Harry looked at the collection of magazines Dudley shoved in his hand. "What are you giving me this for?"

"Mum's about to clean my room, isn't she? She finds these, I'm dead."

"Porn, is it?" He opened one. There was a nonmoving picture of a naked girl with improbably large breasts tied to a chair. "Didn't know you were into this stuff, Diddykins." He closed it up. "And why should I care if Aunt Petunia yells at you?"

Dudley smiled. It was a nasty expression. "Because I'll tell her *you* gave them to me; that they're the sort of thing *your* lot reads, and that you're trying to pervert me." She'd believe him, too. As if Wizard porn was anything like this. Or, maybe Seamus just had better taste than Dudley. That was a fair way to being likely.

He hated doing his cousin a favor, but given what the day was, it didn't matter. "All right, Dud. But you will owe me." He could hear his aunt's hoover on the stairs. "I'll just go in my room, shall I? Now I have reading material and all."

"Don't get them all messy, you tosser!" Harry closed the door behind him. Aunt Petunia never came in here when he was home, although it was sterile when he came back for summer holiday. He looked around the tiny room. There were still more of Dudley's castoffs than his own things around, but part of that was because most of what he owned was packed away in his school trunk.

He sat on his bed, and, shrugging, opened the magazines. Still more pictures of naked girls tied up with ropes and leather straps and chains and stuff. He kept leafing out of boredom. He'd been helpless too often in the past to find that titillating, even it wasn't pictures of girls. Not much hope Dudley would have pictures of boys here, either.

Too bad he'd broken up with Justin over a Hufflepuff game. Would have been nice to have boyfriend waiting for him back at school, but at least Justin was still talking to him, and wasn't bursting into tears.

He closed the first magazine, and opened the next. Still naked girls. Still bondage, but now there was whips involved, and welts. He hoped they were painted on - they looked painful. And the men wielding those floggers were all masked and menacing, and that was his nightmares right there. At least Crucio didn't leave scars - not scars you could see. He put that one down.

The next one was different again. Still the bondage, but here the "Masters" were not wearing masks and the whips or whatever were on the floor. The girls were on their knees, servicing the men, or being taken. Now, that was *much* better - and then he turned one final page.

And the sight went straight to his cock. Most of the girls were blond, but this one had straight, almost white hair that hid her face, and she was as slender as a boy, even on her hands and knees. Her face was pretty, but not especially girl-like. And all she was wearing was a silver leather collar.

If he squinted, or took off his glasses, she looked almost like him.

He'd stopped thinking about Malfoy as an enemy during his fifth year - why did he care about a schoolboy when Voldemort was out there? Besides, he knew more defensive charms and hexes than Malfoy did.

And during their sixth year, when Malfoy had grown tall and slender, and let his blond hair flow to his shoulders, when he finally grew into his long hands - one of the things Justin had shouted during their breakup was that Harry paid more attention to Malfoy than to him. And Justin was right. But Malfoy was still impossibly arrogant, and more so even with his father still in Azkaban. However, he and Ron had come to an armed truce after the events of last year.

To see Malfoy like this girl...Harry licked his lips. To be like the man in the picture, without a mask or a whip - would it even be possible?

There was a story attached to the pictures. He lay down on his bed and began to read, until his aunt called them to lunch. The sexual details did very little for him, but the rest - it was practically an instruction manual for this sort of thing. He tore the story out of the magazine and slipped it with the rest of his belongings, as Dudley was hardly going to notice anything missing before tonight, and he'd have no way of complaining if he did.

And after tonight, it wouldn't matter.

He got through the rest of the day by keeping away from the house, after stashing the remainder of the porn in Dudley's immaculate bedroom, under the bed. He hoped Aunt Petunia would find it there tomorrow.

He wandered by the park, watching the little kids play, and then went to stop in at Mrs.Figg's. She smiled when she saw him and offered him some very good biscuits and a glass of pumpkin juice. They traded what news they could of the Order and the War and she pushed a small package into his hand before he left.

"Mind you don't open that until later, Harry, dear." He grinned at her.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Figg. I'll save it to the proper time."

One more dinner with his aunt and uncle, while Dudley was "out to tea" again - which meant they could have a non-diet meal. He jumped up to do the dishes without being asked, and then said he'd be up in his room, studying.

"I'm glad our Duddy isn't such a swot, eh, Petunia? He's going to be a proper man, he is - school champion in boxing. That's nothing you'd know about, is it, boy?"

"No, Uncle Vernon." Except that Gryffindor had won the Quidditch cup again, and he'd been both captain and Seeker last year. "I'll just be going now. Good-bye."

