glance at Harry's expression had he not been busy pretending to be asleep.

"It's embarrassing, I know –"

"No, it's okay. You – uh, you're going to have to knock on Madame Pomfrey's portrait."

"Oh, I'd feel bad for waking her up just for a broken wrist…"

"Well, will you be able to sleep with that?"

"Could you…?"

"Neville, I'd probably Vanish your wrist!"

Actually, Draco whole-heartedly believed that Harry would be able to cast a good Episkey.

"I don't think so, Harry. You and Dean are the only ones among us who can do a decent Episkey."

Exactly.

"You know I've never Episkey-ed broken bones," Harry replied dryly.

"Well, it's a good time to try, isn't it?" Neville said lightly.

Draco would probably never admit this to anyone – not yet, anyway – but he had come to admire Neville Longbottom.

"I'd really feel bad waking her up just for a broken wrist. I mean, I suppose it'd be alright if I had a broken wrist andgot hit by a, err, Furnunculus or something, but simply a broken wrist just sounds…"

"Normal and really lame," Harry said with an emphatic sighing.

Draco could relate. Not that he went to the infirmary often because he had had to learn healing spells on his own at a young age, but sometimes Quidditch practices went wrong and his teammates were already dragging him to the infirmary before he even managed to get his vision straight again.

"Alright, Neville, but no hard feelings if your wrist suddenly finds its way into Durmstrang."

"No hard feelings, Harry."

"Episkey!"

The sound of bone cracking to align itself always did fascinate and sicken Draco at the same time.

"Knew you could do it, Harry," Neville wheezed out.

"No bones missing?"

It was unfair, how Harry could be so purposelessly adorable.

"Uhm, so. Where did you fall anyway?"

Another weird question. His days as a spy made him very curious, and very inquisitive. Too much, perhaps. Maybe Harry asking that question didn't mean anything, but Draco thought about how people usually asked the 'why' and the 'how' first before the 'where'.

"Fourth floor corridor."

"You better get some ice for that."

"Thanks, Harry. You know, I'm not going to ask about you and Malfoy," Neville said conversationally.

Draco almost shifted because of the surprise he felt at suddenly hearing his name.

"But he's good for you," Neville chuckled.

Oh, yes. He had always definitely admired Neville Longbottom.

"I never thought I'd say that, and I'm not really sure how he's good for you, but ever since you two got together, we've been getting the old Harry back."

Draco knew about the 'old Harry'. It was the Harry he fell in love with.

The 'new Harry' was the one that didn't hold that spark. That spark of Harry Potter, not the Boy Who Lived.

After the war, Harry faced the wizarding world with the demeanor of a winner but with eyes that had seen the worst things the world had to offer. Draco had said farewell to him (had thought and brokenheartedly accepted that it was the last time), found his mother, and gone off to recover what was left of the Malfoy Manor. He hadn't dared to hope that he and Harry would cross paths again. Perhaps during the victory and thanksgiving parties which the Ministry will only invite him through gritted teeth, but that was all, so imagine his glee at receiving his Hogwarts letter for the eighth time.

He had expected things to be different, yes, but he hadn't expected Harryto be different.

Though, he supposed, Harry had no fault. In his weaker moments during his time as a spy, he had longed to hide Harry away so that the boy didn't have to face Voldemort.

Harry didn't know Voldemort like Draco did.

Actually, even now, with Voldemort's soul burnt and gone, he still wanted to hide Harry away from the people who saw only the Golden Boy and not Harry Potter. (Alright, so perhaps he wanted to hide Harry away because he really wanted to keep Harry for himself.)

So upon his return to Hogwarts, he retreated to old ways.

After all, Draco was a master of riling Harry Potter up. (Oh, how he wanted to rile Harry Potter up in anotherway.)

What better way to get back the old Harry than insulting his hair and (lack of) Potions skills? Somehow, he could not bring himself to insult James and Lily Potter anymore. He still made fun of Weasley and Granger, but it was more of habit than actual spite. He made it seem like actual spite though, if only to see that spark in Potter's eyes again whenever his temper flares up.

Now, though, he found that he didn't need to do that anymore.

Draco preened at Neville's words.

Apparently, being with Draco was already enough to get the old Harry back.

He felt something like warmth (and okay, smugness) blossom within him.

"Old Harry? What do you mean?" Harry asked confusedly. "And Neville, Draco and I aren't really –"

Draco immediately shifted, making sure to do it noisily.

The voices quieted down abruptly, and silence reigned for a few moments before being cut by two identical sighs of relief.

Well, that was good. Both still thought he was asleep.

"The old Harry," Neville continued. "You know. Before this whole Voldemort thing started."

Draco envied Neville for having the guts to speak the Dark Lord's name without pause or stuttering or… fear. Actually, he had envied Harry for that, too, for so many years. More so when Draco took…

His blood ran cold, and he had the urge to scratch the sudden itch on his lower arm. The Dark Mark was no longer there, Draco knew, but he could still remember that disgusting feeling of having that Mark slithering on his skin.

It had disintegrated the moment that the Dark Lord died, completely and finally. It had been such a painful process. His skin had felt like it was being burned and torn apart again and again and again, until the Mark finally disappeared, leaving only bloodied flesh.

Snape, after healing his own, had healed Draco when he found him in the Shrieking Shack, body still convulsing from the aftershocks.

Without the Mark, Draco had felt lighter.

But there were times when his arm would itch, and he'd scratch it until his arm bled and his nails tore off, but that wasn't a big deal, because it didn't compare to the guilt and shame that would wash over Draco during those times, and his heart would hurt because he'd remember all the things he did and didn't do, and the fact that Harry Potter can never possibly love him back.

The sound of the door closing made him realize that Neville had probably already left.

After a while, Harry's breathing turned even and he drifted off to sleep, but Draco stayed awake, nails raking bluntly at his arm.

Pansy Parkinson wasn't a very bright witch, but she liked to believe that she was indeed very clever. She was a Slytherin after all, although like every other person, she had exceptions. Like Arithmancy, for one. She wasn't very clever at Arithmancy. Merlin knows that the only reason she took that subject was because Draco took it, and that was the time when she was very much in love with the boy.

Draco Malfoy was also an exception.

Oh, Pansy knew Draco very well, but she was clever enough to know and admit that she wasn't very clever when it came to Draco at all.

Pansy had one thing going for her though.

She was clever about love. It was horribly Hufflepuff, and maybe even Gryffindor, and Pansy will never admit it out loud to anyone or even to herself but she liked to think very much about love because throughout her life, love wasn't a natural thing. It didn't just come to you so Pansy had grown to be very conscious of it.

To the Weasleys, it was probably the most natural thing, with their toppling house so filled with joy and children's laughter so they probably don't realize or give much thought to loveitself. They give thought to each other and Pansy was clever enough to know that she will never have that kind of family.

She knew a lot about love.

She knew about how her parents had never held any sort of feelings for each other, only a sense of obligation. She knew about falling in love with Draco Malfoy, and falling out of love with him. She knew about Blaise's feelings for Longbottom, even though Blaise himself didn't. She knew about Draco's feelings towards Harry Potter, although she had tried to ignore it at first.

Now, though, she only felt happy and amused whenever she'd see them together, though Potter was still so hopelessly daft.

At first, she had thought Good for you, Draco.

But as time went on and as her wary eye watched carefully for anything that might topple Draco's unstable personality, she found herself watching and thinking, amazingly, Good for you, Potter because they both just looked…comfortable with each other.

Maybe… maybe Draco's unrequited love wasn't so unrequited at all.

Maybe.

After all, Pansy Parkinson was a clever enough witch to know that she wasn't very clever about Draco Malfoy.

Harry Potter was.

Since seven years ago, in fact.

And that was why she was outraged when Draco and Harry entered the Great Hall, and Draco had simply turned towards the Slytherin without so much a goodbye or a glance back to Harry who looked confused and uncertain and just very much put-out.

As Draco neared their table, Pansy fumed in her seat and prepared herself to give one of the hysterical outbursts that once scared the Bloody Baron away.

Way to go, Draco fucking Malfoy.

"Harry didn't say anything about meeting us back here, did he?" Hermione asked, eyes roaming across the Great Hall where the majority of the students were starting to leave. The teachers' table was already empty, save for Hagrid and Morgan who looked like they were having a contest on who could eat the most pie. The Gryffindor Table was almost deserted, if not for them and some third years a few seats down.

Ron shook his head, rubbing his sated stomach. "Didn't say anything. He was off to get the Marauders' Map, wasn't he?"

"His things are in the Hospital Wing," Hermione said with a frown. "It shouldn't take him forty-five minutes to get there and back."

"Probably got sidetracked," Ron replied with a shrug. "You know he's been leaving us for Malfoy lately," he said cheerfully, grinning at the implication that brought.

Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn't resist a slight smirk as well. "Yeah, but Malfoy's over there."

True enough, Malfoy and his group of friends were still sitting in the Slytherin Table, deep in discussion.

"And I'm worried about what Remus told us," Hermione continued, looking apprehensive.

Ron sobered. "About Harry needing to bring the Marauders' Map with him at all times?"

Hermione nodded. She looked at Ron seriously. "Do you think this is related to what happened to Harry in the sixth floor corridor?"

Ron fell silent, face turning pale at the thought.

They both watched idly as Draco and his friends stood up, finished with their breakfast, and left the Great Hall.

Ron shrugged weakly. "I suppose we ought to go find Harry then."

Hermione pushed her plate away from her, suddenly not very hungry anymore.

"Harry's things are at the infirmary, right?" Hermione asked, to which Ron nodded.

("Woah, woah, woah! Dobby! What – what are you doing to Harry's trunk?" Ron said last night, flabbergasted as Dobby and another house-elf hoisted Harry's trunk up with their arms.

"Madame Pomfrey told us to bring Master Potter's things to the Hospital Wing, sir," the other house-elf replied stiffly, wanting to get the job over with. He had floors to polish, tables to clean and muffins to bake.

Ron blinked hard. "What? Harry? What, did he break his bones again? Did somebody hex him? Is he alright?"

"Master Harry is not hurt, oh, Dobby will iron his ears if Master Harry is hurt!" Dobby said, aghast at the thought of his master in pain.)

It took Ron ten minutes to stop Dobby from hitting himself with Harry's trunk. In the end, it was the grumpy house-elf who told Ron that Master Potter had been instructed to sleep in the Hospital Wing indefinitely by Professor Lupin and Madame Pomfrey and Madame Pomfrey had also instructed that Master Weasley was to visit Master Potter only in the morning.

"Then he must have gone there," Hermione said wistfully.

"Yeah, let's ask if Madame Pomfrey saw him."

"Actually," Hermione said hesitantly as they quickened their pace towards the Hospital Wing. "I was thinking more along the lines of looking for the Marauders' Map." At Ron's confused look, she continued. "If it's still there, that meant that Harry never managed to reach the infirmary. We can use it to find him. If it's not there, then Harry must have taken it already and…"

"Really got sidetracked," Ron finished firmly, not liking where his thoughts were leading him and how Hermione was looking more worried by the minute. "Harry's fine, 'Mione," he murmured, taking her hand in his and holding it tightly.

Hermione squeezed back.

They did not expect that Draco Malfoy would be in the Hospital Wing even though they knew very well that that was where Malfoy had been sleeping for the past week. They also did not expect Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini to be there. After all, it was a wonderful Sunday morning, albeit a bit cold. Apparently, the three did not expect them to arrive in the Hospital Wing either.

"Good morning," Pansy greeted carelessly, sitting in what Ron and Hermione presumed as Harry's bed as his trunk lay on the end of it on the floor.

Hermione gave her a small smile, inwardly approving the fact that Pansy was being open to them now. Open for friendship and not tied down by past events. "Good morning, Parkinson, Zabini, Malfoy."

After they had said their greetings, Blaise looked at them speculatively. "Looking for Potter?" he asked.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but shut it immediately afterwards, looking unsure. Draco didn't exactly expect them to tell the truth, which really wouldn't matter as Draco would know it was a lie anyway, but he was still surprised when Hermione replied without a second thought, the light around her shimmering a bright gold.

"We are, actually," she said. There really was no point hiding anything. Beside her, Ron got the message and shrugged, walking over to Harry's trunk. Hermione continued speaking. "Have you seen him?"

Three heads shook sideways. Blaise raised an eyebrow. "He left during breakfast, right? Didn't he tell you where he was going?"

"Here, supposedly," Ron said, voice slightly muffled as he stuck his head inside the trunk, shuffling through Harry's mess. "Probably only got sidetracked," he muttered, mostly to himself and Draco quirked an eyebrow as the light around him turned black.

Pansy looked at him curiously. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for something," Ron said, and the light around him turned back into gold.

Finally, he stood up, looking triumphant with a piece of parchment in his hands. "Found it, 'Mione!"

"What's that?" Pansy asked, eyes raking over the folder piece of paper.

"Parchment," Hermione replied distractedly as she and Ron made to leave. The light around her turned into black.

"You're lying," Draco said easily, a smirk on his lips.

Hermione blinked, looking surprised, before she remembered Draco's predicament. She at least had the audacity to look embarrassed. "It's Harry's. Not ours to tell." Gold.

Draco could understand that. He shrugged. "Alright," he said with a haughty sniff, as if Hermione and Ron were obligated to tell him the truth. They weren't, but Draco was still amazed (and probably just a tiny bit glad) that they did.

Ron rolled his eyes at him. "Thought Harry has finally put in some good traits in you, Malfoy," he said, but it was good-natured.

Draco grinned wickedly. "Oh, that's not the only thing he puts in me."

Ron turned green, and he looked at Malfoy, aghast, but his reply never made it out of his mouth as a chuckling Hermione led him by the arm out of the Hospital Wing.

"Don't break him, Malfoy. His brain's already malfunctioning enough as it is," Hermione said, before the door finally closed and the infirmary filled with Pansy's giggles.

"I really do think you may have broken him with that, Draco," Blaise commented with amusement.

Draco looked pretty satisfied with himself. "Mm-hmm."

Ron's brain still wasn't functioning properly when they stepped out of the infirmary, but it was functioning enough for him to tap his wand on the map and mutter, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

As he did so, Hermione wrung her hands anxiously. "Harry didn't get the Marauders' Map," she said, mind already working out the possibilities. She kept her eyes down the corridor, and tried to concentrate if there were any footsteps coming near.

There were no noises, except for Ron's strangled noise of confusion. She was immediately at his side, peering over at the map. "What is it?"

As she scanned the map, Hermione felt obliged to make her own strangled noise of confusion as well.

Harry wasn't anywhere.

That sense of foreboding finally sank in, and it sank in heavily.

"He might be in the Room of Requirement?" Ron offered meekly.

Hermione shook her head. "He was to get the map. Why would he suddenly go all the way to the seventh floor without going to the infirmary first?"

"Well, do you have any ideas?"

Hermione didn't. She pressed her lips tightly together, deep in thought. "Even if we went there, we wouldn't be able to find it if Harry's in it… And we also don't know what Harry's in there for so we can't possibly…"

Ron nodded. "Shrieking Shack and Hogsmeade's off the list, too. Harry wouldn't have gone there without the map." He shrugged at the bewildered look Hermione sent him. "What? Listing out all the possibilities here."

Hermione nodded. "Alright. That leaves us... the Chamber of Secrets and the third floor corridor," she finished grimly.

Ron voiced out what Hermione didn't want to say. "Well, Harry did say that he'd been getting into all sorts of traps lately," he said thoughtfully. "I mean, the new stuff they added to Hogwarts…"

Hermione nodded again, this time more stiffly. "There could be hundreds of them all over Hogwarts," she murmured. "And we don't even know where oneis."

"Well, we know the one Harry fell in," Ron interjected lightly, but his girlfriend wasn't reassured.

"Harry wouldn't go to the Chamber of Secrets," Hermione said decidedly. "There's no point."

Ron frowned. All this thinking was making his head hurt. "He wouldn't go to the third floor corridor either."

Hermione's head snapped up, brown eyes going wide. "Unless one of the traps led him there!"

Ron blinked. It made sense, but… "But we can't be sure! He could be in the Chamber of Secrets or the third floor corridor or in the hundreds of traps all over Hogwarts!"

Hermione shut her mouth, looking distraught.

"Hey," Ron murmured, reaching for Hermione's hand with his to pull her close, feeling relieved when she unhesitatingly fell into his embrace. "We'll find him, yeah?" Hermione nodded against his shoulder. Ron continued jokingly. "Besides, we might just be overreacting over this whole thing."

Hermione didn't move for a while, but soon, she slowly nodded. She pulled away just a bit to look at him. "Do you think Malfoy knows anything about the traps? Harry might have told him."

Long ago, Ron would have snorted at the thought of Harry divulging anything to Malfoy. Now, he simply nodded thoughtfully. "Let's ask."

"No need for that, Weasley," Malfoy's drawling voice reached their ears and they turned around to realize that the infirmary door was open and that Malfoy, Zabini and Parkinson stood in front of them, looking amused. Malfoy waved their surprised expressions away. "You weren't being very quiet, really."

"We heard starting from Granger's 'unless one of the traps led him there', so we're still not really sure if we have the whole picture," Pansy added nonchalantly.

"So Potter's missing?" Blaise asked.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, then at the Marauders' Map where 'Harry Potter' was still nowhere to be found. It took them exactly five seconds to remember that these people were their friends now.

It was an unconventional friendship and a very weird one, yes, but then again… friendships didn't always make sense.

And, well, they really had to find Harry.

Chapter Text

Before the war escalated, no one really knew where Pansy and Blaise's loyalties laid. Everyone knew that Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater though, and since Pansy and Blaise still hung out with him, they all assumed that they were rooting for the Dark Lord as well. Then Malfoy stopped going to school after a few months, and rumors spread that Draco Malfoy was actually a spy working for the Order and that Death Eaters were ordered to kill him on sight.

Pansy and Blaise had sat out the war, only having to fight when the war reached Hogwarts.

Against the Death Eaters.

The morning after Voldemort died, Draco – cradling his bloodied arm where the Dark Mark had been just a few hours ago – had looked at the remains of Hogwarts and asked his friends why they fought against the Dark Lord.

Blaise had answered in a weary but firm voice. "We believe in blood-purity, Draco. Not murder."

"He said they were called safety rooms," Draco said, recalling the conversation he and Harry had the other day. "The Patching Team's been installing them all over Hogwarts. Still on the trial stage though, so students have been falling through them," he continued, rolling his eyes. "Reckless."

"Potter often goes off on his own, doesn't he?" Pansy asked, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe he just went to the loo?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, we –"

"It's because of the map you were holding earlier, isn't it?" Blaise cut in, looking at Ron who simply shrugged.

The Marauders' Map was now safely tucked in Ron's pocket, after he had tapped it with his wand and whispered a 'mischief managed' when everyone else had turned to go back inside the infirmary.

"We already told you, it's not ours to tell."

"The main thing is," Hermione intercepted quickly. "Harry's not there. It's either he's not in Hogwarts – which is very unlikely – or he's in a part of Hogwarts that's not shown on the map."

"That's why Weasley was going on about the Chamber of Secrets earlier. It's not in the map, is it?" Draco said quietly, looking straight at Ron with a thoughtful expression. He was starting to realize the seriousness of the whole situation, and his heart was thumping against his ribcage way too loudly for his liking. Beside him, Pansy glanced at him surreptitiously as he continued talking. "And the third floor corridor."

Draco knew about the event during their first year, which students had secretly dubbed as the Golden Trio and the Third Floor Corridor, as did everyone else but just like everyone else, he had no idea about what had really transpired in there that had Weasley and Granger wounded and Potter unconscious in the Hospital Wing.

("Draco, you're not worried about Potter, are you?" 11-year-old Pansy Parkinson asked, eyes narrowed as 11-year-old Draco Malfoy immediately whipped around from his pacing to sneer at her.

"Of course not! Are you daft?"

Pansy sniffed, sulking because she had wanted to spend time with Draco tonight but not likethis,with the boy trying to kill himself by pacing all over the common room, ranting about Potter this and Potter that. Why did Potter have to go and hospitalize himself anyway? And tonight, of all nights!

"You've done nothing but talk about him ever since we came here!" Pansy knew she was whining, but she even made sure that that Greengrass girl wasn't going to disturb them tonight, too.

Draco turned red at that, and Pansy would have found it cute, had he not been glaring at her.)

Just then, the door opened suddenly with a loud bang and something slammed into Ron, knocking him to the floor. Draco almost whipped out his wand in shock, before he realized that the 'something' was actually a 'someone'.

Someone who was currently bawling her eyes out and soiling Weasley's sweater.

Someone who was very Hufflepuff.

Unfortunately, Draco had no idea who she was.

"P-Penny," Ron wheezed.

Ah. Well, at least Draco now knew her name.

Three minutes and two glasses of water later, the girl could finally breathe properly somewhat. Her face was still as red as the root of a young mandrake, but she could at least already give them yes or no answers.

"Do you need Madame Pomfrey?" Granger.

The girl shook her head no.

"Oh, well, then –is there something you need?"

The girl nodded her head yes but otherwise remained silent, save for the occasional hiccups.

Draco resisted the urge to groan. They had no time for guessing games! Potter was somewhere in this blasted castle probably injured and Draco really, really wanted to find him, preferably right now–

Just then, Penny let out a great sob. "Harry – I know where—" and the two glasses of water meant to calm her down served futile as the girl fell into hysterics once again, crying and sniffling against Hermione's shirt.

Draco's head immediately snapped up at that. "Where's Harry?" he asked her, probably more forcefully than he should have.

"I—I don't know—" Penny wailed, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

(Pansy very discreetly put some distance between her and the girl, just in case she decided to soil Pansy's robes next.)

"What do you mean you don't know? You just said –" Ron started, but shut himself up at Hermione's look.

"Penny," Hermione started gently, making the girl face her, mainly so that Penny wouldn't have to look at Ron and Draco's agitated faces. She took Penny's hands in hers, squeezing it to provide some comfort. "Do you know where Harry is?"

Penny hiccupped. "No, b-but I know – Harry fell –"

And the eighth years all shared greatly alarmed expressions.

Draco stared fixatedly on the light around Penny that shone a bright gold.

It took all of Hermione's willpower to keep her voice even and reassuring, despite being 'reassured' was the last thing she was right now.

"Can you show us where?"

As Penny led them out of the Hospital Wing, Draco became extra conscious towards the light surrounding her. He didn't want to be so suspicious but old habits die hard, and he told himself to be ready if the light around Penny suddenly turned black. There was a chance that this was just some sort of elaborate plot to trap them.

Ron and Hermione shared one meaningful look as Penny Coulby took all of them straight to the third floor. They half-expected her to go straight to the third floor corridor. As soon as she had stepped down the last step of the staircase though, she suddenly stopped and looked back at them, nervous and still on the verge of tears.

"Here," she said, sniffling. "He just – fell –"

"Thanks, Penny," Hermione said quickly, before Penny started bawling again. They all spread out, eyes on the floor, nervously tapping it in intervals with their foot.

"Well, this is embarrassing," Ron muttered to himself. He felt like he was doing some sort of chicken dance.

Draco shared the same sentiment. He went back to the Hufflepuff third-year and tried desperately to remember her name. "Penny," he finally said, with great difficulty because he could not remember her last name and it felt weird calling her by her first.

Nevertheless, Penny's cheeks colored a rosy hue, because Draco Malfoy was talking to her. Draco Malfoy!

"How did Harry fall?" Draco asked. "He just – fell? The floor opened up and swallowed him whole?"

Penny sobered. Now was not the time for foolishness, she reminded herself firmly. Not when Draco was so very worried at what might have happened to his lover! Oh, she knew that despite Draco ignoring Harry earlier during breakfast, he really did love him! So very much!

She nodded vigorously. "You see, I was walking towards the Great Hall, when I saw Harry come out. He was in a hurry, and I, well –" At this, she blushed prettily. "I thought that he was crying."

All eyebrows rose. Ron blinked. "Crying," he said dryly.

Penny sniffed. "Well, Draco was ignoring him!" she cried, glaring at the blond. Draco looked undignified. "So I thought – that Harry couldn't take it anymore, and I wanted to comfort him…"

Oh, Pansy was starting to like this girl. She was a bit annoying, but if she could guilt-trip Draco like that, then Pansy was going to have to start befriending Hufflepuffs more. Think of the possibilities!

"So you followed him?" Hermione asked calmly to get the story going. Pansy noticed her lips twitching upwards though and grinned.

Behind the girls, Ron and Blaise were coughing in their hands, shoulders shaking with restrained mirth.

Penny, bless her, nodded smartly at Hermione. She was a girl with a mission! "I did, and as soon as he reached, well, maybe right about there –" She pointed to the middle of the floor but did not dare go near it. "That tile suddenly disappeared!"

"I see," Draco said and walked right over to it, ignoring the snickers that came from Ron and Blaise, and Hermione and Pansy's grins. Wankers, the lot of them.

Penny's eyes watered. "Oh, you must be so worried, Draco!"

Well, that did it. Ron lost all sense of social grace and didn't even bother to stifle his snickers.

Draco took a deep breath. "I am, very much," he said quietly, as earnestly and as emotionally as he could.

Penny gave a great sob and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. While she was turned away, Draco discarded the solemn look and smirked triumphantly at Ron, who was already red at trying not to laugh out loud.

It wasn't a lie, really. Draco really was worried but best let the Gryffindors think that he was just joking. He didn't like the searching stare that Granger was giving him though. He also did not like Pansy and Blaise's knowing smirks at his public declaration of affection towards Potter. (Even though it was meant to be a joke…)

"I'm sure he's fine!" Penny said, smiling at Draco with her bright, watery blue eyes. "You'll see!"

And Draco found it ironic how a Hufflepuff was comforting him about Potter, and how he – Merlin forbid – suddenly and actually felt reassured somewhat.

"I know," he said, trying to look and sound nonchalant as he shrugged. "He's Harry Potter, after all and –"

And the tile underneath him suddenly disappeared and he realized stupidly half a second later that he was falling, through the darkness with the wind whipping at his skin and his heart feeling like it was suddenly up his throat. Above him, he heard voices calling his name and a distant "Penny, tell Professor Snape!" that was probably Granger and then more shouts that echoed in the darkness.

He wasn't falling through air though, he realized even as his heart was beating frantically against his chest. Blood was rushing in his ears, and he told himself to be calm, calm down, damnit. He could still hear Ron's lingering yell that consisted mainly of the letter A, and Pansy's string of curses. They had probably jumped in after him.

It was an awfully long fall. He had time to make out that the surface underneath him was smooth and cold, probably metal. He wasn't falling; he was sliding.

He shut his eyes tight, fearing the moment when he'd reach the end of this slide and really start to fall.

That was it – oh, God, there was light and shite, he really was going to fall down somewhere –

Frantically, he grabbed his wand from his pocket and barely managed a quick Cushioning Charm before the slide ended abruptly and he fell – straight towards a cobbled floor –

…which didn't really hurt as much as he was expecting it to.

Immediately, he let out a deep, shaky breath.

No broken bones. Still alive. Still breathing.

Thank Merlin for Cushioning Charms.

Harry supposed Ron and Hermione were probably worried sick over him now, but he also supposed that they probably wouldn't think of finding him… here… wherever this was. Probably under the third floor corridor. After looking around (mainly to make sure that the Mirror of Erised was nowhere to be seen. What? He was curious.), he had decided to suck it up and save himself because no one was going to find him there.

(Half of him hoped that no one would. If there was anyone who would find him there, it would probably be the one who first put him in this fucking predicament. Harry wasn't really in the mood to fight a life-or-death battle right now.)

Draco probably wouldn't even notice.

Not that Harry expected him to.

Or wanted him to.

Actually, Harry didn't even know why he was thinking about Draco. It's not like Draco had any obligations to worry about him after all. Not that Ron and Hermione do, but that's what friends do, and okay, so Draco was his friend but they weren't that close, maybe, especially now since Draco was ignoring him and Harry had no idea just what it is that he did and – well –

Ouch, there goes his ankle. Okay, so no sudden flailing about due to unwelcome and farfetched thoughts. Check.

He did not know how long he'd been there since he did spend a considerable amount of time lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling and feeling very sorry for himself. He also spent a few minutes remembering past events which included Quirrell's turban and Voldemort's almost shapeless face. It was unavoidable, really.

Still, everything was done and over with now.

Time to move on.

Preferably upwards, although he hoped that Fluffy was still in the Forbidden Forest and very far away.

He didn't really expect his escape would be an easy one, swollen ankle and all the different traps that the professors gave to protect the Philosopher's Stone and all.

He just wished someone would've warned him of the ceiling opening up and dumping Ron Weasley on him.

"Harry! Mate! I'm so glad to see you!" The Weasel had exclaimed, too consumed with his excitement to remember to stand up from his position of sitting on Harry's back.

"Nice to see you too, Ron," Harry wheezed against the cold marble floor, the air having been knocked out of him by the impact. Draco felt sorry for him, being subjected to Ron's weight like that.

Still, first things first. He quickly scanned Harry up and down, looking for any injuries other than the obvious back problem. No glaring injuries. Good. He let out a collective sigh of relief.

All around, Hermione, Pansy and Blaise pick themselves up primly, seemingly unhurt and undamaged. Harry thought it terribly unfair how easily they cast Cushioning Charms that weren't half-assed in that pressured situation.

"As far as I recall, we did not look for Harry to choke him to his demise," Draco said, before pausing for effect. "Or did we?"

Apparently, Harry had just become aware of his presence if the joyful surprise on his face and voice was anything to go by. "Draco!" he said when he could, which was when Ron had finally gotten off him and given him space to breathe.

Draco smiled wryly. "Harry," he said smoothly, trying to rein in the emotions and the worry that had threatened to consume him just a few minutes ago.

It confused him when Harry slightly but visibly wilted.

"You alright?" Ron asked Harry, looking down at him and searching for injuries.

Harry shrugged. As he spoke, the light around him suddenly turned black. "I'm fine –"

"Episkey!"

Harry gasped sharply when his bones suddenly snapped into place and he fell forward, wheezing as he grasped at his knee, not daring to touch his now fixed ankle. "Hermione!" he rasped out accusingly, eyes watering at the sudden pain.

Draco's eyes widened and he fought not to throw himself towards Potter in worry. Horrible, how he was acting like a Hufflepuff.

"Must've hurt," Blaise muttered to himself as he looked at Potter's hunched form on the ground with fascination.

"Better than anticipating it," Hermione said matter-of-factly, tapping her wand against her palm like a teacher.

Pansy looked like she was seeing Hermione at a new light, if the proud and gleeful smirk on her lips was anything to go by.

"How'd you know his knee was broken?" Ron asked confusedly.

"His ankle was, not his knee," Hermione replied off-handedly, now surveying the surroundings. "I did some spells on him while you guys were talking, and besides, Harry always breaks something."

Harry glared at her.

Draco did not know whether to be amused or alarmed that the light around Hermione stayed gold.

Ron shrugged and held out a hand to help him up. "She's right, mate."

Also gold.

Alright, so Draco was alarmed. It seemed that Harry did not know how to take care of himself and while Draco knew that, he didn't know that he was this hopeless.

"Speaking of always being right," Blaise commented idly, looking up at the hole in the ceiling from where they came from. He raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "You don't suppose that you know a spell that'll take us back up there?"

Hermione pursed her lips in thought.

"There's no need," Harry said, remembering his first year in Hogwarts. He let Ron haul him up and balance him, since he still couldn't put one of his feet down on the floor since his ankle was still swelling.

Draco's fingers itched to reach to him, if only to thwack his head for being stupid.

"There's a way to reach the third floor corridor," Harry finished with a heave.

Hermione looked at him strangely. "Harry," she said slowly. "Just where are we?"

It was Hermione's tone that gave Draco the idea that he should be very, verycurious.

Harry paused. Draco couldn't blame him. Obviously, Potter did not know whether to reveal the secret while Draco, Pansy and Blaise were in earshot. Draco could understand that. That didn't mean that it didn't sting a bit though.

"Do you guys remember the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry said suddenly.

Hermione and Ron nodded.

Pansy, bless her, cleared her throat loudly. "Should we cover our ears for this?"

Harry blinked at her, confused, then realization dawned and he quickly shook his head, surprised. "Oh, no, no. It's alright. I didn't mean it like that."

It was Draco's turn to be confused when the light around Harry didn't change into black.

"Did you guys hear anything about it during our first year? You know, when I was suddenly sent into the infirmary at around the end of the year?" Harry asked politely.

Blaise shook his head. "We knew that Quirrell was a nut. Well, we've always known, but it just kind of got confirmed. Didn't hear anything about a stone."

Harry nodded, and then paused again. His eyebrows furrowed. Finally, he turned to Ron and Hermione, pleading for help. "I've no idea how to start."

Ron immediately took over. "Do you know what was under Quirrell's turban?" he asked, resisting the urge to grin. It wasn't funny, he knew, but everyone had their own theories about what was really under Quirrell's infamous headdress that Ron felt compelled to provide the world The Truth.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Pansy shook her head. "We've always assumed that he had hair frizzier than Granger's."

Glaring, Hermione exclaimed, "Hey!"

Pansy shrugged. "Sorry, but we were first years," she said, not sounding apologetic at all.

Hermione's glare turned sullen.

"Actually," Ron said loudly, wanting to go back to his own personal joke and resolving to comfort his girlfriend later. "Quirrell had Voldemort under his turban."

Draco flinched slightly at the name.

Harry scrunched his nose up at the way it was said. That was like saying Quirrell had Voldemort down his pants.

Blaise looked at Ron funny. "Really," he said dryly.

"He's telling the truth, Blaise," Draco cut in, speaking for the first time in a long while. He could understand Blaise's disbelief though. If Draco couldn't currently see the gold light sparkling around Ron, then he would've snorted and muttered something like 'yeah, and Harry Potter's chained to my bed waiting to be shagged.'

Hm, that was guaranteed to make Potter blush. He should save that sentence for later use.

Harry looked at Draco thoughtfully, which made the latter raise an eyebrow in confusion. He seemed to be confused a lot today. Did not bode well for his image. Finally, Harry looked away. "Voldemort was after the Philosopher's Stone," he continued.

"Nicolas Flamel's stone," Draco said suddenly, remembering the history books he was forced to read as a child when he would rather be flying a broomstick. "Capable of turning metal into gold and…" He blanched. "Producing the Elixir of Life, which can make the drinker… immortal."

Blaise had turned pale as well, thinking of the possibilities had Voldemort gotten the stone. "I thought that was just a myth," he muttered. "I mean, I knew it must've existed but –"

"Not anymore," Hermione cut in, voice soft. "Dumbledore destroyed it during that year."

"All this talk about stones are well and interesting and all," Pansy said loudly. Not unexpectedly, the light around her flashed black. "But why are we talking about it again?"

"That year, the Stone was transferred here in Hogwarts to be hidden," Harry continued slowly, unsure of how to explain. "We had to get to it before Quirrell did. It was hidden here, in this room to be exact," he murmured, remembering the Mirror of Erised.

Now realizing where they were, Hermione took over the story for him. "You guys remember that the third floor corridor was forbidden for students then. That was because there was a door there that led to a series of traps meant to protect the stone. Those series of traps ends with this room. What Harry's saying is that we can go backwards this time, from this room to the third floor corridor."

"Series of traps," Pansy repeated, her voice going higher.

Hermione quickly realized her mistake. "But with the Stone gone, the traps shouldn't be working anymore." The light around her turned black.

Draco frowned. That meant that Granger was lying… or wasn't telling the whole truth. Or, perhaps, she didn't know what the truth was. "Shouldn't?"

Hermione looked at him, frowning as well. Draco knew that it did not escape her that he could tell if she was lying. "Most of it," she said. "Besides, we've already been through it once, when we were eleven. It's not too hard," she said, not boasting.

Alright, maybe a bit.

She looked at Draco inquisitively. "In fact, you'd probably get through them in a snap," she murmured thoughtfully, going through the traps in her head.

Draco did not know what to reply, since the light around her glowed a brilliant gold.

Harry agreed with Hermione, who turned to him. "Fluffy's in the Forbidden Forest and the troll should be gone by now," she told him.

Ron shrugged. "So? What are we waiting for?"

"Trolls," Pansy muttered to Blaise, turning pale and voice going squeaky. "Merlin's balls, Blaise. Trolls."

Blaise patted her shoulder sympathetically.

Harry let go of Ron's shoulder and tried to put his foot with the swollen ankle on the ground.

"Alright there, mate?" Ron asked, looking at him carefully.

Harry shrugged. "Alright."

Ron nodded, satisfied. "Well, lead the way."

Harry put one foot forward, trying very hard not to wince. He could walk, yes, but that didn't mean that it didn't ache anymore. He knew that it would go away soon though.

"Oh, for Merlin's bloody sake –" Draco let out suddenly and exasperatedly, making everyone else jump. He stomped over to Harry, who looked at him in surprise and a bit of alarm at how forcefully and quickly he was nearing.

Not Looking at Harry, Draco took the other's arm and heaved it over his shoulders. Then he placed his own arm around Harry's waist.

"Draco –" Harry started, face a bit red.

Hermione had turned red as well, whereas Ron had turned green.

"You are not alright, Potter," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Believe me, I know." He narrowed his eyes at Harry, whose light shone gold but was black just a few seconds ago. "If you want that ankle of yours to heal then I advise you not to put unnecessary pressure on it. Honestly." He huffed, cheeks pink as he Not Looked at Harry again, whose face had seemingly overcome its surprise and confusion and had broken out into a warm smile.

"Right," Harry said, letting himself lean on the other boy.

Draco did not tighten his fingers around Harry's waist. He did not.

Alright, so he did. But that was just so that he could hold Harry up more steadily.

And Harry really was the perfect height, shorter than him but not that short so they easily moved forward and out of that room.

Hufflepuff, Pansy mouthed to him with a smirk when no one was looking.

Draco ignored her.

The next room was a dark chamber, built by stone blocks that looked like they were older than Flamel. The room was cold and dreary, and Pansy actually sneezed. The only thing that the room contained was a table in the middle with seven empty flasks.

"Each trap was made by a teacher. This was Professor Snape's," Hermione explained, even though no one asked.

Draco, with Harry still leaning on him, walked to the table where a piece of paper lay.

"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,
One among us seven will let you move ahead,
Another will transport the drinker back instead,
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.
Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;
Second, different are those who stand at either end,
But if you would move onwards neither is your friend;
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."

Draco blinked. He sighed dramatically. "I'm going to have to talk with Severus after this."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"He needs to make harder riddles if he's going to prevent Dark Lords from achieving immortality," he muttered, looking at the paper as if it did something horrible to him.

Harry grinned at him.

Ron neared them, took the paper and read it.

After a while, he made a noise of disgruntled confusion. "I don't understand a thing."

Hermione patted his shoulder comfortingly, took his arm and pulled him towards the next room.

"Take deep breaths, everyone," she said, too cheerfully. "You won't be breathing for the next twenty seconds or so."

The troll was indeed gone.

Unfortunately, the room still smelled like troll gas, as it did seven years ago.

They quickly passed through it, not daring to talk and risk opening their mouths.

When they reached the next room, the first thing they did was breathe.

"You'd think they'd have cleaned it up by now," Harry gasped out, head resting heavily on Draco's shoulder.

"I think they're saving these traps for future use," Hermione replied, still breathless. "You know. When they need to hide something again."

"If ever we need to go back down here in the future," Ron muttered from his collapsed position on the floor. "You can just leave me here again with the chess pieces and I'll wait for you."

Confused with that statement, Draco looked up –

And his eyes widened.

There, in front of him, was a gigantic chessboard with chess pieces taller and bigger than them. They were made of stone and looked very intimidating but also very –

"Wicked," he breathed out, eyes bright and a wide grin on his face.

Ron grinned. "Yeah, that's what I thought too."

Hermione and Pansy both rolled their eyes.

Harry looked at them, amused. "Never expected I'd see you two agree on something," he said, looking at Draco mainly because he couldn't not look at him. It was the first time he'd seen Draco so childishly happy like that… like he was, when he first got his own broomstick.

It was… nice.

And contagious.

Hermione walked towards the chessboard, eyebrows furrowed. "If I'm right, the magic should already be gone by now – Oh!"

The chess pieces moved suddenly, their actions making sounds of stone grinding against stone that echoed in the room. Pawns and knights brought out their swords, bishops their scepters and rooks their shields. Even the King and Queen brandished their swords, blatantly denying them entry.

"Bloody awesome," Draco murmured, eyes still wide.

"Wanker beats me in every game," Blaise muttered to Harry, who looked at him sympathetically.

"Trust me, I know the feeling," he said, ignoring the smug smirk that Ron sent in his direction.

"Alright," Hermione said nervously, remembering the last time they played this gigantic game. "Apparently, they really are saving these traps for later use."

Pansy frowned. "Feels like a graveyard."

"Right," Ron said, rubbing his hands together. Despite having been knocked out – literally – by the white Queen last time, he wasn't one to refuse a chess game. A giant one, at that. After all, it's not like this kind of thing comes around every day. "So who's playing?"

"I think all of us have to," Hermione muttered, lips thinning. She looked grim. "Increases the chance of someone getting hurt," she said unhappily.

Pansy blinked, suddenly going stiff. "Hurt?" she asked meekly. "I don't like what you're saying, Granger. I have low tolerance for pain."

Harry was also unhappy with this set-up. More players meant more sacrifices.

Then, he perked up suddenly, realizing something. "Cushioning Charms, 'Mione!" he exclaimed, grinning. "We know how to cast them now."

Hermione didn't find his revelation assuring though. She shook her head. "Professor McGonagall probably thought of that. The magic inside the board will probably neutralize whatever spell we cast."

Harry deflated.

No turning back then.

"Malfoy and I will be Knights," Ron announced.

Pansy turned to him sharply. Her eyebrows furrowed. "What? Why?"

Ron shrugged. "Well, Hermione doesn't know how to play –" Hermione glared at him sullenly. "— and Harry sucks at it –" Harry glowered. "— and I don't think you know how to play –" Pansy shrugged at that. It was true. "— and Malfoy kicks Zabini's arse."

Blaise huffed.

"And as much as I hate to admit it," Ron continued, muttering. "Malfoy's a good player."

Draco smirked, more so when the light around Ron flickered black but in the end burned a bright gold. "Just good, Weasley?" he asked smoothly.

Harry elbowed him.

"Just a warning," Hermione piped up loudly before Ron could retort. "This isn't your normal Wizard's chess. Well, it is, but that's the bad part about it. It gets rather… violent."

All Slytherins' eyes widened as the implication of it dawned on them. Pansy paled, and moaned pitifully. "I told you I have a low tolerance for pain!"

"Parkinson, you be the king then," Ron said.

Pansy turned to him, horrified. "What, and have all the black pieces aim for my neck?"

"You're the king, Pansy," Draco told her dryly. He raised an eyebrow. "You don't think that I'm actually going to lose,do you?"

Pansy shut up grudgingly. "Git," she muttered. Draco was the best in Wizard's chess and he knew it.

"Harry, Zabini. Bishops alright with you?" Ron asked.

Both boys looked at each other and then shrugged. The white bishops stepped off the board and Blaise stepped up to take the Queen's bishop's place.

"Can you stand?" Draco asked, too gently for his liking.

Harry nodded, and – after only a small hesitation – extracted himself from Draco's side. "I'm fine," he said reassuringly, grinning a bit as he took the place of the King's bishop.

Draco frowned and looked away from how the light around Harry turned black.

Without waiting for Ron, Hermione stepped forward and took the Queen's place.

Ron's lips thinned. "Hermione, no. You'll get –"

Hermione smiled at him, not worried. "Then you'll just have to be careful, won't you?"

Ron snapped his mouth shut. He didn't look happy, but let it go anyway.

He let out a big breath. "Let's do this," he said and then mounted a horse.

Chapter Text

Probably the only time when Harry saw Ron and Draco not insulting each other and actually talking like civilized wizards was when they were strategizing. It was a familiar sight, one that happened many times in Grimmauld Place before the climax of the war, but it still never ceased to amaze Harry. And okay, make him chuckle.

He looked around him. They almost took the entire row up, with the exception of the rooks. They were playing white. In order, Ron was playing as a Knight, Blaise as a Bishop, Hermione as the Queen, Pansy as the King, Harry as the other Bishop and Draco as the other Knight.

Harry tried rotating his ankle, and idly wondered who would have to be sacrificed this time.

Draco Malfoy was a coward. Everyone knew that. Draco knew that, and he wasn't even going to pretend he wasn't. Sure, he'd risked his life by spying on You-Know-Who and had fought against Death Eaters that were older than him and much more experienced with battle in the war. He may have also faced a Dark Lord, though Harry did most of the fighting and fancy wand waving.

Still, those feats of his (if you could call them that) were done under pressure.

He wasn't a Gryffindor after all, brave and courageous.

So the first time a piece was taken, Draco's eyes widened and he stared as the black pawn was pulverized by the white pawn. At the back of his mind, he vaguely heard Pansy's shriek through the clatter of broken pieces of stone that fell heavily on the chessboard, and remembered Hermione's words from earlier.

"This isn't your normal Wizard's chess. Well, it is, but that's the bad part about it. It gets rather… violent."

He knew that it was going to be like real Wizard's chess, but really…

These chess pieces were huge!

"I see what you mean now, Granger," he muttered, shakily running a hand through his hair. "Alright," he said, trying to sound calm. He caught Weasley's eye. "Pawn to E4!"

Ron did not look happy, Draco noted. He kept on glancing at Hermione, who looked relaxed as if it was just another day to perfect that Herbology quiz.

"Pawn to F5!" Ron bellowed, and all of them instinctively ducked as the opponent's Rook was destroyed.

Harry, Blaise, Pansy, and Hermione all had cuts on their arms, which they had been using for shielding their faces from the stray rocks that flew past them. Ron and Draco had no problems, since they were above ground on their horses. Their cuts weren't on their arms, but on their fingers and hands.

"Bloody fuckers," Pansy muttered, angrily flipping her bangs away from her eyes.

All of them agreed.

The next time Ron glanced over, it wasn't towards Hermione.

He caught Draco's eye, and Draco blanched, gripping the reins of his horse tighter that his knuckles turned white, as he looked around the chessboard and saw the same move that Ron was probably thinking of.

Draco Malfoy was a coward, yes.

But he liked to think that living with Harry Potter for a few days in Grimmauld Place and helping him defeat Dark Lords gave him at least somecourage.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Weasley?" he snapped, and made the call himself. "Knight to H3!"

His heart dropped when his horse started to move, but he told himself to suck it in, be a man, and take away the black side's pawn.

He just hoped that there wasn't another piece waiting to take his head off.

There wasn't.

His head remained on his shoulders.

Nevertheless, Draco did not like where the game was going. He felt like something was wrong. Like he was missing some important detail.

They were winning, yes. The black side only had one pawn left, two Knights, a Rook, the Queen and, of course, the King. Subsequently, their own side also had one pawn left, one Rook, and everyone else accounted for. Pansy had not moved, but everyone else was in the middle of the battlefield.

Since the beginning, Draco had no second thoughts about their victory. He knew they were going to win. Draco had always been confident in his chess skills, and alright, so he was going to admit that – wait, okay, no, he didn't want to admit. He was just going to… secretly recognize that Ron Weasley was a good player. Great, even. Not as great as him though. As if.

The game had almost been one-sided, with most of the black pieces smashed to bits by now.

Then, Ron paused. "I can checkmate the King in two moves," he said, quietly.

"Thank Merlin on a stick!" Pansy mumbled from her position sitting on her tile, with her elbow dug onto her thigh and her chin rested on the palm of her hand. She had remained unmoved throughout the game.

Draco surveyed the remaining black pieces, trying to see what Ron's two moves were going to be.

Ron continued to look grim.

"Weasel," Pansy called, almost nervously. "Why aren't you thanking Merlin on a stick?"

"Harry," Ron said, turning his head to look behind him.

Hermione inhaled sharply.

And Draco realized, quite belatedly, that Harry had been quiet throughout the game. He hadn't worried about Harry being hurt much, since Draco had taken the liberty of discreetly and purposefully moving him away from the pieces, telling Ron that it was all part of his strategy and ignoring Pansy and Blaise's smirks and Hermione's inquisitive look.

While everyone else had been noisy, throwing out insults towards the inanimate chess pieces and sometimes even giving words of advice on which move should be made next, Harry just moved about the chessboard quietly, always looking thoughtful.

At Ron's call, Harry smiled wryly. "Expected as much, Ron."

Draco stared at him dumbly. His eyes shifted to the chessboard, mentally making moves in his head. He felt his blood go cold as Ron's plan started sinking in.

Ron looked at Harry, confused. "What –"

"I've been beaten by you so many times that I've stopped tallying," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "No matter how you play the game, you always end up sacrificing your bishops somehow." He shrugged nonchalantly but one could see how pale his face was. "Always thought you had some hidden hatred for the poor things," he continued, grinning weakly.

Fucking Gryffindor, Draco thought with a mix of anger and nausea as he tried to wash away images of Harry, being hit on the head by the black Queen's mace. It made him sick to the stomach. "No," he said firmly.

All eyes turned to look at him.

He stared straight at Ron unwaveringly. "Weasley, I'm going to move. When I do, move Granger," he said softly, being vague on purpose. He knew Blaise and Harry would get it eventually, but not as fast as Ron would. He could almost pinpoint the exact moment when his plan dawned on the Weasel, whose eyes widened at the same time his mouth opened to form a small 'o'.

Their plan would only work if the black King remained unmoved.

It required more moves than Ron's initial plan, but Draco knew without a doubt that Ron preferred this. After all, a choice between Harry and Draco wasn't much of a choice at all.

Harry felt his stomach drop. "Draco –" he started, voice strangled and eyebrows furrowed in frustration. He scowled, glaring at the other boy's back. "No, don't do it! I –"

Blaise had realized Draco's plan as well and was spitting out a colorful stream of curses. "When we get off this chessboard, Draco bloody Malfoy, I am going to –"

"Blaise!" Pansy shrieked, eyes shifting back and forth between Draco and Blaise. "What the hell is going on?"

"Draco's going to bloody sacrifice himself, the fucking –" Blaise spat out, but Pansy's high scream cut him off.

Pointing an accusing finger at Draco's finger, Pansy screeched, "You fucking Gryffindor!"

"It's chess!" Draco snapped, glaring behind him. "You have to make sacrifices!"

And Hermione remembered first year, remembered Ron's words, and figured it ironic how these two boys had more things in common than they initially thought.

"Draco!" Harry yelled, shutting everyone up. His heart was hammering in his chest, thinking of Draco being hit, Draco falling to the floor, Draco unconscious. Despite that, he stared at Draco firmly. "Move me. It takes lesser moves –"

"Your hero complex just won't stop –" Draco started frustratedly, but was surprised when Harry yelled again.

"It's not that!" Harry exclaimed, voice getting louder. "Hero complex or not, I don't want anyone getting hurt." The light around him shone gold brightly.

He stared at Draco unwaveringly, so much determination and emotion burning in his eyes that it almost hurt to look at them but Draco did, retaliating with the unasked question of 'So it's okay if you get hurt?' in his own eyes. Harry looked away, face burning. Finally, Draco sighed. "Harry, I don't know whether to kiss you or hex you."

Harry's eyes widened and his face turned an even darker shade of red.

Well, that certainly killed the tension.

Pansy and Blaise smirked, and even Hermione smiled.

Ron was the only one who remained sober. "Actually, Harry," Ron started slowly, eyes moving over the chessboard. "I'm going with Malfoy's plan – no, wait, listen," he said quickly when Harry glared at him. "You're right. I always end up sacrificing the bishops somehow. If I move you, the Queen will take you. I just realized that to checkmate the King, I'll have to move Blaise, too, to take the Queen, but have the enemy's Bishop take him. Then Hermione can finish the game."

Silence met him as they all took in this information. Blaise anxiously wiped his palms on his shirt.

Taking a deep breath, Ron continued. "But if we go with Malfoy's plan, we'll only have one, err, casualty. Just Malfoy."

Harry's lips pressed together tightly and Draco could swear that he was gritting his teeth.

Behind the fear and slight panic thudding in Draco's chest at the thought of being boxed by a very hard and very solid statue was that light, fluttery, Hufflepuff-y feeling at the thought that Harry was actually worried about him.

"Knight to D6," Draco called quietly, before anyone could have second thoughts and stop him.

Still, despite the low volume of his voice, his words hung in the air heavily until his horse started to move. Two squares forward, one square to the right.

"Check."

Slowly, the black bishop turned towards him, tall and looming. As it covered the squares that stood between them, Draco thought that he really wasn't cut out for Gryffindor after all.

Good, then, Draco thought as the bishop raised its scepter. That meant that he was a Slytherin through and through.

In one swift move, the bishop drove its scepter straight to the neck of Draco's horse, successfully throwing Draco off and to the floor in a hard thud. The horse crumpled to pieces, shards of stone hitting Draco's limp form on the floor and making cuts on his pale face and hands.

And Harry watched this all with wide eyes, feeling like he didn't know how to breathe. At the back of his mind, he heard Pansy yell. At the back of his eyes, he recounted the war and the fallen and the feeling of helplessness but that memory was faint compared to the present – to Draco –and the sight of him unconscious on the floor.

"Queen to D6," Ron said, shakily.

Trembling, Hermione walked towards D6 and the black bishop. Her eyes watered when she passed by Draco's prone form. The black bishop then slid off the board.

"Knight to F6," Ron called next. His horse slid towards the designated square.

After the black side made its move, Ron let out a big breath and almost exhaled his next move out in relief. "Bishop to B5!"

Blaise moved quickly, wanting to get this game over with. "Checkmate!" he yelled.

Slowly, the King's sword slid from its hands and to the floor, making a loud, echoing sound that was dreadful and relieving at the same time.

Everyone immediately rushed over to Draco, with Pansy dropping to the floor beside him.

Hermione's wand was automatically in her hand, whispering spells in quick succession.

"Well, Granger?" Pansy demanded, face pale and eyes wide.

"He's fine," Hermione said, trying to make her voice sound as firm as she could. "He probably dislocated a shoulder though – nothing that an Episkey can't fix. His head will hurt for a while. He hit it pretty badly."

"Right," Ron breathed out, still looking shaken. He looked anxiously at Draco's form. "Will he, I mean, is he – sorry, I didn't –"

"Don't worry, Weasley," Blaise muttered, waving a hand. He looked at Ron straight in the eyes, to show that he was serious. "Nobody blames you," he said softly.

Mutely, Ron nodded.

Later, Harry will look back on this and flush with pride at how far they've come – Gryffindors and Slytherins – but at the moment, he could only look at Draco, feeling like he was about to throw up. During the long game, the pain in his ankle had lessened to just a dull reminder so he had no problems putting weight on it anymore as he shuffled closer.

"The sooner we get him to Madame Pomfrey, the better," he found himself saying.

After all, when things go wrong, one goes to Madame Pomfrey.

"Are you sure he's alright? I mean, he'll be alright… walking?" Pansy asked nervously, looking behind her shoulder at Granger.

Hermione nodded, and then paused. She suddenly looked unsure of herself. "Do you want me to Rennervate him? Unless you want to do it yourself, of course," she added quickly.

"What are you talking about?" Pansy asked, almost impatiently. "Well, go on. Rennervate him!"

And Hermione was amazed at how easily Pansy was letting her point her wand towards Draco. Of course, she'd been casting spells on him earlier to check his injuries, but this blatant permission almost made her tear up.

"Rennervate!"

With a gasp and a wheeze, Draco's eyes snapped open – only to be immediately shut closed with a groan. "Fucking Merlin," he rasped out, breathing heavily.

"Draco!" Pansy and Blaise called out in relief.

"What happened?" Draco muttered, voice a little bit slurred.

Despite his earlier worry, Blaise just couldn't resist. "First time you got your arse kicked in chess, eh, Draco?"

Draco moved his head to glare at him, and then quickly decided that it was not a good idea to do so as it hurt. "You just wait, Zabini," he muttered, resting his cheek on the cold floor covered in dust and stone. On normal days he would have cringed at the thought, but today his head was throbbing and he badly needed a break.

A bath, too, when he thought about it for a moment.

"Can you stand?" It was Hermione who asked. She, Ron, and Harry had stepped back to give Draco some space, while Blaise and Pansy took him by the arms to help him stand up.

"Yeah," Draco muttered, leaning heavily against Blaise, who hooked Draco's arm around his shoulders. "Feel like I just got trampled on by hippogriffs though."

"I feel you, mate," Ron said sympathetically.

"Let's get going then," Harry started abruptly, softly and stiffly as he Not Looked at Draco and instead turned towards the door behind the remaining black pieces. "We're not far from the exit."

He set off for the door, the others following behind him with Draco being helped by Blaise.

If he felt the weight of Draco's curious stare boring onto his back, then he made no sign of it.

They reached the room with the winged keys, which just flittered about idly and without a care in the world.

"They're actually pretty cute," Pansy remarked, smiling at the view the keys made.

"Not when hundreds of them are chasing after you and itching to stab you," Ron muttered, which Hermione elbowed him for.

Harry immediately sighted the big, rusted key used to open the door they just came through but he simply continued to pass through the room and towards the passageway on the other side.

The next room was dark and smelled suspiciously musky.

Before entering though, Harry already had his wand ready. With a quick incantation, blue fire shot from his wand towards the middle of the room and provided light. Pansy yelped when she saw the moving vines and creepers on the floor.

"What are those?"

"Devil's Snare," Draco murmured, watching the vines scatter away from the fire with a hiss.

"Is that it, Potter?" Blaise asked, eyes on the ceiling where a trap door was.

Harry nodded. "That's already the third floor right there," he said, before turning to Ron. "Ron, help me up. Hermione, can you cast a Hover Charm on me, just so that I can reach the door?" he smiled sheepishly.

If there was one thing that Harry didn't gain, it was height. Eleven years of living in a cupboard did not give you a model height.

"Right, mate," Ron said gamely, cracking his knuckles. He linked his fingers together, and then opened his palms upward for Harry to step on it. "Tell me you didn't step on any suspicious stuff though."

"I did not step on any suspicious stuff," Harry said, before stepping on Ron's hands and hoisting himself up. Immediately, Hermione cast a Hover Charm on him that lifted him from Ron's hold and up towards the door. He quickly pushed the trap door open and thanked Merlin, Circe and Morgan le Fay for Hermione's outstanding charm skills because even though he only needed the Hover Charm to reach the trapdoor, Hermione continued to levitate him higher until he could finally land on the room above, albeit a bit clumsily.

Below, Hermione gave a great wheeze as she ended the spell, clutching the front of her shirt as she breathed heavily. "Right," she said weakly. "I don't think I can do that again."

"Featherlight charms, 'Mione," Harry called. "Once Ron helps them up and I've got their hands, you can cast the spell on them so I can easily pull them up."

Hermione nodded. She turned to Draco. "Well, go on then. Injured first."

Draco raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't comment. He extracted himself from Blaise, slowly rotating his shoulders with a wince. "Don't break my neck, Weasel," he said as he neared.

"Can't do that with witnesses around," Ron quipped, before grunting as Draco stepped on his hands and hoisted himself up. Draco balanced himself with a hand on Ron's head, successfully messing the redhead's hair, while his other hand reached shakily for Harry's outstretched one. As soon as their hands clasped each other, Hermione cast the Featherlight Charm.

Draco felt all his limbs going limp and he felt like he was floating.

Harry easily pulled him up as if he were just a sheet of paper, but he made sure to do with care, making sure that Draco didn't sway to hit the edges of the trap door. He gently laid Draco down on the floor beside him, avoiding his eyes. He held onto Draco's hands probably a bit longer than necessary, but that may have just been wishful thinking on Draco's part. Harry then cast a "Finite Incantatem".

They did the same with Blaise and Pansy, and when it was Hermione's turn, it was Draco who cast the Featherlight Charm.

"What about Weaselbee?" Pansy asked, looking down at the trapdoor where Ron was tapping his foot impatiently.

"Hover Charm," Harry said, mentally gauging his Charms prowess. "You guys are going to have to grab him as soon as you reach him though. I don't think I can do it for as long as Hermione did."

All heads nodded. Harry stood up, took a deep breath, and cast the spell.

Slowly, Ron rose from the ground. He was grinning as he glanced downwards to the floor which was going further and further away from him. He rose towards the trapdoor, hands automatically stretching above him. Hermione and Blaise's hands closed on his, and Ron half-expected himself to suddenly drop heavily but Harry continued the Hover Charm until Ron was completely above the trap door.

It was only when Ron was above solid ground that Harry took off the spell, letting Ron fall to the floor on his arse.

Harry gasped, hands on his knees as he breathed heavily. "Right," he muttered, taking huge gulps of air. "So I can, but I am so never doing that again."

"Practice, Harry," Hermione said, smiling.

"I must say," Blaise started, giving Harry a good pat on the back. "I'm impressed, Golden Boy."

Harry cringed at the name (Draco remembered their past conversations about Harry despising those ridiculous titles.) but laughed weakly afterwards. "Not just me. We all did it," he said, grinning.

Hermione beamed brightly, and Ron came over and pat him on the back as well. Blaise, Pansy and Draco rolled their eyes, though smiles were on their lips as well. "Gryffindors," they all said in unison.

The aforementioned Gryffindors all grinned at them.

It was until Harry's smile turned sheepish that everyone became sober. "Sorry I got you guys in this mess," Harry said with an apologetic expression. It was then that they remembered what this whole thing had been about.

"It's not your fault, Harry," Hermione said calmly, but she turned to him with her arms akimbo, lips pressed together and a raised eyebrow. "But since we're speaking of messes – Harry James Potter, you and I are going to have a long talk as soon as we've sent Draco to the infirmary."

Harry cringed, shoulders drooping. "Err. Right."

"I don't mean to be a gossipmonger," Pansy quipped, before pausing. She shrugged carelessly. "Alright, so I do, but I really am curious about what is going on and as a Slytherin, I have it upon myself to trigger your Gryffindor sense of chivalry with the fact that you guys doowe us at least a good enough explanation that's worth at least fifty gossip points."

Oh, Merlin, if Draco wasn't so horribly in love with Harry Potter, he could marry this girl. Her persistence to get her daily gossip ensured that Draco would know what was going on with Harry. Right, so it lacked the Slytherin tact, but, well, Slytherins always get what they want.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other.

"No need to trigger anything, Parkinson," Harry said, still with that apologetic demeanor. "I was going to tell you anyway, if you asked."

The light around him shone gold. Draco gaped. He had been surprised way too many times this past week. Harry Potter proved to be very unpredictable, though Draco already knew that, of course.

"No triggering needed, indeed," Hermione said cheerfully, not one to miss an opportunity. "Since we've all gone through a death-defying experience together and survived," she said, smiling widely and eyes dancing. "I suppose we're all friends now then," she quipped, hand outstretched.

Blaise chuckled.

Pansy stared at Hermione's outstretched hand and couldn't fight the smile that slid its way to her lips. "Don't get your knickers in a bunch, Granger," she replied as cheerfully, and shook Hermione's hand.

Draco rolled his eyes at the Muggle idiom.

Ron blinked hard. "Her… knickers?"

If Hermione was surprised by Pansy's reply, she didn't show it. She merely clasped Pansy's hand tighter and grinned.

For the first time since the chess game, Draco caught Harry's eye, who nudged his head towards the girls in both confusion and amusement. Draco couldn't help the chuckle that burst from his lips, from both amusement at the idiom and relief that Harry was looking at him in the eye again, as he shrugged and mouthed, 'Girls.'

Moments later, Ron's horrified squeak was heard.

"Wait, don't tell me we're going to have to hug now?"

As soon as they burst out the door and onto the third floor corridor, Pansy and Blaise immediately steered Draco towards the Hospital Wing, with Ron, Hermione and Harry falling behind but following nonetheless.

When they reached the stairs that Penny had led them to in search for Harry, the girl was nowhere to be seen. In her place stood Severus Snape, looking like he was trying very hard not to cast Bat-Bogey Hexes on them. His sharp eyes saw them when they emerged from the third floor corridor and a sneer ate up his face. It softened, though, when he saw their appearances, covered in cuts and bruises and dirt and looking like he had just dumped them a twelve-foot essay assignment.

Nevertheless, softened or not, Snape still looked like the thing of nightmares.

Oh, if looks could kill.

"As soon as we reach the Hospital Wing," Snape said in a deadly and calm voice that probably scared them more than the sharpness of his glare. He stared at each of them in the eye, slowly, chin rising as his sneer became more and more pronounced. "I expect to know everything –" He rolled the word out in his tongue. "—about the events that had transpired this morning, and if I do not get just that, then I assure each and every one of you that there will be dire consequences to be paid and suffered."

All of them could only nod in apprehension, some of them gulping.

Feeling rather pathetic and sorry for himself, Harry realized that he was probably more scared of Severus Snape than he had ever been of Tom Riddle.

Good thing Snape never took up the Dark Lord business then.

"Imagine my surprise," Snape started dryly, when they were all sitting on two of the infirmary beds and Madame Pomfrey was fussing over Draco. Snape remained standing, as if to remind them who was superior. "When Miss Coulby, wailing, disrupted my lunch to soil my robes."

"Not that his robes needed the help," Ron muttered lowly in Harry's ear, who forced himself to keep a straight face. He could imagine what a sight that must have been – a sobbing Hufflepuff bursting in the Great Hall to run towards the teachers' table and hug Professor Severus Snape. He wished he could have been there to see it.

"Took us half an hour to get her to stop crying and talk," Madame Pomfrey piped up exasperatedly at the memory.

"I had to get her to Madame Pomfrey for a Calming Drought," Snape muttered irritably, just as the door opened and in came Headmistress McGonagall.

Harry suddenly felt like he had swallowed a bogey-flavored jellybean.

He realized a moment too late that if Penny really had caused a scene in the Great Hall, then surely Professor McGonagall would be involved.

"I can't really say I'm surprised," she said as soon as she neared, her glasses glinting with the sun passing through the infirmary windows. "Can't even spend your last year here without making a ruckus," she continued lightly, and Harry had been reprimanded by her way too many times to know that underneath her disapproving demeanor, she had been worried. "However, I did not expect to find the six of you here together. It's quite… an unlikely combination." Her lips quirked up just a tiny bit at the edges, and the aforementioned six all looked at each other.

Well, that was the understatement of the year.

"Let me piece together the events for a moment," she started. "After we had considerably calmed down Miss Coulby, she told us of your predicament. It was rather… disconcerting." Here she paused, looking down at each of them above her glasses. She finished with Harry. "Especially after Professor Lupin came to me yesterday with disturbing observations," she murmured softly.

Draco turned to look at Harry, remembering that he had forgotten to ask just what he and the werewolf had talked about yesterday. Under McGonagall's stare, Harry fidgeted in his seat.

Finally, McGonagall looked away. "Would anyone care to inform us just what happened that had you all in such a… rumpled state?"

"It was my fault, Professor," Harry piped up, making all eyes turn to him.

Draco realized that the boy really did believe it was his fault, if the gold light around him was anything to go by.

"Since last week, I've been falling through trapdoors in the floor and walls. I've only found out a few days ago that they're called safety rooms that the Patching Team's installed. I thought that they were only accidents – I mean, that the safety rooms were still under construction. I didn't think much of it because a lot of students had been getting into small accidents too, ever since Hogwarts got renovated, until yesterday, when Remus –" Harry paused, feeling the hairs on his arms stand up at the thought again. "When Remus told me that the safety rooms only opened manually. With a wand and a spell," he finished softly.

All around him, his fellow students' expressions turned into ones of alarm as the magnitude of the situation dawned on them.

Draco could only stare at Harry, who was looking at McGonagall.

Now he realized just why Professor Lupin had been so distressed yesterday; why he'd been so adamant that someone look after Harry; why Harry had been so curious last night with Neville; and why Draco should have followed Harry when he ran out of the Great Hall that morning.

Professors Snape and McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey all looked unsurprised. Lupin had already come to them about Harry's predicament the night before.

"Mister Potter," McGonagall started softly, cutting through the stunned silence. "May I excuse you for a moment?"

Harry knew what she was trying to do. Slowly, he shook his head. "Professor, it's okay," he said, glancing at the Slytherins. His eyes rested on Draco a bit longer, but that may have been just the blond's imagination. "I… I want them to hear."

Now that surprised the professors. Only Madame Pomfrey smiled knowingly to herself.

Draco, however, was incredulous. And a tiny bit… alright, a lot happy.

Pansy and Blaise looked surprised as well, even though Harry had already said earlier that he was going to tell them. They didn't expect that Harry actually wanted to tell them though. After all, other than his Gryffindor sense of chivalry, Harry had no reason to.

Last night, Harry had only wanted to tell Draco. He told himself it was because Draco needed to know since he was putting himself on the line looking after Harry at Remus' request, and also because they were friends now. He wouldn't admit, though, that it really was because he liked seeing the look of good surprise and subtle joy on Draco's face whenever Harry would divulge to him something personal. Why Draco found anything about him interesting, Harry didn't know, but after that incident the other day, when he had broken his ankle and Draco had been unsure of pointing his wand at him as if Harry had all the reasons in the world to doubt him, Harry wanted to show him that he wasworthy of being trusted.

Harry wouldn't admit that it was because he liked seeing Draco's face light up, but he couldadmit that it was because telling Draco was always so easy. So comforting, how the other could understand him so easily. And it was like Draco actually found him interesting. Him. Plain old Harry, not the Boy-Who-Lived.

Now though, he found that he also didn't mind telling Pansy and Blaise. Maybe because they were friends with Draco, or because they had fought with him against Voldemort during the Battle of Hogwarts. It may even be because that's what playing a life-or-death chess game together does to you.

Nevertheless, they also had the right to know, and he was sure that Ron and Hermione shared the same sentiment, since they had done and said nothing in protest and only nodded agreeably.

"Well," Professor McGonagall said. A small smile was on her lips, but she remained alert and stiff, not forgetting the gravity of the situation. "Go on then."

"I was on my way to the infirmary, but when I reached the top of the third floor staircase, the floor just suddenly opened up," Harry continued thoughtfully, remembering. "I was sliding, I think. It may have been a pipe, but it was a rather long way down. At the bottom was the room where the…" he paused, hesitating, not knowing how the professors would react. "Where the Philosopher's Stone was hidden."

McGonagall's eyes widened. Snape tried to keep his expression impassive.

"I'm not sure how long I sat there, before Ron fell on me," Harry continued wryly.

Ron looked sheepish.

"Ron and I became worried when Harry didn't return," Hermione said, picking up the story. "We went to the infirmary, but only found Draco, Pansy, and Blaise."

The deliberate use of their first names was not lost on the ones mentioned, and Pansy beamed.

"Harry had already mentioned falling through traps to us before, but it seemed that he told Draco a lot more than he did us," Hermione said purposefully but as nonchalantly as she could.

Draco whipped his head to look at Harry in shock, but Harry simply looked at the floor, face burning.

Pansy grinned at Hermione. Oh, you little devil, she thought wickedly.

"Ah, yes, I've heard of your… relationship," McGonagall nodded thoughtfully, eyebrow raised. "I cannot say I was very surprised, though it's nice to have it confirmed," she said wryly, seemingly oblivious to the knowing grins that Hermione, Pansy, Blaise and Ron shared. If McGonagall knew the truth, then she gave no signs to show it.

Snape had fingers pressing on his temple, and he looked pained.

If possible, Harry's face turned an even darker shade of red.

"Professor –" he started with great difficulty, his voice strangled. "Draco and I aren't –"

"Ah, my leg!" Ron yelled loudly.

Madame Pomfrey shot him a dry look for the fake injury, but an amused expression at his interruption.

Harry suddenly realized his losing battle.

Taking pity on him, Hermione continued the story. "However, we still had no leads on Harry's whereabouts, until Penny burst in. She told us she had followed Harry when he went out of the Great Hall and saw where he had fallen."

One look at Harry told all of them that he knew nothing of this.

"We're not sure why, but when Draco stood on it, it opened and he fell. All of us jumped in after, and I told Penny to get Professor Snape. To get out of there, we had to pass through the chambers that once guarded the Stone," Hermione said, knowing that the professors would understand her immediately. She then smiled wryly at McGonagall. "It was actually your trap, Professor, which got us into this rumpled state."

"I do my job well," McGonagall said, but her voice was stiff and she frowned at them gravely. "You should know how fortunate you are to have survived that," she murmured, a bit shakily as she looked at the Slytherins. Then, she turned to the Gryffindors. "Twice."

Her eyebrows were knitted closely together in worry, and her lips pursed. She took a moment to gather herself, before speaking in a serious voice. "You must know how serious this is," she said. "As such, I expect that none of this will leave this room. Can I trust you all on that?"

The students all nodded.

"Mister Potter – Harry," McGonagall continued, her voice going considerably soft as she turned to Harry. "I suspect Professor Lupin's already spared words for you so I'll save you the added trouble, but forgive me when I say that I commend him and Madame Pomfrey for suggesting that you start sleeping in the Hospital Wing for your own safety. I believe you're less than thrilled, but this is a very dangerous situation."

Here, she turned her eyes to Professor Snape and Madame Pomfrey.

"We may have a traitor in our midst."

Chapter Text

If Harry didn't know better, he'd think that Madame Pomfrey actually liked kicking people out of the infirmary.

After McGonagall had given them a stern lecture about why they should 'mercifully keep your mouths shut lest you prefer me to charm it shut for you' while they ate the lunch that the house elves had brought them, Madame Pomfrey had been adamant that they get their rest and sleep.

"But it's one in the afternoon!" Ron had exclaimed, aghast.

Madame Pomfrey had raised an eyebrow in his direction, as if asking him a very short 'So?'. Ron had wisely shut himself up.

So it was with grumbles that the six students all retreated to their beds – Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor Tower, Blaise and Pansy in the dungeons, and Harry and Draco to their respective beds inside the Hospital Wing. ("I assure you that I will know if any one of you is found up and awake so don't even try.") However, they thanked Madame Pomfrey fifteen minutes later when they were all lying down on their mattresses, heads on their soft pillows and encased in their warm blankets because they hadn't realized just how tired they had become with all the excitement.

All thoughts of the sun still high in the sky fled from their heads as they easily drifted off to sleep.

Harry dreamt of evil, scepter-wielding Bishops made of stone.

And Draco.

He dreamt of Draco.

But instead of the bishop driving his scepter into the neck of Draco's horse, Harry dreamt of the bishop driving his scepter, the sharp point glinting ominously from the torchlight, through Draco's chest, and the sound of flesh being torn apart made him sick, but he couldn't look away, even when Draco fell to the floor with a sickening thud that echoed loudly in his ears.

And in his dream, as Draco bled and stained the floor with a dark, mocking red, all Harry did was stand and stare, not doing anything, until unknown hands hauled him away and shoved him in a cupboard.

When Harry awoke, it was seven hours later. The sun had already gone down and Madame Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen – which was for the best because Harry did not know what she would do if she found him suddenly awake, eyes wide and trembling violently. His hands clutched at the sheets as his panicked eyes sought familiarity in the withering darkness of the infirmary, trying to erase the blinding red behind his eyelids.

He gasped, trying to get air in his lungs, and he willed himself to relax.

Shifting slightly, he let out a soft groan, both at the soreness of his muscles and at the memory of the dream.

His heart was still beating wildly in his chest and he craned his head to look through blurry eyes at the bed next to his – and released the breath that he didn't know he had been holding.

Draco was still there, still sleeping peacefully in the darkness of the infirmary.

As he tried to calm his heart, Harry just let himself lie there, staring at Draco's sleeping face and seeking comfort at the way his chest rhythmically moved up and down with each soft breath. No bishops, no scepters, no blood... just… Draco.

Groaning softly again, Harry raised his hands to rub at his face.

Dinner. That's what he needed. Comfort food and a bath too, to get rid of all these unwanted tension.

He'd go to the Gryffindor Tower to take a much needed bath, and then drop by the kitchens.

But first…

Harry glanced at Draco on the other bed, just watching him sleep. He quietly moved off the bed and, hesitating for just a brief moment, slowly walked towards the other boy.

"Draco?" he whispered once he had reached his destination.

Draco stirred, made an incoherent sound, and then turned just a bit towards Harry. "Hrmm…" he said.

"Are you awake?" Harry asked quietly.

Slowly, Draco's eyes opened, unfocused and bleary. He blinked sleepily at Harry. "Harry?" he murmured.

Harry nodded, satisfied. He exhaled deeply, letting the tension that the nightmare brought ease away from his body. He gave the half-asleep boy a small, sheepish smile. "Just checking," he said. "Go back to sleep, Draco."

And Draco smiled at him back, albeit a bit lopsidedly, before closing his eyes completely and succumbing once more to the call of slumber, leaving a very red and very flushed Harry to struggle with the image of seeing Draco Malfoy smile at him so unguardedly.

Draco was also dreaming.

He dreamt that he woke up and Harry was there. Harry's smile was the first thing that Draco saw when he opened his eyes, and Harry's voice was the first thing that he heard, that soft whisper of "Go back to sleep, Draco." and –

What the fuck?

Draco's eyes snapped open and, ignoring the pain in his eyes at having been pulled from sleep so abruptly, he scrambled in bed to sit up just as Harry reached for the door knob of the infirmary.

"Harry?" Draco called out with a scratchy voice as his brain started to catch up with the world. It was a slow process, but Draco forced it anyway.

Surprised, Harry turned back to face him.

It was dark in the infirmary and Draco had to narrow his eyes just to be able to see Harry clearly.

"Sorry to wake you," Harry said sheepishly. "You can go back to sleep, Draco."

Draco nodded dumbly, but didn't lie back down even though every muscle in his body was aching to do so. "Where are you going?"

"Dorms," Harry replied. "Bath. I'll bring you dinner in a while."

Draco ran his hand down his face, groaning inwardly. At least now he had it confirmed that it was a good idea to abandon sleep, if only to prevent Gryffindors from doing more idiotic acts of stupidity.

"Harry," Draco said again with difficulty. "Go back to sleep. I'll ask Madame Pomfrey if we can use the showers here, and the house elves are here for a reason."

This feels and sounds awfully domestic, Draco's sleep-deprived brain mused. He would've been amused, if Potter would just be a good boy and obediently listen to what he says.

"What?" Harry asked, genuinely baffled. He blinked at Draco, shrugging. "It's alright, I'm not sleepy anymore anyway."

Harry was missing the point here. "You can't go out there," Draco said exasperatedly. The darkness of the infirmary was getting to be really annoying now. Only the moonlight sifting through the window made it possible for Draco to see the still golden light around Harry's form and Harry's expression change from confusion to one of realization – and not the good kind.

"And why not?" Harry asked challengingly, suspiciously.

This Harry wasn't a stranger to Draco. The idiotic Gryffindor just didn't have an ounce of Slytherin self-preservation. Draco realized this during the climax of the war, when Harry just wouldn't sit stilleven though everyone was already telling him not to go out and reveal himself.

("I can't just sit here and let you all – just waltz out there into danger!"

Remus opened his mouth to speak, but Snape turned around abruptly, his cloak billowing with the action, and sneered angrily at Harry."Much as I would enjoy sending you off waltz towards danger, Potter, do drill in that thick head of yours that you of all people cannot get yourself killed with the Dark Lord still out there rising to power!")

"Because you'll get yourself hurt, that's why not," Draco replied, irritable from lack of sleep.

"What, I can't even take a bath now?" Harry muttered, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Draco forced himself to look away from the motion that always made his throat a little drier than it should be. "No, not when there's a madman out there wanting to trap you."

"There's always a madman out there wanting to trap me," Harry said bitterly, rolling his eyes. Draco cringed inwardly at how Harry's light stayed gold. "I'm just going to take a bath, Draco. Besides, I wouldn't be able to sleep even if I wanted to."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned around and walked briskly towards the door of the infirmary – which wouldn't open. His eyes widened, and he whipped his head around to glare at Draco, who was innocently twirling his wand with his fingers.

"What the hell?" Harry yelled angrily, stomping his way towards the blond.

Draco jumped off the bed, prepared for a fight. He was used to this. After all, this was how he and Potter started.

"You don't get it, Potter," he said, sneering. "Was our near-death experience in the third floor corridor not enough to get through your thick skull that someone in Hogwarts wants you horribly incapacitated?"

A lot of things washed over Harry at that moment. He saw Draco's sneer and felt his heart shrivel up because after being so used to Draco's unguarded expressions of amusement and joy now, having that sneer directed at him like before made him feel terrible. Then that mention of the 'near-death experience in the third floor corridor' had him remembering his dream and Draco and blood and that pointed scepter tearing through his chest, and he was torn between wanting to stay to remind himself that Draco was okay and going very far, far away from here.

Harry rubbed his temples, feeling the blood drain from his face and his fingertips go cold. "Fuck this," he muttered angrily. "Fuck you, Malfoy."

He turned again, stomping the way back to the door, his wand in his hand and 'Alohomora' on his lips.

Draco thought about letting him go.

Then he thought again.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Harry's limbs snapped closer to his body and he fell to the floor like a dead weight.

Draco walked over to him, cringing when Harry's murderous glare found him and latched on.

"Sorry, Potter," he said, meaning it. Using a Hover Charm, he levitated Harry towards his bed, laying him down on the messy sheets. "Now if you promise not to hex me, hit me, or harm me in any way, I'll let you go. Blink twice if you do."

Harry continued to glare at him.

Draco waited patiently as he stood beside the bed. It was a pity that Harry couldn't speak. That also meant that Draco couldn't know if he was lying or not.

Then, Harry blinked twice.

"Finite Incantatem," Draco murmured and ducked when Harry's fist flew towards him. "Hey, you promised!"

"I can't believe you did that!" Harry hissed angrily. Underneath the anger, he also felt a little hurt.

"You wouldn't see sense!"

"What sense? I was just going to the Gryffindor Tower, Draco."

"Exactly! Hogwarts isn't safe for you anymore, Harry!"

"So what? You're going to keep me locked up here?"

"If that's what it's going to take, then yes! I don't want to keep on saving your arse from gigantic chess pieces, Potter!"

"Then don't!"Harry screamed, shoulders shaking. "Goddamnit, Draco, don't save my arse from gigantic chess pieces. It nearly got you killed!"

And Draco wondered just what they were arguing about.

He blinked, realization dawning on him. "Is that why you woke me up earlier?"

Harry flushed, but his green eyes still glared at Draco – at least, until Draco suddenly keeled over and crumpled to the floor.

Holding himself up using his elbows and clutching his throat, Draco coughed harshly. His chest heaved with strained effort. Specks of blood splattered on the floor, and Harry saw red. He immediately jumped off the bed, kneeling next to Draco, whose elbows soon gave away. Harry pulled at his shoulders until he was sitting up, so Draco leaned heavily against him instead of the floor. He coughed against Harry's shirt, nails scratching at his burning throat.

Harry held him tightly, one arm around his waist and the other grabbing at Draco's wrists to prevent him from injuring himself. His heart beat painfully against his chest and he panicked, feeling helpless and scared. "Draco, what –"

"Belladonna," Draco rasped out, body shaking.

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He laid Draco down on the floor and bolted towards Madame Pomfrey's drawers. It was with experience that he managed to find the belladonna tincture right away, and he rushed back to Draco, heart clenching at the sight that the boy trembling on the floor made.

With great effort, he managed to get Draco up to a sitting position again, and holding the blond's chin with his fingers, he lifted Draco's head up just enough to pour the tincture into his mouth.

Draco slumped heavily against Harry's chest, still coughing and chest still heaving and Harry thought what if it didn't work but then Draco's fingers curled on Harry's hip and his body started trembling less and Harry leaned back, his head thumping on the bedside table and his arm still around Draco's waist.

"Merlin," he muttered breathlessly. He stared at the infirmary ceiling, shaky fingers reaching up to brush through Draco's blond hair. Draco's face was still buried in his shirt, and Harry felt more than heard the boy's erratic breathing.

The small bottle of the belladonna tincture lay forgotten on the floor.

"This is such bollocks," Draco muttered against his shirt, "can't even have a decent conversation with you without something happening."

Harry gave a short, dry laugh. "Welcome to my life," he chuckled humorlessly.

"Yeah," Draco murmured, and relaxed against Harry's body.

Five minutes later, Harry nudged Draco. "Don't fall asleep on me, you wanker."

"Can't help it," Draco muttered, arms tightening around Harry's waist and enjoying the way Harry shifted uncomfortably. "You woke me up."

Harry stiffened slightly, before relaxing. "Sorry."

Draco nodded, and then swallowed. His throat still felt like hippogriffs scratched it. "We're still going to continue our conversation, Potter. Don't think you're getting out of it."

Harry sighed, closing his eyes. "What's there to continue?"

Draco rolled his eyes. He was reluctant to leave his position – after all, how many times in your life do you end up snuggling Harry bloody Potter? (even if that circumstance was brought about by painful hyperventilation) – but figured that his words wouldn't have the same effect that he was aiming for.

With great regret, he disentangled himself from Harry, enjoying the blush that stole over Harry's cheeks as he became fully aware of their position but Draco was a good man. He refrained from teasing him about it, if only because Draco was trying to have a serious conversation here.

The teasing would come later.

They sat on the floor, facing each other.

"Harry, if you really must go to your awfully decorated Tower, then you shall take me with you. It will burn my eyes, but I'm willing to sacrifice it for the greater good since I am such a good fellow…" Draco said haughtily, or as haughtily as he could with his voice sounding like Flitwick's. (Okay, that was an exaggeration…)

Harry snorted. "You talk funny," he muttered, but shut up when Draco kicked him.

"And it's not that we're locking you here," Draco continued, more soberly now. He regarded Harry with a serious expression, looking almost thoughtful. "It's just that… things are getting really serious now. We don't know who's trapping you and for what reason, but now we know that they're not beyond, well, maiming you."

Harry once again had flashes of their time at Grimmauld Place, where Draco would so often assume this leading role that Harry was grateful for, more than he'd wanted to admit. It felt nice, having someone else do all the work for once.

"You have to remember to be careful, Harry," Draco said, but then snorted. "But you seem to never do."

"Hey!"

Draco ignored him. "But thankfully, I am here to remind you. Don't forget, I promised Professor Lupin I'd keep an eye on you."

"And I promised Professor Snape I'd keep an eye on you," Harry muttered, realizing the whole irony of the situation. He also remembered Remus as well, and how worried the man had been for him yesterday. He suddenly felt guilty. "I know, I know," he said, sighing. "I'm sorry. I was just frustrated earlier."

Draco nodded sympathetically. "Woke up badly?"

Harry hesitated at first, but then realized that he didn't mind sharing it with Draco. "I had a bad dream," he admitted, shrugging nonchalantly. "So I just wanted to get my mind off things. And feeling locked up reminded me of Dumbledore –" Draco flinched. "— and how he never told me anything back then, even though I was ready to tear my hair out with everything that was happening around me."

Draco did not want to talk about Dumbledore. "Your dream," he said, murmuring. "Is that the reason why you woke me up?"

Flushing, Harry nodded.

Draco waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He sighed exasperatedly. "Well, do I have to force it out of you?" he said, making Harry flush an even darker shade of red. "It was about me, wasn't it?"

Harry nodded. "The bishop –" he muttered, looking at the floor beside Draco's leg. "He stabbed, err – he stabbed you, not the horse, and… Well, you."

He could still remember it vividly, the grotesque image. Harry's hand fell from his lap to the floor, where blood from Draco's earlier episode lay. It stained his hand and he could feel his fingertips going cold once again –

Draco took Harry's hands in his own and held it firmly. "I'm fine, Harry," he murmured, thumbs rubbing circles on the back of Harry's hands. "Look at me. I'm alright."

Harry's eyes remained on their intertwined fingers, his own specked with red. "No, you're not," he muttered. "You just heaved out blood, Draco. That's my fault too. If I hadn't –"

"Oh, for Merlin's bloody sake, Potter!" Draco exclaimed, making Harry's head snap up in surprise to look at him. "Just a week ago you were going on about how it's not your fault and nowyou want it to be your fault?" he snapped, glaring. "Listen to me, Harry, because you must realize how challenging it is for me to boost your ego. Now, howcould it have been your fault? It was Peeves' fault, and you know it. As for the chess game, I did it so that we could get out of that bloody room. I didn't do it to save your arse, so don't beat yourself up for it."

He was lying, but if it made Harry feel better, then all was well.

But it didn't make Harry feel better. He knew Draco was trying to cheer him up, but the fact that Draco didn't do it for him made him feel strangely hollow somewhat. It was a selfish thought, and that made Harry more miserable about himself. Swallowing, he nodded. "Yeah. Sorry."

Draco nodded back, and let go of his hands.

"Now go get your house elf friends and get us dinner."

Harry couldn't help a small smile. "Lazy git."

They had finally gotten off the floor (which they had Scourgified to get rid of the blood) and onto Harry's bed, where they sat on opposite ends with two trays full of dinner between them that had their stomachs growling as soon Dobby appeared carrying it. Now, they ate in companionable silence, their hunger getting the better of them.

They realized that Madame Pomfrey wouldn't be getting back any time soon so they took it upon themselves to light the candles in the infirmary to at least be able to see what they were about to put in their mouths.

After a while, Harry was satiated enough to put down his chicken leg to ask. "Hey, Draco?"

"Hm?"

Harry swallowed one big gulp of pumpkin juice. "I thought you were mad at me."

That had Draco putting his spoon and fork down. He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You know," Harry said, feeling self-conscious. "This morning. Breakfast. You wouldn't talk to me."

"Oh," Draco said. Well, this was awkward. He couldn't really remember the exact reason whyhe had been mad with Harry, if he had been mad at him at all. No, Draco hadn't been mad at Harry. He had been mad at himself. For having the Dark Mark, for making the wrong decisions, even if those decisions made him an asset for the Order, and –

For falling in love with someone he could never have.

"I wasn't mad at you, Harry," Draco finally said, sighing.

Harry quirked an eyebrow upwards. "Well, it seemed like it."

The golden light around Harry both amused Draco and made him guilty. He gave a wry smile. "I apologize if it seemed that way. But really. It had nothing to do with you."

Not really anyway.

Harry looked at him for a short moment, before slowly nodding. "Alright," he murmured, dropping his mutilated chicken leg and reaching for a napkin from the tray as he Not Looked at Draco.

Well, that certainly made Draco's resolve crumble.

"Dear Merlin, Potter, don't sulk," he blurted out suddenly.

Harry blinked at him, surprised. He flushed, opening his mouth to defend himself. "I'm not –" He was suddenly enveloped in black.

"The Dark Mark," he cut in then, his voice a tad bit higher than usual that ended up scratchy at the end due to his earlier episode. He ran his fingers through his hair, an action he permitted himself to do only if his hair was already messy to begin with – which it was due to the events that happened in the third floor corridor and sleep.

Harry remained silent, still surprised, though this time it was because of what Draco had just mentioned – and the dawning realization of just what the other boy was about to admit to him.

"I was awake yesterday," Draco continued, more softly this time and calmer. "You know, when you and Neville were talking."

"Oh," Harry said, embarrassed. His eyebrows furrowed as he remembered yesterday's conversation with Neville and what it had to do with Draco being mad at him. "Sorry for waking you up," he muttered.

Draco sent him a wry smile. "You two started talking about The Dark Lord –"

"Voldemort," Harry cut in softly.

Draco looked surprised, then uncomfortable. He had said it many times before, but… He wasn't Neville, or Ron, or Hermione, or dear Merlin, he wasn't Harry. It still took a little more out of him every time, because they weren't taught to fear the Dark Lord ever since they were young – weren't forced to share your home with someone who might suddenly turn your bones into twigs in your sleep just because it tickled his fancy.

Draco may have been a spy for the Order… but that didn't mean he hadn't been scared out of his wits.

"Voldemort," Draco said, exhaling.

Harry sent him a small, proud smile, which brightened up his mood immediately.

"You two started talking about – Voldemort, and I just remembered the Dark Mark," he admitted, shrugging, eyes sliding to his covered forearm as if on automatic. "I get miserable when I remember it. Not that I forget, because I neverdo even if I wanted to but – sometimes, I remember how it felt, under my skin, that vile, disgusting feeling –"

He took a deep breath, cutting himself off abruptly. "As you've witnessed this morning, Harry, it sends me into the sourest of moods," he finished wryly.

Harry's lips quirked up just a tiny bit, but he remained somber, looking at Draco with an almost thoughtful expression on his face. Then, after a long agonizing silence, he waved at Draco's forearm shyly. "Can I –?"

Draco shrugged and lifted up his sleeve, exposing creamy white and unblemished skin. He shoved his arm in front of Harry.

Harry held it with both hands, using his thumbs to brush over the skin where the Dark Mark… used to be, and since it was no longer there, Harry wasn't thinking about it, really, even though he knew he was supposed to but it really was hard thinking about something else when all he could think about was how beautiful Draco's skin was for a guy and was it really proper for a guy to think another guy's skin beautiful?

Well, that was a rather… pouf-y thought.

"What are you thinking about?" Draco asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He could feel his face burning, and dutifully kept it down. "Not the Dark Mark, that's for sure –" he muttered, once again tracing the place where the Mark once lay, not noticing Draco's small but sharp intake of breath from above him. "— because it's not here anymore," he finished firmly.

Draco stared at him, as if asking Merlin why the hell he was just stating the obvious.

Harry shrugged, grinning as an idea formed in his head. It was embarrassing, yes, and his cheeks didn't look like they will return to their normal color soon but he supposed sacrifices must be done in the name of friendship. "If it makes you feel better, then I'm not thinking about the Dark Mark because I'm really thinking about how smooth and beautiful your skin is. Really, what lotion do you use?"

Draco gaped at him.

Then laughed.

Harry's shoulders relaxed, as he too found himself smiling at the sight the other boy made.

Now that made the embarrassment worth it, seeing Draco laugh like that…

Draco's face shone with mirth, past worries forgotten. "Oh, wait until Weaselbee gets wind of this. He won't be able to eat properly every time he sees us in the Great Hall together."

And despite Ron's misfortunes, Harry grinned and inwardly patted himself for a job well done.

And Draco ducked his head under the pretense of laughter (though he really was laughing) because his face was burning – because when Harry had said that he wasn't thinking about the Dark Mark and was actually thinking about how smooth and beautiful Draco's skin was, he shone a bright gold.

Not long after that, Madame Pomfrey came in and was not surprised to see them up and about. What she was surprised about, however, was the tray of food between them and on the bed.

"I'm quite sure that there's a rule forbidding students to use the house elves for their own personal use," she said, raising an eyebrow on their guilty faces. Then, a small, amused smile broke on her face. "But my memory has been failing me recently, so I shall inform you of it when I remember."

Grinning, Harry guiltlessly picked up another treacle tart.

"Your friends are awake and are eating their dinner in the Great Hall now," Madame Pomfrey continued as she walked over to her cupboards of potions. "We're lucky that Miss Coulby is inconsolable once she starts her waterworks so she wasn't able to say much during her sudden outburst in lunch. Even luckier is that around the same time, some flowers combusted in Greenhouse 3, so the students have simply made up their own stories, fortunately for us."

"Greenhouse 3?" Harry asked, eyebrows rising up. "Poor Neville's got a lot of work to do then."

Draco waved it off. "Longbottom enjoys the work. Merlin knows why, really."

Harry snorted. "You enjoy Potions. Merlin knows why…"

Draco kicked him. "You merely lack taste," he said haughtily, sniffing, and Harry grinned, because now it felt like things were back to normal.

What normal meant with Draco Malfoy, Harry wasn't sure, but he enjoyed it anyway.

"Here, Mister Malfoy," Madame Pomfrey said, walking over to them and holding a rather familiar bottle. "Your dose of belladonna for the day."

Harry and Draco looked at each other.

Draco took it, but didn't make any move to open it. "Thank you, Madame Pomfrey, but I don't need it at the moment. I already took one just… half an hour ago, actually," he said self-consciously, knowing that the Mediwitch will catch up on his meaning.

Madame Pomfrey's eyebrows rose up. "I see," she murmured, taking out her wand. "You don't mind if I do a check-up, do you, dear?" Draco shook his head. She started waving her wand around. "And good call, drinking the tincture. Keep that one with you then, in case you'll need it again. I suppose I should also give you a Blood-Replenishing Potion to have around –"

"It's alright," Harry cut in, smiling sheepishly. "I always have one in my robe pocket."

Draco blinked at him. "You have a habit of carrying Blood-Replenishing Potions in your pocket?"

Harry flushed. "No, you git. It's for when you go into these episodes of yours."

"Oh," Draco said, feeling warm all over.

Madame Pomfrey smiled at Harry proudly as she finished her check-up. "Good, Mister Potter. Now, no damage done, Mister Malfoy. This is good news, since it seems that the potion's side-effects aren't as bad as it was during the first few days after consumption. I'll go inform Professor Snape and Minerva that you're awake, but I must insist that we continue our… conversation tomorrow. For now, you boys rest."

Harry wondered just how much rest they needed before Madame Pomfrey was satisfied.

Before she could leave, Draco spoke up. "Madame Pomfrey, you don't suppose we could use the baths here? Well, Harry really stinks and –"

"Hey!" Harry cut in, glaring.

Madame Pomfrey's lips quirked up into an amused smile. "Of course," she said, and then flicked her wand again. A click echoed in the infirmary. "I usually keep it locked because other students, when they see that they are running late in the morning, detour here to take a shower between their classes. Make a mess of it, too," she muttered to herself exasperatedly as she walked out of the room, but before she could open the door, she turned back once more.

"Oh, and Harry? I suppose I don't need to remind you not to wander about the castle alone."

Harry flushed and ignored Draco's smug look. "No, Madame Pomfrey."

After finishing their dinner and taking turns getting their much-needed bath, they both lay on their respective beds in their pyjamas.

"Hey, Draco?" Harry started, shifting to get into a more comfortable position. He ended up on his side, facing Draco.

"Hm?"

"Who do you think's been messing with the safety rooms?"

Draco paused, surprised with the sudden question. He turned in his bed, looking at Harry with a raised eyebrow. "It's not hard to guess. Probably some old Death Eaters wanting revenge or something."

Harry nodded. "Remus said the same thing. He said there are a lot of people remaining out there who wants to kill me."

Draco stared at Harry incredulously. "How can you say that so carelessly?" he muttered.

Harry blinked in surprise at Draco's sharp reply. "Well, it's still a horrible shock every time at first," he admitted wryly, shrugging. "But after that, I guess I'm just… used to it."

First year, there was Professor Quirrell. Second year, Tom Riddle. Third year, Sirius Black (supposedly). Fourth year, well… it was like the Tri-Wizard Tournament was made for his painful demise, dragons and psychopathic merpeople and all that. From fifth year onwards, it was nothing but Voldemort, Voldemort and Voldemort because of that stupid prophecy.

Even with Voldemort dead, it was still about Voldemort.

Looking at how the light around Harry burned a bright gold, Draco suddenly felt very sick and angry at the world. It wasn't the first time that he wanted to hide the boy and just keep him there, keep him, and tell him that it's safe, he's safe and no sick madman was going to get to him, not if Draco's around.

Draco snorted mentally.

Really, he wanted to protect Potter but couldn't even utter Voldemort's name?

Time to change that.

He swallowed.

"Voldemort sucks," he announced proudly.

Harry blinked at him.

Draco rolled his eyes. Slow Gryffindor. "Congratulate me, Potter. I just said his name."

A sort of realization dawned on Harry's face, and a smile stole over his lips as he shook his head in amusement. "But I always knew that you could do it," he said, and Draco preened at the praise.

"Now, Harry, listen here. All that food made me rather sleepy, so be grateful that I'm sparing time for you when I could be having my beauty sleep."

Harry kept his mouth shut, but the upward quirking of his lips could not be prevented.

Draco ignored it. "I think it's someone from the Patching Team," he said, listing out the possible candidates in his head. "It may be someone from the currentPatching Team, or someone from the Patching Team during our summer vacation. I'm saying that it could be a student. I'm thinking of all the possibilities here."

Harry's nose scrunched up in confusion. "A student?"

Draco nodded. "They could be doing it willingly or unwillingly." He paused, and then softly added, "Knowingly or unknowingly."

Harry inhaled sharply. He felt angry at the thought that innocent people were being pulled into stupid messes again – because of him. "Why, though? I mean, Remus told me that killing me's probably not the goal here. If they wanted to, they'd have done it a long time ago."

Draco's blood ran cold at the thought. It was true. It would be so easy, after all, when one had the proper intent to. Just a wand and the words 'Avada Kedavra'. He kept his eyes on Harry, trying to comfort himself that Harry was alright, still breathing. "I don't know."

Harry nodded, forcing himself to relax against the bed. His muscles were tense, and his whole body felt strung up. "Is there still any chance that this is all just Hogwarts being moody?" he asked softly, hopefully. "Or a prank, maybe?"

Draco almost wanted to lie.

But he didn't – wouldn't.

But he also didn't want to tell the truth either.

So again, he swallowed.

"Voldemort sucks."

Harry's lips quirked up into a smile, as his body finally listened to him and relaxed against the bed.

Across him, Draco took his wand and flicked it, extinguishing all the candles.

"Hey, Draco?" Harry called out to the darkness.

His reply was the sound of sheets ruffling, indications of Draco moving around to get into a comfortable position. "Hm?"

"Thank you."

The ruffling stopped.

But for just a moment.

"You'd do the same for others too, Harry," came Draco's nonchalant reply.

Harry smiled, even though no one could see it. He could already feel his eyes drooping.

"For you too, Draco," he murmured, before he gave himself to sleep, leaving his companion shocked, flustered and very much awake.

The next time that Harry awoke, he was screaming.

Or – his dream self was, he's not really sure.

But what he's sure of was Draco's worried face above his, and Draco's hands firmly gripping his shoulders.

"Harry! Wake up, you wanker!"

Harry groaned in response, hands rising to press on his forehead. His head felt like it was bulldozed over, and his eyes are not happy at being cut from sleep once more.

It was the same dream as before, only longer but just as vivid.

The bishop and Draco, the unknown hands and the cupboard, and all that blinding red.

Draco slapped his cheek lightly.

Harry tried to keep his eyes open. "Draco," he mumbled, just to show the other that he was awake.

A relieved sigh was his reply. "Do you always get these nightmares, Harry?" Draco said exasperatedly.

Tiredly, Harry nodded. He rubbed at his eyes, realizing for the first time that the candle on the table between their two beds was lit. "Yeah. Sorry," he muttered guiltily. "Didn't mean to wake you."

Draco blinked. "No, I didn't mean that –" He started, before simply sighing. "I mean, do you always have nightmares?" he asked, more softly this time.

Harry nodded again. "Don't you?"

Draco paused, before slowly nodding back. "I do, but not as often as yours. Dreamless Sleep Potion?"

Harry shook his head, before quickly deciding that it was a bad idea. He closed his eyes to stop the world from spinning. "It feels weird in the morning. Makes me feel worse, actually."

Draco nodded sympathetically. He knew the feeling.

Unable to help himself, he brushed Harry's damp bangs from his forehead, his fingers tracing over the famous scar. His heart started to beat wildly in his chest when Harry released a soft sigh and leaned towards his touch. "Anything I can do?"

Harry's eyes opened again. "Well…" He inched just a fraction to the side of the bed, as if making space.

Draco waited expectantly.

Then, Harry's eyes closed once more and he shook his head with a tired grin. "It's okay, Draco. You can go back to sleep."

The light around him turned black.

Draco frowned.

Harry looked like he was already succumbing to sleep once more.

Oh, Draco was going to regret this in the morning – well, no, actually, he wouldn't but –

He looked at Harry's tired face, and at how Harry's hair still stuck to his forehead because of sweat.

Throwing all caution away, Draco pushed aside the blankets and slid in next to Harry. Another moment of hesitation, but he quickly discarded that as well when he put his arms around Harry's waist and shoulders to pull him closer.

It wasn't a hard task, since Harry himself shuffled closer to tuck his head under Draco's chin. A soft sigh escaped his lips and his body relaxed against the blond's, and it was contagious, because Draco could feel his body relaxing as well and his eyes sliding closed.

Mustering one last bit of strength, he took his wand and flicked his wrist.

The bed curtains closed around them, and Draco gave himself up to sleep, holding Harry close to him and thinking that if consuming botched up potions and experiencing their bloody (literally and figuratively) side-effects got him this, then he wouldn't mind drinking cauldrons full of them.

Chapter Text

Almost overflowing with sleep and bed rest, Hermione woke up with the sun still far from rising. It wasn't surprising, really, because she had been itching through all of yesterday to investigate Harry's predicament. She and Ron had been heatedly going through all sorts of possibilities during dinner, and a glance at the Slytherin table told them that Pansy and Blaise were too.

She had hoped that Harry and Draco would wake up soon, but dinner came and went, and they remained in the infirmary.

She and Ron had tried visiting – and tried hard, they did, but along the way, they bumped into Madame Pomfrey who treated them with a raised eyebrow and told them that things could surely wait in the morning.

Well, Hermione decided as she leapt off her bed to search for clothes. It's certainly morning now.

Even if the sun still hasn't risen.

But she was restless, and her mind was working overtime, and she really wanted to squeeze all the details out of Harry as soon as possible.

Like, now.

She put on her school robes and rushed out of the dormitory.

Well, the sun wasn't that far from rising. At least, it meant that Filch was still sleeping peacefully beside his beloved Mrs. Norris.

Hermione hurriedly walked down the corridors. Hurriedly, not because of the possibility that Filch may have decided to wake really early today of all days, but because she wanted to get to the infirmary quickly and shake Harry awake and pester him with questions.

She wasn't doing this just to satisfy her curiosity.

She was doing this because Harry was her friend, and she was worried out of her wits.

"Granger?"

Hermione jumped and turned around to blink at Pansy Parkinson.

"Well," Pansy said, smirking as she walked towards the Gryffindor. "I wasn't surprised when I bumped into Greengrass earlier, but you? Fancy seeing you sneaking in the corridors at night."

Hermione relaxed, shaking her head amusedly. "It's hardly night anymore, Pansy."

Surprised, Pansy raised an eyebrow at the use of her first name.

"I hope you don't mind," Hermione said casually, smiling. "Since we're friends now and all."

Pansy's face broke into a grin. "Saps, you Gryffindors. On your way to the Hospital Wing, I presume?"

"Guilty as you are," Hermione chirped as they continued their walk towards the infirmary together.

"I really hope that Madame Pomfrey's still asleep. She kept on shooing us away yesterday!" Pansy scoffed, looking sulky as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. "A day without Draco's whining just isn't right."

"Why," Hermione said, lips quirking up into a smile. "I didn't know Slytherins could do sweet."

"I hope you're not thinking what I think you're thinking, Gra – Hermione. Draco and I aren't like that," Pansy said smoothly with a toss of her hair.

Hermione blinked. She had figured as much. Pansy and Draco didn't seem like they were involved, but it was still different having it confirmed firsthand rather than from just offhand observations. "Of course not," she replied just as smoothly. "Harry would be heartbroken."

She had said it in good humor, in reference to the Harry and Draco's Illicit Love AffairTM, but Pansy's head had shot up in surprise.

Pansy quickly realized her mistake though, when it registered late in her brain that Hermione was just joking. She forced out a laugh. "He should be," she replied as carelessly as she could, and wished it were true. "Poor Potter though. Even his friends are against him in this joke." She grinned in a way that said that she wasn't feeling bad for Harry at all.

Hermione glanced at her calculatingly, and tried her luck. "But I suppose it would be nice," she murmured thoughtfully. "If it wasn't one."

Pansy raised an eyebrow at her. "Wasn't one what?"

"Wasn't a joke."

And Pansy closed her mouth, looking thoughtful as well. She remained silent, picking her words carefully in her head as they turned the corner. Finally, she settled for, "You think so?"

Hermione nodded, brightening as the cogs in her brain turned. "Oh, I know so. Harry's had this unhealthy obsession with Malfoy ever since first year, even if he's not aware of it. Ron and I were driven mad by it," she said exasperatedly.

Now, Pansy was clever, but not as clever as Hermione. Still, the suspicion at just whyHermione was telling her about her best friend's proclaimed unhealthy obsession with Pansy's best friend was there, even if it was pushed at the back of Pansy's head in favor of her glee at the thought that Draco's unrequited love with Harry Potter might not be so unrequited after all.

Might not. No need to jump to conclusions yet, Pansy, she firmly told herself. "You think there's something more for Potter concerning this so-called Illicit Love Affair?" she asked coolly.

Hermione gave her a small, secretive smile. "Oh, I should hope so."

Pansy had no idea what that meant. She was about to say so, but they had already arrived at the door of the Hospital Wing and if they wanted to get inside to shock awake their victims and get the answers to the questions that kept them from waiting until breakfast, then they would have to enter quietly and make sure that Madame Pomfrey didn't wake up.

Quietly, they opened the door and slipped inside.

It was dark, and only the gray and purple hue of the sky out the window enabled them to see. Only one bed had its curtains drawn, which was odd. They didn't have time to speculate on this, however, because as they came closer, they saw that Draco's bed was empty. And the blanket looked like it was just carelessly thrown over the mattress.

Pansy's eyebrows show up in alarm. "Draco's a neat freak. He always makes his bed," she whispered.

"Do you think he returned to his dorms?" Hermione whispered back.

Pansy shook her head. "I see no reason for him to."

All his things were here, the beds in the Hospital Wing were immaculate and the most comfortable things ever, and well, Draco certainly wouldn't pass up a chance to sleep in the same room as Harry Potter.

Pansy became even more alarmed. Potter!What if Potter was also gone? Maybe someone took them!

Hermione turned to her, looking alarmed as well. It seemed that she had realized the same thing as well.

Forgetting to be quiet about it, they ran to Harry's bed, yanked the curtains aside and –

"Oh," Hermione said.

Pansy could barely contain her squeal of joy.

"Oh my," Hermione murmured, blushing.

On the bed lay the two boys they came to see, sleeping peacefully under the blankets. They laid on their sides, with Draco wrapping both arms around Harry, one around his shoulders and the other loosely around his waist. Harry in turn had one arm draped over Draco's hip and his head tucked under Draco's chin.

They both looked so peaceful and so comfortable that it made Hermione look back on her thoughts on Harry's obsession with Draco Malfoy for seven years.

She knew all about Harry's nightmares, of course. She experienced them too, and they were awful, but she knew that the ones Harry went through were far more sinister than hers. There was nothing she could do, but that didn't mean she didn't try. It was just that Harry disliked Dreamless Sleep Potions because they made him feel extra heavy in the morning, so she let him be and simply hoped that time would the things that needed healing.

If Harry came to breakfast with bloodshot eyes the next morning, well, it was just something they had learned to take, but this –

Hermione found herself tearing up at the thought of Harry finally being free from his nightmares – from Voldemort.

Because of Draco Malfoy, of all people.

Then again, she thought with amusement, that wasn't really that surprising.

"Do you think we should still…" she started awkwardly, waving a hand at the two boys.

"Oh, no, Hermione," Pansy quipped. "I may just have to hex you if you wake them up. Just look how peaceful they look." She smiled wistfully. She didn't think she'd seen Draco look like that since… well, first year.

After all, Draco's had the shadow of the Dark Lord and the Dark Mark looming on him ever since he was a child. Things just got real when he entered Hogwarts.

Hermione sighed, but a smile was on her lips. "Come on then. I feel like I'm intruding on some private moment."

Pansy chuckled, but nodded and silently drew the curtains closed again. She turned to Hermione with a grin. "I suppose whatever we came down here for can wait until later."

Hermione agreed.

When Harry woke up, it was to sunshine and blond hair, and it was the most beautiful morning that he had ever had in a long, long time. There were no Dursleys to come slamming on his door, no Dudley to stomp on the stairs above his cupboard and rain sawdust on him, and most importantly, no Voldemort looming over him.

All that existed… was sunshine and blond hair and Draco's face so close to his, peaceful and eyes closed, and Draco's steady heartbeat underneath his palm and Draco's arms around him.

That was how Harry finally recognized the fluttery feeling in his stomach whenever Draco would smile at him.

That was how Harry realized that he was in love with Draco Malfoy.

When Draco woke up, it was to bright, green eyes and… a gobsmacked expression. Harry was awake, eyes wide and jaw dropped, and he was very, very pale.

Groaning, Draco raised a hand to rub at his eyes but since both his arms were around Harry, that only succeeded in bringing the other closer to his body. He abandoned the action and merely settled for a sigh. "Really, Harry, no deflowering done or any of the sort, so you can fix your jaw now and maybe get some color back to your face."

He sighed once again and retracted his arms. He had known he was going to regret getting in the bed with Potter last night.

Or, well, not. It really was very comfortable here, and waking up to Harry felt very, very nice. (You know, if Draco could ignore the fact that Harry actually thought that Draco took advantage of him yesterday, which he didn't.)

Harry seemed to regain his composure when Draco took his arms back, and he actually… looked… disappointed? Draco stared dumbly, but the expression was gone soon enough as Harry then flushed with embarrassment. "Oh! No, I mean – I wasn't thinking of that–"

Gold.

Draco blinked dumbly, then stared dumbly some more.

"Sorry if it seemed that way," Harry said hastily. His eyes shifted to the side, but then, as if determinedly, shifted back to Draco. "And thanks for, err, you know. Last night. I slept peacefully," he added earnestly, smiling a bit as he sat up.

Draco preened.

It was a good idea to hop in Harry's bed last night after all (which wasn't really a surprise since anything concerning Harry Potter's bed is generally and universally a good idea).

Harry reached for his glasses and put them on at the same time he reached for his wand and casted a Tempus.

Draco tried not to let his disappointment show. He liked Harry without his glasses on. His eyes were much clearer – greener.

"We'll be late for breakfast," Harry said distractedly as he slid open the bed curtains. As expected, the infirmary was empty, save for the two of them.

"Must we really?" Draco muttered, sighing dramatically.

Harry sent him an amused smile. "We're gonna have to face the world soon, you know."

"I don't know," Draco replied smoothly, a wicked grin making its way on his face. "I rather like having you all to myself."

His words had the desired effect. Harry's face turned pink up to his ears and he looked away awkwardly, shiftily.

It was the same thing that happened whenever Draco would harmlessly flirt as part of their 'joke' so Draco didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

In fact, he was in such a good mood that morning that he couldn't resist adding another quip.

"Besides, imagine what everyone's thinking, since we've pretty much disappeared on them all day since breakfast yesterday."

Whatever spluttered reply that Harry was about to utter was lost as the door to the infirmary opened and in came the cavalry – or, in this case, Headmistress McGonagall, Professor Snape, and Madame Pomfrey.

"Good morning, boys," McGonagall greeted, but her eyebrow rose at the sight of the two boys lying in one bed. Under one blanket. (Well, Harry was sitting up…)

Snape pressed fingers on his temple and looked pained while Madame Pomfrey didn't even bat an eyelash.

Harry could feel his face burning. "Good morning, err, Professors," he muttered awkwardly.

Beside him, Draco sat up, also looking rather awkward. It was one thing having your professors think you were together and yet another thing to have them walk in on you in the same bed. Not that anything happened, but really, it still disturbed him greatly.

"I suppose it'd be wise of me not to comment," McGonagall started dryly.

Harry nodded meekly to show his agreement.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in great distress. "Draco," he let out, and it sounded like it took him a lot of effort. "A word," he muttered, motioning with his head to the other side of the room.

Draco looked at Harry, before shrugging. He got off the bed and followed Snape and Madame Pomfrey across the room, leaving Harry alone with McGonagall.

"Ms. Granger, Ms. Parkinson, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Zabini are all in the Great Hall having their breakfast," the Headmistress said. "We have already discussed with them the situation yesterday, and while I believe that Madame Pomfrey has already instructed you not to go about the castle on your own, Harry, I felt the need to remind you again personally."

She looked down at him gravely, and Harry ducked his head in embarrassment, remembering what happened yesterday between him and Draco. His shoulder still hurt after falling to the floor like that, Petrificus Totalus-ed and all.

"I want you to know that Professor Snape and I are starting the investigation," McGonagall continued, more softly this time. "We'll enlist the help of Professor Lupin as well, as soon as he… returns."

Harry was reminded that today was Monday. The full moon.

"Again, this must be kept in absolute secrecy. Ms. Coulby has also been informed of this," she said. "And Harry, I believe that Mr. Malfoy is to be with you at all times?" she asked this in that way of hers that was both scolding and amused. "Outside classes, of course."

Again, Harry nodded, face still burning. He knew what the Headmistress' words implied, especially since she really did think that they were together – which Harry had just realized was unfortunate.

McGonagall seemed satisfied with his answer, and she relaxed visibly. "If anything arises, Harry, anything at all, you must inform us immediately."

Harry smiled softly at the worry on her face. "Alright, Professor McGonagall."

McGonagall found herself smiling back. She looked at him with a very familiar twinkle in her eye. "You do know the password to my office, after all."

Harry grinned.

"Of course."

Lemon drops.

On the other side of the room, Snape tried very hard not to think about Potter buggering his godson. It was preposterous. And certainly made him decide to skip breakfast.

"Madame Pomfrey has informed me of what happened last night," he started, trying (desperately) to get some semblance of normality.

Draco raised an eyebrow. A lot of things happened last night. (A lot of good things, might he add.) Still, Draco was pretty sure that Snape wasn't asking him about his… time with Harry. "The potion's side-effects, you mean?"

Snape nodded. "Tell me what happened."

"It's not as worse as before," Draco said, shrugging carelessly. "Just a few dry coughs."

Snape's upper lip curled. "And blood?"

Draco paused. "Very little."

Visibly, Snape relaxed. "The belladonna must be taking effect then. I don't think that the Veritaserum in the potion will wear off sooner because of it, but I believe that it's not a problem for you?" he asked, eyebrow raised in amusement. "You seem to enjoy knowing the truth."

Madame Pomfrey clicked her tongue, but Draco merely gave his godfather an innocent smile.

"Nonsense."

After Madame Pomfrey finished doing the standard check-ups on Draco, Harry and Draco changed into their school robes and they all headed for the Great Hall. In the Entrance Hall, the professors parted ways with the students to use the door nearer to their table.

So it was only Harry and Draco that entered through the two, giant doors, and when they did, the Great Hall was unsurprisingly suddenly swept into conspired silence.

Draco turned to Harry and flashed him a smirk. "Later then, Harry."

Harry turned red at the very purposeful use of his first name and at the effects it gave him with his new-found realization. It gave him butterflies now and made his traitorous heart beat faster, having Draco go around and show him off proudly to everyone as his, err, boyfriend… even if it was all just done in jest.

He tried to resist rolling his eyes as he smiled back in amusement. "Later."

The Great Hall was alight with giddy whispers when they parted ways.

Harry was pretty used to this by now, and besides, he had a lot more pressing things on his mind to pay any heed to the gushing murmurs of the Hufflepuff fourth-years.

In fact, if Harry didn't have aforementioned 'more pressing things on his mind', he would have noticed that the Queen of Gossip (Lavender Brown, as so dubbed by Hermione haughtily during their sixth year) wasn't gushing and murmuring with them, but since he did, he merely walked towards the Gryffindor Table, seemingly lost in thought.

As soon as Hermione saw Harry enter the Great Hall, she knew something was wrong. Or at least… different. And it wasn't because she had just witnessed him and Draco in a rather private (and sweet, if she permitted herself to say so) moment that probably didn't mean anything.

She couldn't quite put her finger on it, though she felt like it should be very obvious to her.

"Hullo, 'Arry," Ron greeted him jovially through a mouthful of eggs. He chewed some more, before swallowing hugely as Harry sat down between him and Lavender. "We wanted to visit, mate, but I think Madame Pomfrey's got tracking charms on us or something. She'd appear whenever we'd start walking towards the Hospital Wing!"

Harry chuckled at the thought. "That wouldn't be surprising," he said.

Ron nodded. "Well? You okay now?"

Harry grinned at him. "Never better."

And that was true.

If you could count out the facts that he just relived the chambers of the Philosopher's Stone yesterday and that he was still a little bit shaken up and rather distressed at the thought that shite, fucking Merlin on a stick, he was in love with Draco Malfoy, then he was pretty peachy.

Besides, he just had the most refreshing morning ever in a year.

He didn't think that anything could spoil his good mood now.

"Harry," a voice suddenly said from his other side.

"Morning, Lavender," he greeted, but Lavender didn't seem to share his good mood.

She glared straight ahead, and even as she talked to Harry in a calm voice, didn't tear her eyes away from… whatever it was she was glaring at.

"Have you seen Neville?" she asked sweetly.

Harry glanced apprehensively at Ron, then at Hermione questioningly. "Err. No, I haven't."

"If you do, tell him I'm looking for him, alright?" Lavender said, turning to him to flash him a sweet smile momentarily before resuming her glare towards the other side of the room. "And not to go near Greengrass," she muttered through gritted teeth.

Harry's eyes flickered over the Slytherin table, where sure enough, Daphne Greengrass was looking back at Lavender, except that her expression was smug.

"They've been at it all morning," Ron muttered to him in a low voice. "Rumor has it that Greengrass has her eyes set on Nev."

Harry's eyebrows flew to his hairline. "Nev? But he and Luna –"

Hermione's sandwich slipped from her fingers to land messily on her plate. Her cheeks flushed. "Sorry. Go on," she said, waving her hand at them before getting back to her sandwich and Not Looking at them.

Ron and Harry exchanged glances.

Then, in a split second, Hermione's plate was off the table and in Harry's hand, out of reach.

"Alright, Hermione, spill," Ron said, one eyebrow raised. He would have crossed his arms, just to seem more authoritative (He never did get a lot of chances to be authoritative, so he grabbed at it whenever he could.), if only his fingers weren't buttery at the moment.

Hermione flushed even more, but she straightened her spine and sniffed haughtily. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Ronald."

Ron sighed dramatically. He didn't want to resort to such measures, but… "I still have your History textbook with me. I'll write on it," he threatened.

Hermione's expression was one of horror.

Harry realized that one does not become Hermione's boyfriend without learning a thing or two. He was actually proud of Ron.

"Alright," Hermione huffed out, glaring at her boyfriend. Then she turned her glare to Harry. "Can I have my sandwich back now?"

Harry grinned at her guiltlessly and gave it back.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron. "I want my History textbook back, Ronald," she muttered, before leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. "Luna and Nev were never together."

Ron and Harry shared looks of surprise.

"What? But everyone –" Harry started, but Hermione cut him off with an impatient wave of her hand.

"Yes, Seamus and Dean just spread those rumors to fight off all those girls throwing themselves at Neville's feet," she said, rolling her eyes at the memory. Shameless, those girls. "Nev and Luna just went along with it."

Ron blinked dumbly. "Oh," he said. "I was wondering why they didn't seem very… err, together."

Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "And you know this because?"

At this, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Because I actually had the decency to ask Nev and Luna about it instead of just listening to the rumors," she said, but without bite and with a hint of exasperated amusement.

Harry and Ron turned pink.

"Good morning, Draco," Pansy greeted him cheerfully. "Are you well-rested now?"

Draco smirked at her as he took his seat. "As a matter of fact, I am."

Pansy smiled at him brilliantly. "Potter has that effect on you, does he?"

Draco's hand froze mid-way from scooping up some bacon. He raised an eyebrow at Pansy, who merely continued smiling at him, and at Blaise, who rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"I'm surrounded by Hufflepuffs," Blaise muttered, stabbing at his eggs forlornly.

The light around him turned black, so Draco didn't worry much about being categorized as a Hufflepuff.

"Alright," Draco said with a deep sigh as he continued gathering his breakfast. He looked at Pansy sternly. "What's your problem –" Then he nudged his head towards Blaise. "— and what's his?"

"I have no problem," Pansy said indignantly, but that expression didn't last long. Soon enough, a smile took over her face once more but this time it was more wistful. "I'm just happy for you, Draco," she whispered, just in case anyone was listening in. "That you and Harry are getting along so well."

Draco felt his cheeks color. "You sound like my mother," he muttered. Then, he narrowed his eyes. "And when has it been Harry to you?"

Pansy's smile turned wicked. "Oh," she said loftily. "Since you two have been spooning."

Draco stared at her, aghast. And then he turned an even darker shade of red.

"Spooning, Draco," Blaise muttered beside him. "Spooning! Draco Malfoy. Spooning. And she –" Here he cast an accusing look towards Pansy which was promptly ignored. "She's been gushing over it the whole morning. Merlin. Hufflepuffs."

"Nothing's going on, Pansy," Draco replied after a pregnant pause. He sighed again. "Unfortunately," he added dryly.

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "Surely something is starting to go on?"

Draco smiled at her wryly. "I merely took advantage of the fact that Harry was inebriated with sleep." His voice did not sound bitter at all.

Pansy flipped her hair back over her shoulder carelessly. "I refuse to believe such a thing. Anyway, I'm not jumping to conclusions so you don't have to worry your pretty little head to make excuses just to sway me. I just thought that you two made a nice picture earlier," she said, smiling earnestly.

The fact that the light around her stayed gold throughout her speech made Draco smile back.

"I think so too," he replied with a smirk. "Now that's out of the way, tell me what's his problem?" He motioned back to Blaise, who was still sulking and brutally abusing his scrambled eggs.

At this, Pansy grinned wickedly. "Oh," she started, as if she was just about to comment on how the weather was. "Greengrass has started on her dastardly scheme to get into Longbottom's pants."

Blaise glared at her. "That's not my problem!"

Black.

"Huh," Draco said, unconvinced. He glanced at Daphne Greengrass just a few seats away, who was smirking quite smugly towards someone across the room.

Draco craned his head to see who. It wasn't hard, really. After all, Lavender Brown wasn't exactly being subtle.

And since his eyes were already on the Gryffindor Table, he sought the hopelessly messy mop of black hair. That was easy too. After all, Draco's had a lot of experience with this.

The Golden Trio were huddled close together, as if conspiring on something.

Once upon a time, the sight would have made Draco's blood boil and his mind working furiously on how to foil their plans but now it just made him feel rather nostalgic and… fond?

Dear Merlin, he was a Hufflepuff!

He didn't have time to be horrified, though, as Harry looked up at that moment and easily caught his eyes.

Draco's breath caught in his throat as a shygrin covered up Harry's face, before Harry was once again pulled back into the conversation with Weasley and Granger.

Across Draco, Pansy glanced at her two best friends.

"Must be nice to be in love," she sighed mournfully.

It was after Harry had finished eating his breakfast that he remembered that he forgot to bring the Marauders' Map with him. He told this to Hermione and Ron.

Ron, done with his breakfast as well, readily stood up to accompany his mate to the Hospital Wing, but Hermione reached over the table to pull him back down.

She flashed Harry a sweet smile. "Harry, isn't Draco supposed to accompany you with these things?"

Harry's eyebrows knitted in confusion, and he flushed at the thought of being alone with Draco again. His nerves were still jittery and he didn't quite trust himself not to act like a fool in front of the blond. "Yes, but you two –"

"Are still not finished with our breakfast," Hermione finished for him. She turned her sweet smile to Ron. "Isn't that right, Ron?"

Normally, when your mother or your girlfriend asks you that (especially if your mother is Molly Weasley and your girlfriend is Hermione Granger), one must simply go along with no questions asked lest you be horribly punished or publically humiliated.

And Ron liked to think that he was a pretty smart kid.

So he nodded and shot Harry an apologetic look when Hermione wasn't looking.

"Why don't you go and ask Draco, Harry?" Hermione said. "Ron and I will just wait for you here."

Confused and just a little bit hurt, he nodded and stood up from his seat. This was normally the part when Harry would think about simply getting the Map himself. It wasn't because Harry had this insane thrill for danger or for having other people worry about him needlessly. That wasn't how Harry's mind worked after all.

Harry was thinking about how Hermione and Ron were still eating their breakfast and how Draco was probably doing the same thing as well, and Harry felt like a bit of an arse depriving them of that just because he forgot to bring the Map with him.

But then Harry remembered how going out alone now would probably be very stupid of him. And everyone would be angry with him. And – well –

…He was just going to have to apologize to Draco for ruining his breakfast, he supposed.

Not that Harry needed to, of course.

Draco was already off his seat as soon as Harry stood up from his and started walking away from his friends. Alone. As Draco walked towards Harry, he wished that the Golden Boy wasn't going off unconsciously and stupidly sacrificing himself to whatever evil villain was out there waiting to capture him.

When Harry caught sight of Draco walking towards him, he stopped in front of the front doors, waiting and running a hand through his hair in nervousness.

Draco stopped in front of him, one eyebrow raised in question.

"I forgot something in the Hospital Wing," Harry muttered sheepishly.

"Granger and the Weasel aren't coming with you?" Draco asked, honestly surprised.

Harry shrugged. "Still eating."

Draco blinked. "Well, that's…" Awfully selfish of them, he wanted to say, but stopped short because they would never leave Harry alone with this situation, unless there was a good reason to…

"I was about to ask if you wouldn't mind coming with me," Harry continued, slowly, a bit hesitantly. "That is, if you don't mind."

Draco found his nervousness endearing and thought that Granger and Weasley could be awfully selfish all they want if it got Draco this.

"Anything for you, Harry," he said teasingly, flashing Harry his winning smile.

Harry stared at him, gaping, as Draco started to walk towards the doors of the Great Hall, oblivious to Harry's internal turmoil.

The walk to the Hospital Wing was rather uneventful, although Harry spent the whole time wondering – panicking – just since when had he been so hyper-conscious of Draco.

Things weren't going very well for him. He was – well, he was terrified. He never was very good with these kinds of things. It was like that thing with Cho that went horribly downhill, all that skirting around before the kiss happened which was really… wet and… kind of wrong if Harry thought about how she had been thinking of Cedric. And that other thing with Ginny. The liking Ginny bit, and the not liking Ginny anymore bit.

I must be emotionally deprived, Harry thought dumbly. It wouldn't surprise him, really. If he thought about it, living in a cupboard and being starved and beaten for eleven years didn't give much way for emotional freedom – except… except this one seemed different somehow.

Well, of course it'd be different – Draco wasn't a girl.

But there was something else…

Draco was certainly the only person to have successfully riled him up all those years, made his blood singe, made him feel something so intense.

Like anger.

Like… Well, like…

Harry's world crashed down upon him.

Holy fucking Merlin, he thought, horrified. Ron and Hermione were right. I have been obsessed with Draco since I was eleven.

"Harry?"

Harry was startled so much that he hit his head on the top of his trunk.

Draco's muffled laughter reached his ears. "Really, Harry. You were taking so long in there; I was beginning to wonder if you'd fallen asleep. It seems I was right."

Harry didn't need to look up to see Draco's smug smirk. He could feel his face burning with embarrassment as he continued shuffling through the things in his trunk, looking for that blank piece of parchment. When he found it a good minute later, his face was still red as he re-emerged from his trunk.

He stood up, dusting off his robes as he glared half-heartedly at Draco's smirk. "I wasn't that long."

The way the light around him turned black told Draco that Harry knew exactly how long he took.

Draco grinned at him fondly. "We'll be late for our first class if we don't start walking now."

Harry almost had to remind himself that staring was rude. "Uhm. Yeah. Sorry," he muttered as he shuffled out the Hospital Wing, following Draco. "And thanks. You know, for coming with me."

Draco slowed his steps so that they could walk side by side. "You're welcome, Harry. And now I believe I said something before about your eloquence?"

Harry still thought that Draco was a prat. Nothing changed about that.

"What's that?" Draco asked as they exited the Hospital Wing. He knew exactly what that was, that being the blank and folded parchment in Harry's hand, but wanted to see if Harry will tell him anyway.

"A map," Harry answered without hesitation, and the fact that he did completely took Draco off-guard.

He blinked. "A map…?" he asked, pushing his luck.

Harry nodded, oblivious to Draco's searching stare as he continued walking. "A map of Hogwarts. It lets you see everyone, where they are, and what they're doing," he said, not being able to resist grinning mischievously. Harry remembered the Weasley twins, and suddenly missed having them in Hogwarts.

Now Draco didn't know that. He looked at Harry, eyes wide and big with curiosity. "Where'd you get it?"

Harry smiled wistfully. "My dad and his friends made it when they were still students here. Remus' doesn't look it but he's quite the prankster," he grinned.

Draco raised an eyebrow doubtfully, even though the light around Harry stayed gold. "Professor Lupin?"

Harry laughed at his expression.

Shaking his head clear of the far-fetched image, Draco settled for being content with how free Harry looked when he laughed. "Must have come in handy then." Then, certain memories went back to him and he gasped, narrowing his eyes accusingly at Harry. "So that's how you were always around whenever I least wanted you!"

Harry feigned mock-hurt. "Me? Never!"

Draco rolled his eyes, raising his nose in the air and sniffing haughtily. "Certainly makes sense of a lot of things, along with that Invisibility Cloak of yours," he muttered. He had known about the Cloak during the war, of course. Used it, even. It was very handy, Draco found out. And smelled sweetly of Harry.

Then, as if the flooding of memories encouraged them to float about also, more memories came up, ones that Draco rather did not remember. "And sixth year too," he murmured, almost thoughtfully to himself, eyes clouding over.

Harry suddenly felt awkward.

Although they'd had their fair share of yelling and accusing during that memorable fight they had in Grimmauld Place, when Draco had first been sent to hide there after his cover was blown to Voldemort, they didn't really talk much of sixth year anymore. At first it had been because they were afraid to destroy that shaky alliance they had formed in the face of Voldemort's threat. After winning, they didn't talk about it because they didn't talk about the war – not because it was taboo or anything but because there was nothing more to talk about. It was over and done with.

Now, though… Harry didn't want to talk about it because it made Draco distressed.

He thought that he really, really wanted that frown off Draco's face right about now.

"Draco," he announced, suddenly stopping and grabbing hold of Draco's wrist to stop him too.

Draco blinked up at him confusedly.

"I'll show you how it works," Harry said, breathless at the thought. The only people he'd ever really shown this to were Hermione and Ron, but somehow… it felt alright, showing it to Draco.

He found himself smiling when Draco's face immediately lit up, all depressing thoughts forgotten as he looked at Harry and the golden light around him. A grin split Draco's face – before it faded a little, confusion settling in its place.

"Why?"

Harry shrugged. "So you don't think I'm spying on you again or something." That was true, in a way. He didn't think that Draco would see him lying about that.

Draco yanked his wrist back as if burned, looking hurt. "I don't –"

Harry immediately caught it again, rubbing the smooth skin underneath his thumb in small circles. He smiled apologetically. "I know."

Draco relaxed, but still looked fairly skeptical.

"Ron and 'Mione are the only ones who knows how this works. The Weasley twins too, and Remus of course. I reckon Nev knows, but I'm not really sure," he rambled on, as he took out his wand.

"Why are you telling me then?" Draco asked, one eyebrow raised.

Harry blinked. His initial reason didn't seem like the proper thing to say. "Seamus and Dean would have nicked this from my trunk every chance they get just to smuggle some butterbeer and firewhiskey. Besides, I suppose I don't have to tell younot to tell anyone about this?" he asked, an amused smile on his lips when Draco's face lit up with pride.

"And, well," Harry added thoughtfully. Voldemort was gone now, even though there were a few loose Death Eaters here and there still trying to point their wands at Harry, but he at least knew that Draco was smart enough to keep quiet about this. "I suppose it would come in handy as well, if I suddenly disappear again without the Map with me. Although you'll have to note that the chambers of the Philosopher's Stone aren't in here, or the Room of Requirement or the Chambers of Secrets –"

Once again, Draco yanked his wrist back, only to curl his fingers firmly around Harry's own wrist. "Harry," he let out through gritted teeth. It disturbed him, how Harry could talk about suddenly disappearing so casually. "I tell you now, if you suddenly disappear on me, I'll break your Firebolt into pieces."

Then, unable to take how bright and green Harry's eyes were looking, shocked, into his own eyes, Draco added something else after an embarrassed pause.

"I'll lose a lot of credit here, you see, if I carelessly misplace the Golden Boy."

Harry would let the use of that horrid nickname go unnoticed. He was too busy smiling to properly reprimand Draco on it.

"Alright. Here, you just tap your wand here and say…"

See, here's the thing.

Those Things (Harry felt obligated to give it a capital letter, out of respect to the girls.) with Cho and Ginny weren't the same with Draco.

Because Draco was a boy.

And most importantly, Draco was Draco.

No, don't get him wrong, those Things with Cho and Ginny had been absolutely terrifying, yes, but now they seemed like the easiest thing ever compared to being stuck in the predicament of having fallen in love with Draco.

Harry wondered how the others did it, you know, dealing with having this big crush on Draco Malfoy, who was pretty much everything anyone could ask for.

He was gorgeous (Harry blushed at using this word, thinking that it sounded a little corny and over the top but feeling that it expressed his sentiments as perfectly as a word could and yet not enough.), he was smart (Really. The potions he and Snape made during the war saved all of their lives. Probably the only thing Draco could not do is… well… Wow, this was unfair, how Harry couldn't think of something.), he was good (fucking excellent) in Quidditch, he was a powerful wizard, he was funny, he was –

Harry felt that he should probably stop now, because he was embarrassing himself with these mooning thoughts.

The point was: how did one stand up to someone like Draco?

Not that Draco made anyone feel inferior or anything but – No, wait, scratch that.

If Harry sat in the Great Hall, he could pinpoint just who were the ones who, at least once in their life (or throughout their lives), crushed on Draco Malfoy. It was another testament to just how true Ron and Hermione's accusations about Harry's certain 'obsession' was that Harry actually knew everyone who crushed on Draco Malfoy. (This wasn't hard, really, because almost the whole female student population of Hogwarts had harbored desire for him. And some of the males too.)

Even when word was going around that Draco had gotten the Dark Mark, Harry didn't think that the list dwindled very much. (Speaking of lists, the people who didn't fancy Draco at least once in their lives made a considerably shorter one and were much easier to enumerate.)

Harry could feel years of memories piecing themselves together in his brain, and quite honestly, he felt rather mortified about all this.

Giddy, yes, but absolutely, fucking terrified.

And it felt wonderful, in a really weird, masochistic way.

Really, those Things with Cho and Ginny?

They were nothing.

At least they were girls. Harry was entitled to have crushes on them! He was also most certainly entitled to ask them out for a date in Hogsmeade, because they were girls and he was a guy and that's what guys do.

But Draco's a guy too, and that certainly ruins Harry's mathematics and logic a bit, that he thought that the only thing he can do now is, well…

Nothing.

After all, as if anything will come out of this.

If Harry waited long enough, he supposed these feelings of his would have to go away sooner or later.

Besides, he didn't think it was normal for him to feel so strongly about Draco like this, but then quickly remembered that he hasn't ever been normal, not really.