When he got to his room, he pulled out the story again, just look at it and to squint at the picture. Then he stuffed it in his trunk, under his school robes, and lay down on his bed, letting his mind create new and different pictures, pictures that made him hard. He stroked himself, imagining all sorts of lovely things until he came quite messily, and had to find a rag to clean up.

It was still early, and he couldn't concentrate on his homework, nor on one of his beloved Quidditch books. There was no point in owling anyone and he'd promised Mrs. Figg he wouldn't look at her gift. There was only one thing for it.

He stretched out on his bed and went to sleep, where he dreamt of a beautiful boy kneeling at his feet and smiling, or of that same beautiful boy crying in his arms. There were others, too, of whips and bonds that he kept tossing away, or the boy was chasing after. It was all very confusing, but also very exciting. Eventually, the dreams faded.

Several hours later, someone was banging on his door. "Harry, you wanker! Let me in now!"

"Go away, Dudley. It's late!"

"Harry!"

He'd wake his parents. Harry groaned and stretched. He opened the door. Dudley was beet red. "Where did you put my...my stuff?"

"Dud, it's...oh, it's nearly midnight." He smiled at that thought.

"I want my magazines."

"They're under your bed." Damn. Aunt Petunia wasn't going to find them in the morning.

"You really are a pouf, aren't you?" Dudley leered.

Harry shrugged. It would only be a few minutes, and they could hardly think the less of him. "That's right, Diddykins. And you're what I *really* want."

"You are bloody disgusting, cousin." He pushed his way into the room. "Why are you all packed? You going to disappear again tonight?"

"You going to tell your parents?" Harry sat down on his trunk.

Dudley shrugged. "It's what happens every summer, doesn't it? Your friends collect you or you run off part way through, and I'm stuck with them for the rest of the holiday."

"You're not going to tell me you miss me?"

Dudley laughed. "Hardly. Except that I don't have someone to blame things on, do I?"

Harry shrugged. "Not my fault." He looked at his watch. Midnight. He was seventeen. He pulled out his wand. "I'm off, then."

"I thought you couldn't use that during holidays. I remember all that stuff two summers ago, after. After *they* came round." He stared at it, as if it were going to turn into a snake and bite him.

"That's only for underage wizards. It's my birthday now, and I'm of age. I don't have to be here any longer." He aimed his wand at his trunk and Hedwig's empty cage and shrunk them down while Dudley watched, goggle-eyed. He put them in his pocket.

"Are you...are you just going to disappear?" Dudley sounded fascinated and frightened at the same time.

"I wish. I don't have my license yet."

"You mean, like driving a car? Does your lot have to go through the same rubbish I did?"

"Oh, yeah. Loads." He grinned. "We have other ways of getting 'round." He took a deep breath. "Tell Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon that I'm gone for good, will you?" And how come it took until tonight that he had a good conversation with Dudley?

"Yeah. I'll do that. You...well, be seeing you."

"Yeah."

He patted his pockets to make sure everything was there, twitched the blanket over his bed, took one last look under the floor board ("Brilliant! I can use that for my pictures!") and waved good-bye to his cousin. He put his house keys on his dresser and, charming his feet to silence, walked downstairs and out of the house, locking the door behind him. Then he lifted his wand in the air and summoned the Knight Bus, where Stan Shunpike greeted him with a cheery, "Oi, Neville!" and didn't charge him at all.

He stepped off at Number 13 Grimmauld Place, and watched Number 12 unfold in front of him. It was still decorated with serpents - Remus and Molly had suggested they transfigure those into lions or something else, but Harry refused. And it was his house now. His home, now that he was of age. He unlocked the door, bracing himself for anything.

What he got was a brightly lit entrance hall leading to the brightly lit, and cheerfully decorated, parlor, where everyone he loved - everyone still living, at any rate - was gathered. There was a table full of food and drink, and another piled high with presents. Molly Weasley rushed forward to gather him in her arms.

"Happy birthday, Harry, dear!"

He hugged her back, grinning in delight. "You could have waited until morning, you know."

"We could *not*." Hermione smiled at him from the drinks table. "Not when you said you be here tonight."

"Ron wanted it to be a surprise." Ginny handed him a cold bottle of butterbeer. "But I convinced him that surprising you would be a bad idea. Pretty much like surprising Moody." She gestured in Moody's direction, who scowled in agreement.

"Yeah. Especially since I was expecting one." He gave the two girls pecks on the cheek, and punched Ron in the shoulder. "How's the new Quidditch captain, hey?"

"I still don't see why you gave it up."

"You're not giving it back to me." He drained his butterbeer. He hadn't liked being captain last year, and Ron and Ginny ended up doing most of the strategizing anyway. Besides, things were getting hotter in the war and he had other things on his mind. Quidditch was just not as important to him.

"Too right, I'm not." Ron grinned back. Harry punched him in the arm again and wandered away.