Harry liked it better before (like, say, yesterday) when he still hadn't had this sudden epiphany over sunshine and blond hair this morning.

At least he could still be happily ignorant and oblivious to all of this.

Now, sitting in the middle of History of Magic and listening to Binn's droning voice, Harry just felt like his head was about to split open.

Once a freak, always a freak, Uncle Vernon had always told him.

Chapter Text

Ron was a guy. He was as manly as they come, to be quite frank. If Seamus was gay, Dean bisexual, and Nev unsure, then Ron was straight. And Seamus really was gay, and Dean really was bisexual and Neville really was unsure… Okay, so the last bit wasn't totally true. Ron just hadn't asked him about those kind of stuff yet, but Ron really was straight.

He knew because he was in love with Hermione, who was a girl.

So, since Ron was a man and was in love with Hermione, he found out quite easily why Harry had been sighing into his History textbook for the past hour and looking more lost than how someone usually looked in Binns' class.

It wasn't hard, really.

Harry was his best mate after all and even though Hermione liked to claim that she understood Harry better than he did, she didn't have the same kind of brotherly thing that he and Harry shared as men.

During that fateful day in the Great Hall when the rumors of Harry and Draco's Illicit Love AffairTM had first popped up from someone's wicked, wicked mind, Ron wasn't as shocked as he had expected himself to be.

Really, if Ron stopped being mortified and utterly horrified, then he could say that he had expected it to happen.

He was Harry's best mate after all, and Ron be damned if he hadn't notice the little things that changed in Harry's face whenever Harry would watch Malfoy suspiciously during their younger years.

And Ron was in love with Hermione after all.

Had been for the past four years and probably would be for the rest of his life.

So Ron knew just what changed with Harry when his mate entered the Great Hall that morning for breakfast, looking fidgety and wide-eyed as if he'd just seen the world for the first time again.

It was exactly what Ron had looked like when he first realized that he was, possibly, in love with Hermione.

Now, Ron could accept this.

Sort of.

It was still a bit difficult for him, you understand. It was one thing to joke about it, quite another to have it really happen.

But Ron could take it.

He was a man after all.

And he knew how these sorts of feelings didn't leave room for discussion.

They were just there.

He knew how it feels to be in love, and how scary it was.

Ron grew up in a family tied together tightly with love. His parents married for love, stuck together for love, and grew old together with love. Theirs wasn't the kind that waned and dwindled with age, and that sort of thing normally stays with one's children.

Ron had his wise moments, sometimes, rare as they were.

Like now, for instance.

He stared at Harry's slumped form beside him, thinking that even though Harry knew love, had plenty of it, he probably didn't know what to do with this kind.

The day rolled by uneventfully, the classes going by one after the other until it was finally lunch. Harry had been subdued and lost in thought the whole morning that Hermione and Ron were starting to get really worried, but when lunch rolled around, Harry seemed to suddenly bounce back.

"I think they want something from me," he announced thoughtfully, although this was done in a whisper.

Ron and Hermione shared looks of confusion. "They?"

"You know," Harry shrugged, waving not-so-discreetly as his eyes darted left and right. "Err. Traps."

His two friends immediately got his meaning. "I don't think it's best to talk about this here," Hermione whispered, grabbing an apple as she stood up.

Harry and Ron shrugged at each other and wordlessly stood up as well, grabbing muffins along the way.

On the other side of the room, Pansy had to lift a leg onto Draco's lap just to keep him seated.

"Draco, don't be such a mother hen, he'll be fine," Pansy muttered, annoyed at having to resort to such things just to restrain a healthy 18-year-old boy who, while not as burly as other 18-year-old boys were, was certainly bigger and heavier than her petite form.

Draco flopped back down in his chair ungracefully. He glared at Pansy. "But if he –"

"Granger and Weasley are with him," Pansy said, pinning him down with her own glare. "Now sit and be quiet."

Draco did, muttering about women and why he preferred blokes.

(Correction: why he preferred Harry.)

"Why the sudden proclamation in the Great Hall earlier, Harry?" Hermione asked, once they were already away from the Great Hall and the castle in general. They sat on the grass in front of the Great Lake, shaded under the leaves and branches of an old, giant tree.

"Well," Harry started, biting on his muffin. "I was doing a lot of thinking –"

Ron snorted. "Never would've guessed," he muttered.

Harry ignored him. "And my mind just kind of… went to it, you know?" he paused, chewing. "I've talked to Remus and D—Draco about it –" Ron and Hermione raised an eyebrow at how Harry's voice broke but didn't comment. "—and they both don't think that whoever's been trying to get me is out to, well… kill me," he finished softly.

Hermione and Ron both sobered at this, and Hermione drew a little bit closer to Harry unconsciously.

"I think they want something," Harry said, face contorted in concentration as he tried to think of what. "Something only I know, or only I could get. Or – or, well, or maybe not," he concluded, nose scrunching up as his brain failed him. "Maybe they just want to torture me slowly," he muttered.

"Well, that's easy," Ron said with a huff. "We just won't let them catch you. We have no plans on that, Harry."

Harry could feel the smile pulling at his lips and the warmth spreading all over him. "Don't make me hug you, Ron."

Ron pulled a face, but couldn't stop the grin as well.

Only Hermione remained thoughtful, her brain working its own magic.

The rest of their lunch period was spent that way, discussing morbid things so casually that one wouldn't think they were merely 18-year-olds, trying to pass their NEWTs and graduate from school.

They didn't think they'd ever be normal again.

Not really.

"You're moping," Blaise commented idly as they walked to their next class.

"I am not," Draco replied through gritted teeth, not even looking at him.

"Don't mind him, Blaise," Pansy said airily. "I think he's going through withdrawal. Harry's been with him nearly the whole weekend so their first time being separated has Draco in a sour mood," she said, like a Mediwitch telling the parents of her patient the reason why their baby has potty problems.

Draco glared at her and at how she shone gold.

Blaise nodded, and continued on as if Draco wasn't present. "I think he's just jealous that Granger and Weasel has Potter back for themselves."

Gold.

"Or that Harry doesn't seem to need him 24/7," Pansy added helpfully.

Blaise nodded obligingly. "Or that Potter didn't look at him when he left the Great Hall earlier during lunch."

"Chapter 15, page 246. Love Potions," Snape said it with such venom and disgust in his voice that his students shivered. "That will be our new lesson, and if I hear one indecent giggle throughout the week that we will be discussing this topic, the trophy room will be waiting for nothing but you and your manicured nails," he sneered.

His wide-eyed students all shut up obediently.

As Snape started on the history of Love Potions ("One of the most idiotic things ever invented."), Harry nudged Draco with his elbow.

"Why are Blaise and Pansy, well…" he whispered, eyes darting behind him to look inconspicuously at Pansy whose skin was colored red and at Blaise who was colored yellow.

Draco looked smug.

"Five points from Gryffindor for not listening, Potter," Snape said without even looking at their direction.

"Page 247. I will give you half an hour to brew that potion," Snape said, his lip itching to curl into yet another sneer. "I believe I don't have to warn you to do it properly because you'll be testing that on your partner."

The look of horror that appeared on his students' faces mollified his mood somewhat.

"We're going to make a love potion?" Ron exclaimed, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. He swallowed nervously, and sneaked a glance at his partner, Crabbe. "Isn't that – isn't that illegal?"

Snape, who was very conveniently passing by him, raised an eyebrow at him menacingly. "If you were listening earlier, Mr. Weasley, we're going to make a mild and short-term love potion. I assumed that you of all people would know that this still counts as within the law, considering that your brothers make a living out of them."

Ron turned pink.

"It is, however, banned from Hogwarts," Snape continued, raising his chin authoritatively and looking at all of them pointedly down his nose. "What you make here today is merely for academic purposes and will stay here. Have I made myself clear?"

His voice promised suffering for those who disobeyed it.

The students all nodded meekly.

"Sir," Blaise called out, feeling confident now that Draco's hex had worn off and his skin was back to its normal color. He raised a hand in the air. "Just how…" he started, glancing at his partner, Neville. "…short-term is this potion?"

Snape's smile was the stuff of nightmares. "Twenty minutes at most."

And they all blanched, thinking of all the embarrassing things they were bound to do in twenty, long minutes while under the effects of the potion. Granted, there was the mischievous thought of watching the embarrassing things your partner was going to do while under the effects of the potion, but that would only come if they weren't the one to intake the concoction.

So it was then that the classroom erupted into war, with partners fighting each other to be the one not to take the potion.

There were only two tables whose occupants weren't trying to bite each other's heads off.

The table of Neville and Blaise, and the table of Harry and Draco.

Blaise stared at the cauldron which didn't seem so ominous two minutes ago. He supposed he wouldn't mind, throwing himself under the effects of the love potion. It would be rather fulfilling to act like he was in love with Neville without Neville knowing that he really was in love with him.

Hating himself for the disgustingly Gryffindor act he was about to do, he turned to Neville to sacrifice himself and his dignity. "Longbottom, I –"

Neville was red up to his ears as he looked at Blaise from the corner of his eye with a shy, nervous smile. "I'll take the potion."

Blaise stared at him.

Neville flushed self-consciously even more. "At least then I won't have to be the one to make the potion. I think we both know just how many cauldrons I've blown up this year," he added wryly.

Blaise stared even more.

Really, he could understand why Greengrass (who was at the far back, trying to resist not engaging in a catfight with Parvati) was after Neville.

Pansy was right.

Neville really did come back from the summer looking like Gilderoy Lockhart.

(This was all just in a metaphorical sense, of course, because Blaise didn't think Lockhart was all that and had no idea why his mum had this affair with him – other than the money, of course. Besides, Longbottom was certainly better-looking than Lockhart.)

"You haven't blown up a cauldron this month," Blaise said thoughtfully.

Neville shot him a small, grateful smile.

Harry was mortified.

Really mortified.

In fact, he was so mortified that he was actually ready to convince himself that Snape had planned this all along, to have them make love potions on the same day that Harry had his epiphany with sunshine and blond hair.

Draco was mortified too. But not as mortified as Harry, because Draco was actually thinking along the same lines as Blaise.

He supposed it wouldn't be all that bad to act like he was in love with Harry Potter once in his life without Harry knowing that he really was in love with him.

And besides, as if Draco was going to let Harry test anything.

That was the reason why Draco always insisted that he test the potions they made. While he trusted his own skill in Potion making as well as the ingredients in his godfather's cupboards, he knew there was always a small percent for accidents. What if they put the wrong ingredient? What if they used the wrong number of stirs?

(On his more paranoid days, Draco would wonder: what if a Death Eater sneaked into Hogwarts and brushed their cauldron with hemlock?)

His own 'accident' with the Restoration Potion only served to prove his point after all.

That was why Draco never let Harry drink their potions.

In his opinion, his well-being wasn't worth much compared to the Golden Boy's. Better him than the Boy-Who-Lived after all.

…No.

Better him than Harry.

"Don't look so petrified, Harry," Draco said, rolling his eyes. He looked with amusement at Harry's pale and gobsmacked expression which was much like the one Harry had sported this morning when he first woke up. "Now get chopping."

Harry seemed to snap out of his stupor with a start, and he looked at Draco, eyes wide. "What?" he asked dumbly.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What you always do. You chop, and normally I make the potion but seeing as this potion is rather different, this time you'll be making the potion too. Against my better judgment, really. After all, we did agree that it was dangerous for all the creatures of the earth to let you near the cauldron, but I suppose the world will have to risk this one."

The fact that Harry didn't realize the insult was proof that his brain was too befuddled to work properly. "I'm going to make the potion?"

Draco nodded at him, slowly, just in case Harry was too confused to understand a nod for a 'yes' at first glance.

Harry blinked. "So you'll –"

"Be testing the potion, yes," Draco said with a cringe at the thought of throwing away his Malfoy dignity. Ah, his father must be writhing in pain in Azkaban right now. "So you better not mess this up or I'll Furnunculus you into next week if something goes wrong."

Then he realized what he just said and he hadn't meant to make references to the accident with the Restoration Potion so he opened his mouth quickly to undo the damage, but it seemed that Harry had already caught on the reference as well and looked ashamed.

"Draco, maybe you should –" Harry started awkwardly but was cut off when Draco placed a firm hand on his arm.

Draco looked at him, apologetic. "I was joking, Harry."

And Harry could feel his face flushing again because Draco shouldn't look like that – it was horribly unfair.

He nodded abruptly, and Not Looked at Draco as he took his arm back. (It felt tingly under Draco's warm palm.) "Alright," he said, smiling nervously. "You're going to have to talk me through it though."

His fingers shook a bit at the thought of having Draco in love with him. At least, act like he was in love with him. He didn't know how he'd be able to live through those twenty minutes without his nerves exploding. He felt like he was somehow taking advantage of Draco somehow though. That thought made his stomach heavy.

"Draco, you know what, maybe you should be the one to make the potion," Harry started suddenly.

There was also this idea forming in his head that told him that maybe if he acted on these feelings of his for Draco once, maybe it would get out of his system.

Draco raised an eyebrow. He opened his mouth to say no, but Snape appeared in front of their table, cutting him off.

"I agree with Potter."

Draco's eyebrows furrowed. "You do?"

Harry blinked at him in incredulity and wondered if Snape was currently suffering from a serious illness. "You do?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at them. "The Ashwinder eggs," he said, motioning to their chopping board where the frozen eggs lay. He spoke in a voice that was loud enough to be heard over the arguments erupting all over the classroom but quiet enough so that only Harry and Draco heard him.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter," he started, because he never could resist a chance to take points off from Gryffindor. The way that Harry tensed and then cringed told him that the boy knew that too. "What is ashwinder?"

"A snake?" Harry replied sheepishly.

Snape had expected that kind of answer and turned to Draco.

"A snake created from magical fire," Draco replied helpfully.

Snape's lip curled into what may have been a smile. "Five points to Slytherin." He paused, and then added as an afterthought, "And five points from Gryffindor."

Harry glowered.

"If you remember, what caused the reaction that got you into your little predicament, Draco, are the Erumpent Exploding Fluid from the Restoration Potion and the Dragon's Blood from the Veritaserum," Snape said, frowning. "I hope that I don't need to explain why I don't think you should take the potion."

Draco understood, and he wished he didn't. He wasn't really comfortable letting Harry test anything –

"I'll take it," Harry piped up, his voice determined even though his smile was a little uneasy. He was right about not letting Draco take the potion. He felt weak at the thought that he nearly did though. He really didn't want Draco to get into any more 'accidents'. Suddenly, Harry realized just how dangerous Potions could really be.

"Harry –" Draco argued but Harry shook his head resolutely.

"No, I'll do it. It's only twenty minutes anyway," Harry said, shrugging. That statement was said also to assure himself. He smiled at Draco wryly. "I reckon you'll have loads of blackmail material by then."

Draco realized he was losing this battle. With a long suffering sigh, he nodded.

Snape nodded back and walked away, satisfied with his answer.

As he left, Draco turned to Harry and offered him a small smile. "I wonder how much the Daily Prophet will pay me for photos."

Ron didn't even have to fight for the right to not take the potion – compared to Crabbe, he was already a guaranteed lost. This was okay though, because he had two people sympathizing with him: Dean, who was partnered with Goyle, and Lavender, who was partnered with Bulstrode.

Hermione and Pansy had stared each other down, until Pansy said something about 'academic purposes' which immediately made Hermione (though a bit warily) agree to take the potion.

Greengrass and Patil were still pulling each other's hairs out.

Theo actually fought to take the potion – he didn't know what Seamus Finnigan was capable of under the influence of a Love Potion and he didn't exactly want to know.

Draco's hands were shaking – not that Harry noticed, of course. To him, Draco looked as confident and regal as ever, and worked with the impeccable and flawless skill of someone who had been doing Potions since he was a young boy and loving it.

But in all truth and honesty, Draco was feeling out of sorts for two reasons.

One, he felt like he had to make sure that he did the potion right. He also checked the ingredients twice to make sure they were the right one and didn't have anything suspicious mixed with it. (He checked the cauldron too. Discreetly.)

And two, he was about to know what it felt having his feelings reciprocated. Granted, it wasn't real love – just bottled infatuation that wears off after twenty minutes, but the mere thought of it, having Harry Potter in love with him…

"Maybe I should do the cutting," Harry piped up nervously beside him.

Draco jumped a bit, startled from his reverie. He turned to Harry, blinking. "What?"

Harry shrugged. "You're going to chop your finger off if you keep on doing that."

Draco flushed.

In no time at all, the potion was finished – too quickly for Draco's liking. Sometimes being a Potions genius had its drawbacks, really.

"Here," he muttered, raising the bottle where he had poured the potion in. Feeling brave, he chanced a look at Harry – who only looked a little nervous.

"You don't seem too worried," Draco commented, mainly to diffuse the tension. Well, his tension anyway. Harry didn't seem to have any.

"Well," Harry started, taking the bottle from him. When he continued, it was with a wry and a slightly amused smile. "I just thought that I've taken worse."

Curiously, he raised the bottle to his nose, blushing when he realized that he was expecting it to smell like Draco. He was confused when it didn't smell like anything though, except… spices.

It was Draco's turn to be amused. "It's not Amortentia, Harry."

Harry's face turned redder in embarrassment. He coughed. "Right," he muttered.

He glanced around the room, taking in the weird scenarios unfolding.

Draco had always worked efficiently fast with anything concerning Potions, so he was the only one who had finished. Pansy was taking her time, being purposefully agonizingly slow under Hermione's sullen glare. Ron, Dean and Lavender found themselves breathing in relief – Crabbe, Goyle and Bulstrode didn't seem to be anywhere near finishing their potions.

Greengrass and Patil were still trying to tear each others' hairs out, Theo kept an eternally weary eye on Seamus, and Blaise, well… he was normally good at Potions but his nerves made it impossible for him to work fast – which wasn't really a problem, because Neville didn't know anything about Potions (much) and didn't notice anything amiss.

Harry looked back at Draco and smiled nervously. "Cheers."

And Draco wiped his sweaty palms on his robes at the same time Harry threw his head back and downed the Love Potion.

Behind them, Hermione watched with a curious eye.

Standing in front of the room, Snape did the same.

Draco wasn't expecting Harry to suddenly jump him and snog him to Christmas (He was hoping, not expecting.) but he certainly hadn't expected Harry to scrunch his nose in disgust and wipe his lips with his sleeve.

"Doesn't taste very good," Harry muttered, looking at the bottle like it did something very horrible to him (which it did, in his opinion).

Draco blinked at him dumbly. Then cocked his head to eye him warily. "Are you," he started, wetting suddenly dry lips. "Err, well, are you in love with me now?"

It was a painful question to ask, but Draco did anyway. Just to be sure.

Harry's head snapped up to his, and their eyes locked in what seemed to be an electrifying moment. Harry opened his mouth – then quickly shut it closed with a brief look of horror.

Impulse made him almost say 'no', though honesty (and expectation, maybe, since Draco was expecting the potion to take effect right about now…) almost made him say 'yes'. Either way, it would have landed him in a very difficult situation. Had he said no, he would probably turn him into a big ball of black, well… Snitches? (He didn't exactly really know what Draco saw when determining a lie. All he knew was that saying the truth meant pretty, little Golden Snitches and a lie meant… well, err, black ones?) But had he said yes, he would have proclaimed that yes, he was in love with Draco, thank you very much, and glow like golden fairy lights on Christmas even though that was the expected answer because the potion really should have taken effect right about now.

The only problem was – Harry didn't feel anything different.

"Err," he said as intelligently as he could. "I don't have this inexplicable urge to suddenly snog you or, err, anything."

He watched as Draco's face fell, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared, to be replaced by the more appropriate expression of confusion and bafflement.

"It didn't work?" Draco asked incredulously.

Harry looked back at the bottle. He thought about snogging Draco, and flushed. Well, okay, so he did want to do it but it wasn't this… immediate and impulsive need that normally pulled on one's muscles forcefully because of the Love Potion.

"I don't think so," he said honestly.

Draco blinked once more. "I can't believe it."

Harry offered him a sympathetic look. Draco hadn't failed a Potions experiment since second year.

The blond turned back to the chopping board. "I'm sure I did it right…"

"Did you put two ashwinder eggs?" Harry supplied lamely, knowing and believing that Draco did put two ashwinder eggs because he'd been Draco's Potions partner for eight years now and he just knew these kinds of things.

"Of course I did," Draco replied irritably, though the irritation was more at himself for having failed the potion. A part of him was also miserable that he wouldn't ever experience a requited love (even if it was only for twenty minutes), while another part of him felt relieved that it didn't work. Mostly, he felt annoyed because this was Potions. He always got perfect scores!

"Maybe you can try again?" Harry asked, in an effort to diffuse his bad mood, though whatever reply Draco had was lost as the room erupted into chaos as the Love Potions were downed one after another.

Crabbe held Ron by the shoulders and away at arms' length as Ron gave him a dreamy smile and told him how his eyes were as deep as the midnight sky, while Goyle hid under the table from a lovesick Dean. Bulstrode had it worse – she was almost wrestling to get Lavender off her.

Theo, however, was happily situated under their table and enthusiastically snogging Seamus (with tongue) who didn't seem to be minding much at all.

Snape snapped out of his stupor and yelled at Greengrass and Patil and told them that they were getting Dreadfuls for the experiment so they shouldn't bother making it anymore seeing as they couldn't be bothered to stop acting like children and scratching at each other whilst complaining how they were breaking nails.

He looked quite shaken and deathly pale, though Harry assumed that it was only due to restrained rage.

He turned to Neville, who was looking at Blaise with an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry, I don't think – well, I don't feel any different," Neville was saying.

Blaise looked confused, before turning to his book. "I'm pretty sure I did it right…"

Beside Harry, Draco was in an identical state, eyebrows furrowed and hunched over his textbook. "But I did everything exactly as it said…"

Harry didn't know how to comfort a Potions genius, so he merely sat next to Draco silently, just in case the blond needed a friend.

Behind their table, Hermione glanced thoughtfully at the bottle that Pansy had handed over to her. "Did you read the Introduction to the chapter?" she asked distractedly, a wistful expression on her face.

Pansy raised an eyebrow at her and looked at her as if she was stupid (which was saying something, because this was Hermione Granger she was looking at). "Of course not. Nobody reads the Introduction, Hermione," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Huh," Hermione replied. She glanced at Harry and Draco's table, then at Neville and Blaise's.

Then, a bright smile appeared on her lips. "Did you know that Love Potions don't work when the recipient already has feelings for the person who gave it to them?"

Then she downed the potion and prepared to horribly embarrass herself, but still feeling inexplicably proud about it because Pansy was looking at her confusedly, wondering what the bloody hell she was talking about.

By the end of the period, the students were all but ready to run from the classroom and Obliviate themselves. (Except Seamus, anyway.) Draco, Pansy and Blaise went towards their common room for the latter two to drop their books while Harry, Ron and Hermione went straight for the Great Hall.

Ron's horrified moaning was heard echoing all over the dungeons.

"Midnight sky, 'Mione! I said his eyes were as deep as the midnight fucking sky!"

(Theo, on the other hand, also headed for the Slytherin common room and remained eerily silent throughout the whole night. In fact, he ended up locking himself in their room and muttering to himself that it was all just a dream.)

Dinner came and with it talk about the start of the Quidditch season and the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. Consequently, instead of thinking about their earlier conversation during lunch about safety rooms and wicked schemes, Harry was thinking whether Draco would still play Quidditch and if they'll get to go to Hogsmeade together because of both their promises to look out for the other.

"Wonder if we're still allowed to play," Ron mused out loud through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

Professor McGonagall would probably make an exception and let them go their own separate ways since she knew that Harry would be with Hermione and Ron, and Draco would be with Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle. The thought of being away from Draco…

Come off it, Harry, Harry thought furiously, face flushing at what he was thinking. He was acting like a girl. And besides, Draco would probably want to go with his friends anyway.

"I said," Ron repeated, swallowing and clearing his throat. "I wonder if we'll be allowed to play."

Harry was startled out of his reverie, and he blinked at Ron. "What?"

"You know," Ron made waving motions with his hand. "Quidditch? Flying? Golden Snitches?"

"Oh, uhm," Harry said, flushing as Ron smirked and Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "I haven't really thought about it. Maybe not? I mean, we're eighth years –"

"Of course McGonagall's still going to let you play," said a very familiar voice behind him.

"Yo, Gin," Ron greeted haphazardly, scooping more mashed potatoes in his mouth.

"Hello, Ginny," Hermione smiled at her warmly.

Harry turned to see Ginny sitting beside him, and he gave her a small smile. "Hullo, Ginny."

He still felt a little awkward talking to her, but as she smiled back at him brightly in greeting, he could feel his shoulders relaxing and the old familiarity between friends settle in.

"I asked her about it already. You still retain your old positions," Ginny said excitedly.

"But what about the others in the team?" Harry asked, confused. "And you're already the Seeker. I can't just take that away."

Ginny shook her head, long strands of red hair flowing gracefully as she did so. "Seeking's not for me. I prefer Chasing. And we're pretty short on members anyway, since a good number of the team didn't come back here for the school year," she explained with a shrug.

Ron grinned at her proudly. "It's good when your little sister's Team Captain."

But his enthusiasm was short-lived as Hermione elbowed him quite painfully with a disapproving and raised eyebrow.

"Thanks, Gin!" Harry said, grinning happily.

"Sure, as long as you won't be complaining about our training schedule," Ginny replied nonchalantly, but the way her eyes twinkled with smug mischief made Ron stiffen.

"I take it back," Ron muttered. "Ginny should never have been made Captain. It's completely mental."

Ginny smiled sweetly at him and then turned to Hermione. "Where's Neville?"

"At the Greenhouses," Hermione replied, reaching for a treacle tart.

"At this hour?" Ginny asked, blinking.

Hermione nodded. "They want to finish it by Halloween. He says they're still far from it though."

"We need to get the poor lad out of the greenhouses and into Hogsmeade," Ron said decisively.

(Well, seemingly decisively anyway, because his mouth was full of mashed potatoes.)

"I suppose I'll have to go find some Gryffindor to take to Hogsmeade with as well," Pansy said sullenly. She crossed her arms and sighed dramatically as they turned a corner in the dungeons towards the Great Hall.

Blaise and Draco glanced at each other with identical raised eyebrows.

"I mean," Pansy continued, her voice gathering more of a whine. "You're both going to leave me on Saturday!" she wailed.

The way the light around her shone black said that she didn't really believe they would.

"And why, pray tell, is that?" Draco asked patiently.

Pansy glared at him sulkily. "You're going to go off and frolic with Harry and you –" She turned to Blaise with hands akimbo and chin raised haughtily. "— are probably going to stalk Longbottom."

Blaise turned a dark shade of red. "And why would I do that?" he spluttered indignantly. "I do not –"

Then he quickly stopped himself, because he knew that the light around him had probably turned black, and he needed to shut up in order for his sullen glare on Draco to be effective.

Draco looked smug as they continued walking. "You're probably right," he said in response to Pansy. He looked immensely pleased with himself. "I'll probably guilt-trip him into spending the whole day with me."

Pansy raised an eyebrow.

Draco shrugged. "Taking relatively dangerous mixtures of potions does have its advantages," he said, nodding authoritatively. "Besides, it's very Slytherin, unlike Blaise here. Longbottom –"

"Yes?"

And they all froze in mid-stride as Neville emerged from the corner, looking sheepish and embarrassed.

Blaise didn't seem to believe his eyes, which stared unblinkingly.

Draco noted that while Neville looked embarrassed, he didn't look nervous to be surrounded by Slytherins in dangerous territory unlike if it had been, say… second year.

"Sorry," Neville said with a shrug. "I heard my name."

Pansy recovered first. "We were just talking about you!" she gushed with a bright smile.

Oh, this girl was made for Slytherin, thought Draco amusedly.

"You see, Draco here will probably be on a date with Harry, you know, Illicit Love Affair and all, and I've got my own with Terry Boot –" The light around her turned black here, so Draco didn't worry. Terry Boot was an arse. "— so we were wondering if you'd like to accompany Blaise here," she said, holding Blaise by the shoulders and pushing him forward.

Blaise looked back at her incredulously and an expression that clearly said what the fuck are you on?

Pansy ignored her and continued on solemnly. "Since you're Potions partners and all," she finished, as if it was the most universal and reasonable thing ever.

Draco wished that to be true. He could just snog Harry in the middle of the Great Hall and tell him afterwards, 'since we're Potions partners and all'.

"Oh," Neville said awkwardly, turning pink. He let out a small, tight smile towards Blaise. "I'd love to but you'd probably want to go with, well, err, Nott, maybe –"

"Theo's having a sexual identity crisis," Draco announced firmly.

"No," Blaise said. All eyes turned to him, wondering what he knew of Theo's sexuality. "I mean, no – I mean, yes, I'd love to go with you, if you wouldn't mind."

Thank Merlin for the built-in flirt that had grown within him over time watching his mother go through nearly five husbands a year since he was four.

Neville's tight smile unraveled into something that seemed relieved and ecstatic at the same time. "Alright."

"Great!" Pansy exclaimed with a clap of her hands. She smiled at Neville. "Now, what are you doing in the dungeons at this time of the night?" she asked coolly, but Draco and Blaise knew better. The girl wanted her gossip; she was going to get her gossip.

"Oh," Neville said, looking startled as he remembered and embarrassed once again as he did so. "Morgan sent me to get a Blood-Replenishing Potion from Professor Snape and I kind of –"

"Got lost?" Blaise finished for him, taking pity.

Flushing, Neville nodded. "I don't understand the dungeons," he said despairingly.

"I'll give you a tour sometime," Blaise said nonchalantly, smiling winningly as he led Neville away.

Pansy hooked her arm around Draco's, grinning amusedly at the retreating backs of Blaise and Neville. "I guess it's just the two of us, Dray."

"Don't call me that, I'll hex you," Draco replied automatically. They started walking, arm in arm. "And Terry Boot?" he asked skeptically.

Pansy shrugged, flipping her hair behind her shoulders. "Known bedspacer. He's practically bedded nearly all the Slytherin and Ravenclaw girls, so naturally," she quipped with a roll of her eyes and an amused smile. "That was the first name that came into my head."

Draco was feeling pretty happy with himself. The day had been very good to him, exclusive of his little Potions mishap. (He still couldn't believe he didn't get it right.) Then again, he supposed that any day starting with snuggling with Harry Potter was bound to be rather amazing.

He was thinking this as the Great Hall came into view –

Then his stomach suddenly felt like it was on fire.

"Draco!"

Draco didn't think he was really conscious of it when it happened. He remembered panicking and Pansy shrieking and Blaise yelling and holding him up, and he remembered the burning – his chest felt like it was burning and his throat seemed like it was closing up and he couldn't breathe and everything hurt so he was coughing and heaving against the floor, thinking this was the first time this happened without Harry around and he could really use Harry right about now.

"Oh, God," Neville uttered shakily under his breath as Draco gave one mighty heave and blood splattered on the floor.

"Belladonna," Draco rasped out, clutching his throat with one hand while the other kept him from falling face-first on the floor. "Pocket."

Pansy immediately and frantically began groping him, searching for his robe pocket. When she found it, she shoved a hand inside and pulled out a small bottle.

Draco quickly grabbed it, shaky hands trying to open it with no success until Blaise yanked it out of his grip, opened it, and pulled at blond hair until Draco's head was tilted upwards before pouring the tincture down Draco's throat.

Draco welcomed the soothing trail that the belladonna left from his tongue downwards, but it was going too slowly, and his chest still hurt. "Water," he gasped out.

It was then that Neville snapped out of his shock, and he quickly shoved a hand down his own pocket, pulling out a small flask. Kneeling beside the three, he opened the flask, and seeing that Blaise still had Draco's head pulled backwards, poured the contents of the flask in Draco's mouth as well.

And Draco could smell Quidditch and grass and the Hospital Wing, for Merlin's sake, but it was such a familiar smell, a comfortable one, and it smelled like Harry – who had just very conveniently stepped out of the Great Hall and turned to them with wide eyes at the same time that Draco gave Neville a dreamy smile, jumped at him and kissed him on the lips.

Chapter Text

"What the bloody fuck did you do?"Pansy shrieked, pointing at Neville with one furious finger and looking like she very much wanted to bite his head off.

Neville, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to dig a hole and shove his head down there like an ostrich and never have to deal with the world ever again, because Pansy Parkinson obviously wanted to murder him, Draco Malfoy (Draco Malfoy!) was scrambling to get in his arms with puckered lips, and Blaise Zabini was looking at him wide-eyed and accusing.

Neville wanted to shrivel into a ball.

"I—I don't know—" he gasped out helplessly, still holding Draco away at arms-length. "I swear, I didn't do anythi – Malfoy, stop it!"

And just like that, like a switch turned off, Draco stopped. In fact, he stopped all movement and was looking at Neville, wide-eyed and shocked.

Pansy and Blaise had looked shocked too, at how easily Draco listened, but now they just felt like fainting because Draco's eyes were starting to water and his lower lip was starting to tremble and this was Draco Malfoy!

"You hate me," Draco gasped out despairingly, gazing at Neville with misery.

Pansy's cry was one of horror. "Oh, dear God!" she muttered, frustrated, and got out her wand.

"Stupefy!"

Harry wasn't sure about what was going on. He wasn't sure really if eating those mashed potatoes that Ron had been eating was a good idea because he was seeing things, things like – well, like Draco pouncing on Neville and kissing him!

He also saw Pansy Stupefy-ing her best friend, but that shock was for later because all he could think about was Draco and Neville and kiss and ow, Harry wanted to curl into a ball and die.

He stood there shell-shocked, eyes wide and mouth open as Pansy, Blaise and Neville now helped each other to get Draco's unconscious form off the ground.

Behind him, he vaguely registered the doors to the Great Hall opening and Ron and Hermione stepping out, but that was the moment that Pansy finally saw him, eyes widening and hands dropping from Draco's arm and shoulder. Consequently, Neville and Blaise were taken by surprise at the sudden weight and they ended up dropping Draco on the floor.

Hermione and Ron stared, frozen and not very sure about what they were seeing, and Pansy shrieked once more in fury as the finger that had once pointed to Neville now pointed at Harry, demanding.

In retrospect, of course Harry didn't do anything wrong other than stand there and gape, but Draco's real love was Harry and that was enough reason for Pansy, who just really needed to yell at someone, to scream:

"Harry fucking Potter, get your bloody ass here right now!"

"Longbottom –" Pansy wheezed, as she willed her arm and wand to stay outstretched despite the painful strain at having done so for the past ten minutes. She forced herself to, anyway, because it felt like she was the only one capable of casting a good Hovering Charm among Neville, Ron and Harry.

Blaise and Hermione stood at the side, continuously casting Disillusionment Spells, because they were the only ones who knew how to do decent ones.

As for Hovering Spells, it was a fairly basic spell taught since first year, when they first started out with feathers, and although they've gone a long way from levitating almost weightless objects, the dead-weight of an unconscious 18-year-old boy was quite another thing.

Pansy already knew that Neville would suck in regards to the Hovering Spell, so she hadn't really expected much. She didn't really expect anything out of Weasley either, mainly out of Slytherin obligation rather than anything else, but Harry, well, she knew from their little stay in the chambers of the Philosopher's Stone that the boy knew his Hovering Charms, but right now, well, he was just –

Awful.

He looked awful as well, like he was about to be sick.

So, despite the fact that there were four people casting Hovering Charms on Draco, Pansy bore the brunt. Men, she thought angrily. Outwardly, she hissed, "What the hell –" She took a big gulp of air. "— did you do?"

"Nothing!" Neville squeaked, dropping his arm in surprise and consequently putting down his wand as well.

Pansy hissed once more as more weight was added on her. Ron almost stumbled over his own two feet, and Harry just turned paler.

The four of them made some kind of diamond, with Draco hovering in the middle, sleeping peacefully and blissfully that Pansy had half a mind to Rennervate him then Stupefy him again just for the pleasure of it. On both sides of the diamond were Blaise and Hermione, periodically casting Disillusionment Spells as they walked nearer and nearer to the Hospital Wing.

"Your wand, mate –" Ron hissed with great effort.

Neville scrambled for his wand again.

"I don't think Neville did anything," Hermione said thoughtfully, ever the voice of reason. She glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye, continuing her speech distractedly. "Maybe he didn't know what was inside that flask."

"I think so too," Blaise acquiesced, mumbling. He raised his eyes to look at Neville, who merely turned redder.

"I—Greengrass said it was water—"

This time, it was Pansy's arm's turn to drop.

Ron squeaked out something about Merlin's balls.

"Greengrass?"she growled, eyes narrowing into slits.

She was really looking murderous now, though Neville was glad that the intent wasn't focused on him anymore. Still, Greengrass was currently unavailable to look angrily at, so he wasn't saved from that. In his panic, his wand arm dropped as he hastily tried to explain himself even as they continued walking down the corridor.

"This morning, while I was working at the Greenhouse, she – err, she came by and gave me the flask—" he rambled on, looking miserable.

"What did she say?" Pansy demanded.

Neville jumped. "That she liked what we were doing with the Greenhouse Project—"

"Oh, does she now?" Blaise muttered to himself through gritted teeth, thinking of a dozen new hexes that he wanted to test out.

Neville turned pale, but he continued on. "And that I must be tired, so she – she gave me the flask, but I was so busy with what I was doing that I forgot about it and just kept it with me. I – I really thought it was water –"

"Breathe, Neville," Blaise finally said, sighing. He looked much more relaxed than a few moments ago. "We know you didn't do anything. What was inside that flask was Amortentia. Greengrass has been trying to give it to you for weeks."

Now, Neville's face wasn't sure what color it should turn to; his blood was quite undecided whether it should go up to his face or drain from it. It had gone up when he realized that Blaise had just called him by his first name, but it went away quite suddenly when he realized that what he had just given Draco was the most powerful love-potion that ever existed. Even more so when it registered that Greengrass had given Amortentia to him, probably to humiliate him in public.

"I'm sorry," he said instead, wretchedly.

"I'll fucking kill her," Pansy fumed.

Blaise nodded in enthusiastic agreement. Hermione was only listening with one ear though, because she was mainly focused on Harry, who wasn't listening with any of his ears at all and was looking quite pale and as miserable as Neville, though that could be because he was still holding his wand out, trying to keep Draco hovering with only Ron for help.

And Ron wheezed some more and glared at them all. "If nobody casts another Hovering Charm, I swear I'll throw this ferret out the bloody window."

Ten Hovering Charms and seven Disillusionment Charms later, they finally reached the Hospital Wing and managed to safely deposit Draco on his bed. Madame Pomfrey was back at the Great Hall, still finishing her dinner, so they had no problems occupying the other beds, exhausted from all those spellwork they did. (Ron had actually sprawled on the ground mere seconds after Draco landed on his bed, and he would have happily stayed there too if it wasn't for Hermione.)

"Alright," Blaise said, looking at Draco's sleeping form and thinking of the blond's impending dramatic and horrified outburst. "What do we do?"

Pansy jumped off her bed and brandished her wand. "I'll take care of Greengrass."

"I meant about Draco!"

Draco, as if hearing his name, began to stir slightly awake.

Everyone shared alarmed looks.

"Stupefy him again!" Blaise said hurriedly, knowing that Draco wouldn't be happy about it. Draco also wouldn't be happy to know that he had acted like a lovesick puppy towards Neville either, so they were going with the lesser of the two evils.

"I can't!" Pansy replied, panicking as well. "I hit him a strong one earlier and he might be seriously hurt if I Stun him again."

"Well, I don't know – Cast Incarcerous or something!"

Pansy fumbled with her wand, rushing, but Draco was already awake and blinking blearily at them and smiling dreamily and really, Ron was enjoying this.

Then Draco caught sight of Neville and beamed, really beamed, like a fairy light turned on and he got off his bed as if he hadn't just been given a very strong Stun that left him unconscious through all the hovering he was made to do from the Great Hall to the Hospital Wing. "Neville!" he exclaimed happily, crossing the room and jumping onto Neville's bed.

Neville looked like he was about to be attacked by wild hippogriff as he scrambled back against the headboard, knees drawn to his chest. "Uhm, Malfoy, see here –"

But Draco was lunging forward again, trying to kiss him and Neville hastily grabbed his shoulders and tried to keep him away. His arms already hurt from having Hovered Draco earlier, but he would tolerate the pain if it meant keeping the blond from invading his personal space.

Ron turned away, but one could see his shoulders shaking. Hermione kicked him in the shin.

Blaise and Pansy watched on helplessly, fingers pressing at their temple.

Then an idea hit Blaise like a brick.

"The antidote – Professor Snape –"

"I'll get it," Harry said, jumping off his bed. He kept his eyes firmly away from Draco and Neville, and tried to keep his hands from shaking. He felt jittery. "I'll be right back," he said and quickly exited the Hospital Wing.

"Harry, you can't – !" Hermione exclaimed in alarm, but it was too late. The door to the infirmary had already closed behind Harry.

Her attention was diverted away from the doors though, because Neville had just let out a loud cry of despair. Draco was frozen on top of Neville, his face scrunched up in great concentration as he stared at the doors which Harry had just exited.

Then, just as abruptly as that happened, the dreamy smile returned and he went back to scrambling in for a kiss.

Harry knew now that Draco was under the effects of Amortentia (how Greengrass got a hold of that, he had no idea) but when he saw Draco kiss Neville, he had thought it was real and he still couldn't quite get the shock out of his system.

He knew this wasn't the time to wallow in self-pity at his unrequited love though, because Draco needed his help and – well, he knew that being more than friends would be impossible at the very beginning anyway.

After all, it was such a far-fetched idea. As if Draco would even consider that.

He ran down the corridor and down the stairs until he reached the Entrance Hall. Quickly deciding, he turned left to go down the dungeons rather than right to the Great Hall. Dinnertime still wasn't over, but students were piling out the Great Hall now and Harry knew that Snape ate fast.

(There were also other teachers out of the Great Hall now, littered around the Entrance Hall like the students as well. Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at him as he passed with a rushed greeting and Professor Bridgewood still Not Looked at him.)

The cold air of the dungeons greeted him, chilling his already cold hands. The Potions classroom was nearer than Snape's office so Harry made a beeline for that first. By the time he reached his destination, he was panting and shivering slightly with cold sweat. He didn't even bother to knock.

Relief shot through him like an arrow when he saw Snape behind his desk, grading papers and religiously writing Dreadfuls and obligatory scathing remarks on all of them. (Alright, not all…)

Snape raised an eyebrow at him. "Potter," he said, letting his displeasure at having been interrupted seep through. That, and he still felt rather disgruntled at his discovery during his class with the eighth year Gryffindors and Slytherins earlier, when Harry drank the love potion. He certainly didn't need Potter in front of him right now. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Seven years of Snape's sarcasm rendered you immune, Harry supposed, so he had no problems entering the classroom and walking straight up to Snape's desk. "Professor, do you have the antidote for Amortentia? Draco drank it and now he's been trying to kiss Neville because Greengrass gave it to Neville who gave it to Draco and we've brought him to the Hospital Wing–" he rambled on, only shutting up when he chanced a glance at Snape's face and saw the dark, furious expression he saw there that made him take a step back a bit.

When Snape spoke, it was with barely restrained rage. "Potter, are you telling me that Draco drank Amortentia? And now he's in the Hospital Wing, spewing love anecdotes for Longbottom?"

Well, Harry didn't say anything about love anecdotes, but he found that he didn't quite want to contradict Snape right now. He nodded meekly.

Snape stood up from his desk abruptly, making it rattle. He crossed the room and yanked his Potions cabinet open, muttering curses under his breath. "Detentions for each and everyone of you –" he muttered furiously.

He took the antidote, two Blood-Replenishing Potions and two belladonna tinctures. Then, he thought better of it and grabbed another Blood-Replenishing Potion just in case.

His hand shook as he did so, his mouth a grim line as he thought about all the dangerous effects the Amortentia could have on Draco. Ashwinder eggs, he thought with gritted teeth.

"Potter!" he snapped, turning around abruptly and sending his cloak billowing behind him. He strode up to Harry and shoved the bottles in the boy's arms. "Carry that and don't drop anything," he hissed, before turning around once more and out the door towards the Hospital Wing.

"Could've just shrunk them," Harry muttered, but rushed out of the classroom as well—

And bumped into Ron.

"Careful!" Harry exclaimed, balancing the bottles in his arms.

"Sorry!" Ron said quickly.

Harry glanced beside him and saw that Snape was still furiously stomping his way down the corridor. Ron followed his gaze and snorted.

"What's got his knickers in a bunch, huh?"

Harry turned to stare at him.

Ron shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry. Bumped into Morgan. He was still talking about knickers."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on. Let's hurry up. Help me carry these, will you?"

Ron took some of the bottles in his hands and they hurried after Snape.

"Hermione sent me after you," Ron said a while later through pants, as they walked up the stairs to the second floor. "You're not supposed to go out alone, Harry."

"Sorry," Harry said out of reflex rather than anything else, because he wasn't really sorry that he had rushed out of the Hospital Wing like that. He had really, really needed to get out of there.

He could feel the annoyance at being so heavily guarded again prickle the back of his neck, but he pushed that back down because he knew that his friends were only trying to help.

Still, it made Harry feel like it was fifth year all over again…

"Harry, help me!" Neville mouthed despairingly as soon as Harry entered. He was still backed up against the headboard of the bed, but this time his knees weren't drawn up to his chest anymore because Draco was beside him, snuggling against him with a satisfied and happy expression on his face.

Harry looked away, because while he was drawn to Draco's peaceful expression, he didn't think he could take his heart beating so harshly yet.

On other beds, Blaise, Pansy and Hermione sat, all panting from exhaustion at having tried to pry Draco away from Neville.

"Last I checked, he wasn't this strong," Blaise muttered, scowling darkly.

"Power of love," Pansy gasped out.

In their defense, the three of them didn't really give much force; they were afraid to hurt Draco.

Snape found them like that and it was all he could do not to turn back and walk out the door again.

"Oh, this is ridiculous!" Hermione exclaimed. "Neville, just sweet-talk Draco into staying still!"

Neville turned panicked-eyes on her. "I don't know how to sweet-talk!"

"Pretend it's someone you really like!" Hermione persisted, remembering their class in Potions earlier and how nothing happened to Neville when Blaise gave him the love potion.

Neville opened his mouth to refuse but Snape cut in, looking menacing and dangerous. "Do it, Longbottom!" he ordered.

Blaise then did Not Look at Neville because he did not like the idea of Neville liking someone.

Neville squeaked at Snape and shook his head wildly. "I can't even talk to the person I like without stuttering so I can't dothat –" he said, face burning fiercely.

Pansy stomped over to him and said dangerously, "Do it, Longbottom, or I swear I'll Furnunculus you every day for the rest of the year –"

"Pansy!" Hermione yelled with a glare as Neville squeaked.

Harry supposed that he really should find some humor in all of this (Ron was certainly helping himself.), if all he could feel so far was this numb, hollow feeling. Shake out of it, Harry, he thought furiously. This isn't about you.

"Neville, we just need you to ask him to drink, uhm, some medicine," he said, quickly changing his words when he saw that Draco was looking at him with a weird expression. He didn't know what Draco would think and how he would react if he had said 'antidote'.

Neville paled, but he nodded and took a deep breath. "Mal—" he cringed, and he actually looked quite a bit green there. "Draco."

Draco turned away from Harry to look at Neville, all smiles once more.

"Professor Snape's just going to give you some potions, so, uhm, would you?" Neville asked, voice squeaking. "For me?"

Oh, Merlin, Ron couldn't take it. He quickly strode over to the nearest bed, knelt before it and shoved his face against the mattress because he couldn't helpit. His shoulders shook from restrained mirth.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her boyfriend.

"Alright," Draco replied happily. "For you."

"Potter!" Snape snapped. "Give it to him."

Harry nodded dumbly and hurried towards Neville and Draco.

"Harry, you do know which one's the antidote, right?" Pansy asked skeptically, eyeing the similarly sized bottles in his hands.

"Antidote?" Draco said, blinking.

And all eyes turned to glare at Pansy, who quickly slapped a hand on her mouth and turned pink.

"Antidote?" Draco asked again, frowning. He turned to Neville. "They're trying to take me away from you," he said accusingly.

Neville quickly shook his head. "No, no, they're only trying to help. I promise, Mal – Draco, they're not going to do anything—"

"Well, I'm not drinking it," Draco announced stubbornly, glaring at the bottle that Harry held out.

Snape rubbed his temples and, for the first time ever, regretted that he ever made Draco into the Potions genius he was today.

"Please, Draco—"

"No!"

"You don't really like me," Neville said helplessly, already at the end of his rope.

Draco turned to him, eyes wide and disbelieving. "How can you say that?"

"You're in love with Harry!" Neville blurted out.

And everyone in the room unconsciously held their breath. Pansy and Blaise kept their eyes on Draco, wanting to see what effect this would have on him, but Hermione and Ron slid their eyes to Harry, worried.

Harry wanted to die, and he wanted to say 'that's not true, Neville' because Draco was only joking with the illegal affair thing and it wasn't true and Draco could never possibly be in love with Harry.

"Harry?" Draco asked, eyebrows furrowing as he looked at Harry. His face scrunched up in great concentration, as if he was thinking something but couldn't quite grasp it definitively. He turned to Neville, nose scrunched up in confusion. "Why would I be in love with Potter?"

And Harry slowly fell apart.

Why, indeed.

"Draco," Snape's voice cut through the tension like a knife. He took the antidote from Harry's hands, keeping his eyes away dutifully from Harry's face. He walked towards Draco, back straight and face forming into his most stern expression. "Would I give you something that would harm you?"

Draco's expression was pouty as he regarded his godfather with calculating eyes. Then, he shook his head. "No," he muttered, taking the antidote from Snape's outstretched hand.

He gave Neville one last longing glance, before downing the antidote.

Everyone held their breath.

"Potter," Snape said, turning to Harry. "A word," he whispered, before walking towards the door and out the infirmary.

Harry waited only to see Draco's confused expression turn into one of horrified realization before he walked out the door as well, leaving the room with a furiously beating heart.

"You do know what's going to happen now that Draco's taken in Amortentia," Snape said as soon as the door closed behind Harry. He wasn't going to beat around the bush.

Still shaken up, Harry could only nod dumbly.

Snape eyed the remaining two bottles that Harry was carrying. "You have the belladonna tinctures, and I assume that Weasley has the Blood-Replenishing Potions?"

Again, Harry nodded.

"Give Draco one of the belladonna later. If Draco's little coughing fit happens again, do not try to stop him from vomiting. He needs to get it out of his system, but be ready with Blood-Replenishing Potion. Are you listening to me, Potter?" Snape sneered.

"Yes, Professor," Harry said firmly.

Snape stared down at him, his mouth a thin line. Then, when he seemed to be satisfied enough, he nodded. "I'll inform Madame Pomfrey. Oh, and Potter?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"Detention for all of you tomorrow night," he said with a sneer, before turning away abruptly, his cloak billowing behind him as he continued his furious muttering. "Now excuse me while I go Obliviate myself."

Harry, in his confused and lovesick state, was starting to think that detention was Snape's way of showing affection.

When Harry reentered the Hospital Wing, Neville was still in the same bed as earlier, as well as Pansy, Hermione and Blaise. Ron was now sitting on the bed where he had just shoved his face onto earlier, but the only one who had changed places was Draco, who was now currently on his own bed, very far away from Neville. He sat there arms-crossed, eyebrow twitching and with a petulant expression on his face.

Harry could stop being miserable long enough to at least find this amusing.

"Well," Pansy said loudly, blowing sweaty bangs away from her forehead. She glanced around the room, where everyone was all sitting quietly in their respective places. "This is awkward."

Blaise glared at her sullenly. Neville buried his face in his knees, moaning pitifully at his misfortune, and Hermione merely sighed in exasperation at all of them.

Ron looked smug.

Draco followed Neville's suit, Not Looked at Harry, and groaned mournfully as he buried his burning face in his knees. "I'm going to fucking kill Greengrass," he muttered.

Draco remembered everything. He remembered every eternally scarring thing that he did and every eternally mortifying thing that had stupidly come out of his mouth. He was seriously considering washing his mouth with soap and maybe even Obliviating everyone who was involved when they weren't looking.

Including himself.

And Harry.

Definitely Harry.

Draco couldn't even bring himself to look at Harry yet – which was worse now, because Madame Pomfrey had finally arrived in the Hospital Wing and had shooed everyone else out since curfew was just one more hour away. She had raised an eyebrow at Draco that told him that Snape had talked to her already, before retreating to her room with a reminder that if anything happened, she was just a call away.

After that, she left them alone.

Alone.

With Harry.

Whom – for the first time ever – he didn't really want to be alone with.

He had half a mind to call Madame Pomfrey and pretend to have an epileptic seizure just so that he didn't have to deal with talking to Harry. He couldn't very well pretend that nothing happened and go 'so, how's your day going, Harry?'.

Maybe he just shouldn't say anything at all. Would Harry consider that rude? Well, of course that would be considered rude, but Draco didn't know what to say.

I'm going to fucking kill Greengrass was a good one, but that was already overused and besides, everyone already knew that he was going to hex Greengrass come morning. He might even let Neville get in a hex or two, since the boy was a victim as well in this whole scenario.

Not that Draco cared much about Neville. Or Blaise. (Because in his mind, where Neville was considered, Blaise was as well.)

Well, he did, sort of, since he did have a human conscience after all, but they weren't nearly as important as Harry.

Maybe he shouldn't say anything at all.

Maybe Harry would take pity on him and leave him alone and go to sleep and Draco could wallow in his embarrassment and humiliation in peace.

"Draco?"

Draco groaned pitifully before he could help himself.

"Oh – uhm – sorry –"

Draco immediately raised his head to tell Harry that he shouldn't apologize and cringed at the hurt look on the other's face. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he said, sighing heavily. He could feel his face flushing again at the memory of being under Amortentia but he kept his eyes firmly glued on Harry, mainly because if he took them away, he probably wouldn't be able to look at Harry again.

"No one thinks less of you, you know," Harry said, smiling in what he hoped was comforting. Draco was not comforted, despite the fact that the light around Harry shone gold. "You were under the effects of a love potion. I mean, we just did that earlier in Potions class earlier."

"Yes, well," Draco muttered dryly, still despairing. "It's quite different when you've got six other people sympathizing with you compared to being the only one throwing your dignity away."

Harry flushed at that.

"And I'm sure the Weasel had his fun," Draco continued sulkily.

"Is that what you're worried about? Ron?" Harry asked, chuckling. "He doesn't think less of you exactly. He'll probably warm up to you more, now that he's seen that you can be human too," he said with a grin.

Draco did not know why he felt better about that, as if it mattered what Harry's friends thought of him.

"Anyway, Snape said you needed to take this." Harry crossed the room to stop beside Draco's bed and hand him the bottle of belladonna.

Draco's face scrunched up in confusion. "But I had my little coughing episode earlier and I took one already."

Harry's eyes widened. "You had… earlier?"

Draco nodded and was happily pleased at the concern that was evident on Harry's face. "That was the reason why Neville gave me that flask of Amortentia. I had a fit, and he gave it to me because he thought it was water."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, looking guilty. "I wasn't there."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Don't worry your pretty little head over it, Harry. You're not exactly obligated to keep an eye on me all the time. And it wasn't your fault."

Harry nodded, shrugging awkwardly. He motioned to the belladonna with his hand. "You should still drink another one. For the Ashwinder eggs and all."

Draco looked at Harry for a moment, noticing the way that Harry was looking at him but not meeting his eyes. It was like the Gryffindor wanted to look at something, anything, other than Draco's eyes. Draco raised an eyebrow. "Alright," he said smoothly, before unstopping the tincture.

Harry smiled at him weakly, before turning around and heading for his own bed.

It would have to go away eventually, Harry figured. Draco obviously didn't harbor any feelings for him other than friendship, so maybe with that knowledge, Harry's heart would stop beating so stupidly fast whenever the blond would jokingly flirt with him because that was all it was. A joke.

Harry took off his school cloak, strategically keeping his back to Draco. He went to his trunk, rummaging for some clean sleeping clothes as he thought about how horribly tiring this day had been. He had realized his feelings for what they really were and, in a short span of twelve hours, had the chance of them being reciprocated crushed quite brutally.

This would have been almost funny, if Harry thought about it in a third person point of view.

Still, this wasn't the time to be wallowing in self-pity, Harry quickly reminded himself. He should be more concerned with Draco, who was still obviously dealing with the trauma of being under the world's strongest love potion that contained eggs from Ashwinders.

Just like that, Harry felt his melancholy drain away only to be replaced by an urgent worry of what might happen to Draco. Snape did give him an extra dose of belladonna, but Harry still hoped that the Ashwinder eggs didn't do any more damage to Draco's already – well, flammable state.

"Draco –" he said, at the same time that Draco turned to him and said:

"Harry."

Both of them paused awkwardly, blinking at each other.

Draco, always the commanding one, shrugged and motioned for Harry to speak with his hand. "Well, go on."

Harry gave a start. "Uhm, right, Draco," he let out, feeling inexplicably lame. He peered at the blond closely, worriedly. "Are you sure you're okay? No funny feeling at the bottom of your stomach? I mean, you did take in a love potion and Snape says that it might be dangerous, and err, well –" he rambled on, but Draco pretty much lost him because he was thinking with a snort that he wasn't feeling anything funny at the bottom of his stomach other than the butterflies because Harry was worried about him. Then along with the butterflies, there was also that heavy sinking feeling that had something to do with what he was about to say earlier.

Harry, seeing that Draco was merely staring at him with a raised eyebrow, flushed and swerved his rambling. "Sorry, err, if you think I'm being too nosy. I guess I'm just –" he cringed at what he was about to say. "— worried because of what Snape said and I don't want you to suddenly, uhm…"

Then Draco's face changed and he continued to stare at Harry, only this time he was really staring, eyes opened wide as Harry's words and the seemingly too bright gold light surrounding him comprehended in Draco's brain and Draco felt… a sudden onslaught of affection for this person in front of him.

Why did Draco have to embarrass himself earlier while under the effects of the Amortentia, but oh, if it got him this…

"Sod it, Potter," Draco said coolly, because having Hufflepuff thoughts didn't mean was about to start actinglike one, but he simply could not resist the soft, adoring smile that lit up his face. "I get it. I drank the belladonna, so don't worry about it."

Harry was taken aback by Draco's smile, and couldn't help the flush that overcame his face. When Draco finished speaking though, a skeptical look crossed his expression.

Draco rolled his eyes, amused now. "No funny feeling at the pit of my stomach either."

Except the butterflies, he mentally added. Even the heavy feeling was gone now.

Harry paused, looking at him, before nodding, seemingly satisfied. "Alright. What did you want to say earlier?"

Oh. Draco blinked, before shrugging nonchalantly. "Never mind." He had been thinking about what Harry said, that no one thought less of him even though they saw him under Amortentia, but then Harry wouldn't even look at him straight in the eyes earlier, so he thought that Harry obviously found it weird and awkward and maybe even disgusting but now…

Draco found himself smiling softly, feeling nothing but affection for the boy in front of him. "It's nothing."

Whipped, Draco, a Pansy-like voice snorted in his head. Whipped.

It really was cruel that Harry didn't feel the same way he did and it seemed like he never would.

They both changed in their pyjamas and got ready for bed, murmuring their goodnights as the respective exhaustion of their day caught up to them.

Harry didn't dream about gigantic chess pieces, but Draco was still there. Even though Harry didn't want him to be, Draco stood in the middle of a vast darkness, always with his back to Harry who called to him but never reached him. Then in the deafening silence of the dark, Harry heard crying, a little boy's frightened whimpers that sounded loathingly familiar because he realized, with his blood running cold, that they were his and he was looking down at the eight-year-old boy in the cupboard, crying and huddled at the edge of the dirty mattress that Uncle Vernon had forcibly squeezed in. But – but no, it wasn't him anymore, that boy wasn't him, and the cupboard disappeared with a wisp of cold, frigid air but the boy was still there.

Tom Riddle was still there.

And those young eyes of his looked at Harry piercingly, accusingly, like it was Harry's fault that he grew up to be the madman that everyone grew to fear, until those eyes turned hollow, the pupils turned red and the skin turned green and ashen, and Lord Voldemort stood in front of Harry, gleeful and triumphant.

A manic laughter filled the darkness, followed by a piercing scream and Harry realized, with blood rushing in his ears and his heart beating too loud, that the scream came from Draco, who fell to the floor with a sickening thud, thrashing and screaming as if under the Cruciatus Curse, and Voldemort loomed over Harry, smug and mocking.

"You'll be just like me, Harry."

It was a whisper that caressed his skin as Voldemort murmured it beside his cheek.

"You'll never know love."

Then, his murmur turned into a harsh hiss.

"You don't deserve it."

And Draco continued on thrashing, sobbing on the floor as Voldemort pointed his wand at him, the Elder Wand–

"He'll never love you."

The wand was pointed at him now, and he couldn't move, frozen to the spot as Draco's screams filled his ears and his head and his heart was thumping so hardit hurt and Voldemort stepped in front of him, a sadistic little smile on his face as his lips formed the words and green light dove straight for Harry.

"AVADA –"

"HARRY!"

Harry woke up with a start, eyes wide and unseeing as his chest heaved in longing for air. His body was stiff on the bed and Harry had to force his fingers to untangle themselves from the sheets because his knuckles were hurting and someone was shaking him and that hurt too.

"Harry!"

Harry started again, his nerves making him jumpy as he registered that it was Draco who was shaking him, but Harry couldn't see his face very well because he didn't have his glasses on and the Hospital Wing was dark and all he could see was green.

"Glasses –" he gasped out, because he needed it and so that Draco would stop shaking him.

Draco did indeed stop, pulling back as if surprised. "You're awake now? Really awake?" he asked shakily, reaching over Harry to grab the boy's glasses on his bedside table.

When Draco gave it to him, Harry vaguely realized that Draco was shaking as well. He sat up, put his glasses on, and realized that he'd been crying.

He flushed as embarrassment washed over him, but that lessened when Draco didn't say anything and leaned forward to gently wipe the tear tracks on Harry's face with his thumbs.

Harry relaxed, eyes closing. "I am," he let out, but that kind of hurt too, and he coughed and swallowed heavily to clear his throat. "Sorry, was I –"

"You were screaming," Draco cut in somberly. He sat on the edge of Harry's bed, grabbing Harry's hands and holding them firmly. "I thought Madame Pomfrey might've run out of her room."

Harry realized just how cold his fingers felt, and then he noticed that Draco's were too. Nevertheless, Draco rubbed Harry's hands with his to get them warm and to stop them from shaking.

"Sorry, I used to do Silencing Spells every night back at the dorms, but I keep on forgetting here –" Harry said, but cut himself off when Draco shook his head.

"No Silencing Spells," Draco said firmly.

Harry looked at him, surprised. He stared for a moment, before a small, tired smile came over his lips and he leaned against the headboard of his bed heavily. "Okay."

"Were you…" Draco started, looking awkward and conscious, but he tried again anyway, eyes looking straight at Harry's. "Was it about me again?" he asked softly.

Harry stiffened, feeling oddly exposed and embarrassed as well, and also because he could still remember the dream and how Draco had cried and sobbed under Voldemort's wand. "Yes."

Draco looked unsure. "The chess pieces again?"

Harry didn't want to talk about his real dream, and he was tired, so it was almost by reflex that he said, "Yeah."

And Draco frowned because the gold light around Harry (dimmed, because of the darkness of the infirmary, but it was still gold nonetheless and still shimmering) turned abruptly black. "So it's not about the chess pieces."

Harry looked at him, confused, because didn't he just say–

Then realization dawned on him and he remembered that right, oh, shite, Draco could tell if he was lying. He shook his head slightly to clear it. "I don't want to talk about it," he said instead, feeling the slight prickle of annoyance.

Gold.

Draco turned his attention to Harry's hands, noting with satisfaction that they were starting to become warm now. "It might help," he murmured softly, because he knew about nightmares too. "To, you know, let it out."

Harry let out a breath, frustrated. "I said I don't want to talk about it!" he said irritably.

Draco pulled back, surprised. He withdrew his hands as well, looking hurt. "Alright, Potter, no need to be feisty about it."

Harry immediately felt guilty and ashamed.

When Draco moved to get off the bed, Harry's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, fingers pressing gently as if they were unsure if it was alright to be doing so.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just –" he started, inhaling deeply and exhaling. He blinked at Draco, surprised that his eyes were becoming moist again. "I don't want to remember, so," he shrugged awkwardly. "Please don't go," he blurted out, and it was humiliating how the tears fell from his eyes because he could still remember the dream and what Voldemort said.

Draco was beside him in an instant though and that made him feel a little bit better.

Draco was shocked at the rare vulnerability that Harry was showing him and his heart clenched painfully as he once again used his thumbs to wipe Harry's face free from tears. "That's alright," he whispered softly, feeling awkward but wanting nothing more than to comfort the boy in front of him. "You don't have to tell me," he said, but it didn't matter because Harry was saying something as well.

"Riddle was there too," Harry whispered, the boy's angelic face still haunting him. "He told me –" he broke off, remembering how eight-year-old Harry became Tom Riddle in his dream.

"What did he tell you?" Draco asked, throwing the blankets aside so that he could sit next to Harry, his back also resting on the headboard. He curled an arm around Harry's waist while his other hand sought one of Harry's, mainly because he wanted to do so but also because he had no idea how to comfort someone and thought that maybe Harry would appreciate it.

Whether Harry did or didn't, he didn't say but his hand automatically clenched around Draco's, even seeming as if unconsciously.

"That I'll be just like him," Harry muttered, and his voice sounded hollow even to his own ears. "That I'll never know love. I don't deserve it. That you'll never –"

He froze.

Draco froze too.

Because he could have sworn that the next words that Harry was about to say was love and that opened up all possibilities and hopes that he had long since trampled on and thrown away.

Harry's horror-stricken face told him that he was right.

It also told him that Harry knew that Draco had found out what he was about to say as well.

Harry's body had stiffened in apprehension, mortified at what he been so close to saying, but he tried to pretend that he hadn't been anyway, and finished lamely. "— really be friends with me."

It was a pitiful attempt, he knew, because he was probably (no, definitely) covered in black light now but he wished desperately that Draco would get the hint anyway and not say anything about it.

Harry's lie made Draco's hopes soar higher and his remaining doubts disappear, so he pulled up his courage from whatever deep, deep vault he had in his chest because if he wasn't going to do this now, then he was never going to.

"Harry –" he started, breathless and hopeful, but then Harry turned fearful and anxious eyes on him that Draco's heart clenched painfully because how could Harry think that Draco was going to turn him away?

"Harry," he tried again, twisting his upper body so that he could face Harry and make him face him since Harry had turned his eyes away now, looking awkwardly at the blanket on his lap. Gently, Draco raised his hands to cup Harry's face, ignoring the way that Harry jumped a bit when their skin made contact.

Draco couldn't resist. He rested his forehead against Harry's, murmuring with a crazily happy sort of laugh. "Riddle doesn't know a thing."

Harry didn't say anything, too confused by what was happening and why Draco was touching him like this.

"You'll never be like him," Draco whispered fiercely, eyes bright as they stared into green ones. "You're compassionate and loving and friendly and everybody likes you and you touch everybody you meet, Harry, you don't even know, and you have this stupid little way of putting others before yourself that it's very frustrating sometimes because I really like you better when you're not horribly injured or losing a bone or two or near-death, and you'll never be anything like Riddle."

Harry gaped at Draco, eyes wide and mouth open as a red flush crept over his cheeks, to his ears and down his neck at Draco's words.

Draco's lips quirked up in amusement as he pulled back just a little bit, taking his hands with him. "And there's no such thing as not deserving love." He raised an eyebrow at Harry. "I mean," he continued softly. "You're the one who taught me that, remember? When you accepted me in Grimmauld Place even though I'm a Death Eater –"

He said the title with thinly-veiled disgust and bitterness that Harry couldn't help but raise his hands as well and grab hold of Draco's wrists to get his attention.

"Was," Harry muttered, face burning. "And you didn't have a choice."

Draco smiled at him, a little sadly. He finished his sentence. "— and I deserve less than you."

Harry frowned deeply at Draco. "There's no such thing –"

"Exactly," Draco cut in, grinning wildly.

Harry was embarrassed at how he'd been played, but Draco was speaking again, this time more slowly, as if he was hesitant to continue.

"And as for the last thing that Riddle said…"

Harry froze again. He blinked at Draco, trying to pulling away but Draco kept him there firmly by the shoulders.

Harry could feel the panic set in, because couldn't Draco just forget about all this? Whatever Draco wanted to say to him, he reallydidn't want to hear it –

"I've been in love with you since first year, Harry."

Harry stared at him dumbly.

He needed to clean his ears if he was going to start hearing love confessions from Draco Malfoy now, or maybe he was still dreaming, maybe Voldemort was still torturing him in his dream…

The silence grew longer as Harry continued to stare, and Draco was starting to panic now as all his doubts came rushing back to him.

"I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear, but –" he rushed out, but he cut himself, because he wasn't sorry for being in love with Harry. He continued, slowly and softly this time. "I mean it."

"B-but you said," Harry started, disoriented and blinking wildly. "You told Neville, earlier –"

It took Draco a while to remember what he said, but when he did, his face burned as he recalled his Amortentia-induced words and actions.

"Why would I be in love with Potter?"