He made his way around the parlor, hugging and shaking hands, accepting pats and kisses and good wishes as he did, and not a few people welcoming him to the Wizarding world. Harry had cut his last ties to the Muggle universe that night, and if he had any choice, he'd never return.

Finally he arrived at the far side of the room, where Remus Lupin waited for him, next to a cake that kept flashing "Happy Birthday, Harry!" in bright colors. His hair was even grayer, and there were lines around his face. Hermione had told him that werewolves had a shorter lifespan than even Muggles, but he looked twenty years older than he should.

"Happy birthday, Harry." He put out his hand, but Harry ignored it to pull him into a hug - a real hug without back pats. Perhaps the first hug he'd ever initiated himself. Then he stepped back.

"How are you, Professor?"

Lupin smiled. His eyes still looked sad. His eyes had looked sad since that day in the Ministry of Magic. "I'm fine. Just a little…Sirius would be proud of you today."

"You…" Harry frowned. Something that had confused him finally made sense. "I…Professor, I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I should have…You and Sirius?"

He looked around. "Perhaps the kitchen, Harry?" Harry nodded, and they left the room, walking past what had been Mrs. Black's portrait, but was now that of Headmaster Nigellus, who was chatting with McGonagall. They both waved as the two walked by, and returned to their conversation.

"What happened to Sirius' mum?" Harry gestured to the portrait.

"Hermione found a workable unsticking charm. She's in the attic now. I couldn't bring myself to destroy her, could I? But the old professor wanted to be out in the open, so we switched."

Lupin opened the kitchen door. Dobby and Winky were there, amid even more mounds of food and drink. Dobby was wearing a very wild assortment of handknitted socks and hats, while Winky was happily wearing only a tea-towel again.

She was Harry's. She'd asked to be Harry's, and when he offered to take her on as a free Elf, she'd refused. Even after Hermione spent hours telling her about her enslavement, she refused.

"Winky is ashamed of being free. Winky wants to be proper elf and have family again. Master Harry Potter is good wizard. Winky is taking care of him." And then she cried.

Hermione made sure she was present when Winky was bound to the family that Harry had not yet realized would probably never happen, hoping to disrupt the ceremony. Instead, she tore off her SPEW badge as she walked away.

Later, over a cup of tea, she explained. "That ceremony went both ways. She's bound to you, but you're bound to her. She has to follow your orders, but in return for service, she gets some control over you. An elf without a family or an institution like Hogwarts is weak, defenseless. Unanchored. I wish she could have told me that, but I never gave her the chance, did I?"

"What about Dobby, then?"

"Dobby is weird." She grinned. "I think he's a mutant. His magic is dependent on service, but not to any one family, so being free is good for him."

"So SPEW is dead?"

"I might lobby for better treatment of House Elves. However, I think I'd do better working for half-human rights. Like werewolves. However, I am glad they no longer include the life bond that killed Kreacher when Sirius died." They'd found the elf's body curled up in front of Mrs.Black's portrait. He was buried with the elf heads now.

Winky, sober and meticulously clean once again, offered him and Lupin more food. Harry thanked her, took two plates of biscuits and a pot of tea from Dobby. He then re-expanded his trunk and Hedwig's cage and asked them to bring his things to his bedroom.

They popped off right away.

Harry sat himself at the kitchen table and poured Lupin a cup of tea. "I cannot wait to be able to Apparate."

"We'll get you your license before the end of summer." He took a sip. "Does it bother you that Sirius and I were lovers?"

"It hardly could, could it? Not a hypocrite, you know." He shrugged one shoulder. "Why did you two keep it a secret?"

Lupin put his teacup down. "Harry? Is there anything you need to talk to me about, then?"

He completed the shrug. "I don't know. I figured it out for sure last year - even went out with Justin Finch-Fetchley for a few weeks. Ron and Hermione know and everything. Freaked Ron out for about two hours, and then he decided that if I were going to jump him, I'd have done it a long time ago. But, yeah, would be good to have someone older to talk to. So, why?"

"Because I got into the habit of privacy, and Sirius understood. But everyone knew we shared a room."

"Except I was a self-centered angry git when I was fifteen, and deep in mourning when I was sixteen. I wasn't noticing anything outside my own head. Not even how much pain *you* were in. I'm sorry about that, too."

"You were fifteen when you were fifteen, Harry. You'll be here for a few more days, right? We'll talk more, if you need to." He drained his teacup, but stayed seated. "You'd better go back to your party. There's a lot of presents there."

"Yeah." He put his still full cup down on the table and stood up. On an impulse, he leaned over and kissed Lupin on the cheek. "I think I'll want to. Thank you."

He left Lupin sitting alone, but with eyes just a bit less sad, or so he imagined.

No one had missed him quite yet, but it was already past time to go to bed or so the large clock over the mantel proclaimed in big red letters. He pounced on his piles of presents instead.

There were too many things to even comprehend - books on Defense, Quidditch robes and broom care kits, socks and jumpers - even a complete selection of supplies for his Advanced Potions class and wizard games, and a package from the twins he was afraid to look at. He now owned more things than in the rest of his life together, not counting the things in this - his - house.

And, despite his long nap, he was falling asleep on his feet.

He woke the next morning about as happy as he'd ever been. He was *home* now, home in his own house - although he still wished desperately that Sirius was still alive. He wished it all the more now that he'd figured out about him and Lupin.

But he was never going back to the Dursleys, and if he did Muggle things now, it would be by choice, not necessity.

Ron's bed was empty, so he pulled on some clothes and ran downstairs to find a kitchen full of Weasleys and friends, and Mrs. Weasley having the pleasure of Winky serving her a cup of tea. Hermione still frowned a bit at that, but she said nothing.

"Well, Harry, dear. What do you want to do today?"

"What do you think, Mum?" Ron spoke around a mouthful of fried bread. "He needs to get his license, doesn't he?" He swallowed and grinned at Harry, then took another enormous bite.

Molly frowned a bit before handing Harry a plate full of eggs, sausage and bacon. "I think the next exams are tomorrow - isn't that right, dear?"

Arthur put down his teacup. "Second of the month, as usual. You think you can pick it up that fast?"

Harry shrugged. "I can try."

"He'll be brilliant, Dad! Won't he, Professor Lupin?"

Lupin managed to find a seat in the crowd. "Thank you, Molly. Of course he'll be brilliant. Now, who is he and what will he be brilliant about?"

When the laughter died down, and everything was explained, Lupin agreed to teach Harry how to Apparate.

Apparation, as it turned out, was a matter of being absolutely sure of where you were, of where you were going *and* of your own body shape. This was why it was impossible to Apparate someone else or anything other than clothing and things which fit in the clothing.

It took all morning before he thought Harry was ready to learn the actual spell, and all afternoon before he successfully Apparated to the back garden, but once he got the trick, it seemed, well, not simple, but doable - and Lupin thought he'd done well enough that he gave Harry a harder task. He had never been in Lupin's room in Grimmauld Place, so Lupin had him concentrate on going there. It took him several tries, but by supper time, he had succeeded, Ron cheering him on every step of the way.

And he collapsed into bed shortly after supper was finished. Harry was too tired to even think about the picture he'd taken from Dudley, and certainly didn't enter his dreams.

After breakfast, which Harry could hardly eat, he and Ron Flooed to the Ministry with Mr. Weasley, where they waited for testing hours with a good part of their year at Hogwarts, including Neville Longbottom, after adding Harry's name to the list.

"You should have seen this place last month, Harry. Everyone who turned seventeen after Christmas holiday was here. They had to open up extra testing rooms and have wizards standing by in case the testing went wrong."

"How often do they test? I mean, if I fail, when do I come back?"

"Second and seventeenth of the month, every month, or the nearest working day. But you won't. Just like I said, you're brilliant."

They found a seat next to Neville, who was calmly reading a book, and a couple more schoolmates sat next to them, and they chatted about everything but the war and their upcoming test. Every so often, a name would be called and someone would get up and wave goodbye, and someone else would emerge shaking and either triumphant or disappointed. Meanwhile, more people showed up for testing. It was all rather pleasant - not since the Quidditch World Cup had Harry seen so many friends outside of school. And since most of the boys were wearing Muggle clothing instead of robes, he found the scenery also pleasant to watch.

Judging from Ron's comments, he was finding the same thing about the girls.

The room had almost completely turned over and Harry was expecting his name to be called at any moment when the door opened again. He looked up to see who was coming in this time.

Draco Malfoy strode in, every inch the arrogant young prince. Every move he made said that he was superior to everyone else in the room, and certainly he knew he was more beautiful.

And Harry would agree with that - Malfoy was tall and slender in his silky shirt and tailored trousers, and he'd grown his silver blond hair to touch his shoulders. His beauty was marred by the sneer twisting his mouth and the cold pride in his eyes.

And a picture flashed before his eyes. Draco Malfoy on his knees, begging him - all arrogance gone.

He hastily crossed his legs.

"Oi, Malfoy! Failed twice, did you?" Ron grinned and turned to Harry and Neville. "He took his first same time I did. Had to have failed two weeks ago, too."

"I was...distracted at my first test, and chose to wait the entire month instead of retaking it." He tucked his hair behind his ears. "And do not presume upon our civility, Weasley. I was forced to work with you last year; I hope we do not have to repeat that."