"I was under Amortentia!" Draco muttered defensively, thinking of the heavy pull that the love potion gave him during that situation. "I'm in love with you, but the potion kept telling me that I was supposed to in love with Longbottom."

Draco had never felt so utterly bare and vulnerable before, and it was embarrassing saying that the things that he was saying but the words were tumbling out of his lips before he could stop them.

Harry still wasn't convinced. "But you hate me!" he blurted out helplessly.

Draco's eyebrows furrowed as he looked at Harry disbelievingly. "You still think that, after all the –"

"I mean, back in first year, and…" Harry trailed off, flushing as Draco's words resounded in his head again even though they couldn't possibly be true. There was just no way. He didn't even need Draco's ability to see that gold or black light. This was just cruel but –

But Harry wanted to believe it was true anyway.

"I wasn't supposed to be in love with you, Harry!" Draco replied stubbornly, his defense mechanism kicking in. "I mean, imagine Lucius Malfoy's son, having a crush on the Dark Lord's greatest enemy! When you refused my hand in first year, Harry, that –" he cut himself off abruptly, blinking rapidly because his eyes felt moist and he did not like talking about the handshake incident. "I tried to stop," he muttered instead, face burning. "But then it got worse and I ended up falling in love of all things."

He felt vulnerable and scraped raw, and he was tired but he forged on anyway because Harry was looking at him now, really looking at him, eyes bright and wide in the infirmary that was only lit up by the full moon outside.

"That was fourth year," he said softly. "That was also the year that Vol… Voldemort returned."

Harry stared at him, the words sinking in and making his heart swell and making him believe that maybe, maybe what Draco was saying was…

Real.

And if it was, Harry could only imagine what Draco must have gone through those years being terrified of his own feelings.

"But you were such a, well," Harry tried once more, flushing. "Such an insufferable git to me."

Draco smiled at him wryly. "Since I couldn't love you, I forced myself to hate you. I wasn't very successful," he muttered with a snort, his voice breaking off slightly. "And that way, I kept getting your attention," he grinned in dry humor.

Harry still couldn't believe it.

But he really, really had this big urge to kiss Draco and he'd had urges to kiss Draco before but never like this, so he did, lunging forward suddenly that Draco was caught off-guard, but Harry's lips found their destination anyway.

And Draco's eyes widened because Harry Potter was kissing him and never in his life that he thought it possible. Oh, he'd imagined it, fantasized about it so many times, but never thought that it would ever happen.

Then Harry was pulling away and it was over and Draco barely stopped himself from following Harry's mouth as it pulled back.

"Sorry," Harry said awkwardly, face burning and eyes a little unfocused. He shook his head to clear it. "I'm sorry, I don't know how to kiss, uhm –"

And Draco just let go of everything because maybe, maybe Harry liked him back so he placed a hand on the back of Harry's head and pulled him close, pressing their lips together almost desperately because this was seven long years in the making and Draco's never wanted anything this badly before.

He moved his lips, sliding them gently against Harry's and feeling utterly pleased at the small gasp that slipped from Harry.

Digging out some more courage from that vault of his, Draco swiped his tongue across Harry's bottom lip, before prying Harry's lips apart with his own. A shudder racked through both their bodies, and Draco couldn't help it. He let out a satisfied moan as he slipped his tongue inside Harry's mouth, exploring and savoring and thinking perfection.

But that didn't compare when Harry, tentatively at first, moved his tongue as well, shyly seeking out Draco's, and if Draco's eyes weren't wet a few minutes ago, they certainly were now, but he kept the tears at bay because if he cried now, that would certainly be very lame.

They pulled apart when the need for air became too much, panting and faces flushed and filled with awe and wonder.

"Uhm," Harry said intelligently, eyes bright as they stared at Draco. "Wow."

And Draco grinned, sighing happily, because wow indeed.

"If it helps," Harry started awkwardly, shrugging. He gave Draco a shy, embarrassed smile. "I've only come to terms with my feelings yesterday, but Ron and Hermione say that I've been obsessed with you since I was eleven."

The smile that Draco gave him was brilliant.

"So I've heard."

Draco didn't even try to resist anymore.

He swooped down again for another kiss that Harry eagerly gave.

When they pulled apart, Harry had a big, lopsided smile on his face and Draco's heart gave a little happy hop.

"Do you believe me now?" Draco asked, raising one amused eyebrow.

Harry flushed as he remembered Draco's words. "About the first part though, about me being all that… That was a bit too much –"

"No, you are wonderful, Harry," Draco said earnestly, his eyebrow still raised as if daring Harry to object.

Harry's face remained red, but a happy smile lit up his face anyway as waves of affection washed over him for the boy in front of him. "You're pretty amazing yourself," he murmured softly, and was awarded with another kiss.

"I could do this all night," Draco muttered with a breathless laugh when they pulled apart. He leaned his forehead against Harry, cupping the other boy's cheek with one hand as the other played with Harry's hair at the back of his head. "I've certainly waited long enough."

Harry hummed in agreement. "We really should sleep though," he said, a bit regretfully. "We still have classes tomorrow."

"Bollocks," Draco said with a sigh, but pulled away anyway. He glanced at Harry, pausing only a moment before speaking again. "Are you okay now?" he asked softly.

Harry turned to him, knowing that he was asking about the nightmare and feeling nothing but adoration for the boy in front of him because how could Draco think that Harry was anything but okay?

He was better than okay.

He was positively floating.

He felt like his face was about to break from all the smiling he'd been doing.

And to think that just a few minutes ago, he'd been crying of a nightmare that he now knew obviously didn't hold any truth at all.

"Definitely okay."

Harry didn't tell Draco that he only stopped having nightmares if Draco slept beside him but he supposed that Draco must have figured it out anyway because when the time came for them to go back to sleep, Draco remained in Harry's bed and snuggled contentedly against him under the covers without saying anything.

Harry dreamt of Draco again, but it was a completely different dream from the previous one he had.

For starters, Harry woke up feeling excessively happy for the first time in a long time.

He woke up to sunshine and blond hair again, except this time, he didn't freak out.

Chapter Text

"Oh, bloody hell," was Draco's first words when he woke up the next day to find Harry beside him, sitting up already awake and watching him. He stared at Harry, who stared back happily, and pinched himself for good measure. When it hurt, a giddy grin made its way to his lips and chased away whatever tiredness he still had left from what little sleep he had last night. He looked at Harry, almost shyly. "I thought I was dreaming again."

Harry raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"Well, I've certainly had countless of dreams about you, some of them seemingly very realistic," Draco said defensively. He felt triumphant, though, when a rosy flush rose on Harry's cheeks. He smiled. "So is this really real?"

Harry laughed a carefree sort of laugh that had Draco's heart fluttering happily. "You could always check," Harry offered, grinning.

"Oh," Draco breathed out, thinking about how he must have died and gone to some sort of paradise where all your dreams come true. He sat up as well, shifting on the bed to lean closer to Harry and keeping their lips mere centimeters apart. His smile mirrored the Gryffindor's, big and stupid and just unbelievably ecstatic. "I've got to be thorough then, to be sure," he murmured, before lunging forward and pressing his lips to Harry's in a melting kiss.

Harry certainly gave as much as he took.

Further in the morning, as the thought of breakfast roused the students one by one, Pansy and Blaise caught Neville outside the Great Hall, just as the boy was about to open the door.

Pansy immediately strode towards Neville, cheerfully latching an arm around his just in case he ran away which, judging by his panicked expression, he was considering doing.

Blaise, however, stood stiffly at the side, glowering at Pansy who happily ignored him.

"Don't be like that, Longbottom," Pansy chirped, too cheerfully for this early in the morning. "I just wanted to say sorry about the Furnunculus threat yesterday. I did a lot of thinking and I didn't really mean it. Look, I'll even let you get a hex in Greengrass later when Draco comes to collect –"

Neville blinked, and then slowly shook his head. He raised his eyes to Pansy, smiling nervously. "No, thanks, I'll pass –"

Pansy's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as she gazed at Neville disbelievingly. She looked genuinely shocked, not comprehending how Neville would even consider passing a chance to hex the one who presented him with a love potion without his consent. "She gave you Amortentia, Longbottom!"

Neville's smile turned wry. "Yes, well, that's not the first time anyone's tried to humiliate me," he said, shrugging. He carefully extracted his arm from Pansy, gave them another smile, before retreating inside the Great Hall.

Pansy's stare remained, even as the big doors closed with a sound that echoed through the Entrance Hall. She looked quite dumb-struck. She glanced at Blaise, and saw that the boy was in the same state as her, dumb-struck and disbelieving as he stared at the doors that Neville disappeared behind.

Pansy sighed exasperatedly. "Blaise! Knock some sense into him! Are all Gryffindors that bloody dense? Actually thought that Greengrass gave him Amortentia to humiliate him…" she muttered, crossing her arms with a roll of her eyes."It's unfair how hot Gryffindor boys are, but they don't even know!" she whined.

Abruptly, she then turned to Blaise, one eyebrow rising and her arms going akimbo. "And you're pretty pathetic yourself."

Blaise snapped out of his stupor and turned to her, bewildered. He matched her raised eyebrow with his own. "What?"

Pansy inhaled deeply, and Blaise actually thought that she was going to scold him and Pansy scolded very loudly and very scandalously, but then Pansy merely exhaled and muttered, as if defeated.

"It's really serious, huh?" she whispered, looking at him with such understanding and knowing eyes that Blaise reckoned only girls could have. "Normally you'd be all Casanova, but it's like you don't know what to do with him."

And Blaise glanced at the doors of the Great Hall again, and thought about yesterday and the Amortentia and how he only managed to get about three hours of sleep last night.

"Yeah," he said softly. "It's pretty serious."

Neville entered the Great Hall, pale-faced, jittery and palms sweating. He had spent a good deal of last night not getting any sleep and just pretty much tossing and turning, face eternally red with humiliation as he replayed the events regarding the Amortentia again and again in his head.

Greengrass giving him the flask, smiling sweetly at him… Neville had really thought her concern was genuine. He didn't doubt the contents of the flask at all, just flushed and smiled gratefully back.

Double-Potions yesterday with the Slytherins, with Blaise, about love potions… He had been pretty happy with that too, because Blaise complimented him and actually noticed that he hadn't blown up any cauldrons this past week. He also didn't mind that Blaise didn't get the potion right, even though it was surprising at first because he knew that the other boy was quite adept as Potions.

Morgan sending him to get Blood-Replenishing Potions and then accidentally running into Blaise again in the dungeons… Actually getting asked out to Hogsmeade!

Although… Neville knew that Blaise must have asked countless of girls out already, who all probably had other engagements (But who would refuse a date with Zabini?), before him. He most likely only asked Neville out as a last resort.

Neville didn't mind though… Much, anyway. He hadn't dared to dream it would happen after all, and he would take what he could even if it was just a last-resort type of date.

And then –

And then Draco suddenly collapsing to the floor (Neville should probably tell Harry about that…) and Neville giving him the flask and Blaise looking at him accusingly.

That was such a disaster! Those events had kept on replaying in his mind last night, that it was no wonder he got out of bed that morning looking like a Dementor had passed by and certainly feeling like it too!

Last night, after realizing that he wasn't about to get any sleep at all, he had gotten dressed in his school robes already and headed down to Greenhouse 3, hoping that the plants would keep him busy to at least take his mind off things. Oddly enough though, Morgan hadn't been around (and Morgan was always in the Greenhouse, no matter how early it was in the morning) and Neville didn't really want to start anything without him.

So he had gone back to the castle to eat breakfast, but then ended up bumping into Pansy and Blaise again…

Neville groaned softly to himself as the Amortentia incident once again replayed itself in his mind. That had been somortifying –

"That's an awful lot of Wrackspurts surrounding you, Neville, it's quite alarming," a voice said dreamily from behind him.

Neville whipped around, but of course there was no doubt in his mind as to who it came from. "Hello, Luna," he greeted, a weak smile gracing his features. Nevertheless, his tension abated a bit at the sight of his friend. Or it could be because Luna was wearing those Spectrespecs of hers again.

Luna always did have calming effect with her, so Neville wholeheartedly welcomed her company this morning with relief. He had always enjoyed Luna's company because she was such a refreshing (and interesting…) person to talk to, but recently, he had grown to appreciate her even more…

Imagine Neville's bewilderment when he had arrived in Hogwarts on the first day of school only to have everyone turn their heads and stare at him as he passed. At first he didn't think anything of it, because he spent time with Harry a lot during the first few days, and of course everyone would want to stare at Harry, the one who vanquished the Dark Lord.

But then there were times when he wouldn't be with Harry, and people would still stare at him… He thought it was because he had fought in the war, and people were naturally curious, but most of the students had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts as well, didn't they? Or maybe it was because he was a member of Dumbledore's Army…

And then something happened.

A girl came up to him one day after Herbology and asked him if he had a girlfriend. He spent too much time spluttering and not answering, so the girl had taken that as a yes and ran away to giggle heatedly with her friends. That had started a grueling and embarrassing three days wherein girls would follow him everywhere and it freaked him out so much that he started retreating to the Greenhouses whenever he could.

That was the time when he saw Luna walking towards the Forbidden Forest, so he naturally followed her. He knew that Luna could defend herself, but he wanted to be sure anyway. Neville was surprised to see her feeding the thestrals though, of all the things that Luna could be doing in the Forbidden Forest, but when he thought about it, it seemed like a very Luna thing to do.

So his Greenhouse travels became travels to the Forbidden Forest too, helping Luna and just generally talking to each other about things that boggled Neville's mind but calmed him at the same time, because he wasn't really over the war.

It wasn't exactly something that you got over with.

And talking to Luna and hearing her careless, free-spirited logic about the events that had transpired a few months ago was… enlightening and made him hopeful.

("It's really not about forgetting though," Luna said cheerfully, barefoot and helping a mother thestral give birth to a live young while Neville helped her, pale-faced and trying not to hyperventilate or vomit at the sight of a small head peeking out from, well… that.

"O-oh?" Neville replied, closing his eyes tightly as his bloody hands grasped at the young's body to pull. "W-what is it a-about then?"

They gave one more pull, and the young broke free, from her mother's womb and to the outside world. It lay on the floor, breathing softly and quiet, wings and legs still tangled awkwardly. The mother, despite its obvious pain, hobbled over to her child, and nudged it with its head.

Weakly, her young nudged back.

Luna beamed. "It's about remembering.")

But then people started talking about how they were spending too much time together and rumors started flying, until another girl, Luna's fellow Ravenclaw, came up to them one day just as they were leaving the Great Hall and had asked bluntly, "Are you two together?"

Neville, once again, spent too much time spluttering and not enough time answering, but that was alright, because Luna had already answered for him.

"Yes," Luna had replied, careless and freely, because she and Neville were together, weren't they? They were walking together after all, to go to the Forbidden Forest together…

It was when they reached the Forbidden Forest that Neville realized that Luna's definition of 'together' was totally different to what the other Ravenclaw girl meant.

He had spent a good hour explaining to Luna what she had just said. When Neville was sure (at least, as sure as he could be) that she understood, she merely smiled at him and said, "Oh, I don't mind. It's like the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. I can just imagine how sad it must feel at the fact that no one believes in it, so I always tell everyone about it. Even though it's just a small thing to do, I like to think that the Crumple-Horned Snorkack can feel a little bit better about it."

Of course, Neville didn't understand a thing.

What he could understand, though, was that Luna was a good friend with a good heart and so when people started to assume that they really were together, Neville didn't do anything to tell them otherwise.

After all, it made the girls stop following him around…

"Hello, Neville," Luna greeted him back, smiling. "You should drink some pumpkin juice. Pumpkin juice always calms me down. It should make the Wrackspurts go away."

Neville had no idea how pumpkin juice related to wrackspurts, but he found himself nodding anyway. "I will. Have you eaten yet?"

Luna shook her head, her blonde hair moving prettily with her. "Not yet. I got distracted by the Wrackspurts around you. You have a lot, especially around the ears. It must be nice to have so many Wrackspurts attracted to you."

Neville blinked, because didn't Luna just say that having many Wrackspurts was alarming? He opened his mouth to ask, but Luna was already waving at him goodbye.

"Have a good breakfast, Neville," Luna said, before smiling dreamily. "I think I may attend to the thestrals first."

The confusion – and breakfast – was forgotten immediately as Neville scrabbled for the opportunity to escape from the Amortentia incident and its consequences. (He still couldn't even gather the courage to look at the Slytherin table in fear of seeing Greengrass there!)

"I'll come with you."

Something was different.

Ron knew that immediately (and he knew just whatwas different) the moment that Harry stepped inside the Great Hall.

He found out first before Hermione did, because he was Harry's best mate and it's a guy thing.

When he woke up earlier that morning, he was actually very ready to give Malfoy a hard time about the Amortentia, because that's what enemies do even though they were sort of not enemies anymore, and Ron really was just waiting for Malfoy to enter the Great Hall…

But then Harry and Draco just had to enter the Great Hall together. Draco and Harry generally have been entering together for the past week, but today was different, in the way that they both seemed like they were…

Glowing.

"Bloody hell, Hermione," Ron said, staring dumbly as Harry and Draco parted ways with big, lopsided smiles at each other.

Hermione turned to him, looking alarmed at his pale face. "Ron, are you alright?"

No, Ron was not alright. "Goodbye Malfoy-free days," Ron muttered mournfully to himself, stricken.

"What was that? I didn't quite hear you."

Ron wasn't going to deny that he was very happy for Harry. He may even kiss Hermione later for celebration.

But he was Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy was Draco Malfoy, and so therefore, Ron was obligated to make faces.

It's another guy thing, you see.

Hermione found out as well, but only when Harry had neared their table and had flopped down on his seat across her and Ron with a beaming smile and a rosy flush on his cheeks.

When she did find out though, she couldn't stop the surprised squeal of joy that left her lips nor could she help herself as she bounced on her seat and leaned across the table to grab Harry for a hug with a big grin on her face.

Much to the confusion of the poor boy.

"Uhm," Harry said dumbly, staring helplessly at Ron through Hermione's shoulder.

Ron, still pale-faced, just shrugged meekly.

Through her delight, Hermione barely registered another girly squeal of joy that came from the other side of the room, specifically the Slytherin table, but she did and her smile widened immensely because it seemed that Pansy had already found out as well.

"Congratulations, mate," Ron said heavily, once Hermione had finally let Harry go and had settled for sitting in her seat, beaming brightly.

Harry looked at him, bewildered. He hadn't even started getting his breakfast yet, because he was just so confused.

Ron cringed. "I mean, I had a bit of time to get used to it what with the Illegal Affair joke, but you know. It's a bit different to have it happen to you for real, though I guess I'm pretty fine with you –" Here, he lowered his voice a bit. "—liking blokes and all and liking –" He cringed again. "Malfoy."

And Harry flushed a pretty shade of red as he finally realized what his friends were reacting about.

"Am I that easy to read?" he muttered, face burning as he started scooping up some mashed potatoes to distract Ron from his face.

"It's because we're your best friends," Hermione said brightly, and even a little bit tearfully. "I don't think the rest of the school's noticed. I mean, after all, they doalready know that you two are together."

Harry grinned sheepishly at that. "I guess there's no need for a coming out party, huh?"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, sighing dreamily. "You have got to tell me what happened last night!"

Harry dropped his spoon and shared Ron's expression of mortification.

"It wasn't hard to guess," Blaise said, ignoring Pansy who was still wiping away her tears with a napkin. He raised an eyebrow at a red-faced Draco and grinned. "You were pretty much undressing each other with your eyes when you entered."

"Shut up, Blaise," Draco muttered lowly, scooping himself some eggs in an effort to pretend that this wasn't awkward and embarrassing. He glanced pointedly at Pansy. "And I haven't even said anything yet."

The smile that Pansy sent him was genuine and heartfelt. "But something happened, didn't it?" she gushed excitedly. Then, a dubious expression spread over her face and she leaned in, looking almost nervous. "Something did, didn't it? Or am I just jumping to conclusions? Are you…"

Normally Draco found Pansy's hovering annoying, but he was in a terribly good mood today and he knew that Pansy meant well, so he couldn't help the soft smile that spread over his face.

And Pansy's eyes went teary again, because finally!

She sniffed and blew her nose into the napkin. "Told you it wasn't so unrequited…"

"What I'm wondering though," Ron said through a mouthful of bacon. Hermione calmly distanced her Arithmancy book away from him. "Why did Malfoy want to snog Neville when the Amortentia came from Greengrass?"

Harry paused in his breakfast, suddenly realizing that as well.

And Hermione, being Hermione, rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly at them. "Honestly!" she said. "Doesn't anyone ever read the Introduction?"

Harry and Ron shared confused expressions, and then turned to look at her funny.

"Nobody reads the Introduction, Hermione," Harry said matter-of-factly, to which Ron backed up with an adamant "Yeah."

Hermione shook her head at them and realized her losing battle. "It doesn't matter if the Amortentia came from Greengrass. The magic in love potions is like a chain, where the target changes depending on who gaveit, not who made it. For example, if I gave Harry a love potion –" Both Harry and Ron looked alarmed at this one. "—he'd be infatuated with me. But if he didn't drink it, and instead gaveit to Ron, then Ron, who received the potion from Harry, will be infatuated with him."

Ron turned green. He made a face at Harry. "I'm sorry, man, it's not you, it's just –"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry cut him off quickly, looking sick as well. "I know what you mean."

Hermione resisted the urge to slap a hand to her forehead. Men, she thought.

With another sigh, she continued. "It's not like Polyjuice. Polyjuice requires an extract of the person you want to turn into, so that tells the potion who the target is specifically. Amortentia doesn't work that way. It's just frozen Ashwinder eggs, moonstone powder and the like. If that was how love potions worked, then how can joke shops be able to sell it?" she asked, looking at Ron with a raised eyebrow.

Ron shrugged. "Beats me what the twins do in there."

"If love potions made the drinker fall in love with the maker of the potion, then there must have been a time when everyone fell in love with Zonko," she said, grinning. "And think about it. I mean, Greengrass didn't makethe Amortentia, did she? Snape did. So that means that anyone who drank that potion meant that they would fall –"

"I get it, I get it, no need to go into details!" Ron cut in vehemently, shaking his head at the image.

Hermione smiled smugly. "What I'm saying is that Greengrass gave it to Neville, making a connection between the recipient and the target. If Neville had drunk it, he would have been infatuated with Greengrass, but thenNeville gave it to Draco, creating a brand new connection, which transferred the magic. So Draco ended up liking Neville, instead of Greengrass."

"But what about sixth year?" Harry asked, suddenly remembering all about Romilda Vane. "She gave me chocolates with love potion in them, then Ron ate it and he didn't fall in love with me."

Ron looked guilty at that. "I think that's because you didn't really give me the chocolates. I just kind of, you know, ate them."

Hermione clucked her tongue and looked at him disapprovingly.

"Oh, and speaking of Snape," Harry cut in for a subject change, taking pity on his best mate. He looked at his friends sheepishly. "He says we've all got detention tonight."

Ron's groan was no match for the cry of horrified dismay that tore itself from Hermione's lips.

"W-what? But I've never had detention –"

"First year, Hermione," Ron reminded her, still mournful at himself for having to spend another hour with Snape.

"But that was a long time ago –"

Ron turned to Harry, letting Hermione have her own private mini-breakdown. He glanced at the Slytherin table, blinking.

"Speaking of Greengrass," he said thoughtfully. "Where is she anyway?"

"I cast a Furnunculus last night while she was sleeping," Pansy said proudly, flipping her hair over her shoulder with an air of haughtiness. "Thought about a Langlock, but I decided to save that for you."

Draco turned to her, gasping and looking betrayed. "But I was supposed to hit her first," he said, mock-hurt.

"Tough luck then. I have VIP status, considering that I room with her," Pansy smirked, fondly remembering what happened earlier in the morning. "Woke all of us up with her screaming earlier."

"Really, Pansy?" Blaise cut in, a disapproving eyebrow raised. "Furnunculus? That's for first years."

But Pansy simply waved him off carelessly.

"Exactly. That's precisely the reason why it's so mortifying."

"And Neville?" Ron asked, before gulping his pumpkin juice down loudly. He looked down the Gryffindor table, but only saw Dean and Seamus arguing again, probably having another bet.

Harry looked around as well. "I thought he was already done with breakfast. That's why I didn't ask where he was."

Hermione shook her head. "We haven't seen him all morning. He's probably working at the Greenhouse again."

"I hope he's not beating himself up for yesterday," Harry murmured thoughtfully, and then cringed. "He probably is."

Ron thought about that and cringed as well. "D'you reckon we should go look for him?"

Harry nodded. "Before he starts to think up all sorts of stuff." He drank the last of his pumpkin juice and stood up, before remembering something.

A rosy flush quickly colored his cheeks. He shrugged awkwardly at Ron and Hermione's inquiring looks. "I should probably tell, uhm, Draco about the detention."

Both rolled their eyes, but the difference was that Hermione had an amused smile on her face whilst Ron had a bit of a cringe.

"You didn't tell him yesterday?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

Harry flushed darker. "I sort of forgot."

Now, Ron's face wasn't surewhat color it was supposed to turn to. It settled for a pale white as Harry's words sunk in.

"Oh, oh, God –" Ron muttered fearfully, eyes wide. He quickly shut them, shaking his head and making wild motions with his hands in front of him. "No, don't say it –"

"We didn't do anything, Ron!" Harry cut in quickly, blushing furiously.

At that, Ron froze, but warily peered at Harry anyway. "Really?"

Harry nodded vehemently. "Really," he squeaked out.

Ron let out a sigh of relief.

Hermione rolled her eyes again, except this time, it was out of exasperation. "Honestly, Ronald!" she huffed, before turning to Harry. "You can just tell him later, Harry, during Potions. And didn't Snape talk to you this morning? I thought he might have wanted to check up on Draco or something."

Harry shook his head, eyes going to the head table and resting on Snape peacefully eating his breakfast. "No, he didn't. He must have seen that Draco's well now though, since he doesn't look worried. And –" His eyes traveled further down the head table, eyebrows furrowing as he realized something. "Remus isn't back yet?"

"The full moon was last night, Harry," Hermione reminded him. "You can't expect Remus to be up and about already."

"You're right," Harry said, shrugging sheepishly. Then he realized something else. "Morgan's not here either."

"He's probably at the Greenhouse too, with Neville," Ron said, standing up as well. "We should get going if we're going to find him. Nev, I mean."

Harry nodded, and they set off.

It was like a habit, how Blaise normally kept his eyes glued to the Gryffindor Table during meals.

After all, it was normally and usually the topic of his conversations with Draco and Pansy, ever since… the first day of school as first years in fact. So Blaise had spent his days glancing at the Gryffindor Table and sniggering with his housemates about how Finnigan blew up his goblet for the third time in an attempt to get it to levitate.

Or how Potter looked so dorky in those glasses of his and hand-me-down clothes.

Or how Longbottom got another Howler from his grandmother about forgetting his underwear.

But thensomewhere along their first year, Blaise had realized that his conversations with Draco and Pansy were gradually changing. Oh, the sniggers towards Finnigan didn't lessen; in fact, they increased enormously. The quips about how dorky Potter looked also remained, but these too increased.

Way too much in fact.

Since then, Blaise had learned to keep his eyes on the Gryffindor Table for another reason because Draco, even as an eleven year old, kept on commenting about every single thing that Potter did and generally pretending that he didn't have a crush on the boy. (Back then, Blaise didn't know that a boy could have a crush on a boy, so he hadn't thought about it much.)

And then fourth year came, and it kind of got tiring, how Draco would prattle on relentlessly about how Potter was such an attention-seeking git and why did Potter have to enter the Tri-Wizard Tournament, didn't he know that he could get himself killed? If Draco had sounded worried instead of annoyed back then, Blaise and Pansy didn't mention it.

Still, the habit of glancing at the Gryffindor Table every meal time remained…

Especially more so during seventh year.

Seventh year. It was the year without Potter, or even Draco. It was the year without Dumbledore, and all Hogwarts had were Death Eaters in the school, constantly keeping students under Cruciatus because they felt like it. It was the year that Blaise noticed Neville Longbottom for the first time ever, really noticed him.

The Carrows didn't touch the Slytherins, unless they were blood traitors. Nevertheless, Blaise despised their very existence in Hogwarts. It made him sick to see them saunter along the hallways, self-satisfied smirks on their faces and carelessly casting Crucio and Imperius on sobbing first years.

It became a one-man world. Turning blind eyes and deaf ears became all the rage.

Other than the Slytherins, the Carrows gave no other exceptions; they didn't hesitate to cast one Unforgivable after another on whoever was unlucky enough to catch their attention.

More often than not, this unlucky person would be Neville.

At first Blaise had snorted, because this wasn't very different than the other years, was it? Longbottom always caught the professors' eyes because of his spectacular failures. But then it happened again and again, and even Blaisehad started to become incredulous and bewildered at the boy because one simply couldn't stand to get out of bed every morning only to be Crucio-ed every DADA lesson with Amycus Carrow.

It took Blaise a while to realize that all those times that Neville had unintentionally insulted the Carrows were intentional after all.

Neville stood up to them; he fought for the students who were punished unfairly, and every single time, he knew that he would get punished but he did so anyway.

It was a slow process, but sure enough, the students started standing up as well. Started braving.

And Blaise watched this all with befuddlement, disbelief, and… awe.

Back then it would be normal to see Neville Longbottom limping, or covered in Stinging Hexes.

And Blaise realized then that he really didn't want Voldemort to win the war.

When they returned to Hogwarts for their eighth year, Blaise still couldn't get rid of that habit of glancing at the Gryffindor Table every meal time, especially now that he had another reason to do so other than to make fun of Gryffindors or to roll his eyes at Draco's incessant moping about Potter.

This time though, he didn't look at anyone else anymore. Except Neville.

Neville, who still looked as confused at every little thing as ever and who still regularly spilled pumpkin juice on himself, was the same as that person who held his head high even as Alecto Carrow yanked his hair back and shoved her wand against his throat.

Blaise was an intelligent boy, but Neville Longbottom completely baffled him.

It was because Blaise had been glancing at the Gryffindor Table every now and again (in search for the person that he knew wasn't in the room) that he realized that Potter and his friends had stood up.

Blaise nudged Draco with his elbow, effectively cutting the blond's shouting conversation with Pansy about why treacle tart was better than chocolate pudding. Blaise pointed to the Golden Trio making their way towards the doors.

"Lover boy's off, Draco," he drawled, sounding bored. He turned to Draco, and not unsurprisingly, Draco's annoyed expression at being interrupted suddenly disappeared to morph into one of curiosity and… insecurity.

Oh, the things that Potter does to Draco, Blaise thought dryly. And Potter doesn't even know!

He turned back to the Golden Trio, if only to watch Granger and Weasley bicker to each other, and was shocked to see Potter turn his head towards them. More specifically, to Draco.

One glance at the latter told him that Draco was taken aback as well.

It was like a switch had gone on, and Potter's face immediately melted into a big smile as he caught Draco's eyes, color flooding his cheeks. He pointed towards the door sheepishly, before waving his hand in a sort of 'see you later'.

Blaise looked at Draco and was not surprised when the blond mirrored the expression on Harry's face, happy and glowing with all traces of insecurity and gone, and Blaise immediately felt jealous of that connection.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Draco!" Pansy huffed from Draco's other side, rolling her eyes but an amused smile was on her lips anyway. "Get off your seat and follow him already. Merlin knows you're dying to!"

Draco flushed, as Potter and his friends finally reached the door and had closed it behind them. He looked at Pansy indignantly. "I'm not that desperate," he muttered stubbornly, raising one haughty eyebrow that didn't give its desired effect due to the color still on his cheeks.

Pansy huffed again. "Oh, fine! Come on, Blaise!" She got off her seat and grabbed Blaise's elbow, before unceremoniously dragging him off his and away. "We'll follow them. Who knows, maybe they're off to find Longbottom."

It was Blaise's turn to go red. "Why would I care then?" he muttered, but it was lost as Pansy continued dragging him off.

Draco then sprang up from his seat as well and briskly followed after them, having the air of poorly disguised excitement about him. "Well, if you're going, then I simply must,I suppose."

Blaise realized that they were all slowly becoming mental.

"Potter!" Pansy yelled out rather scandalously as they exited the Great Hall and entered the Entrance Hall.

Naturally, all heads turned to them but Pansy paid them no mind as she walked towards the Golden Trio, dragging Blaise with her. Draco followed closely behind, immediately catching Harry's smile when he neared and readily giving one back.

Rolling her eyes, Pansy let go of Blaise's arm, only to latch on to Draco's arm and yank him forward towards Harry. "Take this insufferable creature with you," she said exasperatedly, ignoring Draco's cry of indignation and his murderous glare. "He mopes."

Hermione's lips quirked up in amusement while Ron made gagging noises in the background.

Draco scowled, cheeks flushing. "Pansy, you are absolutely –" he started to say, but abruptly cut himself off in surprise when he felt fingers intertwine themselves with his own.

Harry was pink in the face as well, but his grip around Draco's hand was firm and warm. "Okay," he said, grinning cheekily. "I'll take him."

And Draco was pretty sure his heart stopped right there.

Ron's heart probably stopped too, out of sheer horror, but the look on Harry's face – that happy, heartfelt expression on his face was one that Ron hadn't seen in a long, long time so he thought okay, he could let this moment pass.

"We're off to find Neville," Hermione started, as Draco extracted himself from Pansy's grip and pretty much stuck himself next to Harry. She shared a grin with Pansy, and glanced surreptitiously at Blaise. "Would you like to come with us?" she asked smoothly.

And Pansy thought that she could really, really learn to like this girl.

"You read my mind, Granger."

They didn't have to look far.

They barely managed to cross the Entrance Courtyard on their way to the Greenhouses when Neville and Luna burst from an archway, looking shaken. Well, Luna didn't look very different at all – she still had this dreamy indifference surrounding her – but she did seem paler than usual.

When Neville caught sight of Harry, he gave a start and his eyes widened. "H-Harry –" He cut himself off with a large intake of breath as he realized that Draco, Pansy and Blaise were there as well.

"We have a bit of a problem," Luna quipped, taking over when Neville paused a bit too long.

Harry and the others immediately rushed over to them, automatically tense and on alert. That was what fighting Dark Lords did to you.

"Morgan seems to have locked himself in Greenhouse 3," Luna said, as if she were daydreaming. "He was sporting rather peculiar wounds."

Ron made a confused noise, looking at the others with a bewildered expression. "Peculiar wounds?"

It was Neville who spoke this time, face void of all color. He looked at Harry seriously.

"He looked like he'd been slashed by a – a wild beast – " he paused again, frustrated and unable to say it, but that was okay, because Luna took over for him once more.

She looked at Harry, her blue eyes looking bigger than usual.

"By a werewolf, in fact."

Chapter Text

Harry felt like he had just swallowed a brick that now settled uncomfortably heavy in his stomach. It wasn't Remus, it just wasn't, he was sure of that. Remus would never! Harry stared at Luna, eyes wide and face ashen. He could almost hear his blood rushing in his ears. Greyback was in Azkaban. If he had gotten out, surely it would have been all the rage in the Great Hall. Maybe… maybe some other werewolf wandered too close near Hogwarts. Yesterday was the full moon after all, maybe they couldn't help themselves. Harry needed to find Remus – now –

"Harry!" a voice from beside him yelled firmly, and Harry felt the fingers around his tighten almost painfully.

When Harry turned to him looking lost, Draco's heart almost broke. He lessened the pressure on Harry's hand, but he made sure it was still firm. Harry blinked at him, trying to get into focus, but he looked sharply at his friends. They were all staring at him, worried and almost fearful at what was happening.

With his other hand, Draco gently guided Harry's face to look only at him again. "Do you want to go to Morgan?" he asked.

Harry felt like a horrible person for wanting to check on Remus first. He knew he should check on Morgan though; a werewolf bite was no laughing matter. He started to nod, but Ron's voice stopped him.

"We'll take care of Morgan, mate," Ron said, looking at Harry knowingly. "You go check on Remus."

Harry let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He nodded fervently. "Thank you," he breathed out, before setting off in a run.

And Draco knew this wasn't the right time to be feeling like this, but his heart fell full and close to bursting when Harry clutched his hand tighter and pulled him along without a second thought.

Not Weasley or Granger.

"Shouldn't we go after them?" Pansy said, voice a bit high-pitched and squeaky as she stared at the retreating backs of Harry and Draco.

Hermione shook her head firmly. "No. If Remus really did –" she paused, seeming to go a bit teary-eyed, before she shook her head and swallowed heavily. "—I'm not saying he did, but if – then it'll be better if he's confronted by less people first."

"We should go check if Morgan hasn't gone to the infirmary yet," Ron said hurryingly, even as he was already briskly walking towards the direction where Neville and Luna had come from.

Hermione, Neville and Luna followed suit, soon breaking into a run, but they were all pleasantly surprised when Blaise and Pansy ran after them as well.

"Don't think we're going Gryffindor on you guys," Pansy warned, yelling as they abruptly turned the corner.

If this were the right moment to do so, Hermione would have smiled and Ron would have thrown them a smirk.

After crossing the Viaduct, Neville forced himself to speak through the constriction of his lungs due to their fast running. "We tried knocking and yelling, but he wouldn't open the doors," he rushed out, breathless as Greenhouse 3 came into view. "He wouldn't even answer."

Half an hour ago, he and Luna had been walking towards the Forbidden Forest when Luna had suddenly stopped, turned, and pointed a slender finger out in the distance, eyes widening just slightly and mouth open as if she had just seen a very pretty unicorn. Neville, who had been in a good mood at being able to escape the Great Hall, turned around with a small, curious smile – that promptly dropped off his face when the white of the unicorn was nowhere to be found and the only color that he saw was red, that familiar dark red in the distance. Morgan had been clutching his leg, drenched all over and hobbling towards the Greenhouse. By the time Neville had managed to yell out his name, Morgan had already entered the greenhouse and locked it.

The scratches on Morgan's leg were deep gashes, and certainly looked like a werewolf's doing, but… Neville thought hopefully, it could have been any other beasts', specifically those with large, sharp nails.

"Peculiarly enough," Luna quipped, speaking lightly as if their run hadn't phased her one bit. "My Alohomora seemed to have no effect. I've always been proud of my Alohomora..."

Hermione wasn't thinking about Alohomora though. Or anything that related to unlocking. Quite the opposite, in fact. What she was thinking was:

Why would Morgan lock the doors in the first place?

However, she didn't have time to ponder on this, because they had already arrived in front of Greenhouse 3. Ron had gotten there first, already brandishing his wand just in case he needed to try Alohomora himself. He tried the handle of the door first though, touching it cautiously, pushing –

And letting out a surprised sort of squeak when it opened.

All of them shared shocked looks, but Neville let out a big sigh of relief.

"Oh, good, this means he's gone to Madame Pomfrey already –"

Ron had grabbed the door handle again and pushed it completely open.

Draco had no idea where they were going, but Harry didn't seem to be heading back towards the castle. After a while though, Harry suddenly stopped and took his hand back from Draco's in favor of rummaging through his robe pocket. Ever since the incident with the chambers of the Philosopher's Stone and Draco scolding him for almost going out of the infirmary alone, Harry had taken to keeping the Marauders' Map with him at all times.

Draco looked over his shoulder curiously as he tapped the parchment with his wand and said the magic words. "What are you doing?" Draco asked.

"Maybe Remus' back in his room," Harry said, rushed as he scanned the parchment. His heart fell when he couldn't find Remus' name. "I can't find him anywhere."

Draco, who had been looking for the name as well, slowly shook his head. "I can't find him either."

Harry let out a small groan. "This better be a joke," he muttered to himself, tapping the parchment again. "Mischief managed."

He pocketed the Marauders' Map and grabbed hold of Draco's hand again.

"Where are we going?" Draco asked breathlessly through the wind as they ran.

"Whomping Willow," Harry yelled back.

And Draco nearly tripped. "Whomping Willow?" he very nearly screeched. The thought of that massive, deadly plant with its massive, deadly branches and its massive, deadly trunk –

Harry stopped suddenly again, and this time, Draco really did trip. Harry caught him easily enough though, an apologetic expression on his face. "Sorry, I didn't ask if you wanted to come –"

"I want to come with you," Draco immediately cut in, cheeks red with embarrassment both at his words and the fact that he was ungracefully sprawled against Harry's chest. He pulled back, looking nervous. "But why, exactly, are we going to the Whomping Willow?"

Harry nodded, a small smile flittering across his face despite his anxiousness. He pulled Draco along again, explaining along the way. "There's a passageway under it going to the Shrieking Shack. That's where Remus transforms."

"Huh," Draco said, the cogs in his brain working and realizing that Remus was probably the reason why everyone kept away from the Shrieking Shack and thought it a haunted house. During the war, the Shrieking Shack was where Draco was when the Dark Mark had disintegrated on his arm due to Voldemort's death. It didn't hold good memories for him, since he had spent a good half hour convulsing on the floor of that rusted place, wanting to clutch his bloodied and torn arm but not being able to bring himself to because it hurt.

He didn't know about the secret passage though.

"Never knew that."

Harry chuckled weakly. "No one was supposed to," he said as the Whomping Willow, swaying its branches as if threateningly, finally came into view.

"You better know what you're doing, Harry," Draco yelled through the wind as they increased their pace.

Once they reached their destination, Harry didn't waste any time taking out his wand and yelling, "Immobulus!"

The Whomping Willow's branches immediately stilled, before moving again. Only this time, its movements were gentle, as if it had been sedated.

Draco wondered why he'd never thought of that.

Harry and Draco slipped in the hole amongst the Willow's roots, landing in what seemed like a cave. It was cold, damp and dark, and they had to feel the walls with their free hands to watch their step. The Shrieking Shack was far, but it wasn't hard getting there since there was only one way. The silence was starting to become unbearable though, and Draco could feel Harry's hand going clammy in his.

He squeezed it reassuringly.

"Snape's going to kill us," Harry said in reply, laughing sort of nervously. "He's already given us detention for later. You, Parkinson and Zabini too."

Draco let out a surprised, bewildered sort of sound. "Detention? For what?"

Harry shrugged. "The Amortentia thing."

Draco looked at the back of his head incredulously. "I get a detention for being inebriated against my will?"

Harry turned back to him, throwing an amused smile over his shoulder. "He's your godfather. You explain it to me."

Draco didn't manage to give a witty reply for they had already reached the door leading to the Shrieking Shack. They wordlessly entered, being on alert at once at the utter silence of the house.

After all, the last time both of them had been here, there had been spilled blood.

His hand still holding Draco's, Harry led them towards the stairs. Once he had stepped on the first landing though, it creaked noisily under his feet.

At once, another loud noise erupted from upstairs: a door being banged shut.

Harry and Draco looked at each other in alarm.

Cautiously, Harry peered up the stairs. "Remus?" he called. There was no answer. The silence reigned inside the house once more. Harry called again, this time louder.

When silence greeted them again, Draco pulled his hand back from Harry's, against his judgment. They needed both hands for this after all, just in case this whole situation was more than what they'd originally expected. "Let's be careful," he murmured, holding his wand.

Harry nodded, wand in hand as well, before continuing his way up the stairs, still going slow but not minding the creaking noises that it made under his feet anymore. When they reached the room upstairs, the one where Ron had first found out that his beloved pet rat was actually Peter Pettigrew, Harry called again.

"Remus?"

"Oh, hullo there, kiddos!"

They all gaped, bewildered, as the door opened to reveal Morgan, sitting on a stool with his legs up on the table and pushed against it so much that the stool tipped precariously and stood on two legs instead of four. He had a big book propped up against his thighs, and one glance at it told them it was an Herbology book, seeing as it had a rather big and close-up picture of a baby Mandrake. He grinned at them brightly, waving his hand carelessly and looking very much unwounded.

In fact, he didn't look to be in danger at all, if one didn't count the risk of his stool tipping completely over.

Neville gaped at him, eyes wide and jaw dropped, looking very much like a fish. Beside him, Luna gazed unblinkingly at Morgan, almost wistfully.

"Hello, Morgan," she said.

Hermione, Ron, Blaise and Pansy, who had all shared the same look of bewilderment that consisted of their eyebrows rising to their hairline, snapped out of their stupor at Luna's dreamy voice.

Morgan raised an eyebrow at them. His grin widened. "Wot's got yer knickers in a bunch?" he chuckled, laughing at his own joke.

Neville stared some more. "B-but – you –"

Ron, who did not have a single tactful bone in his body, decided to help his friend out a bit. "You were bitten by a werewolf!" he blurted out.

Now it was Morgan's eyebrows' turn to rise up to his hairline. Then, he shrugged, his grin turning sheepish as he righted his stool again and dropped his legs. "Saw that, din't ya?"

"Saw it?" Neville squeaked out. "You were practically bleeding all over the place!"

Now, there were a lot of things happening at that moment.

Pansy and Blaise were on high alert. It was pretty obvious that something was going on, but they were Slytherins and were naturally suspicious of every little thing. They weren't suspicious about Longbottom though. No – they believed that Neville and Luna had been telling the truth about what they saw, and besides, they wouldn't lie about anything like that. (Morgan, however, they naturally disliked because of his Hufflepuff-ish demeanor. It was a Slytherin thing.)

Luna still stared unblinkingly at Morgan, and Hermione realized for the first time just how pale Morgan was.

"I wasn't bitten though, just scratched a bit," Morgan said, chuckling.

"Scratched a bit?" Neville looked at him incredulously. He very clearly remembered Morgan limping with a leg that seemed like it had been torn apart.

Morgan cringed at the memory. "Alrigh', it did give me a bit o' trouble with the healin'," he said earnestly. Then, the grin returned. "But yeh don't survive the war without knowin' a trick or two!"

"You didn't go to Madame Pomfrey?" Ron asked, surprised, failing to realize that Morgan couldn't have possibly gone to Madame Pomfrey, gotten healed, and returned to the greenhouse in such a short amount of time.

At this, Morgan flushed. "I'll get in trouble, you see. 'M not supposed to be so deep in the Forbidden Forest without Hagrid, but I just had to get this pretty herb."

"You couldn't have gotten it in the morning?" Ron asked again, still with the tone of incredulity.

"Well," Morgan started, pausing. Then, he grinned sheepishly. "Only grows when the full moon's high."

Neville didn't seem to still be over his confusion. Hermione, though, decided that they didn't need to stay in there any longer.

"Well," she started, sending Morgan a smile. "We just checked to see if you were okay. You definitely look like you are! We'll be going now then."

Morgan nodded enthusiastically. "You should hurry up though; classes are startin'!"

They all nodded (even Neville did, albeit a bit unsurely) and, one by one, filed out of Greenhouse 3.

After the Greenhouse door closed shut, it was Hermione who spoke first.

"I wish we had brought Draco with us," she said somberly as they walked slowly towards the castle. They would be late if they didn't hurry up, but all their minds were still heavily weighed elsewhere.

Ron blinked at his girlfriend, before his eyes widened as he realized why. "He would have known if Morgan was lying."

Pansy and Blaise had looked at Hermione as well, surprised at her comment, but then just looked darkly regretful.

"But does it matter though? I mean, it's pretty obvious that Morgan's pulling something," Pansy muttered, frowning.

All of them nodded. Neville did too, but only after a cringe.

"Still, at least Draco would know which parts were lies," Blaise offered, glancing at Neville and taking pity at just how confused the boy looked.

"Morgan doesn't attract any Wrackspurts at all," Luna said firmly, eyes to the sky. They all looked at her, but having gotten used to Luna's sudden announcements, just shrugged at each other.

"Maybe it's his business?" Neville said, shrugging weakly. "Doesn't concern us," he added, although not as surely as he wanted it to be.

Hermione nodded anyway though, considering the possibility. "Maybe you're right."

"Well, at least we know Remus' safe," Ron muttered.

"Harry?"

Harry gave a start, as if surprised to hear Remus' voice even though he had been expecting (hoping) it. "Remus, are you –" he paused, swallowing. He glanced at Draco, who took his hand and intertwined their fingers again. He turned back to the door. "Remus, are you alright?"

A pause.

"Harry, what are you doing here?"

Remus' voice was weak, although that could have been because it was muffled by the door. Or because he had just undergone a full moon transformation. Either way, Harry didn't like it. "We – we were worried –" he started, but was cut off.

"We?"

"Draco's with me," Harry said, forcing himself to be calm. He took a deep breath. "Could you, err, maybe open the door?"

Another pause.

And then…

"Harry, I can't do that. What are you two even doing here in the Shrieking Shack? You should be back at Hogwarts!"

"I know, I know," Harry said quickly, glancing at Draco desperately again. "We were just worried –"

"What Harry wants to say, Professor," Draco cut in, taking his hand back so that he could pull Harry close to him and rub his back in comfort. "Morgan was sporting peculiar wounds that looked like it was done by a werewolf, and Harry became worried."

A loud noise erupted from within the room, as if something had fallen to the floor. Draco imagined that it was Remus falling down in surprise.

"Y-you thought it was me?" came the hurt reply.

"No," Harry said quickly. Fiercely. "But I wanted… I wanted to be sure, because if it was, you know, you, then I wanted to be –" A blush stole his cheeks as embarrassment washed over him at what he was about to say. "—there."

Draco had always found it endearing how Harry always stumbled over his words.

When Remus' voice came, it was louder now and clearer, as if he was nearer the door.

"I'm fine, Harry. Nothing happened last night except for the usual," he said gently. "Now, get back to classes and I'll just right myself up. You too, Draco."

Harry finally let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Okay," he said, and grabbed hold of Draco's hand again.

They walked back to the castle using the passageway to the Whomping Willow, only stopping once, when Harry had tugged at Draco's hand and asked:

"He's alright, isn't he? I mean, he said he was and that nothing happened…"

Draco kissed him, partly to comfort Harry and partly because now he could.

They parted ways once they reached the castle, but were both late to their respective classes. Ron and Hermione filled Harry in on what happened at the Greenhouse, and Harry told them what happened in the Shrieking Shack in the same way that Pansy, Blaise and Draco also exchanged stories. Neville was quite subdued and still looked a bit bewildered by everything.

Throughout the whole morning though, Harry felt restless and fidgety, and when he could without anyone noticing him, frequently checked the Marauder's Map under his desk.

Lunch came around and Remus was still nowhere to be seen in the Map or in the Great Hall, but Morgan seemed to be back to normal with his cheerful chattering to Professor Bridgewood up at the teachers' table.

Heavy atmospheres surrounded the Golden Trio as well as the trio at the Slytherin Table, all lost in thought and suspicion.

Hermione felt like she was missing something – something that should be very obvious. She ate her lunch distractedly, almost robotically because her mind was busy going through all sorts of details, and it made her head hurt, how she was thinking about Morgan and the werewolf thing but also about the thing with Harry and the trapdoors.

She hadn't stopped thinking about that since lunch yesterday, when they were talking about what the culprit might want with Harry. Something that Harry only knew…

But she just couldn't grasp it.

Ron, however, could feel the tension of his friends (Hermione with her knitted eyebrows and Harry with his egg-poking habits, and even Neville, who was more fidgety than usual) and dutifully stayed quiet.

At the Slytherin Table, Blaise and Pansy were thinking along the same lines of Hermione but only about Morgan. They felt that it didn't concern them, however, but were naturally suspicious and curious about him and the whole werewolf scenario.

Throughout the whole lunch, Harry worried over Remus and Draco worried over Harry.

Harry was too deep in thought to notice when the noise around him lulled down to conspiratorial whispers, so he almost jumped from his seat when he heard Draco's voice call his name from behind him. He turned around, a little bit of the tension easing away from him at the sight of the blond.

Pansy and Blaise were nowhere to be found; Harry figured they were probably back at the Slytherin table. Draco then turned to Ron and Hermione and nodded to them in greeting. "Granger. Weasley."

Hermione smiled at him in reply and Ron awkwardly shrugged a shoulder at him.

"Draco?" Harry asked, confused.

The Map had been feeling very heavy in his pocket since this morning, very much like his stomach that didn't seem to be in the mood for anything right now. Seeing Draco lessened that though, but despite that, the anxiety returned as he became aware of the stares and the gradually loudening whispers around them.

So, he was surprised (and just a little bit wonderstruck) when Draco flashed him a charmingly winning smile.

"Shall we go to the library now?"

The whispers turned into squeals.

Penny (at least Hermione thought it was Penny) fainted from the Hufflepuff Table.

Ron turned green.

Harry turned into a lovely shade of red.

"What must they be thinking?" Harry moaned mournfully as he buried his burning face in his hands once the doors of the Great Hall closed behind them.

"That we're going to the library so I can bend you over on the table and hold you down and proceed to shag you until you scream my name," Draco said seriously.

Harry's face burned brighter as a shiver ran down his body at the image that produced. He groaned. "You're going to be the death of me," he muttered weakly, but didn't resist when Draco took his hand and pulled him towards the moving staircases.

Draco smirked when Harry tightened his grip on his hand. "Liked that, didn't you?"

"Git," Harry muttered, letting Draco lead him up the stairs. "Where are we going?"

"Hospital Wing," Draco said simply.

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. He hadn't actually thought that they were going to the library, but he didn't expect the infirmary either. "What for?"

"We're skipping," Draco said.

Harry stared wide-eyed at the back of his blond head. "We are?" he asked incredulously. He didn't really know if Draco skipped on a regular basis, but Draco didn't seem like the type to do so. After all, he was as grades conscious as Hermione… (Okay, maybe not as much as Hermione, but at least more than Harry or Ron… Definitely more than Harry or Ron.)

"No, I'm kidding," Draco deadpanned, but threw a smirk at Harry after. "I just think you need a little lie-down. We still have half an hour before lunch ends anyway."

The way Draco said it wasn't particularly special or romantic, but Harry felt himself melting anyway at the thoughtfulness of the whole thing.

They arrived in the empty Hospital Wing, where Draco then led Harry towards the Slytherin's bed. Still in their school robes, he pulled Harry down with him on top of the sheets, before snuggling into Harry's chest. He tucked his head under Harry's chin and closed his eyes.

Harry looked down at his blond head and smiled amusedly. "You dragged me up here so that I could give you a cuddle?" he joked, but wrapped his arms around Draco anyway, feeling warm and happy.

"It works both ways, you see," Draco drawled, his voice muffled because of Harry's robes. He pulled away, just a bit so that his voice would be clearer. "Go ahead, tell me I'm a genius," he said, smirking expectantly.

Shyly, Harry kissed his cheek instead and said softly, "I love you."

Color bloomed on Draco's cheeks as his eyes widened at the unexpected words, but a satisfied smile found their way on his lips anyway. "Actually, I prefer that," he murmured, and sought Harry's lips with his own for a proper kiss.

It was fifteen minutes later that it happened.

Draco didn't feel anything funny before that, so when it happened, he almost sat up in surprise had he not been busy clutching his throat with both hands because it suddenly felt like it was burning and he was choking, scratching at his throat with blunt nails because he wanted it to stop.

Harry knew the exact moment it happened because it was also the moment that Draco's body convulsed against him and Draco pushed him away harshly as he tried to get more space on the bed to grab at his throat. Since Draco pushed him away, both of them were moved towards their respective edges of the bed but Harry struck out an arm just in time to keep Draco from falling over the bed. He needn't have worried so much about that, however, because falling from beds was the last thing on Draco's mind because his throat was on fire and not the rhetoric kind. His stomach was in the same state, but the robes prevented him from scratching it so he gave all his attention to his throat.

Draco sobbed, coughing violently as if he was trying to get the fire out of his throat, but the burning wasn't going up – it seemed to be spreading, down to his lungs and Draco extracted shaky fingers from his throat to scratch at his clothed chest, writhing on the bed like he was under Crucio.

It did feel like Crucio (and Draco would know) and the agony made his fingers curl and uncurl unconsciously from the pain, eyes wide and open but unseeing as tears prickled at the back of his eyelids.

"Draco!" Harry yelled, panicked, reaching out before stopping at the last minute because he didn't know if he was supposed to be touching him, and Draco was crying now, sobbing on the bed, and Harry felt numb because this looked worse somehow, worse than all of Draco's other episodes, and a sick feeling was forming at the pit of his stomach making his hands and legs grow cold.

It was fear.

Do something! His addled mind screamed, and he sat up, lunging forward and tearing Draco's school robes off him, whispering shakily, "Try to stay still, Draco, try to stay still –" He was panicking, and his fingers were shaking but he yanked the robes off the blond's shoulders, ignoring the way that Draco made painful guttural noises in an effort to get rid of the burn.

With the robes off Draco, Harry frantically groped it for anything solid. When he finally found the belladonna tincture, he felt like he could cry.

"Draco," he said urgently, unstopping the bottle and grabbing Draco's shoulder with one hand. "You have to stop moving, Draco – you need, you need to drink this –"

It brought tears to his eyes when Draco turned his wide, wet eyes to his, nodding dumbly in reply and pain etched across his face as he tried to keep still because keeping still made him feel the burn all the more, but he did and forced the belladonna down his swollen throat when Harry poured it.

Nothing happened.

He gasped breathlessly, the belladonna simply making his swollen throat all the more painful to bear, and his hands left his throat to clutch at Harry's robes instead, sobbing shamelessly.

Draco was a Malfoy. Malfoys never cried.

But the war was over now and Draco had at least become man enough to admit that he was a coward and that he hated pain and he'd been under countless of Crucios from so many different wands to know that he didn't want to be under it ever again.

Harry's heart was about to burst. It was about to explode right out of his chest because Draco was still in pain and Harry was scared and he didn't know what to do and Madame Pomfrey wasn't around and Snape –

With a strangled cry and one big lurch, Draco vomited right onto Harry's lap and onto his robes, his breakfast and his lunch leaving him faster than he had chewed them, and he felt the pain in his stomach escalate, as if it had been burning slightly but now burst into flames before he gave another big lurch, and blood joined the mess.

Harry was dumbfounded, and it was disgusting how the wet mess seeped into his robes and his trousers towards his skin, but he remembered Snape and Snape said something about vomiting…

"If Draco's little coughing fit happens again, do not try to stop him from vomiting. He needs to get it out of his system, but be ready with Blood-Replenishing Potion. Are you listening to me, Potter?"

Harry was listening. He was, until now, even if the voice he was listening to was only in his head.

He reached out, brushing Draco's hair away from his face, making soothing and encouraging noises. The sight and the smell made him want to vomit too, but he resolutely kept his breakfast down. The regurgitated food was nothing, though, compared to the blood that Draco was vomiting.

Draco managed enough strength to move his head, but it made no difference.

Harry found himself unable to look away as the mess became redder and redder rather than yellow, and he was thinking is this normal oh shit should I do something Snape said to just let him vomit but what if what if what if and as if he had just snapped out of a stupor, he took out the Blood-Replenishing Potion that he kept with him at all times and waited for Draco to finish, loyally keeping his blond hair back and rubbing his back as Draco leaned over his lap, sitting up only halfway and leaning on his elbow as he coughed and his chest heaved.

Tears still ran down Draco's face, but the burn was going away now. It was leaving his body as if the blood that Draco was vomiting was the fire, and it was with immense relief that he whimpered when his body convulsed for the last time.

With one hand still holding Draco's hair back, Harry took the other to grab his wand and cast Scourgify. The mess and the smell quickly disappeared. Harry cast Scourgify on Draco as well, so that the tear tracks disappeared and there was no more blood dripping down his chin.

Harry felt relieved too; so much that he almost dropped the Blood-Replenishing Potion when he tried to unstop it, but he managed to get the stopper off successfully in the end without spilling the potion.

With the mess gone, Draco finally collapsed onto Harry's lap, an arm supporting his forehead as his chest heaved but only out of exhaustion now. His limbs and his fingers still felt cold, but Harry had returned to rubbing his back and that made him feel better.

"Draco," Harry whispered, but then winced at how hoarse it sounded. He swallowed. "Draco," he tried again, nudging the Slytherin gently. "Blood-Replenishing Potion. You need it."

Draco's head moved against his thigh, which Harry took as a nod, but when Draco tried to lift himself, he only ended up falling back down and groaning.

Harry took him by the shoulders and gently lifted him upwards, and shifted on the bed so that when Draco's upper body swayed, he was there to support it with his own body. Harry shifted them more so that they were back against the headboard, arranging both of them so that Draco's could lean against his shoulder.

With great effort, Draco lifted his head so that Harry could put the mouth of the bottle against his lips.

Harry ignored the way how pale Draco was, and only whispered comforting things as Draco forced the Blood-Replenishing Potion down his still-swollen throat.

"I want you to lie down," Harry said softly, moving Draco's body for him as Draco's limbs still seemed to be in a state of mush. When Draco was comfortably laid down on the mattress and his head on the pillow, Harry continued. "I'm going to call Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape. I'll be right back," he promised and about-faced, before thinking about it and turning around again to plant a kiss on Draco's lips. He smiled weakly, before running towards the doors.

Whatever reply that Draco wanted to say about Harry not allowed to walk around alone was lost in a sea of haziness and exhaustion.

When Harry returned, Draco was already fast asleep.

Draco woke up from a horrible dream with a massive headache. He dreamt that he had vomited all over Harry Potter's robes and it was five seconds after he had remembered that dream that he remembered that it wasn't a dream at all. It took five seconds more for the horrification to start and for him to want to bury himself in the middle of the Forbidden Forest and probably live there for the remainder of his sad, sorry life because a day after he finally got Harry Potter to go out with him, he vomits all over the poor boy's robes.

How fucking embarrassing, Draco.

"Draco!"

Draco's head snapped to the side, before he realized that oh, that was a bad idea because it made his vision swim. With his eyes shut tightly, he lifted himself up by the elbows to sit up. When he opened his eyes, Harry was beside him, peering at him with eyes big and worried.

"Are you alright now?"

Draco swallowed first so that he could speak and was surprised when he felt no pain at all. He touched the tips of his fingers to his throat in amazement.

Harry smiled at his reaction. "Madame Pomfrey healed everything. She said that you're okay. Snape came too, but he said that he was going to talk to both of us when you're already awake."

Draco looked at Harry's smile and nodded. He looked behind Harry's shoulders, noting how Harry's bed was littered with textbooks and rolls of parchment. Then he looked out the window and realized with confoundment that it was already nightfall.

"What time is it?" Draco asked, happy to note that his voice was normal and not scratchy like he had expected it would be.

"Around nine," Harry replied, sitting on Draco's bed and nudging him to move to give him space. "You're excused from class, but Parkinson came by with your homework and notes."

Draco nodded. "You too?"

Harry's lips curled up in a smile, because he couldn't help being happy now after sitting on his bed for nine hours straight and gnawing at his nails looking at Draco's sleeping face and wondering if the blond was alright. "Of course Snape would never excuse me. I skipped."

Draco frowned, one eyebrow raised. "You shouldn't sound so happy saying that," he scolded, but didn't really mean it because warmth spread through him at the thought of Harry being with him the whole time in the infirmary.

"Hermione said the same thing when she and Ron came by to give me my homework," Harry muttered with a cringe.

"So you've been doing homework all this time?" Somehow, the idea of it amused Draco. Harry wasn't the type to ignore schoolwork altogether, but he also wasn't the type to pour all his attention to it.

Harry flushed in indignation. He glared half-heartedly at Draco. "Well, I wanted to sleep beside you, but Snape told me to give you breathing space," he muttered, face red. He didn't look at the other when he continued. "In fact, if I remember correctly, his exact words were –" And his face scrunched down into his best Snape face as he tried his best Snape voice. "'As endearing as your relationship is with my godson, I request that you restrain and extract yourself from Draco to allow him to breathe'. Yeah, something like that…"

Draco's face was red too as he imagined it, but he could also imagine Snape's pained expression and Harry's embarrassed one so it still brought a smile to his lips.

He looked at Harry, feeling a sudden burst of affection for the boy in front of him as he grinned.

"You must really like me, huh," he said lightly, teasing and flirty, but the words didn't feel light to him at all. In fact, he felt like his words had the whole world on them because even though Harry had already said so last night, Draco still wasn't sure and he's also not sure if he will ever be. "I mean, if you're willing to sleep with me after I practically threw up my lunch on you."

Then Harry did the most amazing thing, which was blush just a little bit fiercer and smile, also teasing and shy but real and true and heartfelt.

"Yeah, I really do."

And Draco had gone to managing to ignore the light around other people now, because after more than a week, it had begun to feel like it was almost normal, but Draco couldn't ignore this light, much like how he could never really successfully ignore anything about Harry Potter.

The light around Harry burned a bright gold.

He would have kissed Harry had he the strength to do so, and even if he didn't, he would have forced himself because he just really wanted that kiss right now, but fortunately, no forcing was necessary as Harry had been thinking the same thing and was the one who leaned down to press his lips against Draco's, soft and gentle and sweet.

Draco sighed happily, kissing back. Harry made to pull away, but Draco followed him quickly with his head, indicating what he wanted. Harry grinned at him, flushed, and kissed him again.

And during the kiss, Draco realized that Harry was… rather than shy, he was more of unsure, and Draco thought that was ridiculous because why would Harry be unsure? Didn't Harry know that now that Draco had finally managed to get a taste of him, he practically lived on it now?

Well, probably not, and maybe Draco will never ever say that out loud, but Draco did live on it now and every kiss that Harry gave was perfect.

…Okay, maybe this one could use some work, because Harry shouldn't really be so scared to be anything but gentle.

Draco will definitely have to fix that.

Maybe another day.

Right now, he simply relaxed against the headboard of his bed and thought about how he should have more violent coughing episodes if it got him Harry Potter's kisses.

"Snape might come by," Harry murmured when they pulled away, lips swollen and eyes still a little bit dazed.

Draco, whose mind was still in a state of mush and currently scooping itself up from the floor, did not understand why they were now talking about his godfather. "What?"

"You know, to check on you," Harry said, nudging Draco's thigh with his knee.

Obligingly, Draco moved to give Harry space to sit down on the bed with him.

"But I thought he already checked on me?"

"Yeah, and he didn't seem too worried. Madame Pomfrey said it was good that you vomited."

Draco cringed at the embarrassing memory. "It was good that I vomited my intestines out?"

"Means that you vomited some of the Dragon's Blood," Harry replied with a smile. He had been so out of his wits earlier when he arrived back in the infirmary with Snape and Madame Pomfrey to find Draco asleep, but Madame Pomfrey was already waving her wand back and forth. They hadn't looked that worried, which calmed Harry and confused him at the same time, but when he asked (Okay, so maybe it was more of an exclamation. "Why the bloody hell aren't you panicking?") Madame Pomfrey kindly explained to him that the vomiting was good because it meant that the worst was over, now that Draco had most probably spat out enough amounts of Dragon's Blood and maybe even the Exploding Erumpent Fluid.

Snape even went so far as to thoughtfully mumble about how the intake of Amortentia might have been useful rather than destructive – which confused Harry more, but Snape refused to elaborate and stalked off with a swish of his robes with an instruction to keep Draco in the infirmary.

He said Draco, and not Harry, and thus Madame Pomfrey raised that eyebrow of hers that told Harry that he wasn't going to be skipping any classes while on her watch, but Harry patiently explained to her how he and Draco were sort of a pair now and that Harry wasn't allowed to be anywhere without the blond. (For the first time, Harry managed to make use of the whole safety room scenario to his advantage.)

"That's good," Draco mumbled, surprised at the sudden influx of relief spreading through him. Coughing your intestines out every other day wasn't a very splendid experience. He blinked at Harry, squinting at the golden light that still looked like little Golden Snitches to him. "I can still see the light around people though. I wonder how long before this stuff washes out of me."

Harry shrugged. He grinned. "Maybe you should drink lots of water."

Draco raised an eyebrow as he took in what Harry was saying. He rolled his eyes, a grin making its way to his lips as well. "I'll have to ask Severus then, if it's possible to piss it out."

Harry laughed, and settled in even more comfortably against Draco.

Needless to say, Draco was pretty proud of himself at that moment – until Harry's insufferable owl ruined it by swooping in through the window and extracting Harry's attention away from him.

Now, normally, Draco would say that Hedwig was the most beautiful owl he had ever laid eyes on (and this was true, not just because her owner was also the most beautiful man he had ever laid eyes on but that was true too), but right now he just settled for glaring petulantly at her as Harry scratched behind her ear lovingly whilst his other hand untied the letter from her leg.

Harry's gasp made him forget all else though.

"It's from Remus!"

Draco had forgotten about him. He glanced at Harry's bed and at the scattered books, and spotted the Marauders' Map open. He frowned, thinking about how Harry must have spent those hours regularly scanning the Map worriedly.

And, as the war had molded him to be always apprehensive, he almost felt scared at the possibilities of what the letter might hold.

He needn't have worried though, because as soon as Harry finished reading the letter, a big smile made its way to the boy's face. He presented it to Draco.

Harry,

I'm back in my dorms now, so don't worry about me but I doubt I'll be able to get back to classes so soon.

We'll talk about what happened this morning tomorrow, so visit me whenever you're free.

I heard what happened to Draco. Give him my regards, and have Dobby give him chocolate.

It should help.

Cheers,

Remus

Draco couldn't help but smile as well. "Lupin thinks chocolate's the answer to everything," he quipped, but he was honestly touched. Harry didn't have to know that though, but judging by Harry's grin, maybe he already did.

"He's usually right," Harry replied, before calling, "Dobby!"

There was a pop and Dobby appeared in front of them, covered in flour and looking like he had just received a new pair of socks for Christmas when he saw both of his Masters. His eyes watered visibly, and he wiped them using that piece of cloth covering his body, which only served to swipe the flour even more on his face. "Forgive Dobby, Dobby is just so happy that both of his Masters are getting along so well. Dobby remembers when Master Draco used to tell Dobby all about Master Potter –"

"That's quite alright, Dobby, you're forgiven," Draco cut in loudly with a cringe. When he reunited with Dobby in Grimmauld Place during the war and Dobby kept on mentioning about Draco's experiences in the Manor through tear-filled monologues (Not that Dobby got any far, because Draco kept on cutting him off.), he had been convinced that if Voldemort wasn't going to kill him, then the house-elf would probably succeed in doing so spectacularly.

Draco didn't even want to look at Harry right now, because his face was burning rather embarrassingly.

Dobby gave one big sniff. "Dobby is just so happy –"

"Yes, all well and good, I'm happy that you're happy, but I'll be even happier if you bring us two bars of chocolate and some treacle tart." Because Harry loved treacle tart. "Thank you, Dobby, off you go now, shoo –"

When Dobby disappeared with an enthusiastic snap of his fingers, Harry burst out laughing.

Draco buried his face in his hand. "Shut up, Potter, I'm critically wounded here. It's awfully rude to laugh at someone when they're critically wounded, honestly, have you no manners?"

Draco shut up and was mollified when Harry snaked an arm around his waist and leaned his forehead against Draco's shoulder, even though Harry was still shaking with mirth.

Two minutes later, when they were already stuffing themselves with the sweets that Dobby had brought through sniffling and happy whimpers, Harry scrambled over to his own bed.

Draco thought that Harry only went there to close the Marauders' Map, which he did, so he was surprised when Harry returned to him holding his Potions book.

"This might make you feel better," Harry told him with a shy smile.

Draco was confused. "As much as I love Potions, Harry, how will doing homework make me feel better?"

Harry ignored that, and asked his own question. "Do you ever read the Introduction?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Nobody reads the Introduction," he replied, giving Harry his best 'duh' face.

Harry settled in beside him comfortably, taking the tray of sweets from Draco's lap so that the book could take its place. The tray now found a new position on Harry's lap.

"Well, Snape's homework for us was to read the Introduction to Love Potions."

"What?" Draco asked him incredulously. "But he knows that –"

"Nobody reads the Introduction, I know," Harry said patiently, chuckling, feeling boyishly happy at what he was about to let Draco know. He had already read the Introduction earlier when Draco was asleep, and spent a good half an hour with his face burning and his heart pounding in his chest.

"Just do it. It's interesting," Harry said, nonchalantly picking up a slice of treacle tart.

Draco stared at him for a few moments more, before rolling his eyes. "Alright, but just know that I'm suspicious."

Harry gave him a smile that he hoped was confident but probably looked pathetic if the frantic beating of his heart was anything to go by. As Draco turned the page and started to read, Harry could feel his hands going clammy, that he was almost tempted to go back into the safety of his own bed and away from (maybe) potential humiliation, but that was it, wasn't it? He was hoping, very much, that there would be no potential humiliation.

And there would be none.

It took Draco three minutes to read the whole Introduction, and Harry's burning face was turned away so he didn't see Draco's eyes widen with disbelief and incredulity and more hope and yearning, so when Draco suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders, pushed him down on the bed and pressed their lips together so tightly and almost desperately, it took almost all of Harry to grab onto him and kiss him with the same amount of fervor and emotion.

And Draco thought that oh, yeah, he was definitely going to have to get himself into more of these violent coughing fits.

Chapter Text

Theodore Nott was still quite numb with shock ever since that dreaded class in Potions wherein he was subjected to the vile concoction and forced to snog Seamus Finnigan. Yes, forced. Never mind the fact that it was he himself that actually pounced on Finnigan and pushed him on the floor and proceeded to shove his tongue inside the other boy's mouth, but it was still against his will!

Now, Theodore was normally a very quiet boy, but now he was just too quiet. It had come to the point where in Crabbe and Goyle started taking notice, and they normally needed a lot of physical prodding (or punching) and visual aids with exploding bright lights and sparkles to notice anything.

It was just that… Theo was not gay.

And he definitely did not enjoy snogging another guy.

He had spent the whole of yesterday locked up in his room, ignoring his classes and muttering to himself that he was not gay and Seamus was gay and he was forced against his will and he definitely did not want to kiss another guy again –

So when Harry Potter walked into the Great Hall that morning with a big smile on his face, that genuine smile that had become rare at least until he started spending more time with Draco and that seemed to light up the whole room, Theo buried his face in his hands and cursed whoever invented love potions because it must still be in his system if his face was going warm.

"You look happy today," Ron commented suspiciously when Harry plopped down on the seat across from him.

"I am happy," Harry replied cheerfully, his smile going cheeky.

Ron turned green and he actually dropped the pudding he was holding on the table. It made a loud sound against the wood, making the Gryffindors near him and some Hufflepuffs behind him turn their heads to look at the source of the noise. Ron, oblivious to all this and just being Ron, exclaimed in a very pained voice, "Oh, bloody hell, Harry, tell me you didn't!"

Those who turned their heads now leaned closer, ears twitching for information on exactly what Harry 'didn't'.

Harry himself also looked as if he wanted information on exactly what he 'didn't', judging by his confused expression. "Didn't what?"

Ron's eyes couldn't have grown any wider. He cried mournfully. "Oh, no, you did! You did, didn't you? Oh dear Merlin, my best mate's just been deflowered by Draco Malfoy!"

And Harry's face couldn't have gotten pale faster than the words that traveled all throughout the ends of both the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, consequently reaching the Ravenclaw table and ultimately reaching the Slytherins.

Draco Malfoy was certainly very happy that morning as well.

Neville Longbottom was not happy.

No, he wasn't. In fact, he was actually this close to hyperventilating and fainting in the middle of the Gryffindor common room because he had refused to attend breakfast and told his friends that he was going to catch up on homework… which he had planned to do to get his mind off disturbing things but now that the books were open and the quill was dipped in ink, his mind kept on swerving in that direction where things that Must Not Be Talked About were stored.

At the top of that list right now was the Potions homework that Professor Snape had given them last night.

Just below that list, in small and crooked letters that looked like it was just squeezed there against the writer's will, was 'Blaise Zabini'.

"I don't really see why they're all surprised," Draco said matter-of-factly from his seat between Harry and Ginny. (He could have sat on Harry's other side, where he would have been between Harry and Ron instead, but he liked this seat better. It was nearer. Not that it made his egoistic inner Slytherin happy. It really was just nearer. Really.)

"I mean," he continued, pointy nose raised up in the air as he paused for dramatic effect. It certainly made the Parvati twins lean closer melodramatically. "It's not like they haven't been gossiping about me shagging you senseless for the past week, Harry."

Harry choked on his pumpkin juice as his cheeks went warm. At the same time, Ron gagged on his chicken breast, which wasn't very attractive but it was a good thing Hermione was busy rolling her eyes to actually look at him.

"Yes, I really value your opinion a lot, Malfoy, you know I do –" Ron said with great effort, looking pained. (Draco was amused when the light around Ron turned black.) "But why are you here at the Gryffindors' Table?"

Draco would never admit to anyone that he had ditched Pansy and Blaise just because Ginny Weasley had come in the room and sat herself beside Harry.

Not that the Weaslette was competition, of course.

As if.

And besides, Draco would grab at any opportunity to sit beside Harry, even if it meant diving into the sea of redheads.

Blaise Zabini was also not happy.

Well…

He was kind of half-half.

He was a sort of… confused-happy.

"Stop staring at the Gryffindors, Blaise," Pansy quipped distractedly as she jabbed her spoon repeatedly into her pudding. "I know you miss Draco – we all do, dear – but one might think that you've got yourself your own Gryffindor crush." Then, she dropped her spoon and opened her mouth in mock surprise. "But we all know you couldn't have!"

She ducked just as a goblet was thrown her way.

Blaise had a reason to be confused-happy. He had been in that state ever since Professor Snape had given them that ridiculous assignment to read the Introduction last night even though no one had read the Introduction ever since Granger did it as an overachieving first year.

He could still remember the way Neville's nose scrunched up in genuine confusion when he couldn't feel the effects of the Love Potion that Blaise had just brewed, as if the Gryffindor really believed that Blaise could do no wrong in the field of Potions. Blaise had been confused too – but then had just shrugged it off as not paying too much attention to the instructions, which weren't really surprising when his partner was Neville Longbottom and they were brewing a Love Potion.

But maybe…

Maybe Blaise didn't screw up.

Maybe the Love Potion he brewed was perfect.

If so, then that would mean…

"You could just ask him, you know," Pansy scoffed, looking sullen as she tried to take bits of pudding that had ended up in her hair when she ducked. This was why she hated her best friends moping about their love lives. It was always her who paid the price. Sigh.

She waved off Blaise's indignant glare, because it didn't really have its desired effect when partnered with the red on the boy's cheeks. "I know, I know, you haven't got a single Gryffindor bone in you, Merlin forbid if you did," she muttered, sighing exasperatedly. She looked at Blaise pointedly, and then shrugged.

"But it's a spectacularly nice suggestion, if I do say so myself."

Professor Holly Bridgewood was not happy.

Well, she was a miserable wreck in general, but even more so at the moment.

Morgan just wouldn't shut up.

She figured she should be used to this by now, seeing as it was already October and a month has already passed where she had to endure Morgan's relentless chatting every single day, but she wasn't and just silently cried to herself that this wasn't part of her – pardon her language – bloody contract.

"Where's Neville?" Harry asked, taking the treacle tart off Draco's plate because it seemed like the blond wasn't about to eat it anymore. (This was true. Draco just put it on his plate for the sole purpose of letting Harry swipe it.)

"Upstairs," Ginny said with a sigh, ruefully shaking her head and making her red hair move gracefully down her shoulders. "When I woke up and went into the common room, he was already there. The sun wasn't even up yet, and he looked like he was halfway to a nervous breakdown. I couldn't get him to tell me anything."

"He's been looking like he was halfway to a nervous breakdown since last night," Ron added helpfully.

"He was doing his homework," Seamus quipped in, following Ron in the art of speaking while spewing food all over everyone. "I was already drooling over mine when he suddenly fell off his bed. I thought he was hyperventilating."

Ron nodded sympathetically. "Poor guy. Same thing happens to me every time I do homework too – Ow!"

Hermione, looking innocent, pointedly ignored his glare.

Realization crossed Harry's face. He grinned. "Oh! He must have read the Introduction then!" Then another look of realization appeared as he recalled just who Neville's partner was.

Draco's face mirrored his, before a huge smile broke out on his face as he concluded just what this all meant for his dear friend in denial.

Ron nodded sympathetically once more. "Potions does that to me too – OW!"

Hermione continued eating her dessert. "Well, did you read the Introduction?" she asked nonchalantly, narrowing her eyes at her boyfriend.

Ron hastily quit rubbing his knee and tried to nod, only to realize that he had no willpower to lie to Hermione and just settled for returning to his dinner sulkily.

"What about you guys?" Hermione turned to Seamus and Dean.

They looked away.

Hermione let out a frustrated breath. "Honestly! And you call yourself eighth years," she muttered under her breath, rummaging inside her bag for her Potions book. "If any of you had bothered to do their assignments last night, then you might have guessed what was wrong with poor Neville."

"What does homework have to do with him?" Ron asked, grumbling.

"And why do you have your Potions book with you?" Harry said, confused. "We don't have Potions today."

"Because I know that some of us wouldn't bother to read the Introduction, so naturally, I prepared myself," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. Ron and Seamus had the decency to look sheepish. She shoved the book in the middle of the table so that everybody could read the Introduction. Harry and Draco hung back with small, private smiles, since they had already read it.

Ginny leaned in the most, since she wasn't part of their class and had no clue what they were talking about and how it related to Neville.

CHAPTER 15
LOVE POTIONS

INTRODUCTION

Love Potions are most potent potions that induce the drinker to become infatuated with the one who gave it to them. Love Potions do not create love as their name implies, for it is impossible to fabricate an emotion as strong as Love. Instead, it merely fabricates feelings of infatuation or obsession.

Hector Dagworth-Granger, founder of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, states that, " Powerful infatuations can be induced by the skillful potioneer, but never yet has anyone managed to create the truly unbreakable, eternal, unconditional attachment that alone can be called Love . "

Apparently they were taking too long to read it (Ron's eyes had already glazed over.) so Hermione impatiently tapped the bottom of the page.

Even the most powerful Love Potion in the world, Amortentia, cannot imitate Love (see pg. 256) nor can it overpower it.

Love Potions may be most potent, but it does not work when the drinker is already in love with the one who gave it to them for Love merely cancels its effects.

Draco's smile was big and smug as he remembered last night, when he had read the same thing and realized that oh, so this was all really real and Harry Potter really was in love with him. He was very satisfied with his life right now, thank you very much.

Ron, however, still did not understand why reading the Introduction was so important that they had to read it in the middle of lunch. After all, as Harry said earlier, they didn't have Potions today. Dean and Seamus shared his thoughts. "I don't really see why this is important, Hermione…" Dean said politely, a confused expression on his face. "I mean, other than this being homework and homework being important and all," he added quickly when Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

Hermione sighed exasperatedly. Draco almost pitied her, being surrounded by such simple-minded Gryffindors.

"Well, I can't really blame you since you were all busy with your own experiments," Hermione said.

Ginny cut in, looking at Hermione for help, "I don't understand. What happened during your last class?"

Hermione smiled at her obligingly, happy that someone was actually interested. "We made short-term Love Potions on Monday, and tested them on our own partners. Only one did the actual brewing, of course, so as to not disrupt the magic of the Love Potion."

Harry and Ron remembered Hermione's lecture the other day about why Draco, after being given the Amortentia, became infatuated with Neville and not with Greengrass.

Ginny nodded in understanding. Growing up with the Twins taught you a thing or two, especially about Love Potions. (Well, she's a girl and girls are naturally curious about those things…)

"So Ron became smitten with Crabbe and Dean became smitten with Goyle…" Hermione continued as if she was talking about the weather, and everyone knew she didn't really need to go into details but she felt justified somewhat, if only to teach them to do their homework early in the future.

Dean and Ron shared mortified looks, remembering those dark moments of their lives when they were reduced to worshipping Crabbe and Goyle and comparing their hair to obsidian and their eyes to the midnight sky. Those were dark times indeed. Seamus, however, looked very happy with himself, remembering Nott and his enthusiasm. Always knew the Slytherin had it in himself!

Ginny clapped happily, grinning big and wide at her older brother's mortification. "Oh, oh, when George and Fred hears about this!"

"You wouldn't!" Ron gasped in horror.

"You don't want to make Hermione angry," Harry whispered to Draco helpfully. Draco shivered and stored that information away for later use.

Hermione sported a very satisfied smirk on her lips. "But when Neville and Blaise had their experiment, the Love Potion that Blaise brewed didn't work on Neville at all."

"But Blaise's potions always work," Seamus pointed out confusedly.

Dean, however, realized immediately what Hermione was trying to say and looked at Draco incredulously. "You don't mean that Neville… to, uh…" he trailed off, frowning as he realized what this meant, Neville Longbottom fancying a guy – a Slytherin at that – and not just any Slytherin. This was actually Blaise Zabini they were talking about! Hailed Casanova by the whole female population (well, not quite, as the purebloods didn't know what Casanova meant) that even as a second year, seventh year girls were already gushing about him. Probably the only one who surpasses his charm and popularity was Draco Malfoy (and Harry Potter of course, but Harry's was a different kind of popularity), and they all knew now that the blond was already taken.

Seamus and Ron's faces also lit up and Harry could almost see the light bulb above their heads turning on. They looked at each other, amazed at their newfound discovery which, in their minds, was a very big one. Neville Longbottom fancying Blaise Zabini. Whoo. Imagine that.

"It goes both ways," Draco said, shrugging. He smirked at Dean. "So you don't have to worry about your friend getting hurt by Blaise," he said honestly, memories of the past years flashing in his mind when their minds were still young and they could still think about girls and asking them out. That was before the Dark Lord made himself known once more and murdered Cedric Diggory.

"No, it's not that," Dean said mournfully, rubbing his temples, but he did look at Draco gratefully and said, "But thanks for the heads up. I can rest easy knowing that."

What Dean was actually thinking about was Neville's self-persecution complex. He could just imagine Neville beating himself up for this, possibly biting his nails right to their tips and trying to pace around the common room but failing because his legs would keep on tripping over one another.

Dean sighed and pushed his plate away. "I think we should go check on Neville, just to see if he hadn't tripped over his own feet in the common room and fallen straight towards the fireplace."

The Gryffindors all looked at each other with alarmed faces, because it definitely seemed like a very Neville thing to do.

Draco was still confused though at what they were now currently talking about, so Harry obligingly summed it up for him.

"Neville can be very, ah… hard on himself," Harry started ruefully. "Probably more so now because he must be thinking that Blaise must have already read the Introduction and realized just why his Love Potion hadn't taken effect. Also, since this is Neville we're talking about, he must be thinking of all sorts of bad things that might happen now that Blaise knows."

"Oh," Draco said, blinking. He was starting to worry himself, if Neville was that bad that everyone around him was now starting to look agitated.

"When he gets into those fits of his, it's hard to get him back," Seamus added in mournfully. "I remember one time when Dean was actually considering Obliviating him, just to get him to eat normally again."

"Remember he hasn't gotten over the Amortentia incident yet," Harry whispered to Draco so that the others won't hear and now Draco really was starting to worry. He didn't know if he was worried about Longbottom or if he was worried for Blaise's potential relationship, but nonetheless felt the need to put an end to Neville's senseless self-persecution.

"I think we should let Zabini talk to him," Ginny offered, looking at Draco hesitatingly. She and the blond were still on awkward terms with each other, but they were both stubborn enough not to show it to others. At the very least, they knew they weren't enemies.

Draco glanced at the Slytherin table, where Pansy was drabbling on continuously to a Blaise whose head was resting on the table, his shoulders defeated, his ears bleeding from the onslaught of Pansy's high-pitched scolding and his mind a mess of brain matter and stupid Gryffindors.

"I don't think this is a very good time. Blaise is probably in the same state as Longbottom right now," he said, frowning. "But if it helps," he continued slowly, brightening up. "They'll be going to Hogsmeade together on Saturday!"

Hermione and Ginny's face both brightened up, squealing in unison at the thought of Neville and Blaise's 'date'. Ron, however, was tired of making obligatory 'ew' faces and just settled for sighing exasperatedly. Harry's face brightened up in a very similar fashion as the girls, and Draco smiled at his obvious joy.

"But that's too far away though," Hermione pointed out ruefully.

Dean nodded in agreement. "Neville will probably skip Transfiguration later, since it's the Gryffindor-Slytherin class," he said sadly and proceeded to stand up. "Either way, we're still gonna check on him for a bit. D'you guys want to come with us?"

All of them stood up as well, and Draco marveled at how Neville could still have this self-persecution complex when he had all these friends worrying about him. Actually, all this talk of Neville and self-persecution complexes reminded him of someone else as well, a certain someone with round glasses and messy hair…

He sighed, rolling his eyes. Maybe it was a Gryffindor thing, something that he should kick out of Harry's system in the future.

"Harry," Ginny started, motioning towards the professors' table where Remus was waving at them. "I think Remus wants to talk to you."

"Oh!" Harry said, remembering Remus' note from last night. He looked at his friends, smiling sheepishly. "Make sure Neville's okay, yeah?"

Seamus beamed at him and clapped his back. "'Course we will!"

"I'll go and have a talk with Blaise," Draco announced, not wanting to be left alone in a sea of Gryffindors. That, and he didn't know if he was welcome to come along. He looked at Harry pointedly. "You better not go off on your own again," he said with slight amusement and smirked at how Harry flushed.

He walked off with a swoosh of his robes and a mutter of "Gryffindors..."

"I reckon that the swooshing of robes is a Slytherin thing," Dean mused as they all headed for the doors of the Great Hall.

"Good morning, Harry," Remus greeted jovially, a small smile on his face as he stepped down from the platform where the professors' table stood. He looked wan, pale and so fragile with those many scratches on his face and hands, but that did not lessen his friendly demeanor. How Remus managed to look so approachable even in such a state had always fascinated Harry.

"Good morning!" Harry greeted back, grinning in relief to see him again. "Are you well enough now?"

Remus nodded. "Well enough to be present for our class tomorrow so don't think you'll be getting a free period."

"Wasn't thinking of it," Harry replied honestly. He enjoyed Remus' DADA classes immensely.

Remus smiled. "What about you? Have you been doing well?" he asked, looking at Harry worriedly. He glanced behind him, where Snape was still eating and pretending that he wasn't trying to listen in. "Severus told me about what happened with the chess pieces," he said, being vague on purpose just in case someone else other than Snape – someone unwelcome – was also trying to listen in.

"A lot of things have happened, Remus," Harry said seriously, looking at his professor in the eye. "Yesterday…" he trailed off, knowing that Remus will get the hint.

"Let's continue this in my office," Remus cut in smoothly, and glanced behind him once again with a small smile. "Professor Snape, would you like to come with us?"

With a grunt, Snape pushed away his plate that had already been empty for the past five minutes and stood up. "You better not waste my time, Professor Lupin," he said, and promptly exited the room through the side door meant for professors.

Remus threw Harry an amused look and Harry wondered how amazing it was to be like Remus, immune to Snape's sarcasm and dry humor. It must be nice living your life like that.

They followed after Snape obediently, up the staircases to reach Remus' office which they immediately locked and covered with Silencing Spells.

"I really wish that we'd be able to talk about something else other than dangerous matters, Harry," Remus said with a rueful smile after the whole room was completely covered with charms. Harry's sad smile told him that the boy shared the sentiment, so he pushed on.

This time, though, he turned to Snape. "Harry came to visit me yesterday while I was still in the Shrieking Shack," he said, deliberately leaving Draco out of the conversation because he knew that Snape would get into a fit. Harry threw him a grateful grin. "He said that Morgan had sported very peculiar wounds that looked like they were done by a werewolf and so became worried."

Snape's expression had already turned dark at the mention of the Shrieking Shack, as the gravity of this talk of theirs started to sink in. Before calling the Potter boy over, Remus hadn't told Snape anything specific but requested for him to come along, listen and share his insights.

He watched as Remus leaned his hip on the table and beckoned for them to sit. Harry took his seat on an available chair but Snape remained standing.

"As I recall though, Morgan was very enthusiastic earlier in his conversation with Professor Bridgewood," Remus said, raising an eyebrow towards Harry and prompting him to continue.

"I think I should start from the beginning," Harry said, trying to recall the events of yesterday. He told them about how Neville and Luna were on their way to the Forbidden Forest when they saw Morgan bleeding and limping towards Greenhouse 3; how they tried opening the door but couldn't; how they bumped into Harry and the others; how they separated and how Ron and the others went to Morgan; and how Hermione told Harry that when they reached Greenhouse 3, the door wasn't locked anymore and they got in with no problems and Morgan was inside with no wounds at all.

"He said he healed himself, and the reason why he didn't go to Madame Pomfrey was because he wasn't allowed to go that deep in the Forbidden Forest and might get in trouble," Harry continued, aware of the heavy atmosphere in the room. It was just like Grimmauld Place, when they were planning for the war… "Said he wanted to get an herb that grew only during the full moon –"

A loud thud cut him off, and he flipped his head to look at Remus, who had slid off the table and to the floor, and reflex had him rushing out of his chair but Snape was already beside Remus before Harry could rise.

Remus' face was red as Snape tried to help him up. "How embarrassing, terribly sorry about this, Severus –"

"I doubt that your knees are already functioning properly after your little canine episode, so I highly recommend that you turn yourself towards your chair before you humiliate yourself again," Snape cut in quickly, but his hands were trembling slightly as he guided Remus to his chair behind his desk, and Harry wondered if making scathing comments was Snape's way of showing concern.

Probably.

Remus merely laughed, dusting his pants off. "I apologize. What Harry said just caught me by surprise."

Harry blinked in confusion. "What did I say?"

"I have half a mind to give you a Dreadful as your final grade in Potions, Potter," Snape sneered, distaste marring his expression. Harry glared at him petulantly, but flushed in embarrassment anyway. "The only herb that should be pickedon the full moon to have effect is fluxweed."

Remus was kinder in explaining, as he sent Harry a smile before speaking. The smile did not reach his eyes though, because what he was about to say was already making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"And fluxweed, when picked on the full moon, becomes an important ingredient –" Remus paused, looking at Harry straight in the eyes. "— for the Polyjuice Potion."

"I don't really care either way."

That was how Blaise's past relationships always started and ended. Keeping no secrets, Blaise had always been very vocal in the Slytherin common room about his relationships. It wasn't to boast or anything of the sort, but it was from a sort of apathy at his social trysts. Growing up as a child with a mother who changed boyfriends as often as she changed her hairstyle (which was very), Blaise had come to grow up with a warped sense of understanding about romantic relationships.

Romance for him translated to physical things. It translated to money, public image and reputation, and sex. Blaise was smart enough to know just how his mother had managed to keep them part of the high-end society without ever getting a job of her own. Men, for her, were means to get what she wanted. She'd publicly hold hands with her lovers for the entire world to see and publicly showcase the diamonds and pearls around her lovely neck.

What Blaise found amusing was that his mother had never done the chasing. Men came to her naturally, like bees to honey. His mother was just that charming with her sweet smile and long eyelashes. Just a smile from her and bam, you'd be caught.

Of course, Blaise loved his mother very much, and without a father, she was all that he had for a role model. Now, one did not grow up with a mother like that without learning a thing or two. It could be said that Blaise also acquired her charming personality that naturally had people flocking to him, and without a shortage in social relationships, he had come to take them for granted.

It was during second year that a seventh year Ravenclaw came up to him and asked him out. When the few Slytherins who had witnessed the scene asked him about it in the common room, Blaise had shrugged and didn't even bother to look up from his game of chess against Draco. "I don't really care either way," he had said.

He was a good boyfriend to her though, sending her roses and charming smiles whenever they'd pass each other in the hallways, but then other girls started coming up to him as well, and he sent them roses and smiles too.

At the end of the year, the seventh year Ravenclaw broke up with him and Blaise had shrugged and smiled at her and said, "Okay."

Girls came and go for him, and soon enough, the other Slytherins had stopped asking. It had become a normal thing for them, and when someone said that they saw Blaise kissing a boy at the back of the statue of the Humpbacked Witch, well, that was all nice and dandy.

Blaise kept no secrets. As the Muggle saying goes, he kept no skeletons in his closet … at least until seventh year when the Carrows came and Neville Longbottom stopped being that squib of a Gryffindor and transformed into Hogwarts' pillar of support in the absence of their savior Harry Potter.

Neville to him was… different. Different in a way that if Blaise would take every student in Hogwarts and group them into categories, only Neville would remain uncategorized. Blaise had no idea where to put him in his mind, where to store him and close him off, so maybe that was why Blaise can't stop thinking about him.

What mystery Neville Longbottom was to Blaise Zabini did not go unnoticed by Draco Malfoy.

After all, Blaise had always been very vocal about his relationships, which all started and ended with his trademark "I don't really care either way."

This was the reason why Draco noticed something was off with the way Blaise looked at Neville, because Blaise's infatuation with Neville didn't start with anything spoken. It started with silence, and Draco thought that that was the most meaningful of all.

"Blaise, do stop moping. You are a disgrace to all Slytherins," Draco said airily once he reached the Slytherin table and promptly sat himself down.

In reply, Blaise straightened up and glared at him, though half-heartedly. "So says the one who's been moping over Potter since he first stepped foot in Hogwarts."

Draco looked up from his examining of his nails and blinked at him innocently. "Oh, were you saying something?"

Pansy had half a mind to pour pumpkin juice over the both of them. Draco, noticing how her face was slowly turning pink from her efforts to stop herself from screeching at them, wisely turned to her and smiled sweetly. "Pansy, dear, have you by any chance read the Introduction to Love Potions?"

Pansy's nose scrunched up in confusion, and she eyed Draco suspiciously. "No, I haven't yet. I was planning to do it later."

Draco's smile widened. "Well, then! I'm happy to inform you that our dear old Blaise here may finally find his way down Longbottom's trousers come Saturday!"

This time, Pansy really did spill pumpkin juice over both of them but this was an accident of course. Blaise and Draco will someday forgive her for ruining their hair, if only for the way she looked so happy when she squealed and laughed and hugged them joyfully.

Now, though, the two settled for glaring at her petulantly and Scourgifying themselves with a mutter about girls and their feelings.

Pansy ignored those and settled for shaking Draco's shoulders, squealing loudly all the while and making the people around them stare. "DRACO MALFOY, HURRY UP AND EXPLAIN THIS TO ME!"

After extracting himself from Pansy's grip and fixing his hair back into its immaculate state, Draco did whilst Blaise sat on the side with a glower, because it did not pass his notice that his friends were currently gossiping about him in front of his face. Also, all this talk of Love Potions and their inability to affect Neville Longbottom was giving him hopes that he knew were false.

Why couldn't anyone think that maybe he really did screw up the Love Potion? His nervousness at the situation could be a good enough trigger after all, but no, everyone seemed to think that he was a master genius at Potions who did not have the ability to do wrong in anything related to brewing. (On another day, Blaise would preen at this. Today, he just sulked.)

After a good minute of explaining to Pansy, Draco ended with a smug "So I repeat myself, our dear old Blaise here may finally find his way down Longbottom's trousers come Saturday."

Pansy was on her way to squeal and jump in her seat when Draco added something as an after-thought. "At least if Longbottom doesn't horribly injure himself before then."

Now this had Blaise's ears perking up. "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow at Draco.

"Longbottom knows that you've already read the Introduction and have been busy since yesterday degrading himself and generally being a thick-headed Gryffindor," Draco said mournfully, feigning disinterest but also keeping a close eye on Blaise's reactions.

Blaise looked hesitant at this, and he sighed, rubbing his temples. "Look, I appreciate this and all, but I really do think that I might have botched up the Potion –"

Pansy hit him over the head.

"OW, BLOODY HELL, PANSY –"

Let it be known that Slytherins can be rather violent in showing their affection.

Pansy huffed angrily, standing up from her seat so that she can look authoritative while glaring down at them with her arms akimbo. "You two are about the most incompetent excuses for a male human being that I have ever had the misfortune of knowing and I am appalled at how utterly Gryffindor both of you really are! Honestly! I have half a mind to write to both of your mothers telling them of how cowardly their sons are!"

The light around her had turned black as soon as she started her speech so Draco didn't worry very much but he still felt obliged to glare at her at the abuse his ego was suffering. It was a good thing that breakfast was about to be over and most of the students had already left the Great Hall so no one really heard Pansy's outburst.

"Well, that's just it, Pansy," Blaise muttered, looking at her pointedly. "We're Slytherins, not Gryffindors. We're supposed to be cowards," he scoffed, looking self-satisfied as if what he said summed everything up.

"True," Draco mused thoughtfully.

"NOT TRUE," Pansy said, scowling. "Slytherins know what they want and will go through any means to get them! I have spent seven years listening to Draco's incessant moping about Potter –" At this, Draco looked indignant. "— and I am not spending another year listening to yours, Zabini!"

But Blaise was already off his seat and walking towards the Great Hall with his bag in his arms and imaginary plugs in his ears. "Whoops, look at the time, can't be late for Transfiguration!" he yelled behind his back, leaving Pansy gobsmacked and gaping at his back incredulously.

Pansy pointed a slender finger towards his retreating figure and screeched at Draco. "Did he just ignore me? I swear to Merlin I'll Furnunculus his bollocks so much that it'll pain him to even piss –"

Draco wisely cut her off there, because one must not let Pansy start making bodily threats. She had a bad habit of actually following through them.

"Give him time, Pansy," he said softly, looking at Blaise's back thoughtfully and remembering the days when he himself was in a similar state.

He smiled at Pansy. "He's really serious about this."

At this, Pansy visibly wilted, and her face slowly turned from angry to just… sad. After a while she simply sighed and plopped back down on the seat beside Draco. "I know," she said, pushing her bangs away from her eyes and looking defeated. She leaned on the table and rolled her eyes at Draco. "He doesn't know what to do about it."

"I'm scared for him though," Pansy admitted, trying to sound carefree but Draco knew better.

He realized that maybe this was how Pansy felt back in the day when he was the one moping over Harry. He knew then that she was concerned about him, but they never really talked about it seriously, so now, actually witnessing firsthand how it was affecting her made him wonder how he deserved such a friend.

She turned to him then, eyebrows furrowed together in worry. "What if Blaise is right? What if the Potion really was screwed up?"

And Draco felt nothing less than admiration and gratitude for this girl.

Draco didn't know the true answer to her question, though he did know the answer that would placate her. However, he didn't want to lie so he settled for a small smile that he rarely showed to people other than Harry and said:

"You're a good friend, Pansy."

"You're not saying that Morgan…" Harry trailed off, his eyes wide and mouth open as he gaped at his two professors. It was so farfetched that it hadn't really started to sink in. At the moment, Harry's brain regarded that information in the same way that it would regard a change in the weather.

"We're not saying anything, Harry," Remus said patiently, but a thoughtful frown was on his face. "At the moment, we can't really take any of his words to heart. Suddenly having strange wounds makes him very suspicious."

Just then, gears clicked into place in the depths of Snape's mind. He was on the verge of thinking how useful it would have been if Granger had a Sneakoscope with her at the time they confronted Morgan, but that triggered a memory of what Harry had said a few days ago, when he had compared Draco's condition to a Sneakoscope, and that led to his next question.

"Mr. Potter, where was Draco at that time?" he asked, a thin eyebrow rising ominously. "I seem to remember instructing you to keep an eye on him in your every waking moment."

Harry immediately grew on the defensive, a reflex acquired from dealing with Severus Snape for more than seven years. He burst out, "I was keeping an eye on him! I was with him at that time –" then he realized that oops, Draco being in the Shrieking Shack was supposed to be a secret. "Ah, I mean –" But all was lost.

He knew that Snape would be mad, but was startled when Snape strode over to where he was sitting, towered over him and nearly seethed with restrained rage. Harry could see this from the way Snape's teeth ground against each other and how Snape looked at him like he very much wanted to Transfigure him into a tiny, little cockroach.

"Do you have any idea, Mr. Potter –" Snape spat out, glaring down his nose. "— of what memories the Shrieking Shack holds for Draco?"

Harry did not and suddenly felt the guilt eat at him. The Shrieking Shack held memories for him too, as well as for a lot of people who fought Death Eaters in there… and for those who lost their friends there. The Shrieking Shack meant differently to each person, and Harry did not know what it meant to Draco.

Of course, Draco had said at the time that he wanted to come with Harry, and he also didn't say anything afterwards, but if Snape was being so concerned, then it must be... serious.

"I…" Harry started, growing pale. "I'm sorry," he said, softly and honestly. He looked at the floor, body stiffening as he prepared himself for Snape's verbal abuse that he probably deserved but it was to his surprise yet again when Snape merely scowled harshly at him before about-facing abruptly, the ends of his robes billowing and hitting Harry's legs.

Harry imagined that Snape had turned his back on him to try to keep his rage in check, but couldn't imagine why Snape was doing so. He was expecting a barrage of insults enough to last him a lifetime.

(Snape will never tell him that it was because he wasn't used to the Potter boy giving up so early in the fight. It could also be because of the boy's guilt-stricken expression that stopped Snape halfway from opening his mouth, or because of the realization that this Potter, Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, was actually… serious about his godson.)

After an awkward moment that had Harry fiddling his thumbs, Snape gathering his wits, and Remus watching on silently, Snape turned to Harry and looked at him in the eyes. "I suggest you tell him that yourself. He might be more… willing to talk to you about such matters."

Harry swallowed heavily, and nodded. He didn't really think that Draco would be more willing to talk to him rather than Snape, but he wanted to try anyway.

Remus spoke up then, a small smile on his face. "Harry, I believe you have a class in ten minutes, so we won't keep you any longer. I'd like it if you visited me after dinner though, along with your friends."

Yup, this whole scenario definitely felt like Grimmauld Place all over again, scheduling grievous meetings like these…

Harry nodded solemnly. "Alright."

"I'll be waiting then," Remus said as he stood up from his chair and walked around his desk. "Let's go, shall we? I'll accompany you to your next class. I'm on my way to Headmistress McGonagall anyway to tell her of what we've uncovered."

"How valiant of you to offer your services like that, Remus, when you yourself can't even stand properly on your two feet," Snape remarked dryly.

"You're welcome to accompany me then, Severus," Remus replied good-naturedly, amusement in his eyes.

Snape didn't reply and merely walked past them out the door, nose upturned high in the air and looking as royal as ever. Remus seemed to take that as a yes, since he pushed Harry towards the door as well. "Well, let's be off then, wouldn't want you to be late."

And Harry wondered: just when did Snape start calling Remus by his first name?

Neville really did skip Transfiguration after all.

Ron explained to Harry just what happened when they came to fetch Neville from the common room, and the story consisted of Dean threatening him with a Full-Body Bind, Ginny guilt-tripping him, and Neville clinging to the couch for dear life. It also consisted of Neville's horrified expression when he realized that his friends now knew of his little infatuation and that had required fifteen minutes to convince him that they were fine with it and thought no less of him.

"But just between you and me, I think he still doesn't really believe us, mate," Ron said mournfully.

Nott skipped as well.

And, to everyone's surprise half an hour later, so did their professor.

Well, it couldn't really be called skipping, as Morgan had dropped by and informed them that Professor Bridgewood had an unfortunate accident earlier during breakfast when she nearly choked to death on fish bones and was currently in the Infirmary. "She says she's terribly sorry and hopes that you'll use this time to study the next chapter," Morgan had said in his usual cheerful tone, before trotting away.

But of course none of them really planned on studying the next chapter in advance (and Hermione already did, two months before the school year started.), so now everyone was off to spend their free period leisurely. For Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, Blaise and Pansy though, the free period meant time to talk about Morgan.

They stayed inside the classroom and covered it with Silencing Spells.

After casting the last one, Hermione started excitedly. "I know we should be checking on Neville at this time, but we haven't had time to talk about this together, and I really can't wait anymore," she gushed, sitting herself between Ron and Harry on one of the chairs that they had pushed together to form a haphazard circle. "Morgan isn't Morgan at all!"

Ron, Pansy and Blaise sent her a confused look, but Harry quickly intervened. "Hold on, Hermione, it's too early to say that, we haven't got proof –"

"Well, he said so himself, didn't he?" Hermione said, persistently. "He was inside the Forbidden Forest to get an herb that grew only on the full moon!"

"Yes, that's very nice, Granger, but we both know that there's no herb that grows only on the full moon," Blaise pointed out. "He obviously lied to us."

Then something clicked in Draco's brain. He looked at Hermione in amazement, who smiled proudly when she realized that Draco had finally reached the same conclusion as she did yesterday. "But there's an herb that increases potency when picked at the full moon…" he breathed out, but as soon as that realization sunk in, so did the blood-chilling dread.

Beside him, Blaise finally realized it as well. "Fluxweed," he let out and it seemed as if it was with great difficulty.

Pansy looked at the paling faces of her fellow Slytherins and panicked. "What, what, what is it?"

"Polyjuice Potion, Pans," Draco told her weakly, before glancing worriedly at Harry beside him. He was surprised though when Harry didn't look shocked at this news at all, as if a person being under Polyjuice was alright with him and did not pose any sort of danger and suspicion at all.

Ron had turned pale as well. "You don't think that Morgan's related to Harry falling down traps, do you?" he asked Hermione, though he already knew the answer.

She nodded seriously. "I realized it immediately after Morgan talked about the herb, but I didn't say anything at first because I wasn't sure."

"And you're sure now?" Harry asked with his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "How do we even know that what he said about getting the herb was true?"

At this, Hermione started to look nervous. "I've thought about that," she said slowly. After a short pause, she raised her eyes to Draco. "And that's actually why I wanted to talk about this now. While Draco was around."

Draco was a smart boy. He didn't need to ask any further. An easy smile spread across his lips and he thought to himself that Granger would make a pretty good Slytherin. "You want to use me, you mean."

Pansy and Blaise's eyebrows shot up in surprise and even Ron was reduced to blinking incredulously at his girlfriend, though all of them couldn't deny that it was a good idea.

Only Harry thought differently, and when he spoke, his tone was reminiscent of the one he used back when he led Dumbledore's Army. Firm and unfaltering.

"No."

"Harry…" Hermione started softly, almost hesitantly. She looked to Draco for help.

"I'm fine with it," Draco said, his hand searching for Harry's to squeeze it in comfort. "I don't mind." He knew that he was speaking to get rid of Harry's worry, but one cannot deny how full his heart felt at the thought of Harry actually being concerned for him. He squeezed Harry's hand again, as if doing so will pass his thoughts on.

Whether it did or did not, Harry did not squeeze back but he did hold on. Rather tightly actually. "No," he said again.

"I'll just talk to him for a bit, Harry. Have a bit of conversation," Draco assured him.

Harry glared sullenly at Pansy and Blaise. "Well? Tell them it's a bad idea."

The two looked at each other, and Harry could see when their expressions turned from one of uncertainty to a kind of thoughtfulness.

"It would actually be very helpful," Blaise said carefully. He'd heard rumors of Harry Potter's poor anger management and did not really want to experience it firsthand.

Pansy still looked unsure at the notion, but remained silent, deep in thought. She knew that yes, it was a very brilliant idea and very advantageous, but there was this reluctance in her that told her that it wouldn't be wise to be involved in something that had the chance of you losing.

Harry turned to Ron then, who shrugged at him apologetically. "Like Draco said, he just needs to talk to Morgan…"

And Harry realized that while Remus had kept on telling him that he didn't know how serious this whole situation was, it was his friends who actually had no idea.

"No," Harry repeated angrily. He stood up from his seat and glared down at them. "This is serious! I know I said that Morgan might not be related to me, but that's just it! We still don't know just what he's related to! This isn't a Hogwarts being moody kind of accident anymore like we all originally thought. Someone is after me, and whoever that person is cannot possibly be all sunshine and rainbows!"

A stunned silence met his outburst, though Ron and Hermione couldn't say that they were surprised. That didn't stop them from feeling guilty though, especially Hermione.

Draco rubbed his thumb against Harry's palm to soothe him. "Harry, remember back in Grimmauld Place?" he said softly, tugging at Harry's hand and willing the boy to look at him. It made him nervous when Harry didn't. He didn't like it when Harry ignored him. It triggered a whole lot of memories.

Still, he pushed bravely on. "Remember when we were making all sorts of strategies? How we talked about making sacrifices –"

Later, when Draco would look back on this moment, he would recall that Harry hadn't reacted very well in Grimmauld Place when they had touched upon the subject of making sacrifices. He would dryly tell himself that Harry reacting in the way that he did now shouldn't have surprised him and that he should have expected it.

But he would also realize that the hurt that he felt when Harry pulled his hand from Draco's as if burnt did not feel any less painful as it was when it happened.

Harry looked down at him, hand out of reach and stuck in mid-air. He looked at Draco with disbelief marring his features, disbelief at how Draco actually thought that Harry would be willing to sacrifice him.

"What if he's a Death Eater? Has anyone thought about that?"

And yet another stunned silence rose in the air, because at the back of everyone's minds, they had thought about that but to have it vocalized only made it more tangible, more real… and more terrifying.

"What if he's a Death Eater and we dangle Draco – the spy that ensured their loss in the war – in front of him like bait?"

Hermione looked guilt-stricken, and her eyes actually started to become teary. "I-I'm sorry –"

And that was when Harry realized that he needed to calm down. There were a lot of things that he couldn't quite stomach, and Hermione crying was one of them. He pushed down whatever else he wanted to say, and gave great effort on keeping his temper in check.

"I know you mean well, Hermione," he said, sighing and sitting back down tiredly. "I'm sorry I yelled. But I'm not –" He swallowed heavily, memories of the war flashing in his mind as it often did. He remembered Sirius, Dumbledore, and all those whose lives were lost. He raised his eyes to them, looking at them one by one until at last his eyes rested on Draco.

"I'm not putting any of you in danger," he said softly.

This was the moment when Blaise and Pansy caught their breaths and realized that oh, this must be what made people follow Harry Potter – what attracted them to him and made him someone worth looking up to. It wasn't because he was the Boy Who Lived. It was because he was Harry Potter.

"Harry." It was Draco who spoke, and it was kind of difficult to speak when you had your heart caught in your throat and your eyes burning from the beauty of the golden light surrounding this wonderful, wonderful boy in front of you. At the same time, he was still smarting from earlier, when Harry had taken his hand back, but he wasn't about to let any of these stop him from getting what he wanted.

And at this moment he wanted Harry safe.

"You're a thick-headed Gryffindor, that's what you are," he said, a small, sad smile on his face. "We feel exactly the same way towards you, Harry. That's why we're doing this."

He prepared himself for whatever reaction Harry would give after his words. He took a deep breath.

"That's why… I'm willing to go through Granger's plan."

It was out of his expectations, though, when Harry simply turned away from him and wordlessly made his way towards the door.

"Harry – !" Ron called in surprise, jumping out of his seat but Draco was already one step ahead of him.

Several steps, in fact, as he was now stomping towards Harry and as he did so, he could feel the start of frustration prickle underneath his skin because of how stupid and idiotic and self-sacrificial this pathetic excuse for a Gryffindor was with his poor anger management skills.

"Harry Potter," he growled, as Harry flung open the doors to the classroom and walked out. "You bloody wanker, I have half a mind to cast a Bat-Bogey hex on you because of your utterly foolish sense of obligation towards everyone else except yourself and I swear to Merlin if you do not stop walking then I will –"

Hermione and the rest never did get to know on exactly what Draco 'will', because as soon as Draco reached out and grabbed hold of Harry's robes, the doors to the classroom had closed shut.

They didn't hear Draco's voice anymore after that, even though they should have since the doors were merely wood.

The remaining four of them looked at each other in alarm, before adrenaline had them rushing out of their chairs and racing towards the doors. To their surprise, it opened easily enough, but that was a small comfort in comparison to the way their blood turned cold two seconds later when they looked at both sides of the long hallway –

– and realized that both Harry and Draco were nowhere to be found.

Chapter Text

"Well, what a lovely day, Potter. Look at what you've gotten us into!"

Harry's head snapped up at that and he sat up from his sprawled position on the floor and glared. "What I've gotten us into? Excuse me, but I was under the impression that I have no control over these little accidents of mine, and no one certainly invited you to come along!"

Draco glared back, and it was reminiscent of their early Hogwarts years. "If you hadn't pulled that little boorish act of yours and walked off like a child about to run and tattle to his mummy, then I wouldn't have needed to come along!"

"You wouldn't have needed to come along otherwise!"

"And who else would get your sorry ass out of trouble?"

"As it turns out, you kind of failed in that part, Malfoy, considering we're now stuck in this ruddy place –"

And Harry froze in the middle of emphasizing his point by flailing his arms and motioning to the entirety of the room, only to realize that the 'room' was actually ohshitfuckingbloodyhell –

The Chamber of Secrets.

Draco didn't seem to notice the giant statues of snake heads, but that was really because he had his back to them the whole time and was facing the corner at the front of the room where Harry had fallen.

"So we're back to last names now?" Draco sneered, standing up and angrily dusting off his robes, which proved hard considering that they were now soaked in water that's probably swarming with germs and other unhygienic creatures.

Harry snapped out of his shock at that and went back to their glaring contest. "I seem to recall that you did it first!"

Yes, Draco seemed to recall the very exact same thing, but he wasn't about to admit that. Nor the fact that Harry calling him 'Malfoy' again after finally calling him 'Draco' smarted.

"I feel justified since you've more or less made me fall to what could have been certain death had I not been born with the natural adeptness for quick thinking and wand waving!" he said instead.

Harry rolled his eyes, ignoring the unsaid implication that he was not born with said natural adeptness as well as the little thought at the back of his mind telling him that yes, he would have most certainly broken his ankle again and maybe a few ribs and maybe his whole right arm if it weren't for Draco's agilely cast Cushioning Charm.

"I did not make you fall. The madman intent on incapacitating me did, now shut up because I need to concentrate," he muttered, because he just had the greatest idea of looking at the Marauder's Map to hopefully determine who his attacker was and if they were still in the vicinity of their Transfiguration classroom. (Actually, the idea was Remus', but not at this moment so Harry was taking that right.)

Draco, however, did not like being told to 'shut up'. "You bloody wanker, Harry Potter, you don't tell me to shut up. My own mother does not tell me to shut up and I bloody well think that my boyfriend shouldn't tell me to shut up when I'm trying to talk to him!"

And in the middle of saying the incantation to open the Map, Harry's head kind of went into haywire and his blood kind of rushed towards his cheeks because did Draco just call him his 'boyfriend'?

Harry wished they weren't fighting so he could properly feel good and happy and all those wonderful stuff, but the thing was that they were fighting so he summoned up another crafted insult towards the tip of his tongue but it never got very far from that because when Harry looked up, he was surprised to see Draco as pink as he was, eyes wide and hands clamping on his mouth at his slip-up.

And Harry did feel good and happy and all those wonderful stuff.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, and though it was with great difficulty to admit his faults, it was kind of worth it in the way that Draco looked at him, surprised, confused, and a little bit amazed. So Harry continued as apologetically as he could. "I'm sorry I told you to shut up. That was inappropriate of me. And I'm sorry I walked out earlier."

His expression turned downcast when he remembered just why he had walked out. "I just really don't want you to go through Hermione's plan."

Draco looked awkward now, as if he wasn't used to this admitting of faults and casting aside of pride and ego. It just didn't happen in the Slytherin common room, but nevertheless, he still felt relieved at this positive turn of events. "You damn bloody well be sorry," he muttered, before shifting awkwardly. "And I, ah, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said those things. It's not your fault we're in this mess. And I'm glad I'm with you now."

Harry didn't even notice how tight his chest was becoming until it stopped being tight at the thought that they were now kind of making up. He raised an eyebrow, confused. "How could you be glad about that?"

"Well, for one thing, I can finally experience what it's like being in a safety room and could maybe find a clue or two that your thick-head wouldn't," Draco said as-a-matter-of-factly and not as an insult. Sort of.

But Harry chose to ignore it. Nevertheless, he still flushed guiltily at Draco's comment. "You love my thick-head," he muttered, opening the Marauder's Map now to distract himself.

"That I do and I'm sorry if I've made you think otherwise with our exchange of words today."

And Harry's throat kind of went dry at that and he kind of felt really, really happy at that moment and he kind of felt the urge to smile at Draco goofily despite the fact that they were now in the Chamber of Secrets and that they were fighting earlier. "You haven't," he said softly, and Draco, confirming now that things were really alright between them, started to smile back.

Harry turned back to the Map now, while Draco turned around to survey the room –

And promptly slipped on the floor. This was the result of a variety of factors. One, the floor was wet. Two, he reckoned he shouldn't have turned so abruptly like that after falling who knows how many feet, even if his fall was protected by a Cushioning Charm. And three, because the room was huge and there were these gigantic statues of gigantic snakes and a gigantic statue of a gigantic old man with a gigantic mouth right in front of him.

"Harry, where are we?" he managed to breathe out, a little bit amazed at the view and a whole lot of shocked.

Harry could sympathize with him. "Chamber of Secrets," he said helpfully, reminding himself to fill Draco in the blanks later. Right now, he was busy looking through the names on the Marauder's Map.

"Chamber of Secrets?" echoed Draco's shrill squeak.

From the Transfiguration classroom, one would enter a small hallway leading to the Transfiguration Courtyard. The names of Hermione, Ron, Blaise and Pansy lingered there, possibly still looking for them or making strategies howto look for them. From the Courtyard, there were four places you could choose to go to. You could go straight and go up to the second floor (littered with students' names), or you could turn left and go to either the Viaduct or Moaning Myrtle's bathroom (where Harry and Draco were currently under of). The Viaduct showed students' names as well, but none whom Harry thought suspicious. Moaning Myrtle's bathroom was empty, so Harry turned to the right of the Courtyard where the Greenhouses were and saw the name of Professor Sprout, second year Hufflepuffs, and –

Harry froze. It was like his whole body turned cold and his heart stopped beating because that was certainly how it felt, that probably caused his sudden intake of breath, because he had just read a name that he thought for sure he was only going to read again in The Daily Prophet –

A name that made him angry and made him scared.

Amycus Carrow.

Amycus Carrow was inside Hogwarts right at this very moment, he was inside a classroom filled with second-years and he was standing next to Professor Sprout and – and – Harry thought of Greenhouses and fluxweed and Polyjuice Potions and –

Morgan.

"Ha… Harry?" Draco's voice echoed loudly in the chamber, despite the fact that it was only a hesitant murmur. He did not like the way how pale Harry looked right now and how he had been staring dumbly at the Map for the past two minutes.

Draco's voice made Harry's head snap up abruptly. As he looked at Draco and took in the furrowed eyebrows and the tightening of his lips in worry, he thought himself that no, he did not want to go through with Hermione's plan.

He was not letting Draco anywhere near Morgan.

"We have to go," Harry said firmly, walking briskly towards Draco. "Morgan, he's –" He took a deep, shuddery breath. "He's Amycus Carrow."

Draco very nearly slipped again. His eyes widened, but had no reason not to believe Harry after he was shown the Marauder's Map and sure enough, there floated Amycus Carrow's name.

The bastard.

"He's supposed to be rotting in Azkaban, that fiend – !"

"We have to go," Harry said again, more insistently. "He's with students. We have to catch him before he harms them –"

"Harry," Draco cut him off, tightly, as if forced, because it was hard to be reasonable when there were all thoughts of rage and violence towards Amycus Carrow running through your head. He touched Harry's arm in a way that he hoped belied his violent thoughts and was comforting. It was their first touch after Harry had taken his hand away from Draco's in the Transfiguration classroom. "He won't do anything to them, I'm sure of that. He's still pretending to be Morgan and he thinks that no one knows who he really is yet, so he won't do anything to blow his cover. Besides, he's out numbered in that classroom and Professor Sprout won't go down easily."

Harry stared at Draco numbly, not fully comprehending what the other was saying through the rushing of blood in his ears, but what he did comprehend still managed to lessen his panicking. "Okay," he managed to let out, trying to calm himself. "I'm still not comfortable with it. I wish – I wish we can contact the others, so they can do something while we're stuck down here."

"We'll talk about how to deal with him later," Draco promised, extracting his hand from Harry's arm. "Right now, let's find a way to get out of here."

Harry nodded and took Draco's hand in his. He did not notice the way Draco's breath hitched or the way his eyes widened in surprise or the way they softened almost immediately after.

"This way," Harry said, leading the blond towards the snakes. "I like that you can be calm at times like these; it helps me. Thank you." No, his cheeks were not turning pink. His words were true though, and he normally didn't admit embarrassing things out loud to the people he was thinking embarrassing things about, but he figured that he could make an exception for Draco. And it was also a sort of added apology for his being so slow-witted back in the Transfiguration classroom.

The way that Draco's fingers shook in his hand but at the same time tightened their hold made Harry think that yup, he could definitely make an exception for Draco.

"Someone needs to balance you out," Draco said instead, pretending that he wasn't moved by scoffing.

"And you do fantastically," Harry murmured, finally able to let go of a small smile despite their situation.

"Harry Potter, how you can infuriate me and delight me so much in a span of fifteen minutes is something I will never comprehend," Draco mused in amusement. "And you certainly know your way around here. I seem to recall a conversation with Weasley about the Chamber of Secrets before…"

Harry was surprised. "You talked to Ron about the Chamber of Secrets? There wasn't any… violent reactions about that, was there?" he asked sheepishly.

Draco looked affronted at his surprise. "I'll have you know, Harry, I am perfectly capable of carrying a decent conversation when I choose to. And yes, I did talk to Weasley about the Chamber of Secrets, and that was when we were listing out all the possible places you could have disappeared off to, which was when you happened to disappear off to the Third Floor Corridor."

Harry was amused at how many words Draco used to say 'yes, Weasley and I talked about it, and no, there were no violent reactions'.

"And I must say that these are finely crafted statues," Draco bemused. "I'd like to take one home but they might look garish in the garden."

"Figures you'd like them, you little Slytherin," Harry muttered, but felt his muscles relax slightly. He knew that Draco was only trying to distract him from the thought of Amycus Carrow. Merlin knows what happened the last time the bastard was allowed to roam about freely in Hogwarts…

"The old man's rather creepy though."

Harry almost laughed out loud. "Salazar Slytherin will not appreciate that comment of yours."

Draco looked at the back of his head incredulously. "That's supposed to be Salazar Slytherin?"

"This is his chamber, after all," Harry said, turning to look at him amusedly. "And the reason it's creepy is probably it used to house a thirty-foot basilisk."

That made Draco stop in his tracks momentarily, before he let himself be pulled by Harry's hand again. "Thirty-foot basilisk?" he squeaked out.

"They must have taken away its skeleton when they connected this place to the Transfiguration classroom."

"Skeleton?"

"I'll explain later," Harry told him cheekily, squeezing his hand. They had already reached the door of the Chamber. If the Patching Team really did make this Chamber into a safety room then they must have made a new way to open the door without Parseltongue. Harry didn't know if the snakes guarding the door were still there, but he tried anyway. "Open," he hissed, and felt relieved when the sounds of metal unlocking from each other reached his ears.

He was surprised though, when the hand in his tightened its hold almost suddenly.

"I'd forgotten you could do that," Draco said, a bit pink in the face. It was a lie, because he could never forget anything about Harry Potter, especially something as important as being a Parselmouth, but it still made him jump. However, what made him moresurprised was the realization that hearing it now six years later made his mouth go dry and his cheeks go warm.

(Whipped, Pansy's voice cooed happily in his mind.)

Harry's hand tugged him forward, and they entered the Corridor of Secrets. He was pleased to note that the Patching Team had tidied it up and it now looked as clean as an underground cave underneath an unused girls' bathroom could, which wasn't very but at least it didn't smell.

Draco didn't share his sentiments, "Ugh, my robes are all filthy," he mourned.

"Nothing a Scourgify can't fix," Harry said helpfully.

"Are you mad, Harry? Even a Scourgify wouldn't be able to get this grime off my immaculate robes!"

Harry wasn't listening though, because he could see a staircase in the distance and he thought dumbly that the last time he was here the staircase wasn't there but now it was and sweet Merlin! It made adrenaline rush through his veins at the thought that they were going to get out of here and catch Amycus faster than he thought they would be able to. He'd have to give props to the Patching Team later for this.

"Come on, Draco!" And they hurried their pace and sprinted up the stone stairs.

"Myrtle's bathroom?" Draco screeched when they at last emerged from the darkness of the cave and into… another sort of darkness, only more dreary because the atmosphere is always more dreary when there is light but not much and everything is gray and there are sniffles of a little girl echoing hauntingly throughout. "The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is Myrtle's bathroom?"

Harry had no idea how Draco could have breath left to exclaim accusingly to the world, because he certainly didn't have any left. His knees were wobbly and he didn't think his feet would allow him to drag them one more step, but he had to because Amycus was still out there –

"Draco, is that you?" Myrtle passed through one of the cubicle doors and floated towards them in a rush, a big smile on her face that would have looked sweet had she been alive. Now it just looked spine-chilling. "And Harry! Hullo! You should have said you were visiting, I've missed you, Draco –"

"Terribly sorry, Myrtle," Draco said, climbing out of the hole on the floor and helping Harry up with great difficulty because he was dead tired too and he didn't think his knees could manage to haul Harry's weight up when it couldn't even carry his own weight. "We're in a bit of – ah – rush –" Harry should really try to carry himself up because it was unfair for Draco to be doing all the work.

One more pull and a helpful push from Harry's legs, and they both collapsed in a tangled heap on the bathroom floor, chests heaving and exhausted.

"May I ask, what are you two doing there anyway?" Myrtle said, tilting her head to the side innocently. She flew above them and floated her feet up so that her face peered into theirs curiously. "And Draco, you never visit anymore –" Ah, here it comes. Her eyes started to turn misty and her bottom lip jutted out and quivered. "I – I get so lonely!"

And she was wailing, because ghosts couldn't really cry, and Draco, no matter how cold his Slytherin heart was, felt guilty. "Terribly sorry, Myrtle," he said again, but she wailed even louder and with a whoosh, had gone and locked herself in a cubicle. Her wails echoed in the bathroom, followed by high-pitched hiccups, and then some more wailing that Draco was sure could break glass. "I'll come visit, I promise!" he yelled over the noise, as Harry scrambled up shakily and offered him a hand which he gratefully took.

Harry laughed shakily at him. "You, Draco, are a horrible person," he whispered so that Myrtle wouldn't hear. "How could you do this to a poor girl like her?"

Draco scowled and hissed at him to shut it.

The wailings stopped abruptly. "R-really?" said the voice from the cubicle.

"Really," Draco said. "But we really are in a hurry, and I'm glad to see you're well!"

And so he and Harry ambled out of the bathroom, wobbly legs but solid determination.

…and as well as a sort of self-preservation, because they did not want to be near Myrtle considering that she had just screamed:

"DRACO MALFOY, COME BACK HERE!"

That really did break a window.

"We'll Stupefy him," Harry yelled through the air as they ran down the long corridor. He was out of breath, but as they turned left, he forced his mouth to rasp out words again. "No, Expelliarmus first!" A wheeze. "Then Stupefy!"

"We'll make an Auror of you yet," Draco muttered amusedly under his breath and took out his wand. He could see the Courtyard now and relief flooded him in waves because they were close –

"Harry!"

"Draco!"

Two balls of infernal creatures bombarded towards them and wrestled them to the ground.

Draco thought sullenly that no, Harry wasn't ready to be an Auror yet if he couldn't even fend off Weasels. Draco was better off, with only Pansy and her weight on top of his stomach. Now, Pansy wasn't as big as Millicent, but she still had some meat on her bones unlike Greengrass and her posse who think that having 'extra weight' is the end of the world. No matter how heavy Pansy was though, Draco preferred her than having Weasley and his Neanderthal figure crush him to death.

"Ron, geroff –" Harry gasped out, pushing. "We need to go the Greenhouses! Morgan is –" but his voice was lost as Hermione and Blaise reached them as well and began admonishing their boyfriend and friend respectively.

"Ron, you're crushing him!"

"Sorry, mate, I'll get off –"

"For Merlin's sake, Pansy, at least give Draco time to breathe!"

"I was worried to death! We've been searching for hours, Draco!"

No, not really hours because Harry and Draco had only been gone for maybe half an hour or so, maybe forty-five minutes, but that wasn't the point here. The point was –

"AMYCUS CARROW!" Harry bellowed desperately.

Everyone stopped dead in their tracks.

At the other end of the courtyard, upon hearing his name, a figure obscured by the bushes did as well.

"Harry?" Hermione asked tentatively with wide eyes, wondering if she heard right.

"Morgan! He's Amycus Carrow!"

And it was like all of their blood had turned cold and their spine stiffened at the shock. Eyes widened and jaws dropped, and as the nanoseconds ticked by, the blood slowly drained from their faces and it was like a moment suspended in time, a moment frozen by the thought of a Death Eater among them all along and – a moment broken by the rustle of robes and the sound of hastily departing footsteps.

"Shite!" Harry cursed and quickly ran after him. "Stupefy!" But it only hit the wall.

"Stupefy!" Draco yelled from behind him, running like hell as well towards Morgan – no – Amycus who was easily lengthening the distance between them. "He's going to the Forbidden Forest!"

"We'll block him!" Ron said, and Harry realized that they were behind him as well. Not for long though, as Ron and Hermione had suddenly turned back around and ran in the opposite direction, towards the corridor where Draco and Harry had burst out from.

Harry realized what they were going to do.

In the direction that Amycus was going, he would reach the second floor and from there he could either go to the Defense against the Dark Arts room or the third floor. Since the DADA room was a dead end, then he would surely go up the stairs and reach the hall with the moving staircases. If he went down, then that was where Ron and Hermione would come in and block him. If he went up, then it was up to Harry and the others to chase him.

But Amycus was surprisingly fast and Harry and Draco were exhausted from their ascent towards Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"Stupefy!"

"Incarcerous!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Draco was throwing spell after spell but Amycus kept on turning.

Soon enough, Pansy and Blaise overtook Harry and Draco and picked up the responsibility of throwing hexes at the retreating figure of the cheerful man who had been assisting in teaching them Herbology for the past two months.

And Pansy did not like that thought at all, the thought of Amycus Carrow being under their noses the whole time.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" she screeched, fuming.

"Stupefy!" Blaise yelled, just as Amycus abruptly turned left, and the spell hit nothing but the wall.

A couple of spoiled, rich kids who didn't have to lift a finger unless they wanted to are probably no match for an ex-Death Eater who has been literally running from the law for years, thought Blaise dryly as he and Pansy turned left too, at the same time that Amycus turned right at the other end of the corridor.

But let it be known that these spoiled, rich kids aren't going down without a fight.

With a frustrated growl, Blaise dashed off like a madman towards the other end of the corridor with Pansy behind him, still screaming shrill profanities at Amycus.

In the midst of all the adrenaline and blood rushing in his ears, Blaise hoped that despite everyone being in class, someone – anyone –- would hear Pansy. They had just passed the DADA classroom after all. Surely Professor Lupin would hear something?

Sure enough, a clamor behind them told Blaise that the door to the DADA classroom had been abruptly and roughly opened, and he heard Harry's strained voice ("Remus – Amycus Carrow –") but there was no looking back now because he and Pansy had already reached the end of the hall where a staircase to the right stood to lead them to the third floor.

They dashed upstairs as fast as their legs could carry them and Blaise caught sight of Amycus' robe just before it disappeared again at the other end of the floor.

"Faster!" Blaise hissed at Pansy, and they sprinted, and then there was a commotion heard ahead –

There was Ron's voice yelling "Stupefy!" followed by a harsh "Bloody wanker – !" and Hermione yelling "Glisseo!" which Blaise thought was very smart because that spell turns staircases into slides but then Hermione said "Oh no!" and that can't be good.

When Blaise and Pansy finally reached the other end of the third floor, they burst into the hall with the moving staircases and saw Ron and Hermione look helplessly upwards a slide leading to the fourth floor – but Amycus was nowhere to be seen.

"Finite incantatem!" Hermione quickly cast, which turned the slide back into stairs, and all four of them rushed up in hot pursuit.

Halfway up the stairs, Harry, Draco, Remus and about a dozen of students from Remus' DADA class emerged from the third floor.

"Harry, the Map!" Hermione yelled, before they disappeared into the fourth floor.

"The only way out of the castle now is through the Clock Tower Courtyard," Remus said, trying to calm himself down so that he'd be able to think rationally. "He might hide somewhere in the castle, but he'll want to get out of here as soon as possible –"

By then, Harry had already opened the Marauders' Map, and saw that Remus was right. "He's running towards the Clock Tower."

"Let's go downstairs and cut him off," Draco said quickly.

"We'll never make it!" A student cut in.

"Well, it's better than nothing!" Draco snapped with a glare. "It's not like we can run after him now anyway, and it's better than fiddling our thumbs and waiting like a bloody –"

Harry grabbed Draco's hand and dragged him away before he made the poor kid cry. He pulled Draco along towards the staircase leading to the second floor, yelling behind his shoulder to Remus, "Send a Patronus to Hagrid!"

And so Remus did, with a rushed message of "Morgan will exit from the Stone Circle. Don't let him enter the Forbidden Forest." which he hoped Hagrid would follow immediately.

Afterwards, he turned to his panicked students, who had followed him out of the room because of curiosity but were now frozen on the spot because of fear. He turned to the student to whom Draco had yelled at. "Draco's right though. It's better than nothing. I want you to hurry to Headmistress McGonagall and explain the situation." The student nodded quickly and ran off. Remus then addressed the other students. "As for the rest of you, go back into the classroom and keep each other calm until further notice," he said firmly, before dashing off downstairs.

Ever since Seamus, Dean and Ron had told him earlier that morning that they knew of his little infatuation with B-B-Blaise (even thinking of his name was difficult), Neville had been a nervous wreck. He was probably one step away from a nervous breakdown with all the anxiety of the day threatening to choke him and it wasn't even lunch yet!

It was because of this that Neville decided to do the unthinkable: Skip class.

He skipped Transfiguration in favor of going down to the Forbidden Forest to check up on the baby thestral that he and Luna had helped give birth to, because nature calmed him, trees calmed him, and thestrals calmed him.

After two hours out in the forest, Not Thinking About Slytherins and just watching the thestrals move about in their lazy, carefree way, Neville felt better enough to decide that he just might be able to brave going to the Great Hall for lunch.

This thought was cruelly stripped away from him though, because when he finally stepped out of the Forbidden Forest, the first person that he saw was the one person that he didn't want to see. Funny how Fate worked. Ha ha ha.

Neville was about to retreat back into the Forbidden Forest, because yes, he was a coward, disappointing for a Gryffindor really – but then he saw Morgan too, running like a madman possessed. Behind him were Ron, Hermione, Blaise and Pansy, running after him and shooting hexes and jinxes, and all this weren't making sense in Neville's head, especially since Blaise had caught sight of Neville too, and they were looking at each other, both of their eyes wide with shock –

Then Ron yelled.

"NEVILLE, STOP HIM!"

Neville snapped out of his stupor, and he blinked wildly, trying to make sense of the scene in front of him. Stop him? Stop who? Morgan? Morgan who had abruptly changed course and was now sprinting towards him…

Pansy abruptly stopped running, took a deep breath, and screamed as loud as her lungs allowed her to.