Ron shrugged. "Can't say I want to, either. Not that we didn't get things done." He shrugged. "I don't suppose you want me to wish you luck."

"Save your wishes for Potter." He tossed his head and strode to a row of empty seats. None of the other Slytherins present moved to sit next to him; he looked like he neither expected nor desired company.

Neville's name was called. He picked up his book and walked off to Harry and Ron's shouts of "Good luck", echoed by Lavender and the Patil sisters, who were sitting several seats away.

Before he returned, Harry's own name was called. He shook hands with Ron, got the same wishes from the girls and went into the open office.

The witch seemed unimpressed with either his name or his scar. She put him through the same drills Remus had the night before, and gave him a destination - an office on the sixth floor - where he was to take an appropriate object and Apparate back immediately.

He managed to get to the right place with one try. He looked at the array of objects - a book, a couple of weapons, and a very small stuffed dragon that waved its wings at him. Only the dragon fit in his pocket. He carefully adjusted his body sense to include the dragon and Apparated back.

The witch gave him full marks and produced an elaborate piece of parchment that declared he was able to Apparate. He signed it and she shrunk it down to pocket size. When he emerged, Ron was shaking Neville's hand, the girls were all gone and Malfoy was glaring at him from his lonely throne.

Ron took one look at him and shouted. "He's got it! First try and never learned before yesterday! Go, Harry!"

"It's Neville's first test, too, isn't it?" Harry walked over and shook Neville's hand. "We have the same birthday and all."

"Yeah, but Gran had me practicing as soon as I came home for the holidays. I better go home now - can't think of a better way to break this news, can I?" With that, he put his book in his pocket, drew his wand and disappeared with a loud *pop*.

The rest of the room turned at that, and Neville's name was repeated with wonder. Malfoy, of course, sat silent.

"Let's go to Dad's office and talk to Mum and Lupin." Ron led the way out of the room, stopping only when someone wanted to shake Harry's hand.

But all Harry could think about was Draco Malfoy and that picture.

The rest of the summer was pretty well filled. He went with the Weasleys back to The Burrow. He hated leaving Lupin alone like that, but Lupin wasn't stuck in Grimmauld Place like Sirius was. He often Flooed or Apparated over for dinner. Also, there were frequent meetings of the Order there, and Dumbledore had declared that Harry, Ron and Hermione were all old enough to attend.

The war was at a standstill, both sides taking minor losses. However, the Deatheaters were not going after Muggles/Muggleborns at that point, and while Moody made sure they never relaxed, it was a relief after the events of the previous summer.

Otherwise, there was Quidditch to plan and strategize. He, Ron and Ginny spent hours looking at charts and flying around the meadow. Like her brother, Ginny had asked for a broom when she became a prefect - and Molly was so pleased with her that she bought Ginny an owl as well.

They also had much homework to do. Ginny had got a respectable seven OWLs, and had definitely decided to be an Auror, like Tonks. All the NEWT level classes required several essays to be done before school started.

And, late at night, in the twins' old room, Harry took out that picture and, slowly, changed the girl's appearance, using transfiguration techniques. It wasn't easy - even making her look like a boy - his first requirement - took much trial and effort.

He was about to give up and owl Seamus to find him some appropriate Wizard porn - which would at least move - when he found a book on how to alter photographs in the piles around the Weasley home. The book told how to enchant a quill to alter pictures, and he'd managed to do that successfully to Mrs. Figg's birthday present, which was purple, sparkly and rather fluffy - he'd have to be Gilderoy Lockhart to use it in public.

And the next day, they got their letters from Hogwarts.

And out of Harry's envelope fell a badge with a big "P" on it. "Why am I prefect? What happened to Ron?"

He turned to look at him, but Ron's face was a vision of pure shock. In his hand was another large badge, that said "Head Boy."

"Ron?"

"I didn't expect...I thought...Ernie, or Malfoy...."

Mrs. Weasley was beside herself. "Three Head Boys. And Ginny well on her way to Head Girl. And now Harry a prefect, too. Oh, this is too good to be true! I'm so proud of all of you!" She immediately planned a huge dinner.

"I don't understand." Harry looked at his badge. "Why am I a prefect?"

"Because if Ron's Head Boy, there needs to be another Gryffindor boy prefect for seventh year." Ginny slipped her letter into her pocket. "You're the logical choice."

Ron still hadn't moved. "I can't do this. I can't do this."

"Of course you can, dear." Mrs. Weasley would not be discouraged.

"I'm Captain of Quidditch. How will I have time for everything? Being Head Boy, the Order, all my schoolwork. When am I going to sleep?"

"We'll help. You know Gryffindor will be behind you anyway, and you have loads of friends in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw now. And Harry and I can fill in for Quidditch duties if you need us to."