"MORGAN IS AMYCUS CARROW!"

And Neville froze.

In his mind's eye, he could see Amycus Carrow cackling gleefully above him, the man's wand pointed at his throat as Cruciatus was cast at him again and again and again, and Neville wanted to scream his throat dry but he couldn't because Alecto Carrow had put him in a Full Body-bind. All Neville could do was lie there, watch the laughing Amycus Carrow with unblinking eyes, and wish for the green light that never came.

With his real eyes, though, Neville saw Morgan, eyes wide open, looking crazed and absolutely manic as he ran towards him, getting closer and closer, and this still wasn't making sense enough for Neville to decide how to move, because all Neville could think about was –

The person that he'd been working with in Greenhouse 3 for the past two months isn't Amycus Carrow. Is not is not is not.

Because Morgan was nice. Morgan would never hit him over the head hard enough to make his vision black out momentarily. Morgan would never search his robes and Morgan would never – ever – steal his wand.

Neville tried to get his vision back, but everything was blurry and his vision was swimming and his head hurt and is that blood and Morgan and bloody hell my wand –

AMYCUS CARROW HAS MY WAND.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Neville watched, with wide eyes and blurry vision, as Blaise Zabini fell to the floor.

"Perhaps a mild concussion –" Neville heard Remus say.

"He'll be fine," said another voice, which Neville assumed to be Madame Pomfrey, but it could be Professor McGonagall, Neville wasn't really sure because his head still hurt and there was this insistent throbbing at the side of his head that Neville wished would go away.

"M'sorreh, Professer –" sobbed a deep, booming voice that Neville knew could only belong to Hagrid. "I was too late – yer Patronus confused me, ye see –"

"It's alright, Hagrid, it's not your fault," Remus tried to say, but it was lost as Hagrid loudly blew his nose on some cloth and sobbed some more.

"Now poor Neville 'ere's got 'imself injured 'cause of me, the poor lad!"

All the noise was making his head hurt more, so he grunted and shifted a little, to show them that he was awake, but then decided that it was a bad idea because that hurt too.

"He's awake!" Yup, that voice was definitely Madame Pomfrey.

"Neville!" came Hagrid's ecstatic voice, but then another voice cut in.

"Don't move him!" It was male and deep but Neville can't remember who it belonged to.

"I'll leave him to you then, Madame Pomfrey," Neville heard Remus say, and there was some shuffle and footsteps going away.

"Mr. Longbottom, I will levitate you in a while, or hmm, perhaps Hagrid might carry you, but either way, I advise you not to make sudden movements. You took quite a nasty hit there."

Hit? Right. Morgan hit him. No, wait, he's Amycus Carrow and –

Neville's eyes shot open, and the pain in his head flared in protest, but he gritted his teeth and ignored it because Amycus Carrow just killed Blaise Zabini.

"Blaise," he rasped out, fingers twitching and scrabbling on the grass, getting dirt and soil under his nails. "Blaise, he –"

A hand clamped down on his, saved it from being dirtied further, and held it firmly.

Then, a voice spoke, that same deep male voice that Neville can't place.

"I'm here," it said softly, and Neville succumbed back into unconsciousness.

At the mouth of the Forbidden Forest, there stood Harry, Draco, Remus, Snape, McGonagall and the Head Auror. Harry was sitting cross-legged on the grass, the Map open on his lap, with Draco kneeling beside him.

"He's gone," Harry muttered, frustrated, his eyes raking over the Marauders' Map for the umpteenth time. "He's really gone."

Remus reached down to pat his shoulder. "Give it a rest, Harry," he said gently. "You've been looking at that Map for the past twenty minutes. The Aurors will get him."

"My officers are stationed all over the Forest, both on land and air. Fear not, Mister Potter," the Head Auror said, and Harry sent him a small, grateful smile.

"I know," he said, running a hand through his hair. His shoulders slumped in a defeated manner. "I just can't believe he got away –"

"What I can't believe is that I let him into Hogwarts for the past two months," McGonagall sniffed, looking distraught and paler and stiffer than ever. "Months!"

"It's not your fault, Professor," Remus told her, gently as well. "None of us knew."

"I have sent my Patronus to Professor Flitwick to ask him to charm the castle with a Restoring Charm," Snape said, eyes raking the Forest with disgust. "I have always disliked Morgan."

"You dislike everyone, Severus," Draco said haughtily, which earned him a glare. It also earned him a small smile from Harry, which was all that mattered.

"What about the students?" McGonagall let out, looking as if she was trying to calm herself down with great effort. She smoothed out her robes, rubbing the cold sweat off her palms. "Send them all to the Great Hall, will you, Severus? I shall meet with them shortly."

Snape nodded curtly, before turning with a swish of his robes and walking towards the castle.

"If you would like, Headmistress, we can assign officers to patrol the area around the clock," the Head Auror offered.

McGonagall nodded at him gratefully. "Yes, yes, that would be very much welcome. Thank you."

"Excuse me then," the Head Auror said, bowing slightly before going off and disappearing into the Forest.

"Carrow will be back," Harry said suddenly, eyes staring into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest. He pressed his lips together tightly. "Amycus Carrow wants something from me. That's why he was trying to trap me with the safety rooms."

Remus, McGonagall and Draco was silent, surprised at his sudden announcement. McGonagall looked at him for a moment more, before asking, "How do you know that, Harry?"

"Hermione, Ron and I talked about it before," Harry said, still looking unseeingly at the Forest. "And you said it yourself before, Remus, that killing me isn't the goal. He wants to trap me, injure me maybe or incapacitate me just so that I won't escape, but not kill me, because he needs something from me. Something only I can give him."

There two kinds of fear that Draco had known throughout his life. There was fear… and then there was fear. The first one was the small fears, like the fear of spiders or the fear of embarrassing yourself in front of your peers. They were small things, small enough to not even give a name to them or think about them, but the other kind of fear – It was something that you couldn't ignore or escape from, even in your sleep.

It was the fear of dying, fear of losing someone, the fear of this moment being your last. It was the same kind of fear that had gripped Draco ever since he, in one of his less rational moments, accepted the Dark Mark. It was the same kind of fear that nagged at him, ate his sanity bit by bit, and wouldn't truly go away until the war was over and Voldemort's soul burned and succumbed to Death's long awaiting arms.

It was the same kind of fear that was now slowly taking over Draco's senses.

He wants to trap me, injure me maybe or incapacitate me just so that I won't escape –

How could Harry say that so carelessly?

It was Remus who spoke first, and when he did, it was slow and cautious, as if he was carefully choosing the words that he was about to say. "And what do you propose we do?"

"We should be getting back," Draco announced loudly, cutting through the dark atmosphere of the conversation. He turned to a startled Professor McGonagall. "Professor, you sent Severus to gather the students to the Great Hall. Does that also include Harry and I?"

It didn't take long for McGonagall to understand what Draco was trying to do, and she nodded, looking down at the two boys above her spectacles. "Last I checked, Mister Malfoy, you and Mister Potter are still considered as students."

Draco nodded curtly. "Well, you heard Professor, Harry, come on then," he said, before grabbing Harry's hand and dragging him away in the same way that Harry did earlier to him in the hall of the moving staircases.

Harry confusedly looked over his shoulder at Remus, who just simply smiled in amusement and shook his head.

As the two professors watched their students disappear into the castle, the grim reality of their situation dawned upon them once more.

"Keep Harry in line, Remus," McGonagall said softly.

Remus nodded gravely.

"Draco, what –" Harry tried to say, but cut himself off because Draco had just abruptly turned the corner and Harry had to concentrate just so that he didn't hit the corner wall with his face. He frowned, staring at the back of Draco's head as he let himself be dragged through the Entrance Courtyard silently.

He knew what Draco was upset about, but he didn't know what to say to comfort him. I promise I won't do it doesn't fit the bill, because Harry didn't want to lie.

"Draco –" he tried again, but Draco turned abruptly again to enter the Entrance Hall.

Without looking back, Draco continued forward, one hand still gripping Harry's as the other pushed open the doors of the Great Hall.

They expected chaos and students running around panicking, and so were surprised when they saw that the students were obediently sitting down on their respective House tables. At the front of the Hall stood Severus Snape, a looming presence with his eyebrow raised and his trademark sneer in place. He had his arms crossed with his wand in hand, ready to jinx any student who dared make trouble.

That explains why the students weren't running around screaming.

Nevertheless, not even Snape can stop the rumor mill from going around. The Great Hall was filled with voices and conversations and chatter and noise and, in Draco's eyes, a lightshow of golden and black lights.

They spotted Ron and Hermione waving at them from the Gryffindors' Table with the other eighth years, but Draco tightened his hold on Harry's hand and, for the first time ever since they left Professors McGonagall and Remus behind, looked at Harry.

Harry was surprised at the frown and seriousness on Draco's face.

"Don't leave the Hall without me, Harry," Draco said, before letting go of his hand and turning to rush towards the Slytherin Table. He only managed a few steps, however, before he stopped, thought for a while, and looked back again.

His eyebrows furrowed together and he said, almost as if pained, a single word.

"Please."

And then he was gone.

And Harry was left staring after him dumbly, feeling guilty and miserable because Draco was upset and Amycus Carrow was on the loose and this was all his fault.

Miserably, Harry dragged himself towards the Gryffindor Table.

"I'm sure that most of you know why we are all gathered here, but for those who don't, it is with deep regret that I deliver this news. For the past months, Amycus Carrow had been mingling among us polyjuiced as who we know to be Mister Morgan."

Collective gasps echoed throughout the Hall, even though most of them already knew through the gossip going around.

McGonagall swallowed loudly, which echoed throughout the Hall as well with the help of the Sonorus Charm. The Great Hall became quiet.

"But do not fear, my students, as Amycus Carrow is not anywhere near Hogwarts anymore. He is on the loose, yes," she said, looking at the faces of her students somberly. "But the Ministry has graciously offered their services and Aurors will be stationed for the time being all over the grounds of Hogwarts at all times to ensure the safety of the students."

The heavy atmosphere of the room lifted a little at that, and sighs of relief were heard all over.

"Until then, no student shall be found outside the castle. I repeat, in absolutely no circumstance shall any student be found outside the castle." Harry had a gut feeling that she had emphasized on that point specially for him, if her lingering but strict gaze on the Gryffindor Table was any indication. The Headmistress continued. "I ask that you all stay calm and practice constant vigilance. Classes shall be suspended for this day."

McGonagall resisted the urge of her lips to twitch upwards at the collective cheer that erupted from her students, because trust an announcement of no classes to make everything better.

She wished it could make her feel better too.

Neville woke up feeling very sorry for himself. In less than twenty-four hours, his long-time unrequited love Blaise Zabini have probably found out about said unrequited love and was probably disgusted by him right now; his friends have definitely found out about said unrequited love and were probably disgusted with him too but were just too nice to say so; he found out that his dear friend Morgan was actually his dear enemy Amycus Carrow; he received a mild concussion and a very nice bruise just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time; and to top it all off, his wand got stolen!

There must be a limit to how many bad things can happen to a single person in a single day, and Neville really wished he'd finally reached it.

"Longbottom?"

Oh.

Oh, no.

Apparently not, then.

He made a wimpy, pitiful sort of sound and shifted in bed, away from the direction of that horrible voice. This was definitely not his day.

And what was Blaise Zabini doing in the Hospital Wing anyway?

And then Neville remembered. His eyes shot open and, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head, pushed himself into what he hoped can be considered as a sitting position. He gaped wide-eyed at Blaise Zabini, very much alive and very much handsome.

"Carrow killed you," he said dumbly. Then he blinked, disbelief marring his face. "Or am I dreaming now? Maybe I was dreaming earlier." Because he had this weird memory of panicking at the apparent death of the Slytherin, only to have someone hold his hand and comfort him. He was pretty sure that was a dream. "Is – is this…" He peered at Blaise, unsure. "Uhm, are you really alive?"

Blaise looked back at him with amusement, a smile playing on his lips. "No, I'm a ghost now with the help of the Bloody Baron."

But then Neville turned deathly pale, and Blaise realized that okay, not funny. "I'm joking, I'm joking! Look at me, I'm fine, flesh and blood and working internal organs and all."

At this, Neville realized just how much he had been looking for the past few minutes and quickly averted his eyes, flushing. "B-but Carrow, with my wand…"

Blaise's expression softened. "I ducked. No one got hit," he said, before adding thoughtfully, "Except you."

Neville snorted at that, slumping back against the bed tiredly now that he was sure that Blaise really was alive next to him. "Yeah, nothing new there," he chuckled weakly.

At this, Blaise sobered. "Are you alright now?"

Neville shrugged. "My head hurts, but that's all. I'll be fine," he said, because it always made him awkward whenever conversations would focus on him. Especially conversations with certain Slytherins. "What about you? You should be here in the Hospital Wing for a reason."

"Oh, uhm," Blaise looked uncomfortable. Where were all the flirtation techniques and smooth comebacks that he learned throughout the years? "I was waiting for you to wake up, actually," he said awkwardly.

Neville looked confused. "Uhm, is this an interrogation or something? I don't mind answering some questions about Morgan."

"No, no," Blaise quickly cut in, frowning. Well, this certainly wasn't how he imagined things would be, and he did do quite a lot of imagining during the time when he was waiting for Neville to wake up. "What I meant was… I was… well," he swallowed, not sure why he was getting nervous in front of Longbottom now when they've known each other for seven years and have been at the end of each other's insults (well, Neville at the end of Blaise's insults). He took a deep breath and pulled up his courage. "I was worried about you."

It took a moment for Neville to get rid of his dumbfounded expression, but when he did, he then looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Neville had always worn his heart on his sleeve, Blaise mused dryly, just to give him something to do or think about other than the weird tightening of his heart and hollow feeling in his stomach. What if Pansy was wrong? What if he really did just mess up the Love Potion and that's why it didn't affect Neville? What if Neville really had no feelings for him whatsoever and here Blaise was, making a fool of himself?

"I should go," he said stiffly, because Slytherins were never known for their courage.

Fortunately, Gryffindors were. "Wait, no!" Neville let out, hand reaching out to grab at Blaise's wrist. Then, he realized what he just did and flushed, and felt dizzy because he was actually touching Blaise's skin. "Uhm, please don't go."

Blaise's breath hitched, because Neville wasn't letting go of his wrist and he was looking at him straight in the eyes, and Neville never really looked at him in the eyes before. Neville looked at the floor, or Blaise's eyebrows, or his clothes when talking to him but never his eyes, and it was absolutely impossible for Blaise to do anything now but sit back down obediently and smile ruefully a little at himself as he realized just how much of a hopeless case he was in front of Neville Longbottom.

"Okay."

Chapter Text

Neville fell asleep shortly after that, because despite his efforts to stay awake (Blaise Zabini was actually talking to him! He didn't want to be asleep for that!), the throbbing in his head won over.

"I'll come by later," Blaise had said just to get him to sleep, thinking that it probably wouldn't matter to Neville if he came by again at all but desperately hoping that it would.

This was why he had been surprised when Neville looked thoughtful and pondered about it for a moment. Then, Neville's shoulders had dropped and he smiled gratefully as he burrowed back under the covers.

"I'd appreciate that," he had murmured, cheeks burning and it was with effort that he hadn't pulled the blanket over his head to cover his face because that would have been stupid and embarrassing and sappy and Blaise would probably be disgusted by that.

And so Blaise had left with a rapidly beating heart and mind-numbing happiness because this was actually happening, really, really happening, and his unrequited love may not be so unrequited after all.

Maybe he wasn't meant to live a life full of fake relationships that only existed out of concern for public images. Maybe he wasn't meant to end up like his mother who probably doesn't remember what love means anymore.

Maybe… maybe he did have a shot at this love thing.

An hour before Neville fell asleep again, in the Great Hall, Headmistress McGonagall had just finished her speech. As soon as she did so, Hermione turned to Harry and, teary-eyed, rushed out her words. "We're so sorry, Harry!"

"Yeah, sorry, mate," Ron said, pale-faced and apologetic. "He was just too fast."

"It's alright," Harry said, shaking his head and giving them a small smile. "He's been a wanted criminal on the loose for the past decade. He's supposed to be fast, I guess."

"The rat," Ron muttered vehemently.

By then, students were starting to leave the Great Hall, although a good number stayed to gossip and talk some more about what was going on in the castle. Thankfully, the students nearest the Golden Trio had already left so they had no problems talking.

"We were right, after all, about Morgan," Hermione said, biting on her lower lip nervously. She looked absolutely miserable. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe I suggested taking Draco to him. You were right. I should have thought of the consequences –"

"It's alright, Hermione," Harry intervened quickly, putting his hand on top of hers comfortingly. Hermione shut up, but didn't look less miserable. Harry tried for the best smile he could muster given the situation. "You're 'Mione. We know you've thought of the consequences. Besides, none of us knew who Morgan really is, so it's hardly your fault."

"I know, I know, I'm just…" Hermione heaved out a great sigh. "So frustrated that he slipped right through our fingers!"

"The Aurors will get him," Ron said, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself as well. "I mean, we have Aurors searching the Forest, both on land and on air. And if that doesn't work, then, well, I'm pretty sure that he's not going to survive long in the Forest with all those weird stuff in there," he said firmly, before looking at Harry for someone to confirm what he just said. "Right?"

He looked as if he desperately wanted Harry to say yes, everything was going to be alright and they just had to let others do the work for them for a change, and Aurors were professionals after all, and what chance did Carrow have surviving the Forest anyway?

As long as Carrow wasn't in the castle, then he couldn't possibly harm any of them.

After all, Hogwarts is the safest place there is.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry nodded. "Right."

Hermione smiled at both of them gratefully, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "What happened anyway, Harry? You just disappeared after you left the room!"

"Uhm, yeah, sorry about that," Harry mumbled, shifting awkwardly, but he knew Ron and Hermione were already used to his temper by now. "Safety room again. We ended up in the Chamber of Secrets."

Both of their eyes grew wide. Ron almost looked like a funny insect like that. "Bloody hell, the Patching Team's really making use of everything Hogwarts has to give. First the third floor corridor, then the Chamber of Secrets…"

"They got rid of the basilisk's skeleton though," Harry said, shrugging, figuring that it was an important thing to bring up since the basilisk played an important part in the war, what with Ron and Hermione using its fang to destroy horcruxes and all. "Anyway, when we reached the Chamber, I looked at the Map –"

"About time you did," Ron muttered, which Harry dutifully ignored but not without a wave of embarrassment.

"— y'know, just in case whoever trapped me was still around, and that was when I saw Amycus Carrow's name in the Greenhouse with Professor Sprout and other students, and Draco and I just ran after that, towards Myrtle's bathroom," Harry explained but Hermione wasn't listening anymore because she had on this very thoughtful look that was starting to look more and more strained by the second.

Harry didn't like it one bit. "…Hermione?"

"Harry," Hermione said, calmly, but her voice squeaked at the last syllable. She looked a bit pale. "Did you fall right outside the Transfiguration classroom?"

Harry nodded slowly. Apprehensively.

Ron had settled for looking back and forth at his friends, dumbfounded.

Hermione asked again. "How long do you think it took you to reach the Chamber and take out the Map?"

"Not very long," Harry said. "It was a slide, like the one leading to the Chambers of the stone. Well, Draco and I bickered a bit at first—" An understatement. "—but it shouldn't have taken five minutes."

Hermione swallowed heavily. "Do you think Carrow would have managed to go to the Greenhouse in less than five minutes?"

Both of the boys were starting to realize what this was about and were starting to sport similar looks of dread.

"You think someone else did it?" Harry asked bluntly.

"Carrow could've run, couldn't he?" Ron asked, voice shaking a bit. "It would be easy to get to the Greenhouse in less than five minutes with his speed."

"I don't know," Hermione said, looking dismayed and tired and dreadful all at once. "We've got to ask Professor Sprout!"

And they all leaped up from their seats and out the Great Hall, knowing without even talking where they were all headed to: the Headmistress' Office where McGonagall was sure to be having words with the teaching staff.

"Don't leave the Hall without me, Harry. Please."

That was what Draco had said earlier and what Harry seemed to have forgotten.

"Aren't you going to follow him?" Pansy hissed beside him.

Heart impossibly heavy, Draco shook his head. "No, he's got Granger and Weasley. I'm not worried for the time being. Now, what were you saying a while ago? Carrow has Longbottom's wand?"

When Pansy had first said it a few minutes ago, Draco had, of course, been shocked and utterly terrified at the implications that news brought, but the shock hadn't managed to settle properly in his system before he saw Harry leap from his seat at the Gryffindor Table and leave the Hall without so much as a look back towards Draco. Thus, the shock had stuck in Draco's throat before dropping heavily in Draco's stomach and making him heartsick instead.

Pansy nodded fervently in reply to his question and continued her story. "He punched Longbottom in the head, stole his wand, and tried to kill Blaise with the Killing Curse, the bloody bastard! Blaise fell to the ground but he only ducked, but we were so sure that he had been hit that we stopped running! By the time we realized that Blaise was alive, the fucking wanker was already gone!" She spat out the words like they were venom.

Then, she turned to Draco and her face transformed into something gentler, something more natural, and something more afraid.

"I really thought Blaise…" she trailed off, eyes going watery for a moment before she took a deep breath and held the tears back because Slytherins did not cry in public.

Draco reached out to hold her hand.

Pansy smiled a bit, and squeezed lightly as a sign of gratitude. She continued again, albeit more calmly. "You know how we never saw Morgan doing magic?" Draco raised an eyebrow, but she spoke again before he could even open his mouth. "Yeah, I know rumor spread that he was a squib and all, but we didn't really think about it, right? We never really noticed that he had no wand."

Draco nodded, catching on to her train of thought. "It makes sense because when Carrow was imprisoned in Azkaban, they should have taken his wand away. So alright, Carrow escaped, but couldn't get his wand. He's probably lived on potions ever since."

Then something clicked in his mind, the cogs in his brain started to turn, and he wished they would stop because he just realized something awful, and there were already so many awful things that he had realized today and he really didn't want to add to that anymore because it was too much.

It was too much to realize one more thing that made his throat go dry and his blood run cold again.

"Pans…" He clutched at Pansy's hand so tight that it hurt, both to relate to her the importance of what he was about to say next and to steady himself.

He looked at Pansy's frightened and confused eyes, and thought that they probably mirrored his own.

"If Carrow didn't have a wand all this time… then who have been activating the safety rooms?"

"Lemon drops!"

They didn't even wait for the gargoyle to fully step aside before they dashed up the staircase and bursting into the Headmistress' Office, much to the frightened shock of most of the participants in the room.

This would be funny on another day, having most of the teaching staff staring at you with their eyes bulging, but Harry did have the decency to feel guilty when he saw how all their wands were out in front of them, ready to attack had he been an enemy.

"I suppose I don't need to state the obvious – Mister Potter, Mister Weasley, and Miss Granger –" Each one of them winced as their name was called. "— by saying that this is a horribly bad time you've chosen to barge into my office like this," McGonagall scolded, visibly shaken as she returned her wand in her robes with a huff.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all flushed pink.

"We're really sorry, Professor," Hermione rushed out, before looking around the room and correcting herself. "Professors."

Flitwick had nearly fallen off his stool and would have done so if Bridgewood hadn't caught his sleeve. The woman was pale-faced and trembling, and her glasses didn't even reach her eyes anymore as they were so down her long nose. Professor Sprout looked distraught most of all, at the thought of her wonderful assistant being a Death Eater in disguise. Hagrid had hidden his pink umbrella behind him and was now sniffling greatly, which Harry suspected he had been doing even before they had barged in.

The other professors had also taken back their wands, but did so with accusing looks towards the Trio.

It was Snape's sneer promising retribution that had Harry hanging his head though, and he almost didn't want to look at Remus for fear of seeing the disapproval there. But he chanced a look and was surprised because there was no disapproval in Remus' face – only curiosity.

"This is really important, Professor, we wouldn't have come here if it wasn't," Ron rushed out, arms flailing wildly and face as red as his hair as he tried to explain.

At this, McGonagall's demeanor softened. "Yes, I'm sure. Close the door, will you, Mister Weasley, and take a seat, all of you."

Everyone settled back in their seats, some of which were probably just transfigured out of other objects because they looked wonky. McGonagall sat behind her desk, and behind her, Harry saw the curious look of Dumbledore in his portrait as he listened in.

Weary and nerves on edge, McGonagall pushed a plate on her desk forward.

"Would anyone care for a biscuit?"

"We actually came here for Professor Sprout," Harry started, as everyone but Ron refused the biscuits.

Everyone was surprised. The woman in question started at her name, dabbed her eyes dry with a handkerchief and looked at Harry. "What is it, my dear boy?"

Harry didn't even bother with pretenses. He went straight for the kill. "Professor, was Morgan with you the whole time during your class?"

Professor Sprout nodded, obviously still distraught at the thought of her assistant. "Yes. You can ask my students. He helped me keep the Bouncing Bulbs from bouncing."

She obviously did not expect the stricken expressions that quickly took over Harry, Ron and Hermione's faces. The biscuit fell from Ron's hands as his face gradually lost color. Harry and Hermione looked at each other, warning bells sounding off in their heads.

Remus immediately stood up from his chair. "Harry, may I have a word with you?"

Harry snapped out of his shock, and nodded dumbly at Remus.

"If you'll excuse me from this meeting for a while, Headmistress…" Remus looked at McGonagall, who merely nodded, a knowing look in her eyes.

"Thank you, Professor Sprout," Hermione said, as the Golden Trio exited the room with Remus, leaving a palpable air of both confusion and trepidation behind them.

"Professor Sprout," McGonagall said loudly, and all eyes left the door to turn on her. She looked at Sprout from above her glasses kindly. "Would you care for a biscuit?"

"There's someone else, Remus!" Harry rushed out in a low hiss as soon as the door closed behind them. They walked halfway down the stairs before deciding to stop there, not too near the Headmistress' Office and not to near the corridor downstairs.

"What do you mean?" Remus asked, confused.

"Amycus Carrow isn't alone!" Harry said, face a ghostly white. "There's someone else in the castle working with him."

And Remus felt the blood drain from his face and his fingertips grow cold at the news started to sink in. "How… How do you…" He stared dumbly at the three students in front of him, before shaking his head and seeming to regain his composure. "Never mind. You can explain it later. Wait in my office, the three of you. Only Severus and Professor McGonagall know of your predicament, Harry, and we plan on keeping it that way. As soon as this meeting is over, we will meet you there."

The three of them nodded fervently, and Remus made a move to go back upstairs but then stopped himself. He thought for a moment, before looking at Harry. "And bring Draco along."

Then he was gone, and Harry was suddenly consumed by another feeling of dread as he remembered what Draco had said, pleading in a rare show of vulnerability.

"Don't leave the Hall without me, Harry. Please."

"I'm a horrible person," Harry managed to let out in a helpless sort of realization, before he dashed down the stairs and headed back towards the Great Hall.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, bewildered, before following as well.

Harry yanked open the doors to the Great Hall at the same time that Draco was just about reach for them on the other side.

"Draco!"

"Harry!"

The shock was evident on Draco's face, and if Harry weren't hell bent on apologizing to Draco for what a horrible, horrible person he was, he would have noticed Pansy looking confounded as well behind the blond.

"I'm so –" Harry started, but didn't get much further than that when Draco suddenly stepped forward and grabbed both of Harry's arms tightly.

"Harry, there's someone else!" Draco let out in a hiss, looking around to see if there were any students within hearing range. Satisfied with what he saw, he turned back to Harry and looked in bewildered green eyes. "Carrow's working with someone else."

Harry's brain was having a hard time catching up, because his goal of apologizing to Draco was abruptly cut short. He only managed to stare dumbly and let out an even dumber "We know."

It was Draco's turn to look bewildered. "You do?"

Harry nodded, still confused by all this, and was grateful when Hermione appeared behind him to talk to Draco and Pansy.

"Carrow was with Professor Sprout the whole time we were in Transfiguration, which means that someone else must have spelled the trap door open when you and Harry fell down towards the Chamber of Secrets."

"We found something else too," Draco said, letting go of Harry's arms and holding his hand instead, which made Harry blush and then feel guilty because this was such an inappropriate time to feel giddy. Draco continued, oblivious to Harry's mental ventures.

"You know how we never saw Morgan do any magic, and how we all thought he was a squib? Well, we thought that maybe when Carrow escaped Azkaban, he didn't manage to get his wand and was just living off potions ever since. That's why he stole Longbottom's wand, now that he was found out."

Harry gaped at him. "That means I've had someone else following me all this time?"

Draco looked at him. "Well, which is better? Amycus Carrow or this mysterious someone else? I don't know about you, but I actually prefer this mysterious someone else following you. Amycus Carrow is dangerous with a wand."

"Unless this someone else is actually Carrow's sister," Ron joked, but by the way all of their head's snapped to look at him with perplexed expressions, he quickly decided that it wasn't such a good idea. "Okay, not funny. Shutting up now."

Harry groaned, turning so that he can rest his forehead on Draco's shoulder, not caring if it would seem weird and awkward. He was just tired, both mentally and physically.

All these talk about using Draco to find out if Morgan is lying, falling towards the Chamber of Secrets, finding out that Morgan was actually Amycus Carrow, running up towards Myrtle's Bathroom, chasing Carrow out Hogwarts, upsetting Draco and finding out that Morgan wasn't alone, that there was still at least one (Maybe more, who knew?) more person inside Hogwarts who wanted to harm him…

"This day just gets better and better," Harry muttered, feeling a headache coming on.

Harry didn't think that with all that was happening, he could still be surprised, but Draco proved him wrong by suddenly wrapping his arms around Harry, snug and comfortable, and let Harry rest against him. The Gryffindor could feel the stares of his friends on them, but it just felt so nice being embraced like this, having someone else be your pillar for a while… let someone else hold you up. He sagged against Draco's body, returning the hug and burying his face in the blond's neck.

"Thanks," he murmured, so low that only Draco heard it and it pleased him when the arms around him tightened.

"Don't go off without me again, Harry," Draco said earnestly, his earlier insecurities rising again. He remembered Harry going out of the Hall without looking back at him, but that was alright, Draco could take that. After all, that was what Draco had been doing for seven years now, right? Watching Harry Potter go off with his friends and not think about Draco Malfoy at all.

Draco could take it. What Draco couldn't take though – what made him so scared that it almost hurt to admit it – was the thought of Harry going off in his own in some sort of self-sacrificing mission and not coming back.

For Harry's part, he could feel the guilt eating away at him again, as he remembered Draco's words:

"Don't leave the Hall without me, Harry. Please."

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling back to look into Draco's eyes. "I really am."

And Draco looked at how Harry's eyebrows furrowed in worry, how he bit on his lower lip in guilt, and how he glowed brightly gold.

It was embarrassing how Draco could easily forgive him.

(He reckoned this was probably going to be his downfall one day.)

"I know," he said softly, and that was when all the girly squeals broke loose.

They hadn't noticed that they had been acquiring quite an audience ever since their embrace – an audience who stood by with bated breath but couldn't keep quiet anymore and was now jumping around in joy at the very public display of affection between the two boys.

"I wanted to warn you," Ron told Harry. He was a bit green in the face. "But 'Mione and Pansy held me back and covered my mouth," he grumbled out, not too happy at being teamed up against.

"We should probably go," Harry muttered, his face flushed, and they left the crowd in favor of going to Remus' office.

Draco delighted in the fact that Harry didn't let go of his hand.

"Remus told us to wait here," Harry said, when they reached Remus' office. Pansy had run off to look for Blaise, so only four of them were left to sit on whatever chair or surface was available and to just generally meddle in Remus' things.

"He specifically asked for you though," Harry told Draco, confused but suspicious.

"Huh," Draco said. He looked thoughtful for a moment, before shrugging nonchalantly. "I wonder why."

But he already knew why.

It was almost an hour before Remus, Snape and McGonagall arrived, and when they did, they didn't look cheery.

"It went bad?" Harry asked as soon as the door closed.

"It went just fine, actually," Remus replied with an assuring smile.

"Forgive us if we don't look rather peachy, but considering all that has happened in a span of mere three hours, I for one am not looking forward to another bout of what seems to be bad news," Snape deadpanned.

"Don't listen to him, Harry, he's thrilled to be here," Remus quipped, and they all cracked a smile (except Snape, who glowered) at his effort to lighten the atmosphere.

McGonagall then stepped forward. "Let's get this done with quickly then," she said, looking at Harry. "Professor Lupin says that you have something tell us, Mister Potter."

The students all took their seat, but the professors remained standing. Snape leaned against the wall beside the door, and Remus found his spot against his bookshelf. McGonagall stood in the middle of the room, in front of the students.

Harry nodded, and they all took turns explaining what they found out about Harry and Draco fell to the Chamber of Secrets, how Morgan couldn't possibly be the one who activated the safety room because he was with Professor Sprout the whole time and because he didn't have a wand, and how this all lead to –

"Another one," McGonagall muttered grimly, the distraught expression back on her face. "Another one inside Hogwarts right at this very moment."

"Or several," Snape reminded her, his lips a thin line.

McGonagall shook her head in disbelief. "We can't possibly interrogate the whole school population."

"Actually, that's why I requested for Draco to be here," Remus said, looking at the boy in question. He smiled when Draco nodded knowingly.

"I'll do it," Draco said simply, and that was when everyone else in the room finally realized what Remus was planning.

It was the same thing that Hermione had suggested earlier in the Transfiguration classroom. Use Draco's newfound ability to determine if a person is lying. Hermione chanced a look at Harry, worried for his reaction.

True enough, Harry looked dumbstruck. "What? No –"

Draco quickly took hold of his hand. "I'll only have to make conversation with them, Harry."

Harry glowered at him. "No."

"I don't feel very comfortable putting a student in harm's way, Remus," McGonagall said, frowning but her thoughtful look said that she was considering Remus' suggestion. Harry almost cheered at having someone on his side in this issue.

Remus nodded in understanding. "We can do it in public places. In the Great Hall, for instance. We'll all be there if something goes amiss."

That actually made sense, but Harry still wasn't buying it. "Professor Snape!" he exclaimed, almost pleading as he looked at his Potions professor.

Snape, who had been looking thoughtfully at his godson for the past minute, said dryly: "I don't doubt Draco's abilities. I believe he can take care of himself."

Draco preened at how his godfather glowed gold at that and he grinned smugly. Snape, realizing what Draco was thinking, looked at him pointedly, but he couldn't deny that what he said was true. He had worked with Draco after all. They had both been spies for the Order. If Draco could do that, then this is easy.

"How do you plan on going about it?" McGonagall asked, and Harry realized that she was already agreeing. "We can't have Draco suddenly walk up to people. That would arouse suspicion."

"We can start with the teaching staff," Remus said, catching the Headmistress' eye. "After Morgan, we can't be too sure anymore. Other than the Great Hall, Draco can talk to his professors during his classes. I believe that if the perpetrator has been careful not to detect suspicion until now, then they will not harm Draco in any way." Then, he paused and looked at Harry. "At least, not until they've gotten what they want from Harry."

And then Harry remembered just what they were all here for. What they were all talking about.

"Let me do it," Harry said, the words out of his lips before he had even thought them through. "Let me drink whatever Draco did and I'll do it, because they're after me, right, and they'll have to reveal more if I'm the one they're talking to –"

Draco kissed him. And that shut him up.

Actually, that shut everyone up.

Maybe not Snape, because Snape did this choking sound and promptly about-faced and hit his forehead on the wall.

As if nothing out of the blue happened, Draco pulled away and looked at his professors calmly. (One cannot deny the upturn of the edges of his lips though.) "Forgive him. I'll make him see sense later."

Remus shook his head in amusement, shoulders shaking with mirth.

McGonagall was pink in the face.

"I'm gonna have to get used to this, aren't I?" Ron mumbled mournfully at his girlfriend, who merely chuckled and patted his knee as comfort.

Harry looked sulky at how he had been played.

"Actually, Draco, what Harry said makes sense," Remus said, and Draco blinked at him in disbelief as if there was no way what Harry said could make sense. (Harry sulked further.) Remus continued. "No, we are not making you drink what Draco drank, Harry, but we can make you converse with the staff with Draco nearby. That way, Draco will still be able to see if they're lying."

Snape waved his hand impatiently. "Yes, but I doubt that Potter can carry a conversation with tact."

Harry glared at him, but Remus merely smiled at Snape. "You'd be surprised, Severus." He turned back to Harry. "But Harry, what you have to remember is that this isn't your fault and that this isn't all about you."

McGonagall nodded. "I appreciate your volunteerism, Mister Potter, but you are still my student and my responsibility, and I would appreciate it more if you steer yourself out of harm's way." Harry flushed guiltily. McGonagall looked satisfied with herself and continued. "Unfortunately, our circumstances require you otherwise. I am still not comfortable with this, Remus, but I trust that all will make safety their number one priority."

Harry felt warm at the thought that Professor McGonagall really cared for them, even if she didn't show it.

"Why don't we just make them drink Veritaserum?" Ron piped up, confused.

"To make them drink that means that we have to tell them we're doing an investigation. If it spreads that we're interrogating people, then whoever the perpetrator is may have time to do precautionary measures to ensure that they won't be found out," Hermione explained. She beamed when Remus smiled at her proudly.

"I doubt that Carrow will be back any time soon," Snape said, distaste clear in the curling of his lips as he said the name. "He'll be taking his time to form a plan now that he has a wand."

Remus nodded. "It would be nice if we narrowed down the list of suspects soon though, because we don't know what the person inside the castle is capable of."

Just then, a thought formed in Ron's head. "What I want to know is how Carrow escaped Azkaban without it being in the Prophet!"

"I've already sent an owl to the Ministry," McGonagall said. "And if Alecto Carrow is gone as well."

All of them weren't surprised and merely stayed quiet, grim thoughts running through their head. Everyone knew that the Carrows always worked together. The question now was: did Alecto manage to escape with her brother?

"Remember this, the four of you," McGonagall spoke again, looking at her students seriously. "If anything happens, anything at all, do not hesitate to talk to us. I will have no acts of heroism under my watch," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

None of the students nodded though. They knew in their hearts that they couldn't promise such a thing.

If McGonagall noticed, she didn't let on. "Well, I believe this is enough for the day," she sighed, hand coming up to massage her temples in a rare show of weakness. "It's not even lunch yet," she muttered.

"Actually, it already is," Remus said, looking relieved at how well their meeting went and at the fact that it was now already ending. "Why don't we all eat first and worry later?"

"How do you plan on going about this?" Ron asked in a low whisper when they were all already seated at the Gryffindor table. (He didn't even complain at why Draco was sitting with them – again! – because he knew his obligatory complaints would fall on deaf ears. Still, it was hard not to complain when girls from all directions were ogling at them, probably because of the earlier scene of Harry and Draco hugging. Ew.)

Hermione leaned in closer so that she could lower her voice as well. "Like what Remus said, start with teaching staff," she said, eyes raking over the teachers at the front of the Hall.

Their usual merriment was quite subdued because of what had happened earlier concerning the escape of Carrow, but one can see that they were trying their best to lighten the mood if their forced conversations were anything to go by.

Most of the students were as noisy as ever, however, since Headmistress McGonagall had emphasized on the safety of being inside Hogwarts' walls. Besides, what could go wrong with a team of Aurors patrolling the castle and the Forbidden Forest?

"None of them seem very suspicious though," Ron said, looking at the professors as well.

Professor Trelawney was in deep conversation with herself, arms flailing as she explained why the mist in her crystal ball was shaped like knickers. In all actuality, she was talking to Hagrid, but the giant was still staring at his plate, hiccoughing at random intervals as he remembered Morgan and their eating contests and poor Neville and his lost wand.

Snape and Remus were also in Deep Conversation at the far side of the table, as well as McGonagall and Flitwick, and both conversations didn't seem very joyful. Sprout was still sniffling into her handkerchief with Bridgewood beside her, cheeks red and looking like she didn't want to be there very much. The other professors were simply talking to each other as they slowly ate their lunch.

"I want to check the Map," Harry said suddenly, frowning. "See if they're all who they're supposed to be."

Ron shook his head incredulously, scooping up a hefty portion of mashed potatoes and putting it on his plate. "You can't do it here though."

"Bathroom," Draco offered. "I'll come with you."

Harry flashed him a grateful smile, and then turned to his friends. "It'll only take us a minute."

"You better not do anything else," Ron muttered, to which Harry flushed a bright red.

"I'm not making any promises," Draco told him, batting his eyelashes and smiling sweetly.

Ron made gagging noises.

Hermione rolled her eyes, huffing exasperatedly. "Honestly! Boys! What are you, first years?"

Harry had to stifle a chuckle. The load on his shoulders didn't seem as heavy now as it did that morning, and he was thankful for his friends.

"Come on, Harry," Draco said next to him, and then Harry felt fingers intertwine with his and squeeze comfortingly.

Ignoring the restrained squeals sounding all around them, Harry squeezed back.

"Stop fidgeting, Blaise," Pansy muttered for what was probably the sixth time already. She rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly. "Honestly, with all your fretting about, you're making me nervous!"

"I can't help it!" Blaise said, grumbling as he shoved food in his mouth. "I keep wondering if Ne – Longbottom's awake already."

Pansy resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but let the grin find its way to her lips. "You might as well start calling him by his first name since you're probably gonna be snogging each other by next week," she said nonchalantly.

She blinked her eyes in mock innocence when Blaise started to choke.

"Visit him after," Pansy continued, ignoring how Blaise was coughing like a dying man in an effort to dislodge the food stuck in his throat. "Stay at his bedside and hold his hand until he wakes up. I'll explain things to Draco.," she said earnestly, and barely had time to duck when a fork was thrown her way.

"Hey!" She glared. "I'm giving out suggestions here!"

"Well, stop –" Blaise coughed out, grabbing his goblet and letting the pumpkin juice do its magic. He still had tears in his eyes and he coughed once more to clear his throat. "Honestly, Pans, you are one adorable little bugger –" His voice was thick with sarcasm. "But seriously? Stay at his bedside and hold his hand? How Hufflepuff can you get?"

Pansy stared at him pointedly. "Hufflepuff or not, we both know you want to."

The flush on Blaise's face was evident even against his dark skin. Or maybe that was just because he had just almost choked to death, but they both knew better.

"And besides," Pansy rolled her eyes, waving her hand about in a regal manner. "Longbottom's a fucking Gryffindor. How did you expect to go about wooing him? Shove him against a wall and grope him?" Blaise groaned pathetically at the mental image that brought and buried his head in his hands. Pansy ignored him. "That only works with Slytherins, Blaise. Sometimes with Ravenclaws. And he's neither. I say you go with my plan, no matter how much it makes you barf."

She peered at Blaise, who had raised his head to glare daggers at her. "Which it probably doesn't, because I know you want that too."

She looked satisfied with herself.

And Blaise tried to intensify his glare, because whether he wanted it or not (which he did), he really didn't need Pansy to say it loud because thinking it was embarrassing enough.

"If this was any other person, you probably won't bother," Pansy mused, more to herself this time. Or maybe she was just ignoring Blaise's glare. "You'd send them a stunning bouquet from Italy as a get-well gift, but I don't think you'd care enough to even think about visiting them in the Hospital Wing."

She smiled knowingly at her friend. "That's why you're so out of it because you actually want to visit him in the Hospital Wing."

"Alright! Alright!" Blaise exclaimed, standing up from his seat abruptly. He rubbed a hand down his face with an exasperated sigh, and ignored Pansy's smug expression. "Bloody hell. You really know me so well?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Pansy smiled at him sweetly. "Enough to know that you wear boxers, not briefs."

Blaise shook his head, but one cannot mistake the slight upturn of the edges of his lips. "You freak me out, Pansy. Stop freaking me out." And he was gone, walking towards the doors to the Great Hall to visit Neville and finally give himself peace of mind.

"I love you too, honeybunch!" Pansy yelled at him, ignoring the weird looks she received from her fellow Slytherins.

Then she congratulated herself on a job well done.

"They're all there," Harry breathed out disbelievingly as he stared at the Map in his hands. The names of the professors were all there. Nothing was amiss. Then, Harry laughed bitterly. "Right, of course it wouldn't be that easy."

Draco grabbed his wrists abruptly. "Look at me, Harry," he said, and green eyes met his.

They were in the boys' bathroom, locked inside a cubicle just in case someone else came in and saw the Map.

"Stop turning back into that Auror mode of yours," Draco muttered, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Harry's.

Harry's face contorted into one of confusion, and it was funny to see that up close. "Auror mode?"

"You know, like how you were back in Grimmauld Place when all you did was fret and worry and yell at people," Draco teased, but then Harry flushed at that, and so Draco added, "I'm kidding."

Harry's shoulders relaxed, but he still looked at Draco disbelievingly like he was sure that Draco had not been kidding at all.

Draco had to chuckle and pull him closer into a proper embrace now, even though this was such an inappropriate time to be doing so. Maybe it was because Draco wasn't really thinking straight and he was feeling light again and Hufflepuff-y and all that stuff, very much like the same way that he always did whenever he was allowed to be this close to Harry Potter. (because he finally was! After all this time…)

"I am horribly infatuated with you, Harry, but I also absolutely abhor your 'Auror mode'," Draco said good-naturedly. He felt satisfied with himself when Harry started to hug him back.

"I thought you were supposed to love everything about me?" Harry muttered, and it was muffled because he had spoken it against Draco's robes.

Draco smirked. "Okay, you caught me lying. Your Auror mode is indeed very hot –" He paused, just so that it could sink in and embarrass Harry again. "— but I much prefer that you stay just… Harry."

Harry didn't speak then, just hugged him tighter, and a long moment of silence passed between them that quickly turned awkward for Draco, because hadn't he just spewed embarrassing things from his royal mouth?

"I hope you realize just how much of my dignity I sacrificed just to tell you horrible Hufflepuff things that I otherwise would never even think about, and in fact, I might just wash my mouth with soap later because of said Hufflepuff things, and so I hope you're feeling grateful right about now –"

And Harry kissed him and it was sweet and short and made Draco's heart race.

Then he realized that Harry's shoulders were shaking, and he was actually… laughing?

Draco pulled back, an indignant expression on his face. "I have half a mind to hex you right now, Potter," he hissed out, red in the face.

Harry pulled him back in, still chuckling. "No, no, I just thought –" He paused just to get his breath back, but only exploded in snickers again.

Draco raised an eyebrow and waited patiently.

Harry let out one last chortle, before he took a deep breath and started speaking, looking at Draco with a brilliant smile. "I was just thinking what would happen If you had told me all this while we were still at Grimmauld Place."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You would have punched me," he said dryly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then, he looked thoughtful and added, "Not that you could have."

Harry laughed a little, and then shook his head as he remembered being hyperconscious of Draco in Grimmauld Place, and it wasn't because he didn't trust him (because he did, since Draco had been risking neck and limb spying for them.).

"Or," he said, hoping that his gratitude and all his love for the person in front of him showed in his eyes. He smiled softly. "I might have kissed you."

And it was amazing how Draco's face transformed after that, from disbelief to a hesitant realization when he realized that Harry wasn't joking, and finally, to something that looked like he was about to cry.

Harry pulled him in his arms, and quietly thanked Merlin at how lucky he was to be the one to witness this side of Draco Malfoy.

"I'll stop going into Auror mode," he said softly, running a hand through Draco's blond hair and smiling when Draco hugged him tighter.

Then, Harry pulled back, looked into Draco's eyes, and leaned in to kiss him.

"Thank you."

Chapter Text

While Harry and Draco were in the boys' loo, Remus was struck with a very wonderful idea: He would enter the Forbidden Forest and go where fluxweed grew to see if Carrow had left anything that could be considered as clues. Perhaps the Aurors have already gone through that area but it wouldn't hurt for another pair of eyes (from someone who knew what was really going on) to go through it again.

Where fluxweed grew was a bit deep into the forest though. Did he chance disappearing from the castle for a while during these troubled times? From the corner of his eyes, he looked at Severus eating beside him and thought that it didn't matter if he disappeared for a while, as long as Snape was there. McGonagall, too.

Remus was very tempted to ask Severus to accompany him though. He knew the man would not refuse a chance to snoop in a potential crime scene and he would be a very good help in traversing through the Forest…

But no, Remus thought dryly. He was just making excuses to himself. He was perfectly well-versed in the secrets of the Forbidden Forest after all, having journeyed through it as both a student and a young werewolf back in his Marauder days. In all honesty, he just wanted Severus' company.

He firmly reminded himself that it wouldn't do any good for him to pine for hopeless matters.

Thinking such heavy thoughts, he suddenly didn't feel very hungry anymore. It was just a few days after the full moon as well, so his appetite didn't feel very peachy. He might as well do something productive in the meantime.

He pushed away his plate with his half-eaten lunch, excused himself from Severus and Hagrid, and stood up to inform, in hushed tones, the Headmistress on where he was going to be.

It was halfway through the Entrance Courtyard that Snape caught up with him.

"I do hope that you're not planning on foolishly entering the Forbidden Forest alone, Remus, especially not with a madman loose inside it," he commented dryly, as he synced his footsteps with the rapidly slowing ones of Remus.

The surprise at Snape's presence allowed him to ignore the sarcastic comment.

Snape expertly shrugged his surprise off and started walking, sure that the other man would follow. "The Headmistress requested me to accompany you."

Remus was even more confused, even as he resumed walking. "She didn't say anything about it when I told her."

Snape ignored him, and merely produced a wrapped bar of chocolate from the pocket of his robes before tossing it to Remus unceremoniously.

"I will not have you fainting under my watch either from fatigue or your lack of appetite."

Remus was still confused, but the fact that Snape was going to accompany him and that he had taken it upon himself to bring Remus a chocolate bar effectively shut him up. Despite already having a bar of chocolate with him, he lovingly pocketed the one that Snape gave and mourned (but not without a bit of pleasure) at the difficulty of not pining for hopeless matters when these hopeless matters take it upon themselves to do thoughtful things.

"What took you so long?" Ron said suspiciously, narrowing his eyes as Harry and Draco sat back down across from him and Hermione at the Gryffindor's Table.

Draco smirked at him. "There's a reason as to why I didn't make any promises, Weasley."

Harry's face reddened at the implication of what these two were imagining, and Ron considered that as an implication that they did do what he was imagining.

"I'll never get used to this," he mourned pitifully, before choosing to focus on his sandwich instead. It was the safer thing to focus on. It amused Draco that the light around Ron didn't turn black. It made him look forward to traumatizing the Weasel still ten years from now. (Then, Draco caught himself and realized with a bit of an embarrassed shock that dear Merlin, it was like he was already planning for a future with Harry ten years from now.)

Hermione rolled her eyes and resolved to ignore all the antics. "Did you find anything?" she asked Harry, who shook his head no.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Everyone's accounted for," Harry said, sighing. He picked up where he left off with his lunch. "We're back to square one, I suppose."

Hermione gave him her best reassuring smile. "The Aurors will get him, Harry. He can't possibly escape this island with an army of Aurors on both land and air."

The light around Hermione flickered black, and Draco wisely ignored it.

Unable to see what Draco was seeing, Harry smiled at her gratefully, and then at Draco when the blond so very discreetly reached out to hold his hand under the table.

It was like they were all telling him that he wasn't alone in this… that unlike before, because of the Prophecy, he didn't need to do everything by himself.

Anxieties quelled for the time being, Harry gave Draco's hand a gentle squeeze and proceeded to eat his lunch with only his left hand.

If Hermione or Ron noticed, they didn't say anything.

Blaise did not hold Neville's hand because just the thought of holding Neville's hands already made his own hands clammy and he did not want Neville to wake up to clammy hands. He did stay at Neville's bed side though and, with his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, patiently waited for the boy to wake up.

As he waited, he thought about owling for a special order of bouquets from Paris or maybe Brazil, with their exotic and colorful flowers. Then he quickly squashed that thought because Neville wasn't a girl and he didn't want Neville to feel like one so he was going to have to go about this in a different way.

What did blokes like anyway?

Do they like chocolates? Blaise liked chocolates, and always appreciated it when girls would give him some, especially the rich ones from Switzerland. Did Neville like chocolate? He had this unhealthy obsession with chocolate frogs after all – Blaise knew this from the many times he'd seen Neville jump around the Gryffindor Table trying to catch them. (Honestly, 18 years of existence and the boy still did not know how to catch chocolate frogs. Blaise didn't know whether he found this pitiful or horribly endearing.) – so it naturally follows that he does like chocolate, doesn't it?

Perhaps Neville might appreciate it more if Blaise ordered for plants, maybe an Angel's Trumpet or a Moonseed? But that wasn't very romantic, was it? Especially since those two are used to make poisons. No, that doesn't exactly send out the message he wanted to give off.

Perhaps he'd order for some moly. Moly are famous for its ability to ward of Dark Enchantments, and that would be a nice message to give off, wasn't it?

Or perhaps a Mimbulus mimbletonia, as he could vaguely recall Neville carrying one around with him all the time during fifth year. Will Neville appreciate a Venomous Tentacula instead?

Cutting his thoughts off dead in their tracks around his head, he groaned despairingly.

He was an absolute messwhen it came to Neville Longbottom.

An absolute mess.

Remus was quickly realizing that it was a good idea that Snape had come along with him since the Potions professor would obviously be knowledgeable in exactly where in the Forbidden Forest fluxweed grew. If Remus had come alone, who knew where in the depths of the Forest would he be lost in now? The holier-than-thou air surrounding Snape and the way his the corner of his lip was in an upward and smug curl when Remus had glanced upon it told him that Snape knew how much of a good idea it was that he had come along as well.

Honestly, Remus thought with amusement, Severus and his godchild were very much alike.

They bumped into Aurors a few times, with both parties jumping backward with their wands drawn out until they would realize that they weren't enemies. They would nod in respect to each other and be off with their separate ways.

It wasn't long before they reached the clearing filled with green sprouts. There were no Aurors nearby, and so the atmosphere that greeted them was a quiet and peaceful one, pierced with only the buzzing of insects and the sound of the wind. At one edge of the clearing, Snape looked at a bald spot on the ground, and the tracks shaped like human feet beside it that disappeared into the Forest, with distaste.

With the position of the bald spot, it was obvious that Carrow didn't wish to dally in the Forest longer than necessary. He probably just dashed to this clearing, pulled the nearest bundle of fluxweed he could reach, and dashed back to the safety of Hogwarts.

"It was wise of him to be wary of the Forest," Remus commented, looking at the bald spot as well. "Still, to go inside the Forbidden Forest at night, wandless… It's rather commendable."

Snape snorted. "Don't commend a man acting on his madness."

The crunching of leaves alerted them to a new presence, and they whipped their wands out – towards Firenze, who did not look pleased at having wands pointed towards him.

Nevertheless, he knew why these humans were cautious and did not comment. He nodded towards them. "You are here for Amycus Carrow."

It was not a question. Remus pocketed his wand apologetically, and smiled warmly in greeting. "Good day, Firenze." Snape grunted his own greeting, and so Remus continued. The stars must have already divulged their secrets to Firenze regarding the matter, and so he did not waste any time. "Won't you tell us about him?"

Firenze slowly walked towards them, his hooves flattening the fluxweed scattered on the ground. "He comes at the night of the full moon, always smelling of death and fear. This attracts creatures big and small, and at least one catches him unaware during his short trysts. We often come across him, but we leave him be. Our kind does not help murderers."

Upon reaching the two of them, he gazed upon the bald spot thoughtfully. "The stars have whispered to us what he has come for," he said, turning his gaze to Remus, then to Snape. His expression was grave. "He seeks what he believes the Potter boy knows."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "What he believes?"

Firenze gave a slight nod. "The Potter boy does not have what Carrow seeks," he said, and a gush of wind blew past them. "Not anymore."

In spite of himself, Remus shivered. He didn't know if it was because of the cold – October was ending. Winter was well on its way. – or the gravity of their conversation.

"Do you know?" he murmured, as if he didn't want to disturb the peace that had settled over the Forest after that gush of wind. He was not surprised, though, when the centaur shook his head regretfully.

"I have spent my years trying to read the stars and still their secrets elude me," Firenze said, glancing upward towards the gray October sky. "Even if I knew of it, I should not tell you much."

Should not. The careful use of words did not go unnoticed by Remus and Snape.

Remus nodded in understanding, and smiled warmly. "We are grateful, Firenze."

A moment of silence passed in which the centaur seemed as if he was working through an internal turmoil. Finally, he let out a quiet sigh.

"My brothers will not be happy with me," he mourned, before giving his head another shake to ward off the negative thoughts. He regarded them seriously. "You have given up many things for the peace of the Wizarding World, and I wish to ease your troubles. Month after month, the blood of Carrow taints the soil you stand upon. Without a wand, he relies on concoctions of magic." He looked at Snape sharply. "Be wary of the woman who asks frequently for them, though she knows not what she does."

Concoctions of magic? That must be potions. And the woman who asks frequently for them?

Just then, images of Blood-Replenishing Potions and long, long, long hair flashed in Snape's mind. As the newfound knowledge started to sink in, his lips slowly curled into a snarl.

He had never liked Bridgewood.

"Severus?"

Remus' soft voice cut in through the sound of blood rushing in his ears, and Snape reminded himself to keep calm. It wouldn't do good to act hastily. And there was one part of what Firenze had said that bothered him.

"She knows not what she does?" he asked Firenze. He could already feel the beginnings of a headache coming on.

"She is not aware of it, yes," Firenze affirmed with a nod. A thought struck him and he tried to suppress a cringe. "I have said too much. I have lived too long with humans."

"Nothing wrong with that, I hope," Remus said lightly. He bowed his head slightly towards Firenze. "Thank you. We know you're sacrificing a lot by helping us."

Firenze gave off what could only be considered a snort. "It does not compare to your sacrifices, young wolf," he said. His eyes then moved to Snape, turning soft and… sad. "And to yours as well, Professor Snape."

Remus pretended to ignore how the color drained a little from Severus' face and how shakily he had nodded towards Firenze in acknowledgement. Most of all, he pretended that his heart did not break at the reminder that he will never, ever compare to Lily Evans.

"Let's go, Remus," Snape said sharply, quickly turning heel and disappearing into the Forest, following the tracks that Carrow had left on the soil.

Remus smiled apologetically at Firenze. "Forgive him. He's rather touchy on that subject."

Firenze didn't seem to mind. He gazed at Remus for a little longer, until Remus felt the self-consciousness eat away at him. He wondered if he was important enough for the universe that the stars would tell his secrets to Firenze, because it was as if the centaur could see right through him.

Finally, Firenze looked away and made to leave.

"If you must sacrifice something, young wolf, let it not be the yearnings of your heart."

He left Remus alone, standing in the clearing with nothing but the buzzing of insects, the sound of the wind and the gray sky above to comfort him as he slowly broke apart.

He laughed then, a sad, quiet laugh that echoed in the air – as if taunting him.

They managed to reach Hogwarts with no other obstacles, though they did reach an area in which there were spots of dried blood staining the soil and tree trunks. It must be where Carrow had been attacked by a creature the other night, resulting in the wounds that Neville and Luna had described as 'looking like it was done by a werewolf.'

Along the way, Snape Did Not Look at Remus but that could be because he had been in front the whole time. Or because maybe Remus was just paranoid and thought that Snape not looking at him meant Snape Not Looking at him. Nevertheless, whether Snape not looked or Not Looked at him, he still explained to Remus what he knew of Bridgewood and how she had been going to him frequently for the past two months, always with the excuse that the fifth years liked to jest, and asking for the Blood-Replenishing Potions that was probably used by Carrow.

Remus had tried not to be shocked (Hadn't he already prepared himself for a traitor among them?) but still couldn't quite manage intelligent replies the first few times Snape asked for them.

"Firenze mentioned that Bridgewood is not aware of it," Snape said, his voice a low whisper as they neared the Entrance Courtyard.

Remus groaned at the implication of that, hand rising to rub at his aching temples. He could already feel his knees wobbling at all the exertion he put them through in just the past six hours. "Well, that's rather easy, isn't it? The Imperius Curse and memory charms. Oh, but Carrow didn't have a wand –"

Snape nodded gravely, and they turned the corner towards the Headmistress' office. "It's easy for a Death Eater to steal a weak-willed woman's wand by physical force, especially if the woman in question has no self-preserving bone in her body." He scowled in distaste. "After he Imperiused her and set her off to do his bidding, he'd erase or modify her memories, and just do it all over again the next time he needed to. It will be tricky to sort her real memories from the modified ones."

"We can ask Professor Dumbledore's portrait for help with that," Remus said as they neared the hallway of the moving staircases.

Snape had no qualms walking straight upwards, as if he didn't feel tired at all, but Remus took one look at the length of the stairs they need to climb and did a little mental whimper.

He was feeling light-headed and weak-limbed, as if his body was reprimanding him for doing so much exercise only a day after the full moon. Perhaps chocolate might do the trick, he thought as he took one step forward, and realized, as his vision swam, that oh, this might take a wee bit more than chocolate.

"Remus?"

Snape's sharp voice cut through the haze fogging Remus' brain, and he squinted his eyes to focus on the black, blurry shape that he was sure was Severus. He waved a hand, telling him to go on. "You head on, Severus. I just need a moment."

It was like someone had put his head in a vacuum, like someone squeezing his head and covering his ears. He staggered towards the wall, wincing when his head and the right side of his body hit it a bit hard, but the coldness of the stone felt good against his cheek, and he closed his eyes and sighed.

The next thing he knew, someone was groping around his abdomen.

He yelped and regretted it immediately because that made his shoulder hit the wall harshly again, and then he heard a cluck of a tongue before hands gently pushed him down until he sat on the floor with his back to the wall.

"The chocolate, Remus. Where is it?"

Oh, the groping was for the chocolate, Remus, not for anything else. Flushing, he looked away from Snape and took the chocolate that the Potions professor gave out from his pocket. He tried to open it with his shaky hands but couldn't find the grip to rip the wrapper. He heard Snape sigh exasperatedly, before the chocolate was taken from him. He gave it without a fight.

He was feeling better now that he was sitting down, and he closed his eyes, patiently waiting for the rush of blood in his ears to disappear.

Moments later, something pressed against his lips, and an inhale told Remus that it was chocolate. He opened his mouth, and the chocolate was pushed in. He closed it abruptly when he felt skin touch his lips and he ducked his head, cheeks burning as he realized that he might have just kissed Severus' finger.

"Thank you," he murmured. He was feeling light-headed again but he reckoned this time was because of a whole different reason. "Terribly sorry, Severus."

A tsk. "I thought I made it clear that you are not permitted to faint under my watch."

Remus laughed shakily. "Well, I haven't fainted yet, have I?"

Snape did not find it as amusing as he did. "I'll have the house elves apparate you to your quarters. I'll speak with McGonagall."

A few moments later, a loud pop resounded in the hallway and the house elf's squeaky voice asked for what he could do for his masters.

As Snape was giving out instructions, Remus risked opening his eyes. He was rewarded by a clear enough vision and he took this chance to smile gratefully at the back of Snape's head. "Sorry."

Snape cut himself off abruptly, surprised. His eyes met Remus', and he stared for a few moments in silence, as if he wanted to say something but wasn't sure whether he should, before he shook his head and returned his attention to the house elf.

"And bring him lunch as well. Go."

Remus closed his eyes and prepared for the vomit-inducing feeling that resulted from Apparition, telling himself that it would take only a little longer more before he was deposited in the comfort of his bed.

He did not see the way Snape's eyebrows furrowed together in thought or how his lips pressed against each other to form a thin line as he stared at the spot Remus had sat on, before he sighed heavily and resumed his hurrying towards the Headmistress' office.

Long after lunch ended, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco stayed behind in the Great Hall. They would have gone to the Hospital Wing if Pansy had not joined them in the Gryffindor Table after she had finished her lunch and announced to them pompously that Blaise was there being an absolute Hufflepuff to Longbottom and was therefore not to be disturbed.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the sparse Great Hall, talking about everything that had transpired that morning – the Chamber of Secrets, Morgan actually being Amycus Carrow, Blaise almost getting hit by an Avada Kedavra, Neville and his mild concussion, and the identity of Carrow's coconspirator and Remus' proposal that they investigate on it using Draco's lie-detecting abilities.

They knew that talking about it wouldn't change anything – Morgan really was Amycus Carrow, Blaise was thankfully alive, Neville was already under Madame Pomfrey's care, and there really was another madman in Hogwarts still on the loose. – but it did make them feel better, as if talking about it meant that they were actually doing something about it.

Needless to say, they found their heads throbbing with migraines after a good two hours had passed and decided to end the discussion.

"This awfully feels like a war meeting," Ron grumbled. It came out muffled due to the fact that his cheek was pressed against his arms that were folded on the table.

Harry grinned slightly but it did not reach his eyes. "I had thought we were done with these, honestly."

The gloom that had settled over them after they started talking about everything was finally dispersed by Pansy's sudden and loud exclamation of "When I get my hands on Carrow, I'll wring his neck and make him pay for the wrinkles he's given my face!"

In spite of their situation, they burst into chuckles then, and suddenly, in the company of friends, everything didn't seem so daunting.

Dobby suddenly popping up in the middle of the Gryffindor Table surprised them, but his message of Mistress McGonagall and Master Snape requesting for Master Potter's presence did not.

When Harry stood up, so did Draco, and everyone looked at the blond with raised eyebrows. He raised an eyebrow right back at them. "Well, I've got to be with Harry all the time, haven't I?"

Ron snorted. "Yeah, sure, Malfoy. That's your only reason."

Draco looked proud of himself.

Harry shook his head at them, a smile playing at his lips. "Come on then, you git," he said and reached out to grab Draco's hand to tug him along with.

Dobby immediately wobbled forward, running on top of the Gryffindor Table to reach them. "Oh, Master Potter, Dobby can Apparate you and Master Malfoy to the Headmistress' office! Dobby was given this special task and Dobby does not want his Masters to tire themselves!"

Harry looked at him incredulously. "Nonsense, Dobby, Draco and I can walk by ourselves –"

"That would be wonderful, Dobby," Draco cut him smoothly, smiling his winning smile. Harry turned his incredulous stare to him, as Dobby's eyes watered with tears of joy and an awestruck smile ate up his face. Underneath his breath, Draco muttered to Harry with a grin, "Come on, Golden Boy. Someone offers you something; it'd be rude to refuse."

Harry didn't know what to retort back to that, so he merely muttered back with a defeated "Don't call me that."

Satisfied with himself, Draco turned back to his former house elf. "Shall we, Dobby?" He waved goodbye at Hermione, Ron and Pansy with as much pomp he could muster. "'Ta, commoners."

They disappeared with a crack just in time to avoid Pansy throwing a goblet at them.

Ron looked like he really wished that the goblet had hit home. "Is he always like that?" he sighed exasperatedly, but an amused grin settled on his lips.

Pansy rolled her eyes and huffed. "He's just trying to cheer Potter up, the sap, but –" She cringed. "Yes. He is always like that."

"Well," Hermione said, hands clasping together as a bright smile lit her face. "Whether Draco is or isn't, I'm happy for Harry."

Pansy grinned at her.

They landed in the middle of the Headmistress office, with Harry leaning on Draco a bit too heavily as he fought to keep his lunch in his stomach. He didn't like Apparition, even if it was useful. Draco, however, didn't seem to be having any problems as he curled an arm around Harry's waist to steady and smoothed his robes using the other.

Snape didn't look surprised that Draco had come along and merely grunted impatiently to get them to sit down.

"Hullo," Harry said intelligently, separating himself from Draco's side with color in his cheeks. "Did you find anything, Professor?"

From behind McGonagall, they saw Dumbledore's portrait but no Dumbledore. Perhaps he went for a walk to the kitchens again to gaze longingly at the lemon drops the house elves were making.

Harry sat down obediently on one of the two stools in front of McGonagall's desk. Beside him, Draco did as well. With this kind of set-up, it felt like they were about to get sanctioned for some sort of prank they did, and McGonagall's grim expression certainly wasn't helping any.

"We found out who Carrow's been working with," McGonagall said, and both boys' eyes widened as the gravity of the situation started to sink in. Without preamble, she filled them on in what Remus and Snape had heard from Firenze, their theory of how Bridgewood was merely acting under Imperio, and their plans on hiring someone from the Ministry to help separate her real memories from the fake ones.

When McGonagall finished, she looked at Harry and Draco seriously from above her spectacles.

"I am telling you this, Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy, to remind you not to commit any rash acts of heroism that will endanger you." Her gaze lingered on Harry at that, and he flushed. Both Snape and Draco snorted.

McGonagall wisely ignored them all. Her face softened as she regarded her pupils. "You are my students first and foremost, and I will not put you in harm's way as much as I can. Therefore, I am happy to inform you that what we have discussed in Professor Lupin's office earlier will not be needed anymore."

She raised a hand to silence the questions that almost burst from both boys' tongues. Her voice remained firm. "The Aurors are searching for Carrow and we shall deal with Professor Bridgewood. We'll take it from here."

She waited patiently, keeping eye-contact until both of them nodded, Draco more readily and Harry a bit unsurely.

Satisfied, McGonagall visibly relaxed. "I want you boys to get this issue out of your head and focus on your studies. This is your last year in Hogwarts. Make it count."

With that, Harry suddenly felt warm as he realized how McGonagall was looking out for them – not only for their safety, but for their happiness as well. She wanted them to appreciate this last year, as normal students for once. McGonagall didn't need to say it, but the fact that this was their first year without the threat of Voldemort above them was still there, palpable in the air. Harry appreciated felt waves of affection for this woman.

"Thank you, Professor," he murmured, moved. A hand touched his knee and squeezed comfortingly.

"Thank you, Professor," Draco said as well.

Enough tension left McGonagall's shoulders then, and she finally managed a smile. She looked at the two of them and Draco's hand on Harry's knee knowingly. "Though I suppose it was needless of me to say that. You two seem to have beenmaking it count for a while now."

Three sets of blushes met her, from Harry, Draco and even Snape as well. The Potions professor, who had been quiet throughout McGonagall's lecture, was now pinching the bridge of his nose and sporting a very pained expression.

McGonagall resisted the urge to roll her eyes, as she would have done if she were just a tad bit younger. She didn't want to seem unprofessional, after all. She waved the two boys off. "Well, go on then. Enjoy your day off. Regular classes shall meet you tomorrow."

Harry and Draco nodded, saying their thanks once more. Before they reached the door, however, Harry took one last look back. "Oh, but if you ever need any help…"

"Then I shall call for the Ministry," McGonagall replied, an amused smile on her lips.

Smiling sheepishly, Harry ducked out of the doorway.

With him gone, Draco had no problems rolling his eyes and whispering loudly to his professors, "Don't worry, Professor. I'll make sure to corrupt his Gryffindor brashness with my far superior Slytherin sense of self-preservation."

Snape shook his head exasperatedly, but McGonagall's eyes twinkled with mirth. "Oh, I have no doubt about that, Mister Malfoy. As Headmistress, it is not proper of me to say this, but I sure hope you do."

Draco sent her one last thankful smile that told McGonagall that it was more for what she has done to Harry than what she had lectured them about today.

When he had finally exited the room, she turned amused eyes to Snape. "Who would have known, right, Severus?"

Snape snorted and crossed his arms testily. He glared at the portrait. "If I had known, I would have subtracted more points from Gryffindor."

McGonagall raised a challenging eyebrow at him. "That's not very wise to say to the former Head of the Gryffindor House."

But Snape was wise enough to refrain from commenting further on that. "But Potter and Draco…" he said, obviously changing the subject. The Headmistress let him. "Even I have to grudgingly… lamentably... and regrettably…" Snape cringed, but forced himself to continue. "—admit that they are good for each other."

McGonagall chuckled. "Why, Severus, are you by any chance giving them your blessing?"

Snape looked a bit green in the face.

The news was greeted joyously by their friends, especially Ron who grinned widely. "I don't know about you, mate, but it feels good to let the others do the work for once."

Harry knew that McGonagall obviously knew what she was doing and that the Ministry was more capable than ever under Kingsley's care, but just couldn't shake off that still nagging feeling of dread at the thought of Carrow on the loose. The compulsion to do something about it, to research about it or investigate it on his own lurked near, but he tried to keep them at bay.

This was his last year in Hogwarts. This magical place of wonder where Harry first tasted friendship, belongingness, and… love.

Harry smiled wistfully.

"It'll be a good change, yeah."

Neville woke up when the moon was already high in the sky and the infirmary was enclosed in darkness. If he listened closely, he could hear the soft breathing of who he assumed to be Harry and Draco deep in sleep. He felt happy for them because he was sure it wasn't every night that they could sleep so unguardedly like that, what with all the nightmares and all.

He sat up in bed to stretch his muscles and sore back, and took the chance to peek out of his bed curtains. Across from him were the beds of Harry and Draco, if their trunks on the floor by the foot of the bed were anything to go by. Only one bed had their curtains drawn though – Harry's, Neville presumed, because he could see the red lining of the trunk with the little light the moon had to offer – and he was smart enough to know that Draco was not simply in the loo.

Despite his face flushing, he couldn't help the small smile that lit up his lips.

At this time of the night where everything was quiet, it was hard to believe how chaotic everything was during that morning.

Blaise, Morgan, Carrow, his wand…

He groaned as everything came rushing back. He was going to have to send his grandmother an Owl first thing in the morning, if Professor McGonagall hadn't already. His mind strayed to Carrow, and he shivered as he remembered the man who tortured him relentlessly during seventh year. That wide smile and the manic look in his eyes as he cast it on Neville again and again… as he probably cast it on Neville's parents again and again.

Neville could feel the fear creeping into his heart, could see his mind starting to imagine scenarios in which the door to the infirmary would open, Carrow would step inside with a gleeful smile, cast a Silencing Charm and use Neville's own wand against him and no one would hear him scream –

No. Neville gritted his teeth and shoved the fear back. He was a Gryffindor. He faced Carrow every day during seventh year and he would face Carrow again during this eighth year if he needed to.

He pushed Carrow away from his mind and instead focused on the safer thing to focus to – Blaise.

Though how that was any safer, Neville wasn't quite sure.

He still couldn't quite believe what had happened between them that morning. Blaise being there when he woke up, them actually having a conversation, Blaise saying that he worried about him and… and… He could vaguely recall the other boy promising to be back when he woke up again.

Neville could feel his cheeks heating at the disappointment that was starting to bubble due to the fact that he had woken in the middle of the night, when visiting hours were already over. Of course, Blaise wasn't really obligated to visit him, and surely he had better things to do, of course…

Neville groaned again. How embarrassing. He was embarrassing. He should just stop all this to save himself the heartbreak that was sure to come. He knew this, knew it with all his being, but…

Just then, his eyes caught sight of his bedside table and… at the small, white flower on top of a handwritten note.

As he picked both of them up, he immediately recognized the flower. Moly. Its four petals were a pure white, and its stem was as long as his middle finger. The note was short and made his breath hitch.

Madame Pomfrey shooed me out.

I'll visit in the morning.

Get well soon.

Blaise.

Of course Blaise was only feeling guilty over the fact that Neville had been the one hit with a concussion even though Blaise was the one chasing Carrow. Of course.

But holding the moly and remembering what Professor Sprout had said about its meaning… It wasn't necessarily romantic or anything of the sort, but it was thoughtful, and…

Neville felt his heart being squeezed.

Hope is a dangerous thing, he realized.

Chapter Text

The next two days passed by without much incidence. There was still a gloom hovering over Hogwarts at the presence of Aurors that proved to be a reminder of the escape of Carrow. The absence of Morgan was also felt dearly, though conversation about him normally ended with tones of betrayal and anger as they remembered that he had been fooling them all along.

Classes resumed as normal, but it was apparent that most of the faculty was distracted. Professor Sprout was still a bit shaken over the real identity of her assistant, but fought to stay cheery for her classes. Professor Bridgewood was the one who was most obviously affected if her running into doors were any indication. She was also more nervous and jittery than usual and kept on forgetting things like her glasses on top of her head or her wand shoved in her hair bun.

Remus assured Harry that it was just a side-effect of the Ministry's Obliviators going through her memory, and she was just having a hard time figuring out which memories were real, resulting in her severe disorientation. It would be gone once the investigation on her memories was done.

There was an evident change in Professor McGonagall as well. During the past two days, she was scarcely seen walking the hallways unlike before when she made it a point to personally supervise her students. Despite the absence of her presence, Harry and the rest kept their noses out of the Carrow issue just as they promised her – unless, of course, the Aurors patrolling Hogwarts just so happened to be talking loudly and they just so happened to be within earshot.

Surprisingly, Draco didn't have any more coughing fits. Snape said that the Ashwinder Eggs in the Amortentia that he drank probably did more good than bad, as the last fit that Draco experienced had him coughing up enough of the blood mixed with the Erumpent Exploding Fluid. Draco told them that the light shining around people haven't disappeared yet however, informing all of them that the botched up potion wasn't completely out of Draco's system yet.

Other than that, they occupied themselves with dutifully listening to class and doing their homework, except for Neville who was discharged from the Hospital Wing only on the second day.

As Neville had predicted, McGonagall already did send his grandmother a letter about her grandson's well-being, and Augusta Longbottom had personally and suddenly come to Hogwarts like a thunderstorm to fuss about him, admonish him, and then fuss about him some more. She arrived at the same time Blaise was there for a visit (carrying with him a box of chocolate frogs) and Neville almost fainted from all the embarrassment at having Blaise witness how his grandmother had lectured him about being more focused and less bumbling.

Despite her harsh words though, she presented to him a new wand, one she acquired from Ollivander. She merely had to enumerate the components of Neville's last wand, and the old man's face had sparked like a light bulb and he was off to disappear within the numerous shelves in his shop. She reprimanded Neville some more on how this was already his third wand and Blaise was looking at Neville sympathetically from behind her and Neville just wanted to crawl under the covers and never, ever emerge again.

Then, as she was preparing to leave, her face softened as she turned to him and patted his cheek softly. "You take care now, Neville," she said, the worry flitting across her face for just a moment before it was replaced by the usual cool demeanor of traditional purebloods. She nodded to Blaise as goodbye and briskly made her way to the door with a mutter of "Now excuse me while I join the Aurors in searching for that bloody scoundrel so that I may crush his bones into dust one by one."

Blaise realized two things in succession: first, with a growing dread, that Augusta Longbottom was a rather big obstacle for him to pass through in the courting of Neville; and second, he was actually already thinking of really, finally courting Neville. He grinned. It was good that he was always up for challenges.

"Your grandmother's something, isn't she?" he said good-naturedly.

Neville groaned and sank further in his bed. "She is. Very."

He then proceeded to narrate how his grandmother had sent the Death Eater Dawlish to St. Mungos, while Blaise dutifully listened on, trying not to show how horribly happy it made him that Neville was actually starting to be more comfortable around him.

Finally, Saturday came and with it the jitterbugs that assaulted the already frazzled nerves of Harry. He had no idea what this day was going to hold for him. For the past two days of not poking their noses in the Carrow business, they had talked about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip, but not if they were going together as a group, or if Ron and Hermione had their own couple thing going on, or if Draco maybe wanted to spend it with his friends, or if, or if…

"Easy there, Harry," Hermione said, smiling at him knowingly as he viciously poked at his pancakes.

Embarrassed at having been noticed, Harry flushed red and shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Are you going to tell me what's got you so uptight at eight in the morning or do I have to answer for you and say 'Draco and Hogsmeade'?"

If possible, Harry became even redder.

"Woah, what's wrong, mate?" Ron plopped down next to his girlfriend, across from Harry. His hair was still damp from his shower, but he looked ready to go in his scarf and coat. He peered at Harry suspiciously. "Are you blushing?"

Harry shook his head furiously. "Of course –"

"—he is," Hermione finished for him, rolling her eyes. "He's worried about his date with Draco later."

"I am not!" Harry said automatically, before Hermione's words registered in his brain and he blinked at his two best friends. "You're not – err – coming with us?"

It was Ron's turn to roll his eyes and Hermione couldn't stop the giggle that slipped from her lips. "Oh, do try to sound a bit more disappointed!" she said, laughing with mirth.

Harry was starting to feel light-headed at the amount of blood that was rushing to his face at all the embarrassment. He chose to focus back on his tortured pancakes, poking at it and grumbling. "Sod it, 'Mione."

But deep inside, he felt a knot of unease straighten out in his stomach at the sound of Hermione's light laughter, at the fond smile that appeared on Ron's face as he gazed at his girlfriend lovingly, at the carefree atmosphere that enveloped him and his friends after so many years of being smothered with worry and fear, and… at the thought of an actual… date… with Draco.

Harry found, with a little bit of surprise, that he felt really, actually, happy.

He felt a smile slowly form on his face. "I'm not actually sure if Draco's going to be with his friends today," he said, catching the attention of his friends. He looked behind his shoulder, at the Slytherin table where Draco ate with Pansy and Blaise. He turned back to his friends and grinned nervously. "But I'm going to ask him."

Ron's nose scrunched up in obligatory but false disgust while Hermione tried to muffle her squeal with her two hands that she had slapped on her mouth.

"As if he'll refuse you," Ron sighed exasperatedly, shaking his head, but a grin was on his face.

"Well, go on, then," Hermione said, shooing him away with a motion of her hand. "You'll eat better and torture your pancakes less once you've gotten over those damned butterflies in your stomach."

Harry shook his head at his friends as he moved to stand up from his seat. "Alright, alright. Save me some of that tart, would you, Ron?"

"I don't make promises I can't keep, Harry."

"Git."

And so Harry went off to the Slytherin table, feeling that odd warmth spread all over him again when Draco spotted him and his face visibly brightened. As he neared, a space started to form on the bench between Draco and Blaise, but Harry quickly shook his head, smiling sheepishly.

"No, I'll be back to my breakfast in the Gryffindor's Table after this. It'll just take a moment," he said, and tried not to feel nervous. After having so boldly gone through that walk from the Gryffindor's Table to the Slytherin's with his goal in mind, it was silly that he would start to get cold feet now.

Cold hands actually, he thought, clasping them together to get warmth in them.

Draco's eyebrows furrowed together at his words and he stood up quickly. "Is there something wrong, Harry?" His mind zoomed through all the negative possibilities of what Harry was about to say.

Harry quickly dispelled his worry with a shake of his head and an amused smile. "No, nothing's wrong," he said, trying not to roll his eyes at how quickly Draco jumped to conclusions. You can't blame him though, he thought dryly. Sobering up, his smile turned sheepish once more. "Actually, ah, there is…"

Draco's eyes narrowed as the light around Harry turned black. His panicked concern disappeared to give way to a light suspicion. "What is it then?"

"I just wanted to ask you –"

Draco waited patiently, but kept his senses alert for any possible pranks. He was absolutely caught off-guard, however, at Harry's shy smile and his next words:

"—if you'd go on a date with me."

"Uh?" Draco said dumbly, eyes going wide as he stared at Harry and at the golden light around the boy. "…Date?"

Harry nodded, grin going wider at Draco's dumbfounded look. "Yes. Date. With me. To Hogsmeade. Later."

Behind him, Draco could faintly hear Pansy's muffled giggling and he could practically feel Blaise's smug smirk. He also tried very much to ignore the squeals from the other girls and the hoots that came from the boys who were eavesdropping in on them.

Draco couldn't help it though. He continued staring at Harry, at the radiant, gold light that surrounded the boy's body, and felt color bloom across his cheeks. "Date."

"You've broken him, Potter," Blaise drawled.

That snapped Draco out of his stupor enough for him to turn back and snap a "Shut up, Blaise." He shook his head, turning back to Harry, a fond smile on his face. He rolled his eyes. "I've no idea why you're suddenly asking me out, since it's already been written on stone that we are going together to Hogsmeade later," he said, trying to make light of the situation to ease some of his embarrassment and regain his composure.

Harry nodded, obliging him. "Yes, but we didn't talk about it being a date, and I'm asking you because I want it to be. A date." He knew he was being inarticulate again, as Draco called it, but couldn't quite care because that blush was back on Draco's cheeks with full force as well as that flabbergasted, dumbfounded look when Draco realized that Harry was actually serious about this, was actually serious about asking him this way even though he knew the answer was yes, and damn, would those blasted squealing and hooting behind him just shut up already because he was trying to concentrate.

Harry continued, tilting his head to the side to look at Pansy and Blaise behind the blond. He grinned at them. "And I'm also here to ask for your blessing so that I can have Draco to myself today."

Now Draco was sure he was going to faint from shock. Or have a seizure. Or burst an aneurysm.

Pansy grinned right back at Harry. "Please, Harry. Draco would cast Petrificus Totalus on us if we so much as plotted to get between you two. Which we aren't, by the way," she sweetly added when Draco whipped around to glare at her.

"Take him," Blaise sighed exaggeratedly. "He's been waiting seven years for this."

That had Draco letting out an undignified squeak, and he turned his glare on Blaise because no one was supposed to know about that, especially not the entirety of the Great Hall that was listening in on them right now.

"Thank you," Harry said brightly before Draco could say anything to his friends. "So, Draco?"

Draco's head whipped back to him, and he felt silly, whipping his head back and forth like that, and he was sure he had been looking like a gaping fish for the past minute or so now and that was totally not what a Malfoy should look like. Still, he couldn't do much of anything except to harrumph and grumble and sigh.

"Honestly, Harry," he said, shaking his head in defeated amusement. "I don't even know why you bothered asking. I wouldn't have settled for any other plan besides that anyway."

The grin on Harry's face was absolutely contagious. "Is that a yes, then?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, you insufferable prat —" Oh, he was really ignoring the cheers behind him. "Tell Granger and Weasley I'll hex them into oblivion if they interrupt our… date." The word still made his face color up, a fact not lost on Harry if the widening of his smile was anything to go by.

"After breakfast then."

Draco started to nod but was stopped halfway by the chorus of "Kiss! Kiss!" behind him. He immediately glared behind him and they immediately quieted down, but not without plastering on innocent faces. When he looked back at Harry though, he saw that the boy was also blushing now, which made him feel a lot better.

He chuckled to himself. Seven years, was it? He smiled warmly, a smile that was solely directed at and only seen by Harry Potter, whose breath hitched at the sight.

"After breakfast then."

"What's going on?" Neville asked as he sat down on the Gryffindor's Table across Ron and Hermione. He glanced at the half-eaten, beaten pancakes on the plate next to his and wondered who it belonged to. "Why's everyone gathering at the Slytherin's Table?"

"Harry's asking Draco out on a date," Hermione said, shoulders still shaking from her laughter.

Neville turned pink. "Wow, that's…" He glanced at the crowd, the corner of his lips turning up as the "Kiss! Kiss!" resounded in the Great Hall. "I'm happy for them."

"Me too, mate," Ron said through a mouthful of tart. He swallowed. "Although I'm thankful that the crowd's blocking my view of 'em, just in case they actually, you know, snog or something."

Hermione smacked his arm but with a smile. "Oh, Ron!"

Ron shrugged guiltlessly. He turned back to Neville, and finally got a good look at the boy, at the dark bags under his eyes and at his pale complexion. He narrowed his eyes. "I know you just got out of the Infirmary, mate, but you look like shite."

"Do I?" Neville asked, surprised. Then he just visibly wilted and sighed, playing with the hem of his robes nervously. "I didn't get enough sleep, honestly."

"Is there something bothering you?" Hermione asked worriedly. She took it upon herself to fill Neville's plate with pancakes, an action that got her a grateful smile.

"A few days ago," Neville started, his face going crimson. He looked at his plate, too shy to look at his friends who glanced at each other in confusion. "B… B…" He scrunched his nose up with the effort. Sighing loudly, he tried again. "Blaise asked me out to Hogsmeade," he blurted out quickly.

The tips of his ears were starting to color as well. He still wasn't comfortable talking about his… crush, but he reckoned all his friends already knew about Blaise's frequent visits to the Hospital Wing while he had been confined there.

Ron and Hermione started in surprise at the news. Hermione was the first to gain her composure, a bright smile adorning her face as she gushed, "That's great, Neville!"

To her even greater surprise, Neville morosely shook his head. "It was actually Parkinson who kind of, sort of did the asking? A-and I don't know, I feel bad because I don't think I'm the one he actually wants to go with? Or if he even remembers that day," he added quickly. With every word that spilled out of his lips, he seemed to depress himself more and more.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, both not knowing what to do, then looked back at their friend.

"Neville, I'm sure he remembers…" Hermione said, even though she was not. She frowned worriedly.

"Or," Ron said, nodding wisely. "Why don't you just ask him?"

Neville's horrified expression was his answer.

Ron quickly tried to undo the damage. "Or not! Right, bad idea. But! Like what 'Mione said, I'm pretty positive he remembers, mate. If not, you can just come with us."

Hermione's feet stepping on his under the table told him that he wasn't being all that comforting.

But at least Neville gave them a smile, albeit a small and rueful one. "Thanks, but no thanks. I wouldn't want to disrupt your holiday together." He sighed, deciding to finally dig in to his pancakes. "I was freaking out all night, and before I knew it, it was already four in the morning. Maybe I'll just go to the Greenhouse later. The Project's been a bit behind lately, you know?"

"You're not going to Hogsmeade, Nev?"

Harry's voice from behind him made Neville jump. He gave the other boy a smile. "Hullo, Harry."

Harry took the seat beside him and returned to eating the food that he had left, confirming to Neville as to who the owner of those poor pancakes was. What those pancakes did to deserve that treatment, Neville wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Ron and Hermione filled Harry in on what Neville had told them, with Neville going redder and redder as his problems came from the words and lips of someone else, making it sound even more ridiculous and embarrassing than he already thought they were.

"I'm sure he remembers," Harry said, but this time, unlike Hermione, he was very sure. He had been there during Blaise's visits in the Infirmary, and judging by the way that Blaise was always by Neville's bedside, those visits weren't because of Draco. "Especially since you two have been spending time together a lot lately."

Neville colored at that. "D'you reckon that maybe…" he started unsurely, looking miserable as he stared at Harry. "The reason why he's been visiting me is just because he feels guilty?"

And Harry was amazed as he realized that Neville probably really, really liked Blaise a lot, and that even though he had stood up to Alecto and Amycus Carrow for months, even though he had fought Death Eaters three to one, and even though he had decapitated Voldemort's giant snake with the Sword of Gryffindor, it was Blaise's rejection that absolutely terrified him.

It was with an assuring smile that Harry said softly, "No, Nev. I reckon not."

And it was then that Neville stood up just a little bit straighter and smiled gratefully at his friends.

Half an hour later, just as Harry shoved the last of his treacle tart in his mouth, Draco dutifully dropped by the Gryffindors' Table to fetch him, Pansy and Blaise in tow.

"Here I am, Harry, to sweep you off your feet as promised," Draco said, bowing at the waist and extending his arm with a flourish and a smirk.

Ron made gagging noises.

Harry rolled his eyes and then swallowed. "I was the one supposed to go get you though, since I'm the one who asked you out."

"You eat too slowly. I was getting tired of waiting," Draco promptly replied, to which Harry chuckled at.

"Alright, alright, I'm done." He laughed and stood up from the table, and then turned to grin at Ron and Hermione. "See you guys at Hogsmeade, yeah?"

Beside him, Neville was red, nodding to what Blaise had said, and affirming, "The Courtyard in thirty minutes. Got it."

"Surrounded by Hufflepuffs," Pansy muttered. "I suppose I'll have to go find my own date," she huffed, but the big grin on her face told everyone that she didn't mind it very much.

"Enjoy, guys," Hermione said, her smile mirroring Pansy's as she looked at the two couples. "You deserve the break."

Ron, Hermione and Neville had gone back to Gryffindor Tower to get what they needed for the day, while Blaise and Pansy went down to the Dungeons. Harry and Draco headed for the Hospital Wing and were the first to get ready.

They reached the outside grounds of the Castle, hand in hand, and smiled at the parade of students walking towards the Boathouses, armed with their scarves and mittens to protect them against the cold wind. Everything seemed so peaceful, so surreal, and it was hard to imagine that just a few months ago, this place had been a battlefield.

"Should we wait for them?" Harry asked, glancing back at the castle.

Draco squeezed his hand and promptly led him away. "No. Weren't you the one who said that you wanted to have me all to yourself today?" He sniffed haughtily, nose upturned in the air, but then he looked behind his shoulder, that rare, soft smile of his on his lips as he gazed at Harry. "It goes both ways."

And then Harry's breath left him then, and all he could do at that moment was follow Draco blindly and wonder in amazement, for the umpteenth time in the past few days, what he did to make Draco Malfoy fall in love with him.

"Where do you want to go first?" Harry asked as soon as they arrived in Hogsmeade. It was quite hard to think, not with Draco Malfoy holding your hand throughout the whole trip, and Harry was desperate for distractions, if only to stop himself from thinking too much about how warm Draco's hand felt and how clammy his own was.

Around them, the students were starting to pull on their mittens, readying themselves for the cold climate of Hogsmeade. It was only late October, and Hogwarts itself didn't even have snow yet, but trust Hogsmeade to always be covered in snow.

Harry gave a start when Draco unexpectedly let go of his hand.

Draco smirked at him amusedly as he pulled his mittens from the pockets of his robes. "You're a peculiar piece of work, Harry. Just a minute ago, your hands were trembling from all your nerves, and now I've let go of it, you look rather disappointed."

Harry's face burned red at having been found out. He ducked his head under the pretense of looking for his own mittens. "That's because I am disappointed, you git."

And it took Draco's breath away, just like it did every time Harry would do or say something like that, because it still surprised him every time he'd be reminded that after so many years of pining over something he thought was hopeless, this was really, really happening. He was going out with Harry Potter. Harry actually liked him back.

He stepped forward and stopped one of Harry's hands from their search for his mittens, closing his wool-covered fingers around a bony wrist.

Harry started in surprise, especially when Draco's other hand found his chin and lifted it up, forcing him to look at Draco's face and see the most brilliant smile there.

"I don't suppose this is the right thing to say, but I'm rather glad I've disappointed you," Draco said, before swooping in and planting his lips on top of Harry's, effectively shutting up whatever retort Harry had planned to say.

When they pulled apart, Harry's brain was too muddled to protest when Draco shoved his hands inside his robes, pulled out his mittens, and began putting them on Harry's hands, like a mother to her child.

Afterwards, Draco looked very proud of himself at Harry's still-glazed look, and took Harry's hand in his once more.

As he was pulled away from the boats towards the thatched cottages and shops of Hogsmeade, Harry managed to get his brain to work enough to sulk and mutter, "How'd you even know that my mittens were there?"

Draco's quiet laughter only served to add to his embarrassment.

Draco felt a bit silly for not wanting to let go of Harry's hand the whole time they traversed around Hogsmeade, especially since anyone who breathed thought it polite to stare as he and the Savior of the Wizarding World passed by. Skeeter would no doubt have the time of her life cackling in her office later. But – Draco thought, brightening up – judging by the way Harry's gloved fingers firmly held his, Harry didn't seem to care about any of the attention, and that's what warmed Draco's heart most.

The fact that Harry had asked him out on a date in front of everyone in the Great Hall, no matter if everyone already knew they were dating, was still something that Draco was having trouble wrapping his mind around. And now, outside the safety of Hogwarts, outside the loyalty of their fellow students, Harry was actually holding his hand and not caring about the stares and whispers of the shop-owners and residents of Hogsmeade.

Hogsmeade had a relatively small population, but no doubt, news of this would travel like Fiendfyre once the day was over.

And Harry, the one between the two of them who will no doubt be more affected by the rumors and speculations… Harry just merely held his hand and grinned at him and led him from shop after shop after shop and looked at him with those bright, green eyes and a fondness that Draco still didn't believe he deserved.

Draco's chest felt close to exploding.

He's been waiting seven years for this, Blaise had said.

Those seven years had been worth it.

Harry had no idea how one can be so horribly nervous and horribly in comfort at the same time. For one, he could feel the butterflies in his stomach threatening to go up and clog his throat every time Draco did something like squeeze his hand or rub circles on his palm with his thumb or smirk at him or say something funny, but at the same time he felt completely at ease, shoulders light and heart light, with no sense of awkwardness at all.

If there was awkwardness, then it was the good kind of awkward, the awkward that was the product of Draco casually slipping sexual innuendos in their conversations and plastering an exaggeratingly innocent face whenever Harry would jokingly glare at him.

They went window shopping first, having nothing in mind to buy. They conversed about the products they saw, about quills and scrolls and cauldrons, about what they usually preferred to use. It was this kind of small talk that left Harry full to the brim with a sense of contentment. To think that he could experience this now: a date in Hogsmeade with none other than Draco Malfoy…

He couldn't help the happy grin that kept itself plastered on his face nor the tightening of his fingers around the ones holding his.

After passing by Spintwitches and looking at the Quidditch brooms they had on display, Harry was surprised when Draco suddenly asked, "Do you have any plans for Christmas, Harry?"

It struck Harry then that he had absolutely no idea what he wanted to do for Christmas.

There was the Burrow, of course, but…

"I think…" he started, looking back at the castle looming in the distance. "I'll probably stay at Hogwarts."

His answer surprised Draco enough that the blond stopped walking and just stared at him.

"I had thought you'd be with the Weasleys," Draco said, incredulous.

Harry shrugged sheepishly. "It's their first Christmas without Dark Lords looming over their heads, and I think they need that time to, you know, mourn as a family for loved ones lost…"

Draco realized then that Harry still didn't believe that he was already considered part of the Weasley family. He could understand that though. There was just something about blood that made you feel like you belonged… His mood soured as he was abruptly reminded of his father. Blood that made you feel like you had to earn that sense of belonging.

"Can I stay with you?" he said suddenly, trying to get rid of the heavy feeling that had pierced the light atmosphere. He had actually wanted to invite Harry to the Manor but didn't think Harry would fancy going there, even if Lucius was locked up in Azkaban.

He was surprised when he was suddenly hugged very tightly by a giddy Harry.

Beside his ear, Harry whispered with a breathless laugh, "I kind of want to kiss you right now but your mother might not appreciate a picture of that in the Daily Prophet tomorrow."

And then Draco was laughing happily as well, at the thought of what expression his mother might make, and at how easily Harry turned his bad mood completely upright again with just a hug and the right words.

After they had circled the town and been to every store that interested them, they found themselves at the edge of Hogsmeade, where the Shrieking Shack lay looming in the distance.

A gloom broke through the haze of contentment surrounding Harry then, as he remembered quite suddenly Snape's words from a few days ago.

"Do you have any idea, Mr. Potter, of what memories the Shrieking Shack holds for Draco?!"

A knot formed in his throat, and he was pretty sure it wasn't the butterflies' fault this time. He tugged at Draco's hand, leading him away. "Let's go find some place to sit."

He was surprised when Draco pulled him back and began leading him towards the Shrieking Shack, oblivious to Harry's mental turmoil. "That tree looks splendid. I don't know about you, Harry, but there are just so many gawking people a wizard can see in a day. Let's take a break from the crowd for a while."

Harry could understand that. He himself was getting a bit tired from the stares and muffled squeals and the occasional request for autographs. His heart still felt heavy though, a stark contrast from how happy he felt just a few minutes ago.

"Draco, is it… is it alright if we're near the Shrieking Shack?" he asked, just as they arrived to their destination: an old, thin, leafless tree near the rickety fence surrounding the Shack.

Draco cast Warming Charms and Anti-Melting Charms on the snow before sitting himself on the ground and glancing at Harry in confusion. "Why wouldn't it be alright?"

Harry glanced at the Shack, at its haunting presence in the distance, and remembered the accusation and panic that colored Snape's exclamation back then. What had happened to Draco in the Shrieking Shack?

Apparently, he had stared at the Shack long enough that Draco had to clear his throat just to get his attention back. Harry smiled sheepishly at Draco's impatient expression, at his raised eyebrow and at how he patted the spot next to him.

Harry sat himself down and told him of what happened the other day with Snape. When he finished, he looked at Draco apologetically, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken you there."

Draco had listened patiently and obligingly, heart full with adoration and fondness for the man in front of him as the story connected in his head, and, as the one who knew best of this boy's hero and persecution complex, had expected that Harry would be saying that. He rolled his eyes, grinning. "Aren't you forgetting that it was I who wanted to go with you?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I just pulled you along –"

Draco happily kissed him.

"Right," Draco said afterwards, licking his lips. "You were saying?"

Harry flushed heavily. "There are other ways to shut me up, you know," he muttered.

Draco's eyes sparkled and his lips curled up into a gleeful smirk. "I know, but we've only been going out for a few days, Harry. Are you trying to tell me that you're ready for that part of the relationship already? I certainly don't mind, no, not at all."

Harry let out an agonized groan and let his head fall onto Draco's shoulder in defeat. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?" he grumbled, but his shoulders shook with quiet laughter.

Draco settled back against the tree trunk, resting his head on top of Harry's and smiling. He arranged his arm so that it wound around Harry's waist, and that action in turn had Harry sidling up closer against him to get both of them into a more comfortable position.

Harry cast a Disillusionment Charm around them because the thought of giving Skeeter a field day didn't sit very well with him.

And then he relaxed and sighed happily.

Draco still didn't know what he did in his past lives to deserve Harry Potter leaning against him and sighing happily, but he wanted very much to get a Time Turner, thank all of his past selves one by one, tell them what remarkably good jobs they were doing with their lives, and that they should carry on.

He looked towards the Shrieking Shack and thought about his arm where the Dark Mark once rested – the arm that was now wound around Harry's waist.

He took a deep breath. "At the moment you killed… Voldemort, Harry –" Harry nuzzled his shoulder to congratulate him for saying the name. "—I was at the Shrieking Shack. You do know that when he died, all of his Dark Marks disappeared with him."

Harry nodded. He'd heard about it from Remus, who knew about it from Snape. He looked up at Draco, at the faraway look on those eyes, and wondered what sort of memories Draco was sifting through to tell this tale.

Draco continued. "It was the most excruciating pain that I have ever felt in my life. More painful than Crucio. And I've been under Crucio way too many times so I'd know." He chuckled bitterly. Harry frowned. "It was like something slithering under your skin, something with a lot of claws slicing and ripping its way out through your arm, making you wish you could just cut your bloody arm off, but… with all the pain, you couldn't even move to get your wand or a knife or something sharp because all you could do was scream and convulse on the floor."

It was hard to focus on the memory of the pain though, not when Harry curled his own arm around Draco's waist and just kind of side-hugged him. Draco smiled slightly and buried his nose in Harry's hair. "But you know what? I'd go through that pain again and again if I had to, if it meant getting rid of what connected me and Voldemort."

Harry thought then of what Draco might think if he found out that Harry had carried a piece of Voldemort's soul within him for seventeen years. But Harry would tell that story another day. Right now, he was hugging Draco and murmuring against his shoulder, "Thank you for telling me."

Draco cupped Harry's cheek with his free arm and gently lifted his face up so that they could look at each other.

"About what Severus said… The Shrieking Shack does hold painful memories for me, but they also hold the memory of when I was finally free of Voldemort's grip. That day when you 'pulled me along' there made me incredibly happy, because you didn't pull Weasley or Granger." Draco grinned brightly. "You pulled me, without even thinking about it, and you know how terribly vain I am, Harry. I always want it to be about me," he joked and was rewarded with a laugh.

"I'll keep that in mind." Harry rolled his eyes.

He shone gold, and that, despite his joking sarcasm, made Draco warm all over.

"Good," he said, his grin turning wicked. "Now what were you saying about the other ways to shut you up?"

Harry pinched the side of his stomach.

Needless to say, they didn't get a lot of shopping done that day. More time was spent on the outskirts of Hogsmeade than Hogsmeade itself, because it was there that they could fool around and shove snow up each other's faces and give each other surprise kisses afterwards without anyone seeing or bothering them.

They were exhausted and breathless with laughter by the time afternoon came. It occurred to Harry how similar they were concerning intimacy when their stomachs complained about not having lunch yet and, instead of asking him to The Three Broomsticks, Draco motioned for the Shack with his nose.

Harry was pleasantly surprised when Draco said with a smile, "Lunch in Hogwarts? We can go back here later if you want, but for lunch, I think I prefer the quiet and warmth of the Great Hall."

Harry took hold of his hand. "You're good at reading my mind. I think I'll keep you."

He was rewarded by the darkening of the already present blush on Draco's cheeks.

Half an hour after Harry and Draco left for Hogsmeade, Blaise and Neville met up at the Entrance Courtyard of Hogwarts.

Neville looked behind him confusedly. "P-Parkinson's really not going with us? Who is she going with?"

Blaise actually had no idea who Pansy was going with to Hogsmeade. Or if she had planned to go to Hogsmeade at all. All he knew was that she wasn't going to go with them even if he begged her to – and he wouldn't.

He had decided: he was going to court Neville Longbottom.

"I'm not sure who she's going with, but no, she's not going with us," Blaise said, flashing his most charming smile. "She knows we're on a date."

The way that Neville's face colored up and the fact that he didn't say anything to refute the 'date' comment pulled Blaise's courage upwards by a big margin.

Neville had actually expected the boat ride to be enveloped in awkward silence, since, you know, he was the most horribly awkward person probably ever, especially in front of the people he really, really, really liked.

To his surprise, he and Blaise engaged in an actually Meaningful Conversation about the Charms that pulled the boats along. Of course, they had engaged in Meaningful Conversations numerous times in the past few days, but those 'numerous times' absolutely paled in comparison if one thought of the fact that out of the eight years they had known each other, it was only in the eighth year that they actually started to talk tothe other.

And Blaise had called this a date.

Neville was sure that the Universe was wired in a way that necessitated a series of unfortunate events to befall him for every single fortunate event that happened, so he was actually waiting for frogs to appear out of nowhere, jump on his head, and smear sticky slime all over his hair.

As the boat neared its destination, Blaise asked him curiously, "What were you looking for in the water?"

Neville laughed nervously. "Nothing."

They went to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop first to stock up on new nibs and ink. Neville bought a scarlet quill (Such a Gryffindor.) while Blaise bought a grey one. Blaise found out that Neville preferred using eagle-feather quills because the shaft was sturdier than pheasant-feathers, which was what Blaise preferred because it was more flexible. He wondered, amusedly, what that said about their personalities.

Afterwards, they went to Potage's Cauldron Shop since Blaise wanted to buy a new, silver cauldron since the one he had in the Dungeons already had cracks by the edges. Neville admired him for being so passionate about Potions, even if just the mere thought of the subject itself gave Neville horrible shivers.

When Blaise had asked Neville where he wanted to go next, he had expected that Neville would want to go to Dogweed and Deathcap, the local Herbology shop. To his surprise, Neville sheepishly said, "Can… Can we go to Honeydukes now?"

And it was adorable how Neville said it, as if it was already a known fact that they were going to go Honeydukes anyway and he just wanted to go there now.

Blaise grinned. "Of course."

Neville bought at least ten boxes of chocolate frogs. Blaise knew that the boy had an unhealthy obsession with frogs but didn't know that it encompassed even his taste for sweets. When Neville wasn't looking, Blaise grabbed another ten and paid for it quickly. At least he knew what kind of chocolates Neville liked now. This knowledge would serve him well.

They kept their stomachs sated with some of the candy they bought when lunch rolled around and spent the remaining afternoon going through the various shops and just basically familiarizing themselves with the likes and dislikes of the other. When they passed Dominic Maestro's, Neville noticed Blaise staring just a bit too thoughtfully at one of the violins on sale.

He wondered if Blaise played the instrument. It certainly wouldn't be a surprise, considering those long fingers. And Blaise seemed like the violin type, graceful and disciplined…

Blaise turned to him and blinked. "Are you alright? You're awfully red." He frowned. "Maybe we shouldn't have gone out."

He unwound his scarf from around his neck and moved forward to put it around Neville's.

On impulse, Neville took a step back. A horrible feeling came upon him then as he realized what he had done and when he saw Blaise's dumbfounded and hurt expression. Blaise must think him weird now or must think that Neville was scared of him or disliked him or…

Panicking, he forced his mouth to move. "I-I-I, uhm, sorry, uhm –"

Blaise cut him off with a gentle smile and a shake of his head. "It's alright. It's fine, Longbottom," he said, but Neville felt it. The change in the atmosphere. It wasn't fine.

"I think we should get back," Blaise said, putting his scarf around his neck once more. When he looked back up, Neville could actually see the Slytherin mask that had been absent for a few days now forming back into place.

His heart twisted.

And to think the day was going so well…

"I really should have thought that you had just gotten out of the Infirmary," Blaise said, shaking his head with a rueful sigh as he started to walk towards the edge of Hogsmeade that would lead them towards the boats of Hogwarts. "I'm sorry. The cold must already be getting to you."

It was now. Neville felt numb. His feet moved forward even as his eyes and shoulders fell downcast. "N-no… No, it's fine," he murmured, all past insecurities rearing their ugly heads once again and crawling to him. He tried to look at the bright side and smiled a bit. "Thank you for asking me out though… even if it was a last resort thing."

"Thank you for asking me out though… even if it was a last resort thing."

Blaise had a sneaking suspicion that that sentence meant a lot more than it sounded. He still smarted from earlier, when Neville had stepped back from him as if on automatic. He thought that maybe Neville wasn't quite ready for this yet; maybe he was in too over his head to think of asking Neville out now…

When they reached the trees that surrounded the lake, Blaise turned back to Neville.

"Longbottom, are you… are you sure you're alright?"

Neville blinked at him, confused. "Yes, I'm sure."

Blaise shook his head. "No, I mean… with Carrow and…" He didn't know if this was safe ground to tread on, but he really was concerned about this: "The Amortentia incident…"

As expected, Neville's face slowly colored red up to the tip of his ears.

"M-madame Pomfrey healed me j-just f-fine," Neville muttered, eyes fixed on the ground near Blaise's boots. He took a deep breath and tried to stop his mouth from stuttering the next words out. "A-as for the… A… Amortentia incident, it's f… Fine. I'm just… I'm just really guilty about it, since… since Harry really l… likes Draco and I feel bad about, well, uhm, everything."

Out of everything that Neville said, the first thing that Blaise zeroed in on was that Neville called Draco by his first name. And that he was jealous. Even though Neville calls him by his first name as well. Blaise almost wanted to laugh at that. He was jealous. Of Draco. Even though he was absolutely positive that no earthly or unearthly force could make Draco fall in love with anyone other than Harry Potter. And he was also pretty sure that Neville didn't see Draco that way.

The second thing was the realization of Neville really thinking so little of himself that he was feeling bad about something that wasn't even his fault.

Lastly, the third thing was the word like, because it suddenly reminded him of something that once nagged at his brain for endless hours right after it had happened: Neville saying "I can't even talkto the person I like without stuttering."

He suddenly felt that that was very, very important right now. "And you like someone else too?"

Neville blinked at him rapidly, an almost mortified expression slowly appearing on his face as he realized where this conversation was leading to.

Blaise pushed on though. He felt as if he didn't get his answer now, he never would. "Back then, you said that you couldn't even talk to the person you liked without…"

It hit him.

Like a hippogriff kicking him with its hind legs. Like Finnigan's cauldron blowing up in his face.

It hit him that Pansy was right and the Potions book was right and he didn't botch up his Love Potion and that he should start to worship the ground that Professor Snape walked on for making them read that bloody Introduction.

Because all this time they've been talking today, Neville's been stuttering the whole time, and That… That is one big confidence boost, Blaise thought, his earlier sour mood going away completely to give way for something exhilarated and absolutely ecstatic.

He almost didn't feel guilty at the terrified expression on Neville's face right now. He was that happy.

He felt like his face was about to crack in two at the width of his smile.

"I hope you don't mind, Longbottom," he said smoothly, stepping forward. This time, he was prepared when Neville stepped back. He was undeterred. "But I want to ask you for the permission to court you."

Neville's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. His jaw dropped, and he looked at Blaise incredulously. "W-w-w-what?! B-but, but…" He looked lost. "But I'm not a, a, a girl…"

To Blaise, it sounded more of a defense mechanism than an actual issue. He chuckled. "Yes, well, I reckon that courting girls and blokes aren't very different if I can do things for them to make them happy." He sobered up, and looked at Neville earnestly. "You're the one I want to make happy and I wish to learn how to go about doing this very much, if you'll let me."

Neville's face started to pale. "Is this… Is this about the Introduction that Professor Snape made us read? Because… Because you must've already realized why your Potion didn't work on me –" He sounded as if he was panicking, looking at Blaise with such miserable eyes, as if pleading him not to go on.

The consistently negative responses Blaise was getting had his nerves slowly coming back to him, nudging at his Slytherin sense of self-preservation, but no. This was it. The moment of truth. He knew that Neville fancied him now. The next step was to get him to say it. It was now or never.

Blaise took another step forward. "Was that because you like me?" he asked softly.

Neville looked like he didn't want to answer. "…Yes," he said, eyes darting to the side. "Yes, I do, so this isn't very funny."

Blaise's heart twisted. The boy actually thought he was being made fun of. He darted forward, took hold of Neville's wrist with one hand and his chin with the other. He raised Neville's face up, making those eyes meet his. His voice when he spoke was gentle. "I'm not joking anyway, so that's fine. I'll make you believe me, Neville. I swear I will."

That was the first time he had called Neville by his first name and it felt good. What felt better was the way that Neville's eyes widened, but this time Blaise didn't see fear. He saw hope, and that… That gave him hope as well.

The color was coming back to Neville's face now, pink starting to color his cheeks. He looked away, moving back from Blaise's touch because it made him feel funny things and his heart was beating wildly and he was actually starting to feel dizzy from all the blood rushing to his head. "All this talk about courting me…" he muttered despairingly. "This awfully sounds like I'm the girl."

Blaise laughed amusedly. Neville's heart skipped because it wasn't every day that you heard Blaise Zabini laugh openly like that.

"I hope you're not worried about that. I'm not. On the contrary," Blaise murmured, laying a hand against Neville's chest and pushing at it gently until he had Neville against a tree trunk. He smiled fondly. "I'm well aware that you're a man."

It was around this time that Neville's brain short-circuited and refused to function properly anymore. And Neville's face seemed to have forgotten that it was impossible for a human face to be so hot like that (because Blaise Zabini! Pushing him against a tree! Blaise Zabini! A tree!) and Neville hoped that Blaise would just write it off as the cold but of course that was improbable, so he settled for doing instead what he'd been wanting to do for the past ten minutes: He crumpled into a crouch and buried his face in his lap.

"Don't do that!" he moaned pitifully.

Blaise's laughter was light and resounding.

He sat down on the snow in front of Neville and felt as if someone had just taken an anchor out of his heart. "Can I hold your hand instead?"

A few moments, moments that started to become slightly agonizing as the seconds ticked by, passed and Blaise actually thought that Neville wouldn't agree. But then slowly…

With his face still buried in his lap, Neville stretched out his arm and extended his hand.

Blaise intertwined his fingers with Neville's, feeling so happy that it almost made him want to cry.

And until the other students started to come and look for the boats, there they stayed – looking like idiots sitting on the snow and holding hands, Neville hiding his red face on his lap and Blaise just watching him with warmth in his eyes, in his hand, and in his heart.

As it turned out, Harry and Draco didn't return to Hogsmeade anymore after they had their late lunch. They stayed by the Stone Circle for the rest of the afternoon, leaning against one of the gigantic stones and against each other as they stared at a view that included Hagrid's Hut. As the sun slowly descended in the horizon, they shared stories about themselves.

Harry finally told him all about the Chamber of Secrets and what had transpired during their second year, including how he and Ron had Polyjuiced themselves as Crabbe and Goyle to sneak into the Dungeons and talk to Draco. He said it with such a self-satisfied grin on his face that Draco had to playfully box him on the ears.

"Honestly, Harry, stalking me since second year, I see. You really didn't realize by then that you fancied me?" Draco teased.

In Draco's part, he talked about how Hermione really did break his nose when she punched him during third year in the same spot he and Harry were sitting on now. And that Buckbeak really did break his arm. And that the execution of Buckbeak had really been his father's idea.

"Now that I know you better, that makes more sense," Harry said, smiling brilliantly. "You wouldn't have the heart to do that. Actually, I can see you having a hidden soft spot for animals."

Draco looked stricken. "Merlin, Harry, don't make me sound like a Hufflepuff. I'm a mean cockroach killer."

Harry laughed, and they continued for the rest of the afternoon like that – happy, comfortable, contented.

Looking out from the top of the Owlery, Pansy smiled wistfully at the image the two boys at the Stone Circle made.

This was probably the best Hogsmeade weekend ever – and she didn't even need to go there.

Chapter Text

The next day during breakfast, McGonagall gave them all a joyful announcement: The Quidditch season had begun.

For the rest of the day, the whole school was abuzz with excitement. The season had started later than usual this year because of the repairs that the Quidditch pitch had gone through after being so badly damaged during the war. The charms had to be redone from scratch, and the pitch couldn't be used until late September. That was the only time that the teams were allowed to train, so instead of the Quidditch season starting in mid-October, the first game was to be held on Halloween, six days from now.

Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw.

"Come on, Ginny, you gotta tell me what the team's got this year," Ron was begging.

Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother's antics and got herself a bowl of pumpkin soup as it appeared on the Gryffindor table. "No," she said determinedly. "As of today, you still haven't told me if you're joining the team, so you're not yet part of it. Yet. It's up to you. What goes on in the team stays in the team, unless we reveal it in the pitch. You know that." She looked at Ron pointedly.

Ron's shoulders fell and he glared at Ginny sulkily.

Harry patted him on the back comfortingly, before turning to Ginny. "Wouldn't it be unfair if we just suddenly got accepted into the team?"

"Probably," Ginny shrugged, an unapologetic grin on her face. "But as I've told you before, we are a bit short on players. Plus, I'm sure the team would be ecstatic to have you two, you know, since you're saviors of the wizarding world and all."

Ron perked up, and he looked pleased with himself. "See, Harry? We should totally join the team! Gin said they'd be ecstatic to have us!"

Hermione elbowed him in the gut. "Ronald! Be more mature about this."

Ginny ignored the lovers' quarrel and glanced at Harry expectantly. "Do you still want to play, Harry?"

Harry considered his thoughts and words carefully. He did want to play, since this was his last year in Hogwarts and all… but at the same time, he also wanted to shy away from the expectations of everyone. The expectation that had been weighing him down since he first found out about magic and wizards and his scar and He Who Must Not Be Named. He'd had too much of that for the past seven years.

He smiled apologetically at Ginny. "I want to think about it some more. Maybe watching your first game might shed some light."

He thought that he saw Ginny actually look disappointed, but that thought was gone as soon as Ginny nodded and looked away from him.

"Okay, Harry. You know where to find me."

The knock on the door made Snape's already present scowl deepen. He had a persisting headache that wouldn't go away ever since he started performing Legilimency on Bridgewood – a feat that was harder than he thought it would be.

He had imagined that the thoughts of someone as simple-minded as Bridgewood would be easy to sift through, but the repetitive Imperius that had been cast upon her again and again made her memories jumbled and intertwined with each other in points that made it hard for each memory to be distinguishable. Needless to say, he wasn't in the best of moods right now.

"What is it?!" he snapped.

He almost regretted his tone when the door opened and in came Remus Lupin. Almost. His bad mood didn't have room for considering other people's feelings at the moment. Thankfully, Lupin didn't seem bothered if his easy smile as he walked into the room was anything to go by.

"I bought you some healing potions for that headache of yours," he said good-naturedly.

Snape waved his hand dismissively, going back to concentrate on his notes about Bridgewood's memories. "Put it on the table."

"It would help if you drink it now," Remus suggested.

Snape was about to retort something like I believe I can decide on my own when I want to drink it but Remus had expected something of that sort so he cut in before Snape opened his mouth.

"Please, Severus."

Remus knew that Snape wasn't a bad man; he just had a nasty temper. So he knew that Snape wouldn't refuse if he said please. There would still be the obligatory verbal lashing, of course, but that would be a small price to pay if he could give Snape peace of mind after all his hard, tiring work.

But when the obligatory verbal lashing didn't come, just Snape pausing over his notes and rubbing his temples and sighing exasperatedly, Remus was caught off guard.

"Very well," Snape said, standing up from behind his desk to meet Remus halfway in the middle of the room. He accepted the three vials that was presented to him and raised one up to level with his eyes so that he could peer closer at its translucent light blue color. "Did Pomfrey give you this?"

Remus shook his head. "I made it."

Snape blinked, obviously surprised. He opened his mouth, and Remus prepared himself for a sharp retort and was confounded – again – when Snape merely closed his mouth.

Snape looked at the vial again. "I see," he said.

And Remus stared as the man uncorked the bottle and downed it in one go without so much as a thought if the concoction might kill him or poison him or give him a bad case of diarrhea.

Of course, getting Snape to drink it was the goal all along, but he hadn't expected it to be this easy…

Snape licked his lips, blinking as the throbbing in his head immediately and noticeably began to recede. "This is… efficiently quick. What potion is this?"

Remus shrugged. "I fashioned it after the traditional Healing Draught but made a few tweaks over the years I've spent making it. It's what keeps me functioning after the full moon. Doesn't help much with physical fatigue but it works wonders for headaches and migraines, if I do say so myself," he said, lips quirking up in a smile at the dumbfounded surprise on Snape's face. "Don't look so surprised, Severus. I did get an O during Potions as a student."

Snape wiped the expression off his face and returned the scowl back, but it was of a lesser degree now. He shook his head. "I know you did, Remus. We were classmates." He turned back to his desk and placed the vials there. "What I'm amazed about is how quick this potion is. A far cry from the reaction time of the traditional Healing Draught. You must have been making this for a long time."

Remus nodded, helping himself to one of the chairs at the side of the room. "I've been making Healing Draughts since I was a child. It's a bit of a necessity, you see."

Snape, aware that Remus was referring to his condition as a werewolf, quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, I see."

"It's my thank you," Remus continued, smiling lightly. "For the chocolate the other day."

Snape nodded, sighing. "I should have expected that a Gryffindor such as you would feel indebted for an action as trivial as that."

Remus chuckled. "It wasn't trivial though," he said. At least, not for me, he thought, heart clenching. He shook his head to clear it of morose thoughts. "But I did have one more agenda in coming to you this afternoon."

Snape leaned back against the edge of his desk and crossed his arms, waiting patiently.

"I'm sure you've already told Harry what transpired between us and Firenze the other day, but did that include what Firenze said about what Carrow's looking for?"

Snape tried to remember Firenze's exact words and his mouth straightened into a grim line.

"He seeks what he believes the Potter boy knows. The Potter boy does not have what Carrow seeks. Not anymore."

"No," he said finally, closing his eyes and sighing once more. "Minerva thought it would be prudent to keep that from Potter. If he doesn't have what Carrow seeks anymore, then there is no need to include him any further in this mess. That's what Minerva said."

He waited for Remus' frown to appear – as expected – as the words sank in, before continuing.

"I agree because if Potter knew, then no doubt his Gryffindor idiocy would lead him to offer himself as bait for Carrow." He snorted.

Remus' lips had to quirk up at that one. It was true. Harry did have that 'Gryffindor idiocy', as Snape had put it.

"But," Snape said, cutting off Remus' thoughts. He looked at the other man seriously. "I disagree because I believe that telling Potter what Firenze said might lead us to information or clues that may shed light on what it is that Carrow wants."

Remus held his stare, feeling the gravity of the situation weigh down on him once again. He broke the gaze and sighed. "I had figured you would say that, and…" he said, smiling ruefully. "I agree with you, Severus."

He took a moment to appreciate the surprise that flitted across Snape's face for the second time.

"That's what I came here for. To know if I need to tell Harry on my own if you hadn't. Minerva always did have a soft spot for her students," he said, chuckling. He stood up and directed his smile to Snape. "If you're feeling better and would like a distraction from Professor Bridgewood's thoughts, would you like to accompany me?"

Snape rolled his eyes at his formality, already pushing away from his desk. "You know the answer to that, Remus. I'll take whatever refuge I can get from getting involved with Bridgewood any more than necessary."

Remus laughed lightly as they walked towards the door. "Honestly, Severus. She's a very nice woman once you get to know her."

"I'd rather not."

"You have got to tell me what happened!" Pansy gushed out desperately as she turned her gaze from Blaise's happy, soppy smile beside her to Neville's fidgeting and shifting form at the Gryffindor's Table. "It's driving me nuts! Longbottom's been stealing glances at you the whole morning, but not really stealing glances because he'd snap his eyes back to his plate as soon as it reaches the Ravenclaws! As if there's a barrier keeping him for looking farther! At our table! And YOU!" She pointed a finger at Blaise accusingly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she hissed: "Your grin is big enough to swallow a hippogriff whole! As if you don't care that Longbottom's practically wetting himself two tables away!"

Blaise waved Pansy's accusation off and tried to keep the edges of his lips down. It wasn't working. "Oh, calm down, Pansy. That's not terribly good for your blood pressure."

He ignored Pansy's exclamation of "YOU'RE not good for my blood pressure!" and continued. "And Neville isn't wetting himself –"

Pansy's eyes narrowed once more as her ears perked up. "It's Neville now, is it?"

Blaise ignored that as well. "And he's not Not Looking at me because he doesn't want to look at me. He's Not Looking at me because he wants to look at me, and it was only yesterday that I learned to tell the difference."

In front of him, Draco snorted around his cup of tea. "And you certainly aren't holding back Looking at him today," he commented, a pleased smirk forming on his face. "I have never seen you so blatantly and obviously ogle at the Gryffindor's Table like that."

Blaise tore his gaze away from the Gryffindors, realizing abruptly that Draco was right. "I learned it from you," he said and felt vindicated at Draco's embarrassed squeak.

"Was I this worse?" Draco muttered to Pansy, sniffing haughtily in the air.

That had Pansy snorting out a very unladylike chortle. "Please, darling. You were worse."

Blaise's smug expression at Draco's scowl did not last long when Pansy rounded on him once more.

"So?" Pansy cut in impatiently, steering the conversation back to the important stuff. She grabbed on to Blaise's arms and put on the best puppy eyes she could manage. "Just remember what I've done for you, Blaise. I landed you that Hogsmeade date. I call upon your pure-blood wizarding sense for wizard debts to repay me."

Draco shook his head despairingly. Pansy was acting very un-Slytherin like, begging like that. That must mean the girl was starting to become desperate.

"My pure blood tells me that it's not a wizarding debt as landing a Hogsmeade date with Neville doesn't equate to a life or death situation," Blaise said, one eyebrow raised.

Pansy pulled back, a mock-hurt expression on her face that Blaise and Draco just snorted at.

In all honesty, she wasn't that worried about what had transpired yesterday in Hogsmeade between Blaise and Neville Longbottom. Judging from her friend's high spirits and the fond smile that would catch on his face when he'd think that no one was looking, she knew that what had happened had been major and the good kind.

And the fact that Blaise actually thought it important enough to keep it private, to treasure it on his own… it warmed her heart.

…But not enough to respect Blaise's want for and right to privacy. She did live for gossip after all, and she really was the one that landed him that Hogsmeade date…

"If you don't narrate to me in explicit detail what transpired between you and Longbottom yesterday, Blaise, I swear to Merlin that I'll tell him about that time…"

As Blaise turned red and spluttered, Draco's lips curled into a smile around the edge of his cup. Now Pansy was acting like a Slytherin.

After breakfast, Harry trotted over to the Slytherin table and waved his good morning to Pansy and Blaise.

Draco welcomed him with a warm smile that he readily returned.

"I'm going to the Infirmary to have a lie down for a bit. You can stay here if you want to," Harry said. "I just thought I'd come and tell you."

Draco promptly and gracefully stood up from his seat. He placed a hand across his chest and gave a gasp of mock-surprise. "Me? Refuse the combination of Harry Potter and a bed on a fine, Sunday morning? Never!"

Harry turned red at the squeals and howls that resounded from their ever present audience whenever they were in the Great Hall. "Git," he said, chuckling when Draco neared him and, with a self-satisfied grin, led him away by the hand.

"Mm-hmm," Draco agreed. "Always did live to torment you."

When they reached the Hospital Wing, they were surprised to see Remus and Snape waiting for them. They immediately knew that something was wrong.

Remus couldn't help his amusement at the sudden seriousness in their faces. "Don't look like that, boys."

Harry immediately came to his side, eyebrows furrowed in worry. "Is there something wrong, Remus?"

Remus shook his head and beckoned for them to sit down on their beds. "Not really wrong." In Draco's eyes, he flickered black. "We just wanted to talk to you."

Harry followed Remus' suggestion and hopped on his bed, curling his legs beneath him to get into an Indian sit. Draco, however, stayed standing.

"Wait a minute, Professor," he cut in, eyes wary and cautious as he glanced at his godfather. "You said that we weren't allowed to be involved with Carrow anymore." For Harry's sake, he thought and knew that his godfather had gotten the message.

However, the pressing tightly of lips in a thin line was his only answer.

Remus nodded, his face showing that he was approving of Draco's quick perception. That expression easily gave way, though, for something more apologetic. "Yes, but I'm afraid that Harry might hold some clues to finding Carrow. Clues that we otherwise would not be able to get on our own."

Harry reached out and laid a gentle hand on Draco's shoulder, pulling him slightly backwards. When Draco looked back at him in question, he patted the spot next to him in reply.

Draco looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better about it and bit his lip. He sighed, shook his head, and sat down beside Harry.

Harry smiled at him gratefully before turning back to Remus. "What do you need?"

Remus and Snape looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them, before Remus nodded decisively and related to the two boys what Firenze had said about what Carrow was trying to get from Harry.

Harry was blinking in confusion when they were done. "Something that I used to have?"

Remus shook his head. "Firenze used the word know. Carrow wants what he believes you know."

"What he believes," Draco pointed out, eyebrows furrowed in thought. "So what he believes may be true or not. Harry may or may not know at all."

Snape nodded at him, and if one looked closer, one may even think that he looked proud.

"That's not very helpful," Harry said, frowning. He leaned his elbow on his thigh and his chin on his upturned palm. "Something I know…"

"Something that only you know," Remus suggested.

That had Harry frowning deeper as he searched his brain for answers. The things that only he knew were dark, dark things… Horcruxes, whispered his memories. Voldemort's soul ripped into seven pieces, seven murders. The Deathly Hallows. The Invisibility Cloak. The Elder Wand. The Resurrection Stone. Him, the last horcrux.

It could be any of those. None of those. All of those.

Harry couldn't suppress the shudder that racked through his body. He was sure then that whatever Carrow wanted… he wasn't supposed to get.

This time, it was Draco who placed a hand on his shoulder. "You okay, Harry?" he asked softly.

Harry smiled at him gratefully, before turning back to his professors. "I don't know where to start," he admitted. And I'm not sure what I can tell you, he thought grimly. "Can I…" He paused, looking at Draco and grimacing because he knew that Draco wouldn't be happy with him. He sighed and pushed on. "Can I ask how the search on Carrow is going? Or what you've learned from Professor Bridgewood? What about Alecto Carrow?"

He was right. Draco didn't look like he was very happy, scowling like that. But Draco knew what Harry was getting at and why he needed to get at it. He gave Harry a look that told him that they were going to talk about this later, which Harry just smiled sheepishly at. Draco sighed exasperatedly. "What Harry means, Professors, is that you might know something that might help Harry know what he supposedly knows."

Snape and Remus shared another look, one that stretched for seconds and included the deepening of frowns and eyebrows twitching.

"Minerva won't be pleased," Snape stated dryly. Remus nodded in agreement.

But neither seemed very much against it as they started to answer Harry's questions.

"The search for Carrow hasn't produced any results, unfortunately," Remus said, sighing tiredly. He sat down at the edge of the bed across from the one that Harry and Draco were sitting on. Snape remained religiously standing up. "The Aurors are trying though. They're recruiting the help of some of the creatures of the Forest. Hagrid managed to talk to the Giants, but they don't know anything either."

"What about Alecto Carrow, Professor?" Draco asked.

If possible, the expressions on Remus and Snape's faces turned grimmer. "Alecto is…" Remus trailed off, not sure how to explain it.

Snape had no such problems. "She's gone mad," he said, disgust on his face as he remembered what the Head Auror had reported to him and McGonagall a few days ago. "Inconsolable. Apparently, the only words that she is capable of uttering now are 'Dark Lord'."

Harry frowned, imagining her in her dark cell, alone and passing the time by rocking herself while muttering those words. "That must be why Amycus left her behind," he murmured softly.

Remus looked at Harry seriously. "You don't need to feel sorry for her, Harry."

Harry swallowed thickly and nodded. Draco scooted closer to him so that their knees touched. It was amazing how that simple, trivial gesture made him feel better.

Snape thought it wise then to change the subject. "Regarding Bridgewood's memories, I've managed to see enough to figure out that some of the moments when you fell into safety rooms, Mister Potter, were due to her."

"Some?" Draco asked, eyebrow raised.

"You'll have to provide a list –" Snape said dryly, looking at Harry. "— with the description of the safety rooms that you have stumbled upon as well as the dates when you stumbled upon them to confirm if all your little accidents were caused by her wand."

"I can do it now," Harry said, perking up. He was eager to be of use, something that didn't miss Draco's notice.

Draco sighed heavily and gave his godfather an accusatory look.

Snape dutifully ignored him and spelled the appearance of a hovering parchment as well as a Self-Writing Quill. He made a motion with his hand that told Harry to begin, and with a nod, Harry did.

"The first time was in a broom closet. Two weeks ago? It was a weekend because I had time to go out flying. Saturday, I think. On the way to the locker rooms, I tripped and fell in the closet. The door closed as soon as I did but Alohomora did the trick. I told Remus before that it might have been an accident, but just in case." Harry shrugged sheepishly. "The next was a wall. I leaned on it and it just gave way. I had to Reducto the wall to get out. That was the day before Peeves wrecked your classroom," he said and resisted the urge to smile at the twitch of Snape's eyebrow at the memory. Remus didn't even bother to quiet his chuckle.

"On the day that Peeves wrecked your classroom –" That Harry couldn't resist. It earned him another twitch. Draco elbowed him surreptitiously when Snape turned to glare at Remus who had chuckled again.

"After my detention, I went back to the Tower, but when I reached the seventh floor corridor, a big tile just… disappeared on the floor. I managed to hold on to the edge and hoist myself up so I didn't see what was at the bottom."

Good thing, Draco thought but didn't say anything as to not stop Harry's momentum. With every word that Harry uttered though, his thoughts became grimmer and grimmer as it came to light just how many times Harry had been exposed to danger.

Harry continued on, oblivious to Draco's turmoil. "The day after that, I…" He paused, and then glanced at Draco with a wry grin. "I think that was the day you first asked me out to the library."

"And gave Severus a grand heart attack, you did," Remus quipped.

Snape's face darkened at the memory. Draco grinned back at Harry.

"It was right after we separated. I went up to the Tower, and when I got to the sixth floor, there was this weird statue right smack in the middle of the corridor. I hit it and then hit the wall –" ("Graceful," Snape muttered with a snort. Harry pretended he didn't hear that.) "—which opened and trapped me inside a small room. I cast Reducto on the wall too and made a right mess, but the next day, when Ron and 'Mione checked, the corridor was clean and the statue was gone. We figured that it wasn't Filch who cleaned it because he wasn't cursing death upon every student that day."

Draco had a feeling that Harry was just making light of his experience and that they were worse than it sounded. Even the lack of specific details bothered him. He leaned closer to Harry so that their shoulders touched, but it was more to comfort himself, to tell him that Harry was right here and that he was okay.

The morning after the Statue thing, that was when the whole Potter-Malfoy Love Affair started. Harry wanted to say it, but didn't think that Snape would appreciate it very much so he just settled for grinning to himself. Draco quirked an eyebrow at him in question, but Harry didn't notice that as he continued his narration.

The Self-Writing Quill wrote on loyally.

"And then, two days after…" Harry frowned, remembering what had happened. He glanced at Draco. "We had a fight then, I think?"

Draco blinked, trying to remember as well. He and Harry had a whole history filled with fights.

"I remember we were in the hallway leading here, in the Infirmary. We fought, you went inside, and I, well, I was supposed to go the other way, but as soon as I about-faced, the floor disappeared and I landed in a small, square room, but it was bigger and more spacious than the others. I knew that that was a safety room because the walls looked like they were marble. Oh, that was the time I broke my ankle, if you remember."

Draco remembered now. They had fought after Harry had said that Myrtle missed him. And Draco, being an insensitive arse, lashed out and left him alone. Draco felt a gnawing coldness seep at him. He had gone to sleep right after that fight. And Harry… Harry was right outside, buried under marble and cement. Right outside.

But that was also… the day that Harry said that he trusted him enough to point his wand at him and Episkey his ankle.

Harry continued on. "That was when I thought of passwords. Dumbledore was the password to that one."

Remus' thoughts ventured to one such safety room. He was part of the Patching Team that had installed that.

"The next was the following Sunday. The chambers to the Philosopher's Stone."

Snape and Remus both remembered that one.

"And the last, it was a Wednesday, I think, because we had Transfiguration then… It was outside the Transfiguration classroom. Draco fell with me, and we ended up in the Chamber of Secrets." He frowned. "The day that Carrow escaped." He sighed heavily. "That's all. That was the last time."

Snape nodded, and with a flick of his wand, the Quill disappeared and the parchment rolled itself up. He snatched that parchment out of the air and placed it in one of the inside pockets of his robes. "I'll get back to you once I've re-examined Bridgewood's memories."

Harry nodded at him, grateful.

With all the new information, Snape had a feeling that he was about to stumble on something new, and he didn't want to waste time. "If you'll excuse me," he said, nodding at them all stiffly before turning and walking away briskly, his robes swishing behind him.

Remus glanced at his retreating figure as it disappeared behind the door, before turning his attention back to Harry. "Thank you," he murmured, smiling slightly. "That must have tired you out."

"A bit," Harry admitted. "It's fine though."

"I just have one more question, Harry," Remus said, leaning forward in his seat as he looked at Harry seriously. "Are you sure that you don't have any idea what Carrow might be looking for?"

Harry had an idea… Horcruxes and the Deathly Hallows seemed like a good place to start. But they weren't something that Remus was supposed to know. That anyone else was supposed to know. Especially the horcruxes. If he wanted to protect them… He shook his head. "I'm sure, Remus."

Remus frowned in disappointment and stood up. "Alright. I'll tell Professor McGonagall of our progress. Get some rest, you two. Severus and I must have disturbed you."

Harry forced on a smile. "It's fine. Thanks, Remus."

When the door to the Infirmary closed behind Remus, Draco's soft voice echoed in the empty Hospital Wing.

"Why did you lie to him?"

And that was when Harry remembered quite suddenly, with a creeping dread, that Draco could tell he was lying.

Chapter Text

"Why did you lie to him?"

Draco's eyebrows were furrowed together in both suspicion and caution, but the dread that had crept up on Harry when he remembered that Draco could tell he was lying slowly dissipated as he realized the cause of that suspicion and caution.