"Harry, you need to be captain again."

"No way." Just the thought was horrible. "Ron. Enjoy it. You're in the spotlight now, and you deserve it. Well done!"

"I wonder if Hermione made Head Girl. Wouldn't be the first time they came from one house." He looked at the window as if expecting an owl, and as he did, one flew right in.

Ron plucked the letter off her leg, and gave her some bits of bacon. "Yes, it's from her. She didn't make Head Girl, but she doesn't sound disappointed. And, look! She'll meet us in Diagon Alley tomorrow for school shopping!"

He glanced at his mother. She shrugged. "I don't see why not. All three of you can go. You certainly don't need me." Harry would have thought she was sad at the idea, but her eyes glowed with pride. "Not three prefects. And I'll give you some things for the twins, too."

"Cool!" Ron immediately found some parchment and a quill and began writing back to Hermione.

"Harry?" Ginny looked up from her letter.

"Yes?"

"Are you going to write to your family? Tell them the news?"

"My family already knows. Don't you?" They all smiled at him. He grinned. "So far as I'm concerned, I never need think about the Dursleys again. Well, unless one of Dudley's kids turns out to be a wizard or something."

"You really do hate them, don't you?" She stared at him in wonder.

He thought about it. "I should. But, you know. I don't really think about them much when I'm not with them. I'm not part of that world anymore, am I?"

To prove that, he asked Ginny to go with him to Madam Malkin's the next day to help him pick out robes. "Not school robes, you understand. I want a couple of sets of everyday robes."

She agreed, and when they left an hour or so later, Harry owned, besides the school ones and some dress robes with matching dark green embroidered bands down the front, three sets in rich, dark colors that made him look a couple of years older and very much like a wizard. He was so pleased that he wore one set out of the shop instead of his too-large Dudley clothes. He even asked Madam Malkin to dispose of those for him.

"We should go to Gladrags next, then." Ginny grinned at him. "I wonder why you haven't done this before."

"Because I didn't want the Dursleys to know I had the money. They'd find some way of making me give it to them. I wore school robes most of the time anyway, so I really didn't care." As he said that, he thought about his underclothing. "But I think I will get new pants and socks. It would be a new thing to be the first one wearing them." The very thought made him smile.

"Ouch! Look where you're going...Potter! I didn't recognize you in proper clothing." Malfoy straightened his own clothing. "And little Miss Weasley. Well, I didn't realize you two were a pair. I'm not sure which of you is aspiring higher now." He had an ugly smile, which lasted until he realized that Ginny was laughing at him.

"I thought Draco Malfoy knew everything going on at Hogwarts! How could you miss Harry and Justin? I mean, they snogged before a Quidditch game!"

"Like I pay attention to what a Hufflepuff does." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "And I never dreamed the great and famous Potter would actually fancy one."

Oh, he really needed to have something done to him. Harry could just taste it. He wondered..."You know, I'm single right now, *Draco*." He looked at him and smiled. "If you beg, I might consent to go out with you. I know you're no Hufflepuff, but..." he touched the point of Draco's chin with one finger, "you are a lovely boy, and that does make up for a lot."

Harry had no idea how long the three of them stood there like that - Harry looking at Malfoy, Malfoy looking at nothing and Ginny just staring - before Malfoy wrenched his head away. "Get your hands off me, Potter! I'm not going to be your *toy*." He didn't move from that spot.

Harry smiled. "I haven't said I wanted you as a toy, did I?"

Harry expected Malfoy to respond in kind, but all he did was take a deep breath before walking towards the apothecary shop. He even stopped once to look at Harry, who kept smiling at him. Inside though, Harry had no idea what just happened. It was as if they were playing a game, but neither knew the rules.

"What were you going on about, Harry?" Ginny didn't seem to know if she should stare at Malfoy or Harry. "Do you know how easy it would be for him to hex you?"

"Malfoy won't hex me." He spoke with perfect confidence.

"How can you be so sure?"

That was a very good question. Malfoy had never been shy about things like that in the past. He thought fast. "Because he knows I can outhex him before he brings his wand out. Anyway, he needs taking down. Arrogant bastard."

"Whatever you say, Harry." She visibly relaxed. "Where now?"

"Gladrags. I need clothes that fit for a change. And please, don't tell anyone about this."

"No one would believe me anyway."

After getting all new underwear and socks, plus some Muggle-type jeans and jumpers, they joined Ron and Hermione for lunch at Florian Fortescue's, and finished up their shopping at Flourish and Blotts before Flooing back to the Burrow.

Hermione looked like she couldn't be prouder of Ron than if she herself was Head Girl. "Honestly, with my Arithmancy project plus all my NEWT work, I can't see how I'd have time to be more than a prefect. But I'm so glad Harry is one now. I'll show you the prefect's carriage and everything when we're on the train, Harry."

He spent half the trip in the prefects' carriage with Ron and Hermione learning what the 7th Year prefect did, which was get instructions from the Head Boy and Head Girl. Ron had spent the rest of the summer reading long missives about his duties and responsibilities. He tried twice more to saddle Harry with being captain again, and once he tried handing it off to Ginny, but both turned him down. He kept worrying about how people would react to his position, and how he would do.

"Okay, people. We have new prefects here - all you fifth years and the new Gryffindor and Hufflepuff 7th years, so I'm going to start with a review of what you have to do. Then Susan Bones -" he indicated the new Head Girl "will tell you what you can do and what you can't. And make no mistake. There's more things we have to do and more things we can't do then there are things we can do, right, Susan?"

She nodded. "Like or not, we're examples to the other students. So, we have to behave better, and if we don't, we get longer detentions. But as compensation, we don't get take away House points. The best we can do is recommend to the Heads of our Houses to do the same." She shrugged.

Ron and Susan practically radiated confidence and responsibility - in fact, leadership. Harry never had any doubts Ron was the best man for the job, but it was good to see he was right.

Malfoy sat across from him, scowling and whispering to Pansy, but stealing looks at Harry all the while. Harry himself was studying him so as to make his picture more accurate.

He'd learned to manage the enchanted quill fairly well by this time. The girl had a boy's body now, and he'd begun to make the face a bit less androgynous and more masculine. He was looking more and more like Draco all the time, but there were things that weren't quite right yet. So, of course he had to study the original.

He'd never noticed how the black school robes brought out Malfoy's grey eyes, or white blond hair, or how they made his skin look. Like a rather unhealthy shade of white, actually. Didn't he leave his house at all in the summer? Even Ron was covered in freckles.

He was still one of the most beautiful boys in the compartment. The most beautiful boy in the compartment. Harry imagined getting the fall of his hair just right.

"What the hell are you looking at, you pouf?" Malfoy glared at him.

"You." Harry didn't smile. "I choose to look at you."

"Potter, Malfoy." Susan glared at both of them. "Conduct your love affair on your own time. This is important."

"I'm not going out with Potter."

"Of course not. I haven't asked you." He winked at Malfoy before he faced Susan. "I'm sorry, Bones. Won't happen again."

"Good. Malfoy?" She smiled.

"Go..." Malfoy stopped. Harry could see Susan's face, and Ron's next to hers. They were not going to yell, and they were not going to say anything. They were visibly Not Happy with Malfoy, just as Susan had been Not Happy with Harry earlier. Ginny stared at all of them, and then shared a proud glance with Hermione, who was smiling broadly.

"Malfoy?" Her tone of voice did not change at all.

He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Susan. I will pay attention. And not fight with Potter."

"Excellent. Let's go on, shall we?"

By the time the meeting ended, the lunch witch had finished going through the train. They'd got past most of the compartments - and Harry had the impression that the train was longer than it had been before, and contained a great many more small children - before finding the one with just Luna and Neville.

"We've been waiting for you." Neville pointed to a large pile of cakes and sweets next to him. Luna waved vaguely from behind a copy of the *Quibbler.*

"Thanks, Neville." Ginny gave him an affectionate squeeze before taking a handful of Cauldron cakes and settling next to Luna to read over her shoulder.

Ron rummaged through a bag and pulled out the Traveling Wizard Chess Set that Bill had given him last Christmas. "Fancy a game, Neville?"

"Want to get slaughtered again, do you?" He handed Trevor to Hermione, and settled down to yet another bloody battle. Hermione held the toad as they both watched. Harry looked on for a couple of minutes before stretching out in the corner of the compartment with a Muggle sport magazine and his enchanted quill. As he nibbled on Chocolate Frogs, he found a Nigerian football player and little by little made him look like Hermione.

Eventually, he had a tall, pale woman with bushy hair and a wand, but she was still not Hermione, and by that time they had to change into their school robes and move back to the prefect compartment to get their assignments.

He found himself walking next to Malfoy, who pretended that he was ignoring Harry's entire existence. Harry, in his turn, made certain to openly eye him up and down, admiring the way his school robes draped around his body. He knew his own just sort of hung on his shoulders - Malfoy wore robes like clothing; Harry wore his, even after all these years, like a costume.

"Get your eyes off me, you smarmy git!"

"Ask me nicely, Draco." Instead, Malfoy pulled his robes closer to his body and walked ahead. Harry laughed to himself and admired the new view.

The train *was* longer and *did* have more little ones on it. And had he really been that tiny at eleven?