With a fond smile, he leaned forward and pressed his lips lightly on top of Draco's.

When he pulled away, he was rewarded by the pink flush on Draco's cheeks and his wide-eyed, dumbfounded expression.

"For someone who makes a lot of sexual innuendos, you're awfully flustered with just a kiss," Harry teased.

Draco's mouth opened and he just gaped at him, blinking, before he quickly recovered himself with a shake of his head. He glared at Harry pointedly. "I have had a crush on you since first year, Harry. Sexual innuendos and kisses are two different things for a variety of reasons, one being that innuendos aren't true and kisses –"

Harry kissed him again, eyes closed and smiling against his lips.

Draco was caught wide-eyed again.

Harry grinned when he broke the kiss to speak against Draco's lips. "True enough?"

A mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes.

Draco growled at him. "We are going to talk about this, Harry. Just after this snogging session."

Harry's laughter carried throughout the room before it was efficiently shut up with a kiss.

The bed curtains were drawn closed.

Professor Holly Bridgewood stumbled out of her room with a splitting headache and a swimming vision. Where was the toilet again? Oh, it was back in her room. But wait. Where did her room go? Wasn't she in it just a while ago? She looked behind her and her vision swam again.

Oh, she's always had such poor eyesight! Where were her glasses? Where, oh, where did she put them?

As she searched for her glasses in the middle of the second floor corridor, a thud to the back of her head made her stop abruptly. It took her a few seconds to realize that she had hit her head on the wall. Oh. But the collision made the glasses on top of her head fall down to her nose and she smiled to herself as she fixed them in place.

The world was still spinning though. Oh, dear. What was happening to the world?

A black color was seeping, crawling on the walls and on the tapestries that hung on them. Bridgewood frowned to herself.

Mister Filch really ought to clean that up, was her last thought as the black crawled to her and enveloped her completely.

As the sun rose higher in the sky and the clock on the wall read five past ten, Harry arranged his head so that it fit more snugly under Draco's chin.

Draco's soft breaths ruffled the hairs on top of Harry's head while Draco's hand ruffled the ones at the back. Harry draped an arm across Draco's chest and felt at home.

"D'you remember back at Grimmauld when we were talking about what to do with Nagini?" he started and felt it when Draco tensed at the sudden change in subject. Harry couldn't blame him. They were having a very fine snogging and coddling session just a few minutes ago after all.

The arm that was draped across Draco's chest reached further across so that Harry's hand curled around Draco's upper arm. He ran his thumb soothingly across the cloth of Draco's sleeve.

Slowly, Draco began to relax.

"How to kill Nagini, you mean?" he said dryly. It amused him how innocent Harry seemed, even after everything that had happened, that he didn't even want to use the word 'kill'.

Harry rolled his eyes at him. "Yes, that's what I meant."

Draco nodded. "I do. Worst all-nighter of my life considering that what we were discussing could have possibly spelled the loss of it."

The edges of Harry's lips quirked up. "I wouldn't call it my worst. That memory's very fond to me, considering it's the first memory I have of you and Ron not calling each other names."

"He's the one who always starts them," Draco said, sniffing disdainfully. "Also, of course you wouldn't call it your worst all-nighter, seeing as you feel asleep at three in the morning."

"No, I did not," Harry said, without heat, because he knew that the light that Draco was seeing surrounding him had just turned black. He hugged Draco closer, suddenly needing the comfort as he thought about what he was about to tell him. "Did Ron ever tell you why we needed to kill Nagini?"

Harry didn't need to see Draco to know that his eyebrow had just quirked up.

"Well, I assumed that to make killing the big, bad Dark Wizard easier, we ought to kill the enormous snake that he keeps with him at all times first," Draco retorted dryly.

Harry pinched his arm. "Be serious!" he reprimanded, even if a grin was on his face.

This time, Draco followed obediently and sobered up. "No. He didn't tell me why exactly. I just assumed that if we were to win the war, getting Nagini out of the way was a requirement and so I didn't ask." He pulled Harry back just a bit so they could see each other's faces. His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "Should I have?"

Harry smiled at him gently. "No," he said, moving to sit up. He tugged at Draco's hand to tell him to do the same.

Draco did so, albeit a bit warily. Anything that required the cessation of cuddling had to be a bad thing. They sat in the middle of the bed, both with their legs crossed for the two of them to fit the horizontal width of the mattress.

Harry looked into Draco's eyes seriously. "Draco, can you trust me when I say that I don't want to tell you because I love you?" he murmured.

And Draco's breath hitched then for a variety of reasons, the foremost being how brightly gold Harry shone then. How true it was when Harry said he loved him. But another reason was… hurt. A hurt that Draco knew had no place in their situation right now, but he'd be lying if he said that it wasn't there.

Hurt that Harry didn't trust him.

It wasn't that Harry didn't trust him to keep a secret. Draco now knew that Harry did. But it was how Harry didn't trust that Draco would take care of him, that Draco would gladly welcome and accept the dark things that Harry held deep inside, that Harry didn't need to battle everything on his own.

"Draco?"

Harry was looking at him worriedly, and Draco realized then that they were treading on sensitive ground. Harry was anxious of how Draco might react because he knew that his question had openings for negative reactions.

He was right. That negative reaction was brewing inside Draco now, but he resolutely squashed everything down. He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced on a smile.

"I can, Harry."

Because he did trust Harry when he said that he didn't want to tell him because he loved him. But that didn't mean that it didn't hurt.

Harry's face broke out into a relieved smile. "Thank you," he breathed out, pressing his lips to Draco's.

As Draco kissed back, he tried very much to get rid of the heavy feeling in his chest that told him that something bad was going to happen.

He was unsuccessful.

Especially when, fifteen minutes later, Pansy and Blaise burst through the doors of the Hospital Wing and cried:

"Draco! Peeves wrecked the Potions' classroom again!"

Down in the dungeons, Theodore Nott's heart was hammering painfully in his chest. In his hand was a glass vial that shone a bright pink and in his head was a voice that whispered:

Do it.

"Oh, my," were the first words that slipped out of Professor Bridgewood's lips when she opened her eyes and realized that she had somehow managed to reach the Dungeons. How terrible. She had only been to the dungeons once when Professor Lupin had been kind enough to show her around the castle, but that was months ago, and she always did have poor memory!

Where was she to go now? How very, very terrible.

How in the world did she get to the Dungeons in the first place?

As expected, when Harry, Draco, Pansy and Blaise reached the classroom, Snape was in a hissing rage and his presence in the middle of the room was a dark, ominous one.

The state of the classroom was similar to its state a few weeks ago when Peeves first wrecked it during Harry's detention. The cabinets and cupboards were open, and some jars and bottles were overturned, their contents spilling to the floor, some twitching and some excreting fumes. Shards of glass and puddles of various colors littered the floor of the classroom as well as the floor immediately outside its front door.

There were no cauldrons on the rows of tables, so they were saved from inadvertent mixing of potions this time.

Harry guessed that they weren't about to see much of Peeves in the following days to come.

Draco was the only one who dared to go near Snape. He crossed the room, taking care not to touch any puddle or stray ingredient. He pulled at his godfather's sleeve gently and asked quietly, "What happened?"

If Draco were any other person, Snape would have lashed out at them. But Harry watched with amazement as Snape took one look at Draco, took a big, deep breath, and composed himself.

The snarl on his face did not disappear though as he rounded the classroom with his eyes once more. "I was in my office when I heard the noise," he growled out. "That blasted poltergeist got away."

"Have you checked the Inventory?" Draco asked.

"There are too many missing," Snape said, clicking his tongue. He took a piece of parchment from his pocket and gave it to Draco.

After the first time that Peeves wreaked havoc in his classroom, he had made an inventory list that updated itself automatically whenever an ingredient would leave their jar or a bottle would leave its place on the shelf.

Draco was looking at that list now and frowning at the low numbers. "Do you need help in identifying the ones on the floor?"

Snape paused, glancing at his godson. Then, he nodded decisively. If there was anyone he trusted with his ingredients and potions, then it was Draco. "I do. I was in the middle of examining Bridgewood's memories earlier and I would like to get back." He glanced at Harry, Blaise and Pansy near the doorway. "Pansy."

Pansy started in surprise at being called. She blinked. "Yes, Professor?"

"Do me a favor and call the Bloody Baron for me. I've got something I would like to speak with him," Snape all but snarled.

A mischievous grin wormed its way up Pansy's lips. Bargaining with the Bloody Baron was always fun. She nodded excitedly and was out of the door with a skip in her step.

Blaise shuddered. He didn't want to know what Pansy and the Bloody Baron talked about.

Snape turned back to Draco. "I've sent my Patronus for the Aurors to check the dungeons for any suspicious persons or activities. Don't let them touch this classroom until after you've finished."

Draco nodded. "Of course."

With a grumble and more snarls, he turned to disappear into his office through the door at the back of the room.

As the door closed and the three boys were left alone in the classroom, Blaise inched closer to Harry and whispered what Harry's been thinking all along: "I'm surprised he didn't kick you out, Potter."

And despite the situation, Harry found himself grinning, big and wide. Snape not kicking him out of the Potions classroom and actually letting him help Draco with the inventory of ingredients and potions was probably the closest thing to a 'blessing' that he could ever get from Snape.

…But he could admit that his Potions skills (or lack thereof) would probably be more of a hindrance than help to Draco and Blaise right now. He motioned with his head towards the door. "I'm going to check the corridors."

One of Draco's eyebrows rose at him challengingly.

Harry rolled his eyes fondly. "I'll be fine. Carrow's not around anymore. I won't be falling into any more traps."

"This is the dungeons, Harry."

"Second year, Draco," Harry quipped, grinning. "You know. Me, stalking you, dungeons?"

This time, it was Draco's turn to roll his eyes. He sighed in defeat and waved his hand exaggeratedly. "Well, if you put it that way."

Harry flashed him a grateful smile and went on his way.

Blaise turned to Draco with both eyebrows raised. "What happened in second year?"

"Well, that's it then."

Draco dusted his hands and robes off with a slight grimace of disgust. He had found a few slugs at the corner of the room and had to pry them off the floor with his hands. Gloved, of course, but as soon as he had pulled them up, they pretty much threw slime at his robes.

Blaise had the time of his life, shoulders shaking with restrained mirth. "Pansy'll have the time of her life when I tell her that slugs just threw their dung on you."

Draco had shut him up by aiming the tail end of the slug at him and squeezing.

A lot of Scouring Spells later, the room was spic and span, their robes were spic and span, and the Inventory was updated with new information.

Draco and Blaise sat on one of the tables at the front of the room, studying it with frowns on their faces.

"We've managed to identify those on the floor but there're still too many missing," Blaise said with a sigh, placing his elbow on the table and his cheek on his palm.

Draco held the parchment in his hands. "A lot of ingredients are missing. Some may have mixed with the potions on the floor and dissolved. Healing Draughts, De-aging Potions, Restoration Potions, Blood-Replenishing Potions, one Polyjuice Potion… Amortentia? Why does Amortentia keep on disappearing?"

"I think it's because Professor Snape keeps it in at the very top of his special Potions cabinet. Easy for Peeves to get and throw across the room."

Draco frowned as another item caught his eye. "Veritaserum's gone again. Do you think it has any significance?"

Blaise shook his head morosely. "Too many to tell. We're not even sure if Carrow really is the one controlling Peeves."

"The Bloody Baron should make the job thorough this time," Draco muttered, scowling. He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his temples. "Can you give this to Severus? I'm going to look for Harry."

Blaise took the parchment and rolled his eyes at his friend. "Joined at the hip, you two are."

Draco sighed dramatically and flipped his bangs away from his eyes. He fluttered his eyelashes as he pulled on an expression of innocence. "I wish, Blaise. I wish."

As he stood up, he sobered and for the first time, Blaise saw just how much the worry on his shoulders was. Draco frowned at him. "I just have this feeling that something bad's about to happen…"

Blaise frowned as well. Words like that were never good. He sighed, waving Draco off with his hand. "Go on then. I'll take care of this."

He just hoped that Draco's feelings were wrong.

Despite the confidence that he had showed Draco earlier, Harry grudgingly admitted to himself that he didn't know where he was. The Marauder's Map was upstairs, sitting pretty in his trunk inside the Hospital Wing, and there was no one in sight.

Just him, the cold cobblestones of the floor and the walls, and the empty suits of armor that stood guard along the path of the hallways.

There weren't even any noise. No footsteps echoing and no voices of chattering students being carried by the wind. A shudder ran through Harry's body then as a creeping fear inconspicuously started to seep in. He frowned to himself. Just how far in the dungeons was he?

Maybe he should trace his steps…

"Harry," a voice called out from behind him. "Are you lost?"

Harry turned –

"Imperio!"

– and was instantly pulled inside a haze of contentment, a floating feeling like he was on air, in the clouds, the clouds that were gently washing away the worries in his head –

No.

By the time that Harry found his wits to think about resisting the Imperius Curse, he realized that he had already taken the vial that Theo Nott had presented to him and downed it in one go.

His mind shut off.

When Nott pushed him against the wall and pressed their lips together, his arms wound around Nott's neck and his lips kissed back – at the same time that Draco Malfoy turned the corner and saw them.

Draco Malfoy knew about heartbreak. He'd known it every single day for the past seven years, ever since eleven-year-old Harry Potter refused his hand and pretty much slapped in his face that he couldn't get everything he wanted. And he wanted Harry Potter. So much. He never stopped wanting him even after that stupid, stupid handshake incident.

And when Harry Potter told him then that he loved him back, with that earnest smile on his face and his whole body glowing gold, Draco was presented with the soul-consuming hope that he didn't have to live every day with his heart breaking again and again and again, but this…

"What the fuck is this?!"

Nott broke the kiss abruptly, taking a step back as his hands raised up in front of him in defense. The fear that was on his face intensified when he saw Draco's murderous expression.

When Nott pulled away from him, Harry slumped against the wall. He was still feeling a bit woozy from that mind-numbing kiss and it was a hard task trying to get his eyes to focus. He squinted at the blurry figure at the end of the hall, at the white blond hair on top of the blurry figure, and felt confused.

"Harry." There was a dangerous tone to the voice.

Harry blinked as he realized that the figure was talking to him. "He… well…" He glanced at Theo beside him. He was so, so confused. A part of him wanted to grab Theo again and snog him, but another part of him wanted to go to that blurry figure and smooth that angry expression away. A sudden spike of pain in his head made him cringe. When his eyes focused, it was Nott that he looked at. "He kissed me."

Draco knew something wasn't right. His insecurity told him that he shouldn't be surprised if Harry replaced him just like that. After all, he was nothing but a coward. An ex-Death Eater. Easily replaceable.

But his faith in Harry made him believe that no, Harry wasn't this kind of person. Harry was more than this – more than everything.

But Harry's arms had been curled tightly around Nott's neck and his fingers had been intertwined with Nott's dark hair... Something twisted in Draco's gut. He knew that that was an image that he wasn't about to forget any time soon. He glared at Harry, hurt and betrayal flashing in his face. "You certainly seemed to be enjoying it," he growled out bitterly.

Harry blinked again. Why was Draco asking that? Of course he enjoyed it. "Well, yes."

Draco's jaw locked then. The expression on his face was carefully arranged into something that he had perfected to keep his emotions hidden from the Death Eaters while he had been working as a spy for the Order. He didn't want to show them just how much he broke when Harry had said 'yes' and glowed, as brightly as he always did, gold.

He turned away.

"Wait, Draco –"

Draco was surprised. Nott was surprised. Harry was surprised.

When Draco turned at him expectantly, that glare still on his eyes, Harry thought to himself, Why did I call him again? What was I supposed to say? His mouth worked on its own. "It's not what you think," he found himself saying.

If possible, Draco's face hardened even more. "Don't bother fucking lying to me, Potter."

He saw the gold. He was blinded by its brightness.

He walked away.

And Harry, he didn't know what, but he felt something shrivel up inside him as he watched Draco disappear. He didn't know what but it hurt. And he was so confused. He didn't want that hurt. He shied away from it. It was better to focus on Theo, someone who gave him warm, happy feelings and butterflies in his stomach. No hurt.

"Come on, Harry," Theo said beside him.

When Theo took his hand and led him away deeper into the dungeons, Harry numbly followed.

Blaise started in his seat in surprise when Draco opened the door with a bang. His thundering presence rattled the silence that had accompanied Blaise just a few minutes ago in the then empty classroom.

But Blaise knew something serious was up when Draco entered the room and, despite his hands trembling, his face was an emotionless mask.

"Draco…?" he asked cautiously. Draco turned to look at him stiffly. He frowned. "What happened?"

"Absolutely nothing," Draco spat. He crossed the room and waved impatiently at the parchment that Blaise was holding. "What did Severus say?"

Blaise didn't think it was nothing. He took a good look at Draco, at his locked jaw, his tense shoulders, and at the rigid way he was holding himself, as if he was going to fall apart the moment he lost concentration.

Blaise opened his mouth to comment, but thought better about it. He frowned.

"Professor Snape said he'll discuss this with us when he's done with Professor Bridgewood's memories," he said and fervently hoped that Pansy had found the Bloody Baron and was about to come back soon.

Harry didn't know where Theo was taking him. He was just happy that Theo was holding his hand. It was fine that they were turning too many corners, that they were walking too long, or that the dungeons were getting too dark. When Theo tightened his grip on his and looked back at him to flash him a smile, Harry turned to putty in his hands.

At last, they reached a dead-end.

"Let's go, Harry," Theo said and walked forward.

Harry followed and looked at the stone wall at the end of the hall that they were quickly nearing. "Go where?"

"Through the wall," Theo supplied.

Harry shrugged. If Theo wanted him to crash through walls, then he was going to crash through walls. "Okay," he said happily and followed when the other tugged him forward.

He gazed in wonder as Nott was swallowed by the wall, like something submerging in quicksand. Slowly, Theo disappeared, inch by inch, until only his arm remained, his wrist, the wall closing in on their locked hands…

Harry took a deep breath as the wall sucked his hand in.

It was cold against his skin. Colder and sharper than the cool of the dungeons. The wall ate up his arm, his shoulder, and Harry held his breath as it finally ate up his face – and he exhaled when it let go.

He opened his eyes and was greeted by the giant sculpture of Salazar Slytherin. He grinned blearily at Theo. "What are we doing in the Chamber of Secrets?"

Theo smiled at him back. "Do you love me, Harry?"

Harry's heart skipped a beat. He nodded enthusiastically. "Of course!"

"Good," Theo said, stepping closer to him. Harry tipped his face upwards, expecting to be kissed, but Theo merely cupped his cheek in his hand, gazed into his eyes, and murmured:

"Legilimens."

Chapter Text

Pain.

That was the first thing. It was always the first thing.

Gone was the haze of contentment and happiness that had consumed him earlier. He could feel the Amortentia fading away, could feel his adoration for Theodore Nott slowly crumble to be replaced by the shock of betrayal and anger.

But he couldn't even register that shock and anger properly, because everything just hurt so bad.

Something was in his mind, tearing open a hole with invisible hands, reaching in, forcing its way inside –

No. Don't come in.

The invisible hands pried the hole open wider and reached in –

No no no no no

The hands were in, they were in, frantically groping, searching, seeking –

NO!

It found something. Held on to it with a vicious grip and pried that open too.

Harry heard blood-chilling screams echoing in the Chamber.

He belatedly realized it was his.

Draco. Draco's face twisted with such anger and hurt.

Hogsmeade. That warm feeling, spending the whole day with Draco, home

Morgan is Carrow, AMYCUS CARROW, CARROW IS IN HOGWARTS

Remus no no no Remus couldn't have done it, Remus wouldn't have, he would never

(Too shallow. Something as important as that had to be carefully guarded in a place somewhere deep. Go deeper. Inside. Bypass the unimportant things, they don't matter, all that matters is – Ah. What's this? So many walls. So heavily guarded.

Curious.

Tear the walls down. One by one. Tear it apart.)

Harry's eyes rolled to the back of his head. His body, convulsing with pain, sagged against Nott's hands.

With every wall that was tore down, Harry felt a sharp spike of pain lance through his head and down his body.

He clutched at his head, screaming, sobbing, make it stop, please, make it stop…

(Ah, finally…)

The Dursleys. Locking him up in the cupboard. Dudley jumping on the stairs and raining sawdust on him. Coughing until it hurt his chest, and Uncle Vernon kicking his door and telling him to shut up shut up shut up get out and make dinner boy you're not allowed to eat supper get back in that cupboard and don't make a noise

Ouch, that hurts, Uncle Vernon, stop please please stop

Once a freak, always a freak

Faggot, Dudley said. No no no you don't know Cedric Cedric's dead because of me no

Don't lie to me boy

No, Uncle Vernon, please

One must not tell lies, Harry.

The Blood-Quill. Lines upon lines upon lines of blood. Kept it in his trunk. Don't know why.

"Don't bother fucking lying to me, Potter."

Draco

First year, second year, third year, fourth year, fifth year, sixth year, seventh year, eighth year, always so conscious of that white-blond hair

Draco Draco Draco Draco Draco

I must not tell lies

I must not tell lies

I must not tell lies

(Curious. But no. Pull back. Too deep. Unimportant. Not here. Shallower. Just a bit shallower. Ah, this one looks… like a nice place to start…)

Everyone. Dead.

You're just like me, Harry. You'll never know love.

No. Not like you. Never like you.

The war. So many people dead. So many blood.

Have to kill Nagini. Ravenclaw's diadem. Horcrux.

(Horcruxes! The Dark Lord used horcruxes!)

The sudden glee of the invisible hands sent another lance of pain through Harry's head and he clutched at it with gritted teeth, trying to ease the pain.

He was the last horcrux. Voldemort's soul was inside him this whole time, creeping, crawling, tainting—

He had to die. Die die die die die

It'll be just like falling asleep, Sirius said.

It would be so easy to die

But

The Resurrection Stone

Another wave of glee. Another spike of pain. Both stronger this time.

(That's it! Closer! Closer!)

The Resurrection Stone, thrown away, better off lost

The Invisibility Cloak, in his trunk, from his father, his father's gift, his first Christmas gift ever

(So close…)

The Elder Wand

(YES, THAT'S IT THAT'S IT THAT'S IT)

Harry screamed.

Dumbledore's tomb.

(YES!)

Harry pulled away from the pain with a gasp, falling to the floor on his hands and knees, making the water on the floor splash as he vomited his breakfast in lurches and heaves. Tears blurred his eyes and his chest hurt, the pain starting from the area around his rib cage going to his stomach, extending to his limbs, making them weak and shaky.

A horrid green color consumed his vision, specked with red, and Harry realized that he was vomiting too much, his stomach felt empty and his throat scratched raw. The red must be blood. It, along with his vomit, mixed with the water on the floor of the Chamber, flowing away towards the drainage.

His head hurt. Everything hurt. He hurt.

The memories and the pain that he had tried so hard to forget… all of them so vivid now, in his mind's eye, attacking him all at once.

A hand roughly grabbed the hairs at the back of his head and pulled at the strands until they gave way.

He choked on his own saliva and at the vomit still at the back of his throat, and barely had time to balance himself on his arms again when gravity did its job and dragged him down. He didn't want to fall on top of the mess his stomach had made.

Hurried footsteps splashing the water around him had him belatedly realizing that Nott was getting away. Carrow was getting away.

He raised his head to see where Nott was, but his vision swirled and his arms shook from the effort of holding his torso up, and his body was useless, utterly useless, and all he could do, as the footsteps walked farther and farther away from him, was gasp and shudder and dry-heave.

When he finally felt confident in his vision enough to try raising his head again, Nott wasn't anywhere in sight. He didn't know where Nott escaped, definitely not the wall they had gone through earlier and definitely not the door leading to the Corridor of Secrets because they were guarded by snakes that would only move on command in Parseltongue.

But it didn't matter because that was it then: Carrow was gone.

The Elder Wand.

It was the Elder Wand he wanted all along.

Move, he commanded his body.

But he was so tired. His limbs shook from underneath him and he couldn't stop coughing.

He had to tell someone. Anyone.

A Patronus to Snape. To Remus. To Professor McGonagall.

But it was so hard, so hard, to think of a happy memory right now, when every time that Harry closed his eyes, he could see himself in the cupboard, with Voldemort's voice in his head, with blood and dead bodies everywhere as Hogwarts burned on, and Draco's face, his beautiful face filled with so much hurt and betrayal…

The darkness crept up on him.

Panic crowded his heart.

No. He couldn't fall unconscious now. Not now.

But the darkness was close, tempting…

So tempting just to give in.

With all the will he could muster, he took his wand with shaking hands from his pocket and pointed it at himself.

"Ennervate!"

The magic shooting out from his wand had him tipping backwards and landing on his arse and elbows quite roughly. The force shook his bones and he groaned as another piercing pain shot through his head.

Shakily, he forced himself to stand up, almost slipping on the wet floor. With heavy feet, he dragged himself across the chamber, past the stone road lined with gigantic stone snakes, and to the metal door guarded by smaller metal snakes.

"Open," he hissed out in Parseltongue.

The trek through the Corridor of Secrets was a long one. His head throbbed painfully in his head and his heart followed suit in his chest. He wasn't walking fast enough. He had to get to Dumbledore's Tomb.

His heart dropped heavily in his stomach as he reached the end of the Corridor and remembered that oh, right, the Patching Team had changed the way leading to Myrtle's bathroom into a staircase. A really long and really high staircase. His already weak legs shook at the mere thought of climbing all those steps.

He didn't have time. He had to tell someone.

At the bottom of the staircase, he quickly cast a Sonorus Charm on himself, took a deep breath, and yelled as loud as his battered throat would let him, "MYRTLE!"

It took a few heart-stopping seconds, but soon enough, Myrtle floated down the stairs and her face transformed into a gleeful smile at the sight of Harry, pale and barely standing up, leaning against the wall for support, a small trail of blood connecting his bottom lip and his chin.

"You look terrible, Harry!" she squealed. With one big swoosh, she took one big turn in the air and dived down to shove her face right up in Harry's. She flashed him her sweetest, most ecstatic smile. "Are you going to die?"

Harry didn't share in her obvious joy. "Listen, Myrtle, I need you to do me a favor…"

When the door opened, Blaise had been never been so happy to see Pansy in his entire life.

The past ten minutes that he had spent alone with Draco had been filled with so much strung tension. Draco had spent the first two of those ten minutes with gritted teeth, glaring at the wall with such hatred that Blaise had readied himself just in case Draco whipped out his wand and Reducto-ed the wall. Professor Snape would not have been happy with that.

And then, as time wore on, Blaise saw a frightening sight: He saw his friend slowly curl into himself, slowly hide from the world, and watched helplessly as Draco started to shut down.

"Pansy!" he exclaimed with obvious relief when Pansy entered the room.

Pansy blinked at him in confusion and then at Draco, although it was only his back that she saw as he was sitting with his back to the front door. She looked around some more. "Where's Potter?"

Automatically, Draco's whole body tensed.

Pansy's eyes rose to her hairline. She glanced at Blaise's panicked expression and only barely noticed the Bloody Baron floating past her head with a mutter of "Bothersome students…"

She tried again, frowning. "…Draco? Where's Potter?"

Draco stood up straighter in his seat. "Probably snogging Nott—" He said the name with such disgust. "—in some deserted hallway somewhere."

All of Pansy's alarm bells went off. "Nott?!" she shrieked. She looked at Blaise for confirmation but all she got was a look that was as shocked as her. She stomped her way to the front of room, in front of Draco – and stopped dead at the empty expression that stared back at her. "What…"

Draco looked away from her. "I saw him and Nott snogging."

Pansy looked at him incredulously. "You know Potter would never –"

"I saw them. He had his arms around Nott and he was very enthusiastically participating," Draco spat out bitterly.

"Well, you probably saw wrong then –"

"He was gold, Pansy!" Draco hissed, glaring at her, and Pansy and Blaise saw the mask begin to break. Draco looked away again, sighing, running a hand down his face. "He told me that he was enjoying it and he was gold."

Pansy felt her heart break. After everything… all those years of pining away… and then a few days of finally, finally getting what he had so desperately longed for… "Oh, love," she breathed out, reaching across the table to cup Draco's cheek.

Draco looked at her then, and he looked so lost that Pansy just wanted to hug him close. "I believe you," she said, and she did. But she also knew that something wasn't connecting right. She pulled her hand back, pulled a stool out from under the table, and sat down across from him. "But you know Potter… Saint Potter! He would never do that…"

"I know," Draco said, growling. He clicked his tongue, clearly frustrated with himself. "But I saw them and –"

"Deep in that Slytherin heart of yours," Pansy cut him off, looking at him seriously. "You know that something's not right."

Draco's breath hitched.

And then Moaning Myrtle's head passed through the middle of their table.

Her shriek could have woken the dead.

"DUMBLEDORE'S TOMB! DUMBLEDORE'S TOMB! CARROW IN DUMBLEDORE'S TOMB!"

She caught sight of Draco then, and paused. Her face transformed into a sweet smile. "Why, Draco, how nice to see you after such a long time –" The smile abruptly twisted into an angry snarl, and her voice rose a few pitches higher. "—considering you never visit me!"

Then she began to wail, an ugly, sobbing wail that had something made of glass in the ingredients' cabinet breaking.

Draco, Blaise and Pansy slammed their hands against their ears, wincing at the horrid sound.

Even Snape slamming open the door to his office did not stop her crying.

"CARROW IN DUMBLEDORE'S TOMB!" she continued to wail in her shrill, high-pitched voice, as she flew upwards and around the Potions' classroom in dizzying circles.

Snape did not waste any time. He walked briskly to the front of the room and yelled above Myrtle's voice. "Draco, come with me!"

Quick thinking and quick reflexes learned through hard experience had Draco out of his seat and behind Snape immediately.

Myrtle's sobbing continued on. "You never visit me! How dare you! Harry visited me, oh, he did, why didn't you?!"

Draco's eyes widened and he stopped abruptly. He turned to the ghost rounding the ceiling of the room. "Myrtle!" He called, even as Snape warningly said behind him, "Draco…"

Draco ignored his godfather. "Myrtle! Harry visited you?"

Myrtle stopped abruptly mid-circle and mid-wail. She cocked her head at him before flying down in a sudden dive to hover in front of Draco. Draco stepped back in surprise.

Myrtle's face was pale and puffy, and her eyes were watery as she sniffled. "He did. I think he's going to die soon." There was another abrupt change in her expression. This time, she smiled dreamily. "It would be nice if he died in my bathroom…"

Draco's blood turned cold. A gripping fear that shook him to the very core froze everything in place. He stared at Myrtle with wide eyes, his head making up various scenarios of things that weren't pretty. He wasn't even thinking about what he had seen earlier anymore. Nott wasn't important when it came to Harry's safety. His voice shook when he asked, "Where's Harry now?"

Myrtle shrugged exaggeratedly. "I don't know. He just told me to go here yelling that Carrow's in Dumbledore's Tomb."

Draco was rushing past Snape and out the door before Myrtle even finished her sentence.

"Draco!" Snape called out angrily after him but it only registered vaguely because all he could think about was Harry, and Myrtle's words:

"I think he's going to die soon."

Snape cursed under his breath at Draco's retreating figure. He glanced back inside the room and saw Blaise and Pansy's pale, stricken expressions. He barked at them sharply, "Well?! Go on then. Follow him!"

With a start, they seemed to recover enough of themselves to get out of their seats and dash out of the room in a panicked hurry.

Myrtle had started wailing again, crying about how Draco was always leaving her, and Snape realized the futility of asking her to continue going around the castle yelling about Carrow's whereabouts.

He whipped out his wand and yelled, "Expecto Patronum!"

A glowing, translucent doe seeped out of his wand and stared back at him. He frowned at its form momentarily, before shaking his head. He didn't have time for petty emotions. "Carrow is at Dumbledore's Tomb." With another flick of his wand, the doe galloped down the hall and disappeared through the walls.

Snape then proceeded to run in the same direction that his students had.

All at once, activity erupted in the castle.

Before Myrtle arrived at the Potions classroom, she had already managed to cross the Stone Bridge, a few hallways of the first floor, past the Entrance Hall, before swerving down to pass through the floor and into the dungeons, all the while screaming "CARROW IN DUMBLEDORE'S TOMB!"

As she passed each hallway, students exploded into panic. Professor Flitwick had been in the Great Hall, charming the decorations for Halloween, when Myrtle's voice reached through the walls and doors and echoed in the Hall. Each and every student that had been sitting on the Tables, eating snacks or playing Wizards' chess, all stood up in a flurry. Some of them ran to get out of the Great Hall while some ran towards him, seeking protection.

Flitwick immediately took action. He summoned a Patronus and sent it quickly to McGonagall. Then, with a Sonorus Charm, he tried to calm his students down.

Professor Remus Lupin had been in the Headmistress' Office, standing in front of Professor Minerva McGonagall's desk while she sat behind it. He was relating to her what he and Snape had just discussed with Harry and Draco when the doe Patronus arrived. He immediately knew, with his heart twisting, that it was Snape's.

"Carrow is at Dumbledore's Tomb."

McGonagall and Remus had managed to share a look of alarm, before McGonagall was out of her seat in a heartbeat. She crossed the room in quick strides and gripped Remus' arm tightly. "Hold on, Remus," she said shortly, and that was all the warning that Remus received before the twists and turns of Side-Along Apparition consumed him.

Back in the first floor, Draco had just arrived in Myrtle's bathroom. His chest was heaving and his legs were shaking from how fast he had run up from the dungeons, but those were unimportant things, meaningless, because all he could think about was Harry, where the fuck is Harry?!

His heart stopped when he saw the big column in the middle of the bathroom that held the sinks and how one side of it was gone to reveal the opening to the Chamber of Secrets.

"Harry!" he yelled out desperately, running for the opening. Darkness greeted him. He tried again. "Harry…"

No answer. Draco didn't know what to do. He wasn't sure if Harry was here or if he was doing some idiotic Gryffindor thing again and was already at Dumbledore's Tomb to face Carrow by himself or someplace else, somewhere dangerous and far away, or if he was even okay.

That blood-chilling fear gripped him tighter.

"Harry, where are you…?"

When Remus and McGonagall arrived at Dumbledore's Tomb, it was already littered with Aurors.

The gloom of their dark robes contrasted sharply against the beautiful Sunday morning. Despite the slight gray of the October sky, the sun was bright behind thin, white clouds. It reflected on the sparkling surface of the Great Lake. Trees framed the whole scene, the green leaves mixing intimately with orange and red – a breathtaking picture of fall. In the middle of it all was the pure white of Dumbledore's tomb – situated on top of steps where Harry Potter was currently standing on.

Remus' breath held as he gazed at Harry, at his pale complexion, his tense shoulders and at the black cloak that covered them.

When McGonagall's grip on his arm loosened, he immediately rushed forward, past the crowd of Aurors. "Harry, what's going on?" he called.

Harry's head shot up and a look of relief overcame his face at the sight of Remus. "Professor Lupin –"

Remus' wand was out of his pocket in half a second. "Incarcerous!"

All the Aurors froze as ropes burst forth from Remus' wand and shot towards the Savior of the Wizarding World. The ropes slid around Harry's wrists, his ankles, his knees and his shoulders, and gasps came from some of the Aurors as Harry Potter fell forward to roughly land on the grass.

McGonagall's eyes widened, but she made no move to stop him. "Remus, what…"

Remus' frown was deep as he looked, with hard eyes, at the writhing body on the ground.

"Harry calls me Remus."

Finally, finally, after seconds that threatened to clog Draco's throat and stop his heart, a weak voice echoed in the darkness.

"Draco…"

Chapter Text

At around the same time that Myrtle was going around Hogwarts, screeching the whereabouts of Amycus Carrow, Neville Longbottom was in Greenhouse 3, continuing the project that he and… Morgan… had been working on since the start of the school year.

It was the first time since the Carrow incident that he had time to visit the greenhouse, what with being stuck in the Infirmary for two days and the Hogsmeade date and all.

(Neville resolutely pushed the Hogsmeade date at the back of his mind because if he thought about it now then he wasn't going to get any work done today.)

He took a deep breath, fought the blush rising in his cheeks, and looked around.

Instead of the usual wide greenhouse to accommodate rows of tables for the students and rows of pots for different plants, Greenhouse 3 was tall. If it had floors, Neville assumed that it would be three floors tall. The whole greenhouse was of a circular shape, and its walls and roofs were all made of glass. Charmed, of course, so that regular students wouldn't be able to see the inside from outside – at least not until its formal opening.

The whole floor was covered with clear, crystalline water divided into eight parts by bridges made of charmed mahogany. Each division held a different family of aquatic plants, some as tall as two floors of Hogwarts. Some divisions were sparse, others had thick growths like the one covered completely by frogbits, where Neville was currently standing in front of.

Surrounding the body of water and connecting all the bridges was a circular walkway. There were three circular walkways all in all, spread throughout the height of the greenhouse, connected by staircases. More plants in pots were littered throughout the circular walkways, all situated near the wall. From the second circular walkway to the third near the top, aerial plants hovered by themselves, some hanging from the roof and some flapping their little leaves to stay afloat.

As Neville looked up, his breath caught in his throat at the beauty of it all. The sun shining through the glass, the flowering plants struggling to keep themselves in the air…

They had accomplished a lot in the past few months they've spent on this project. After all, Neville had poured most of his time on this project after school started and so did Morgan. But with Morgan gone, Neville was going to have to finish this project on his own, which would probably be a month or two more than originally planned.

It didn't matter, though. He was going to finish this. He had so much love for the plants here.

He tried to ignore the thought that some of the plants in the greenhouse were ingredients for potions like Polyjuice, Blood-replenishing, and healing draughts.

What he couldn't ignore, however, was this vile smell… He frowned, looking around.

If he could just pinpoint where it was coming from…

"Draco."

The atmosphere in the Hospital Wing was dark and somber. The sun that had been around just a few hours ago seemed to go into hiding after witnessing the events that had transpired. Even the temperature seemed different. A while ago, when Draco and Harry had been on the bed, curled up against each other comfortably, it had been warm. Now, it was only Harry on the bed, pale and unconscious, and Draco sat on the stool next to him, trembling at the unusual cold that had descended on the room.

When he finally, finally found Harry down in that darkness in Myrtle's bathroom, he was near the point of panicked tears. Harry's wet clothes and the pained look in his face did not help, but the sight of him at least squashed down the fear of never seeing Harry again – of never feeling those arms around him again.

Harry had stumbled up the few remaining steps to Myrtle's bathroom and Draco immediately held him close, flush against his body, just to feel Harry's heart beating against his chest. Harry held him back, shaking, and he burrowed his nose deeper in the crook of Draco's neck before releasing a relieved sigh.

And that was it. He finally allowed darkness to consume him. He sagged against Draco's body, knowing that he was finally safe, and couldn't open his eyes long enough after to answer Draco's panicked calls of his name.

That was how Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and Severus Snape had found them.

It had been a hard task convincing Draco that Harry would be fine, but Snape, being his godfather, knew how his godson's mind worked. Together, they levitated Harry's body to the Hospital Wing where Madame Pomfrey was immediately at their service.

At present, Snape had just received Remus' Patronus informing him that they had finally captured Amycus Carrow. McGonagall had managed to convince the Head Auror to begrudgingly allow them half an hour to interrogate Carrow on their own, using surprisingly Slytherin means of persuasion like telling him that she would write a letter to the Minister commending the Head Auror and his team what such brave warriors they had been throughout the whole Carrow ordeal that finally led to his capture.

Half an hour, the Head Auror had said. They had to get Carrow to the Ministry immediately after.

"Draco," Snape said again, firmer this time. "We need to go."

Without even looking at him, keeping his eyes resolutely on Harry's face, Draco shook his head. "No. You said that we weren't allowed to get involved in Carrow's business anymore. I'm not leaving Harry."

Snape resisted the urge to sigh exasperatedly. Pansy and Blaise, on the other side of Harry's bed, looked at him sympathetically. They had no idea how to talk to Draco when he was like this. Snape rubbed his temples with one hand.

"As you know, Veritaserum is still considered illegal by the law, Merlin knows why evenafter the war," Snape said dryly. "If we want to get any truths out of Carrow, we're going to need your little temporary ability."

Draco didn't move.

Snape laid down his trump card.

"Potter won't be awake for another five hours. Come with me and I'll let you get one hex in."

That had Draco's ears perking up. He glanced at Snape, eyes narrowed. "Just one?"

One corner of Snape's lip twitched. Slytherin to the very core, he thought with just a slight amusement. "Two if you behave."

Pansy cleared her throat loudly to get Draco's attention. She smiled at him gently, "We'll watch over Potter, even if it takes you the whole five hours to interrogate Carrow."

"We'll even call his little pack of Gryffindors," Blaise added, jokingly shooing him away with his hand. He mimicked Pansy's smile. "Trust us on this."

Draco swallowed, his throat suddenly clogging up as he realized how lucky he was to have such good friends. He nodded stiffly. "Thank you," he murmured, and with one last, anxious look at Harry, stood up and followed Snape out of the Infirmary.

Two hexes, Severus had said. He was going to make them count.

When they entered the Headmistress' office, McGonagall, Remus, and the Head Auror were there along with Amycus Carrow who was bound to a chair in the middle of the room. Behind the Headmistress' desk hung Dumbledore's portrait but it was empty.

(McGonagall and Dumbledore's portrait had long since come to an agreement that Dumbledore would not be interfering in McGonagall's ways of handling Hogwarts. Whenever an important meeting would be held in the Office, Dumbledore would be conveniently by the kitchens, longingly gazing at the sweets the House Elves were making.)

Draco's attention were immediately pulled to Carrow.

Carrow's messy, greasy, shoulder-length hair fell down the sides of his face, framing the hard set of his stubble-covered jaw. His skin was pale, making the dark circles under his eyes more prominent. When he saw Draco Malfoy enter the room, a malicious grin curved his lips, showing the yellow teeth underneath.

"If it isn't the Malfoy traitor," he said, tilting his head to the side to get a better view of Draco behind Snape. He smiled wider. "Your father says hi, by the way."

Draco stiffened. The light around Carrow had flickered black and Draco didn't know if that made him feel better or not. He noticed Snape move slightly to cover him, but he laid a hand on Snape's arm and surreptitiously shook his head. He didn't need protection. He stepped out from behind his godfather and stood next to Remus to the right of Carrow.

He looked down at Carrow, eyes hard. "You can tell father I said hi as well when you return to Azkaban."

Carrow cackled.

"Amycus," Snape said, getting the attention of everyone in the room. The way he said the name was dark and ominous, and the expression on his face promised pain. "What did you want that you had to go through that arduous process of pretending to be someone else?"

Carrow's grin remained. "Oh? Is this an interrogation?" His eyes shifted sharply to the Head Auror who was leaning stiffly against a bookshelf. "Isn't this against the law, Mister Auror?" he asked with a sing-song voice. "I can tell the jury…"

The Head Auror stood up straighter, his back ramrod straight.

"Not at all, Amycus," McGonagall said coolly. "This is my school. Everything here is under my jurisdiction and as you have trespassed into school grounds, impersonated a member of my faculty, cast an Unforgivable to another, and posed a threat to all of my students, I do believe I have the right to ask you a few questions for as long as you remain in Hogwarts."

The Head Auror slowly relaxed.

Carrow narrowed his eyes at the Headmistress.

McGonagall returned his stare readily. "This will be quick if you let it be."

Snape cut in with a deadpan expression. "The Head Auror has given us permission to Obliviate everything about Alecto if we must."

The Head Auror gave no such thing, but he remained dutifully quiet. Snape flickered black, but Draco too remained silent.

At this, Carrow was visibly affected. His already pale complexion became ghostly-white and his eyes widened, in fear that Snape would actually do that. It gave him a truly haunted look.

Draco realized abruptly then that this was the reason why Carrow didn't just kidnap or maim Harry the first chance he had. Amycus was afraid that if he did, they would use Alecto against him. Draco couldn't wrap his head around the fact that this cruel, ruthless, merciless man could actually hold human feelings like love.

Satisfied, Snape asked again. "What were you looking for?"

Carrow looked at him for a long time, as if weighing his options. Situated at the side of Carrow, Remus could see Carrow's hands bound together behind him twitch and curl into fists.

Finally, Carrow muttered low under his breath: "The Elder Wand."

Everything stilled in the room momentarily. That was the reason why he had been after Harry. Everyone in the room with the exception of the Head Auror all knew that Harry was the one who hid the Elder Wand, but no one knew where.

Snape glanced at Draco from the corner of his eyes, and Draco gave a slight nod. Carrow was telling the truth.

Snape turned back to Carrow. "How did you know it was in Dumbledore's Tomb?"

Snape wasn't sure if that was what Carrow was doing in Dumbledore's Tomb, but it seemed like a logical guess. It baffled him, however, when the wide, manic grin returned to Carrow's face.

"Harry Potter, of course."

Remus frowned. "Harry told you?"

At this, Carrow burst out in raucous laughter, shoulders shaking with mirth. "Of course not! I invaded his mind."

Everyone froze at that. Draco's heart hammered in his chest as the worry that he had managed to keep at bay so far returned with full force. Forced Legilimens was a very dangerous thing to do…

If Carrow was aware of the sudden gloom of the people in the room, he showed no awareness of it. He merely continued laughing, heaving at times. "Your Golden Boy's a piece of work!" More manic laughter. "He's fucked up, did you all know that?" He giggled, looking around the room until his eyes rested on Draco. "Did you know that, lover boy?"

Cold sweat dripped down Draco's neck as his hands curled into fists. Remus carefully laid a hand on his shoulder to calm him down, and it did, but just a tiny, tiny bit. He gritted his teeth in anger, glaring at Carrow, who merely smirked.

"Did you know what his precious relatives did to him?" Carrow continued, his voice lowering in a conspiratorial whisper.

This time, it was Remus who was starting to see red. He knew what Carrow was starting to get at. "Amycus," he growled out in warning, the wolf in him making his growl sound throatier – more dangerous.

Carrow ignored him and kept his eyes firmly locked with Draco's. "Did you know that, Malfoy? How his aunt and uncle locked him up in a cupboard every night until he turned eleven? How they sometimes forgot to feed him some days? How they yelled at him to shut up while five-year-old Harry Potter cried in his cupboard about the monster under the bed that his cousin told him about?"

Draco felt all the warmth slowly seep from his body. His hands and feet shook but he didn't know if they were from anger or… the fact that with each word that spilled from Carrow's mouth, the light around him continued to burn gold.

The wand that pointed at and pressed painfully on Carrow's head was Minerva McGonagall's.

Her eyes were hard and unforgiving. "My hand is sometimes prone to slipping as well, I'm afraid."

The grin dropped off Carrow's face.

Snape's voice, low and quiet, seemed to echo loudly in the room. "How did you get to Potter?"

Carrow shrugged, but it was stiff, considering the constraints tightly wound around his torso.

"Bridgewood, of course. That woman's will is so weak. I only needed a month before I could wandlessly get her to do my bidding. Even after I've left Hogwarts, her mind has become so accustomed to me that it is almost mine." He scoffed in disgust. Then, he smirked once more. "After that, Theodore Nott proved himself useful."

Draco made a sound of surprise. All eyes turned to him, including Carrow's, and his smirk widened. "You got it, lover boy. That was me, although the Amortentia idea came from him. I just brought it to fruition."

The three professors were looking at Draco, confused.

Without taking his eyes off Carrow, Draco took a deep, shuddering breath to calm himself down and then proceeded to explain. "I saw Nott and Harry… snogging."

Eyes widened in bewilderment and disbelief.

Then, a sickening idea struck Draco then and his breath held. He took a step forward, his fists clenching so tight that his uncut nails dug painfully in his palm.

The pain was merely a vague sensation though, compared to the anger making him see red and the sound of blood rushing in his ears. When he spoke, it was almost a growl. "Who pushed Harry against the wall?"

A pleased smile spread over Carrow's face. "Dear Theodore, of course. He was also the one that kissed Potter. I just let it be because, you know…" He cackled. "Not much action in Azk –"

Nobody stopped Draco when his fist made contact with Carrow's face.

Draco inhaled deeply, shakily, before releasing it slowly. He shook his hand twice, letting drops of blood fall to the ground. He gazed at the side of Carrow's face, at his bleeding, broken nose, his bleeding lips, and at the way his jaw seemed to shift to one side. It was probably dislocated.

"Severus," Draco murmured, voice strained. He swallowed. "I'm sorry. You said two hexes."

He finally tore his gaze away from Carrow to look at his godfather and was not surprised to see him shaking with barely restrained rage as well. Everyone in the room was.

Snape kept his eyes on Carrow as he replied with a tight voice. "I believe I can make an exception. Those two hexes still stand."

Remus stepped forward, his eyes nearly all black as he looked at Carrow coldly. He bared his canines. "Give me three."

McGonagall raised a hand to stop them all. She was all business now and she gazed down her nose at Carrow, her expression void of any mercy or pity. "Let's make this quick, Amycus. I cannot promise that I'll stop anyone in this room again should they try to permanently incapacitate you." Her eyes gleamed with promise. "Where is Theodore Nott?"

Carrow opened his mouth to speak, but ended up coughing instead, spewing blood all over the floor. He heaved, before trying again. "Where the fluxweed grows," he muttered, keeping his face to the side so that his hair hid his eyes.

"Last," McGonagall murmured. "Where's the real Morgan?"

At this, Carrow finally raised his head, the corner of his bloodied lips twitching up in what could almost be a smile.

"Greenhouse 3."

The smell was coming from the frogbits, Neville was sure. As he squatted next to the pond and used a long stick to poke at the frogbits and gently swerve them to the side, he wondered if a rat had managed to get in the greenhouse and died an untimely death, falling into the water.

He moved more of them to the side, making a bigger opening in the water. He frowned. He couldn't see anything. He sniffed in the air, but his nose immediately scrunched at the rotting smell.

The smell was definitely coming from the frogbits.

He stood up, used the bridge's ledge to balance him, and looked over into the water.

A pale, bloated face with blue skin and unseeing, human eyes stared at him.

Neville Longbottom reared back and screamed in horror.

Chapter Text

Even before Neville thought about whether he should get Morgan out of the pond or call the Aurors first, he knew that Morgan was gone. It was in those open eyes, bloodshot and unseeing.

A million thoughts raced in Neville's head then. If only I knew, if only I checked, if only I made sure, if only I doubted, if only I avoided Carrow's hex, if only I didn't stay in the Hospital Wing for those two days… I could have saved him, he thought.

But it was only for a moment.

He was up and on his feet in an instant, intent on getting to the Aurors.

He knew that if onlys weren't going to get him anywhere.

Amycus Carrow was finally gone from Hogwarts. Finally.

Ten minutes had passed ever since the Head Auror left the room with a floating Carrow, along with the chair he was bound to, following behind him; five since Draco Malfoy nodded to them his stiff farewell before walking briskly out of the room, unable to resist spending another minute away from Harry's bedside.

More Aurors had been dispatched to Greenhouse 3 to search for Morgan's body. After that, they would be gone from Hogwarts as well and everything will be under the Ministry's hands.

McGonagall finally allowed herself to sit on the soft cushion of her chair, shoulders drooping uncharacteristically low. She was too old for this.

Remus was still trembling with restrained anger, and it was with great effort that he stood rooted to his spot, eyes closed and taking deep, even breaths. He flinched in surprise when a hand touched his arm gently. When he realized that it was Snape, he gave a weak smile of apology.

Snape's face showed no emotion. He merely led Remus to a chair and, with another gentle touch, pushed his shoulder down for him to sit.

Remus followed obediently, but when he looked up at Snape, his pupils were still dilated, gold specks mixed in with the black. "Severus," he murmured, anxious. "Is Harry…" His voice broke at the end.

Snape nodded. Up this close, Remus could finally see signs that told him that Snape was tired as well, like the way his eyebrows furrowed together just slightly or how tightly his lips pressed together.

"Potter is fine," Snape said smoothly, gazing at him with eyes that were surprisingly understanding. "Pomfrey says he'll be up by dinner."

No one was comforted by his words though. Now that they knew what Carrow did, Harry waking up by dinner was nothing short of a miracle.

McGonagall took a deep breath that ended abruptly. A look of deep anguish and misery crossed her face. "If anything happened to that boy…" she murmured shakily.

Remus shared her look, although he looked infinitely more miserable and fearful than she did.

With another deep breath, McGonagall straightened her back. Their business wasn't done yet. She looked at Snape. "Severus, I take it you managed to extract answers from Professor Bridgewood?"

Snape nodded and that was it. His hand dropped from Remus' shoulder and everything about him was stone-cold again.

"All those instances of Potter falling into safety rooms were done by Carrow using Bridgewood's body. He struggled the first few times because Bridgewood tried to fight him off by opening the safety rooms almost immediately after Carrow had closed it or even just by forcibly keeping him in her mind to prevent him from going to the trapped Potter." If one looked closely, one might even see a tiny hint of approving respect for Bridgewood in Snape's expression. "After that, Carrow slowly got used to her mind."

A dark look crossed Snape's face. "He didn't Obliviate her, just modified her memories. I'm guessing that he thought it would be a problem if Bridgewood talked to anyone about missing parts of her memories."

McGonagall frowned, a heavy feeling descending on her stomach. Carrow obviously had all of this carefully planned out. "Modifying memories is a difficult endeavor…" she murmured.

Remus' expression hardened. "One that he obviously had a lot of practice with."

Snape nodded and continued, "Even Longbottom wasn't spared from the safety rooms. Twice. Carrow thought he was Potter."

McGonagall's face blanched at the thought of her students being in such grave danger in her school all this time. "Anything else?"

Snape started to shake his head, before a thought crossed his mind and had him pausing. "I would like to recommend a Mind Healer to Bridgewood."

Remus' head shot up in surprise. He blinked at Snape, sure that just a few hours ago the man was practically degrading Professor Bridgewood's existence. Whatever Snape had seen in Bridgewood's memories must have radically changed his opinion of her, enough that he actually wanted to help her get her mind back.

McGonagall's lips curved into a small, grateful, and knowing smile. "Alright. I suppose I can take over Transfiguration for a while."

Snape nodded. "Thank you. That is all."

"Thank you as well," McGonagall said, her eyes roaming from Snape to Remus. Finally, she stood up, smoothened down her robes, and squared her shoulders. "I do believe an announcement to the students is in order."

When Draco arrived in the Hospital Wing, Ron and Hermione were already there, huddled and conversing with Pansy and Blaise in low tones beside Harry's bed. Ron's freckles stood out more than ever on the paleness of his skin and Hermione kept her hand firmly on her mouth to stifle any teary gasps that may escape as Blaise related to them what had transpired earlier that morning.

Draco entered the room quietly, and when Hermione saw him, she actually ran to him and embraced him tightly.

He was dumbfounded. He looked at Ron, eyes wide, but the redhead just gave him a small, weak smile which Draco took as permission. He carefully put his arms around Hermione's shoulders and was surprised at how comforted he felt with that simple gesture. He was so wound tight from everything that had happened and he just wanted Harry to wake up.

All of what Carrow had said echoed dully in his mind and his heart felt unbearably heavy in his chest.

He couldn't help it when he let himself fall into Hermione's embrace and take a few, deep, shuddering breaths to get himself back together.

For Harry.

"Thank you," Hermione was whispering in his ear. She pulled back and her eyes were shining with unshed tears. She wiped at her eyes with the side of her hand and laughed weakly, "You must really love Harry, huh?" More tears welled up in her eyes. She looked at him gratefully. "Thank you."

Draco realized that there really was something different with all of them now. It wasn't like that sense of camaraderie they felt after they had gotten through the Chambers of the Philosopher's Stone together. That was more of a light friendship made by the sharing of an experience, much like the sharing of a secret. This was different. This… was deeper. Made by trust and respect.

He didn't quite understand just how he had managed to go from calling Hermione a Mudblood and insulting Ron's family to his face to embracing her and sharing looks of understanding with him, but he liked this. Very much.

And he was one hundred percent sure that all of this was due to Harry.

Swallowing thickly, Draco looked at Hermione earnestly in the eyes and said softly, "Yes, I really do."

In a low, soft voice, Draco narrated what had happened in the Headmistress' Office.

Ron and Hermione already knew of Nott kissing Harry from Blaise, and Draco told them about Amortentia but deliberately omitted the reason why he punched Carrow in the first place. He told them that it had been the Elder Wand that Carrow was after all along and that he had used forced Legilimens on Harry to find out about the Wand's whereabouts.

Ron's face was a pale white by then. "Legilimens," he muttered in disbelief. He thought about everything that Harry had been through. All those years in the Dursleys, all the hardships that he had been through in Hogwarts, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore… Just how much did Carrow dig up? He glanced at Harry despairingly.

Draco saw the despair in his face and stored that in his mind for later use. He would have to ask Weasley about it later. He didn't have any plans on telling them what Carrow had said about Harry's past, but with Weasley's expression, he was sure that Weasley knew.

Lastly, he told them where the real Morgan was.

Blaise's face drained of color. "That's where Neville is right now…"

Ron groaned shakily and Draco resisted the urge to do the same.

He felt another wrenching in his gut. This whole day was just full of bad happenings. He nodded at Blaise. "Go," he said softly. He just knew just how horrible it felt to know that someone you loved might be in danger. He felt it just a few hours ago.

Blaise was out of the door in a heartbeat.

Pansy looked at the door and then at Draco, obviously torn between her two friends.

Draco smiled weakly at her. "Go with him, Pans. I'm fine."

Pansy looked like she was about to tear up but she shook her head and pulled herself back together. "No, you're not, you stubborn, thick-headed nincompoop," she muttered and walked over to him. She glanced at his bleeding hand, before sighing. She kissed his cheek and then patted it gently with her hand. "I'll be back," she whispered before rushing off to follow Blaise.

Ron and Hermione were in the same predicament, looking worriedly at Harry and then at the door. Finally, Ron took a deep breath and promptly announced, "I'm going to Neville. I know Harry's in good hands."

At this, he looked pointedly at Draco, who felt his face burn at the trust he saw there.

Hermione took Ron's hand and squeezed it. "Be careful, Ron."

Ron smiled at her lovingly and kissed her forehead. "Always," he promised.

Draco felt his heart twist at the show of affection and glanced at Harry once more. Wake up, you inarticulate twit. You owe me a snogging session after that unsightly display you put on with Nott. It was a sad attempt at humor that only made him feel hollow.

As Ron passed Draco on his way out, he paused before glancing at Draco's bleeding hand. "I really hope you got that from punching Carrow."

Draco flashed him a wry smile.

Ron looked at him proudly before he was gone and out the doors.

"Ron likes you," Hermione said softly.

Draco felt something warm bloom in his chest. He didn't look at her. He told himself that it didn't matter if Harry's friends liked him or if Weasley, red-haired, freckled Ronald Weasley approved of him, but he knew that was a lie.

"Your ears are red," Hermione quipped from behind him good-naturedly.

"Shut up, Granger."

Draco moved closer to the bed and slipped fingers between Harry's. He exhaled in relief when he found it warm and did his best to ignore Hermione's little smile.

"Do you want me to heal that for you?"

Draco slowly shook his head. "No, it's fine."

Hermione said nothing and merely nodded in understanding.

Draco wasn't surprised when Hermione moved to stand beside him and even when she murmured quietly, "Tell me more about what Carrow did to him."

He always did know that Granger was a brilliant witch, even though it took him years to finally admit it.

When Blaise saw Greenhouse 3 in the distance, cloaked Aurors littered the area. He scanned the view, looking for Neville, heart beating loudly in his ears when he couldn't find him. He knew that the Aurors wouldn't let him inside the Greenhouse, but maybe he could disillusion himself…

"Blaise?"

Blaise jumped as a voice called him from his left. His knees nearly buckled with relief. "Neville!" He rushed forward, hand reaching for Neville's. "Are you alright?"

His eyes roamed the other's face looking for any injury, but other than the boy's unusual paleness, he found nothing. He inhaled deeply when Neville threw him a small, thankful smile.

"I'm fine," Neville said, eyes darting to the side to look at the Greenhouse. "The real Morgan is…"

"He's in there, isn't he?" Blaise asked softly.

Neville nodded, still staring in the distance. He swallowed thickly. "I found him. In a pond. He was covered in a bubble, but…" His lips pressed together tightly, before he shakily spoke again. "He's dead."

Blaise's breath held.

"That's no one's fault, Neville."

Their heads whipped towards Pansy, who had just arrived and was lightly gasping for breath from the running she did. Pansy didn't comment on their held hands and Neville didn't comment on her use of his first name.

Neville smiled at her ruefully. "I know."

Blaise squeezed his hand reassuringly, which made Neville blink and his cheeks color just a bit, as if he had just remembered that Blaise still hadn't let go of his hand.

"What are they doing in there?" Pansy asked as she flicked her bangs, wet from sweat, away from her face. She frowned at the sight of the many black cloaks, being reminded suddenly of Death Eaters. It always did give her goose bumps.

"They got Morgan out already. Said they'll bring his body to the Ministry and search for his family there," Neville said softly, reigning in his emotions as he remembered his conversation with one of the Aurors earlier.

("I wouldn't count on it though," the Auror murmured thoughtfully, almost as if he was just talking to himself. "Carrow wouldn't have pretended to be someone with close familial connections. Too many doors open for trouble."

Neville's heart twisted, feeling sorry for Morgan. He had all of Carrow's right requirements, but he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time… Before he could think about it, Neville reached out and grabbed the Auror's arm.

"If you can't find anyone, could you please…" He looked into the Auror's eyes and asked softly, pleadingly, "Give him a proper burial?"

And the Auror looked down at this student, this boy. He'd heard of Neville Longbottom, of course. Stories of Neville Longbottom slaying Voldemort's snake with the legendary Sword of Gryffindor swept through the wizarding world after the war. He'd heard of Alice and Frank Longbottom as well and couldn't even begin to imagine what this boy must have gone through growing up.

But looking at him now, the Auror had no doubts that this boy grew up into a fine, young man.

"Of course. You have my word, Mister Longbottom.")

"Neville!"

Ron's voice shouted at them from the distance.

Neville's face brightened slightly at the sight of his friend.

They waited for Ron to reach them and then waited for him to catch his breath when he finally did.

"Are you okay?" was the first question that slipped out of Ron's lips.

Neville answered automatically. "I'm fine –"

"No," Ron said, shaking his head as well as his hands for emphasis. He looked at Neville pointedly. "Are you okay?"

And Neville closed his mouth, inexpressibly touched at the concern he was getting from everyone. He glanced at Blaise and Pansy and couldn't stop his grin from forming. "I will be," he said honestly.

The Morgan that he was feeling sorry for was a stranger if he thought about it, because the Morgan that he had been working with for the past few months was really Amycus Carrow. But if he thought about how the real Morgan had been excited to work in Hogwarts, how the real Morgan would have been ecstatic at being given Greenhouse 3 to renovate and design as his own… It made him wish that things could have been different.

Ron finally saw Blaise's and Neville's held hands and a look of realization crossed his face. "Ah," he said wisely. "I see."

Pansy and Blaise looked smug. Neville's face burned.

In a desperate attempt to change the subject, he asked, "Where's Harry and Hermione? And Malfoy?"

The mood suddenly soured and Neville became cautious at the dark looks that formed on his friends' faces.

Ron sighed heavily and put a hand on his shoulder. "Harry's unconscious, mate. Carrow did Legilimens on him and…" His face formed into a scowl at the memory, but he shook his head, trying to get rid of the anger bubbling up inside of him. "Well, Harry's in the Infirmary right now."

Neville's eyes widened and he stared at Ron in disbelief. "Is Harry…"

"He'll be fine," Ron interjected quickly. He repeated it again, firmly. "Harry will be fine."

Neville nodded shakily. "Can I visit him?"

Ron nodded back, but looked over Neville's shoulder to gaze at the Greenhouse. "Won't they need you here?"

"No, they already kicked me out," Neville said, shaking his head. "Said it was no place for students right now."

Pansy snorted in a rather unladylike fashion. "Obviously, they didn't know what this place looked like during the Battle of Hogwarts."

Neville smiled ruefully at that. "They're investigating the plants in there right now, so I'm not allowed inside until tomorrow," he said, sighing. "I reckon I'll have to fix a lot of stuff there tomorrow."

"I'll help you," Blaise offered. "Tomorrow morning?"

Neville's head shot up and he looked at Blaise with wide eyes, blinking dumbly at the thought of Blaise actually helping him with plants.

Blaise looked mock-hurt. "I'm not that bad with plants. I got an E in Herbology," he joked.

Neville's cheeks turned pink and he shook his head quickly. "No, I didn't mean it that way – I meant – well…" He closed his mouth, aware that he was fumbling for words again. He sighed and just settled for smiling in amused defeat. "Thank you."

Ron rolled his eyes at the show but grinned widely after at the two. "We'll help too. Won't we, Parkinson?" He nudged Pansy with his elbow.

Pansy looked a bit green in the face. She grimaced and it was with a lot of effort that she finally gave one big, shaky and obviously forced nod. "Yeah. Help with plants and dirt. Yep."

Neville grinned and suddenly felt loads better.

Soon enough, an announcement echoed throughout Hogwarts castle, calling all students to the Great Hall.

Hermione, tense and pale from all that Draco had told her, glanced at the door. "I'm going. Someone needs to hear what Professor McGonagall has to say." She looked back at Draco, before her eyes traveled down his arm to where his hand clutched Harry's. She smiled and relaxed just a bit. "Don't worry too much. He's gone through worse."

Draco cringed. "I'm not sure how that's supposed to make me feel better, Granger."

Hermione's smile turned wry. "It means that Harry will be alright. He's not going to let something like this bring him down."

She turned and walked away, leaving her wistful words trailing behind her and echoing in Draco's ears.

"And I'm sure you won't let it either."

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully, but to Draco, it seemed like the longest day of his life. He sat by Harry's bedside, replaying the day's events and Carrow's words. He even let himself imagine the things that Carrow had described. Harry as a child, being locked up, scared of the darkness, hungry…

It made him sick that anyone could treat a child like that – could treat Harry like that.

He stopped those train of thoughts when he realized that his grip on Harry's hand had tightened and instead started to rack his brain for any educated guess on what effect Carrow's Legilimens might have on Harry, but then those thoughts started to lead to things that weren't pretty, so he stopped that thought as well.

He was spared from his mental sufferings when Blaise, Neville, Ron and Pansy came in the room. They narrated to him all about Neville finding Morgan's body and how the Aurors were now investigating the Greenhouse. Neville didn't seem as shaken as Draco expected him to be, which he thought might have had something to do with the fact that Blaise didn't seem to be letting go of Neville's hand anytime soon.

Pansy had bugged him about his own hand but he had told her, "It's what's keeping me grounded right now, Pans."

Her eyes became moist again and she requested to at least bandage it for him. He relented.

One bandaged hand later, Hermione came into the Infirmary and told them about what McGonagall's announcement had been about. It was basically to say that Carrow had finally been apprehended, which received a ground-shaking applause, and that McGonagall was to fill in the position of Transfiguration professor while Professor Bridgewood took a sick leave. This was met with lesser applause, because some students were a bit disappointed. Bridgewood at least meant to them a guaranteed O.

There was no mention of Harry Potter.

"—which is for the best, really," Hermione had ended with a sigh. "I don't know what to tell them if they suddenly asked me what had happened to him. And besides, Harry hates the attention."

Lunch rolled around but Draco steadfastly refused to leave Harry's side.

Begrudgingly, they left him there in the Hospital Wing to fill their stomachs but they did come back later, bringing with them corn muffins.

They spent their afternoon together, talking in low voices so as not to disturb Harry's sleep. They exchanged theories on what Carrow would do with the Elder Wand or if he'd be allowed to stay in the same cell as Alecto once he was back in Azkaban.

"I don't think so," Blaise had said slowly. "I think… I think that would be the real punishment for him instead of being in Azkaban."

Draco agreed.

Madame Pomfrey checked on Harry a few times, casting quick diagnostic spells. Draco was comforted by the fact that she looked pleased every time she cast one.

The Headmistress, Snape and Remus also dropped by.

As McGonagall asked the others about Harry's well-being, Remus pulled Draco just outside of the Hospital Wing's doors.

"Draco, about what Carrow said…" he trailed off worriedly.

Draco nodded. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

Remus shook his head. "It's not that. I think it's… better if Harry doesn't know that you know. Or that anyone of us knows." He bit his lip. "At least, not until he tells you on his own."

Draco nodded again, more slowly this time as realization dawned on him. If Harry knew that they knew from Carrow, he would probably be mortified. And defensive. And his damned self-persecution complex would probably kick in and make Draco's life miserable.

A thought struck him then and he looked up at Remus, unable to keep the slight accusation from his voice. "Did you know? Before?" he asked quietly.

Remus looked stricken. He raised a hand to cover his face and sighed deeply. "I didn't know those… details."

He looked like he was close to breaking down and Draco felt sympathy for the man. No doubt his guilt was probably eating him up.

"I just knew that his relatives weren't kind to him. But you see, we couldn't do anything, Draco. Sirius and I…" His voice cracked and he had to close his eyes for a bit. "Harry had to stay there," he whispered instead. "The power of the love of his mother when she saved him was the only thing protecting him from Voldemort. It was alive through her sister, Harry's aunt."

Draco swallowed thickly at the emotions pouring off of Remus. He could feel his control slipping as well; the dam ready to break. He allowed himself a tiny bit of reprieve.