He and the other prefects had to keep an eye on their own Houses, and make sure the second years got safely on the carriages. He was also told to make a point of seeing who, if anyone, reacted to the Thestrals.

Voldemort's followers had been busy. Too many people stared in a way that convinced Harry that they were seeing the beasts for the first time.

And then they were in the castle and gathering in the Great Hall, where a fine, starry night shone from the enchanted ceiling. Dumbledore welcomed in the First years - and there had to be over a hundred of them. He leaned over to Ron while the Sorting Hat sung a song about unity and history.

"This is going to be a *long* Sorting. I'm not sure we had this many in the entire school when we started."

"People weren't having many kids during the last war, were they? It wasn't until we all felt safe that people started having them again." Ron shrugged, then watched carefully as the first one in line got sorted into Ravenclaw.

Harry was right - it was a long Sorting. He kept count - there were 113 first years in that line, sorted more or less evenly among all four Houses. There were now twenty-seven eleven year olds sitting along the Gryffindor table, which expanded so there was enough room, and suddenly six prefects didn't seem like enough. Hermione seemed to agree. After consulting with Ron, she gathered in the rest of the prefects with her eyes and moved students around so that first years were evenly distributed among the more responsible older students, keeping siblings together when possible.

As Harry whispered instructions to a third year, he could see Ron and Susan going to the other tables and making the same suggestions. Even Malfoy seemed to agree, herding the Slytherins around like so many minions. At the head table, the heads of the Houses looked on with approval.

It took ages for the House to quiet down after the Feast. Just getting the first year boys settled in their dormitory took the combined efforts of all three prefects - and Harry suspected the girls were more difficult because there were more of them. Colin and the fifth year prefect - a tall, sweet-faced boy named David Liu - were close to breaking.

"All right, you lot! Leave your trunks where you found them and get ready for bed *now*. I'm going to count ten. Get your pajamas out. You are sleeping in the beds assigned you." He took out his wand, murmured a charm and began to write glowing blue numbers in the air.

Some of the boys immediately opened their trunks and grabbed nightclothes; others stared at the numbers before their mates nudged at them. By the time the ten faded from the air, even the slowest was changing.

"Good job, all of you. That's right. Into bed now." The mass of small boys climbed under their blankets and closed their bedcurtains. "Breakfast is early tomorrow. Lights out. *Nox*."

The lights went off, and the three prefects wandered back to the common room, where Ginny, Hermione and the fifth year girl prefect were all having a lie down near the fire.

"Were we that noisy? Ever?" Ginny rubbed her ears.

"Your class is bigger than mine, but it wasn't that big. Fourteen of them in one dorm room! Honestly!" Hermione shook her head.

"It was the war." Everyone nodded at Ginny. Harry collapsed on an armchair.

"You mean..." He rubbed his scar. "It's all *my* fault?"

"Yes, indeed, Harry. Just like everything else." Ron walked into the common room and sat on the floor next to Hermione's feet. He began rubbing them. "Tomorrow is going to be amazingly difficult. Oi! Gryffindor!" Everyone in the room looked in his direction. "You saw the lot of ickle firsties we have this year, right? So, I'm asking you as a fellow Gryffindor *and* as Head Boy to make sure they get to the right place. You see a titchy boy looking for Charms corridor, you tell him or show him, and I don't care what House he's in. I don't want that lot wandering around getting in everywhere."

Seamus frowned. "And the other Houses? Are we the only tour guides?"

"So what if it is, then? It's not going to eat a big chunk of your day, mate. They'll get things sorted soon enough. We did." Ron kept rubbing Hermione's feet. "Fact is, Susan's telling her House the same thing, and I sent word to the prefects of the other two. And Harry, Hermione, I need you on special watch if you can. Some of these kids are going to have nightmares."

"I'll do my best, Ron." Harry made a note to get some extensible ears.

The talk moved to other things, such as the new Quidditch schedule and the first Hogsmeade weekend, until Hermione noticed that it had gone eleven and everyone went to their own dorms.

By the time the first week was over, Harry had found himself a routine of sorts. He had classwork and homework, of course, for his five NEWT level classes plus the DA as a supplement to the Defense classes. Even though Kingsely Shacklebolt had come on board as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, things were bad out there. The DA was more important than ever.

Prefect duties took up several hours a week - patrolling hallways near the Gryffindor tower, keeping an eye on the first and second years, comforting the odd nightmare.

And through it all, there was Malfoy, always on the fringes - sitting in the advanced classes, ignoring Pansy Parkinson during the general prefect's meeting or walking the hallways on duty. And Harry couldn't ignore him anymore, not like the way he could the year before.

Not when he was kneeling in his dreams; not when, in the privacy of his curtained bed, Harry spent time altering the picture some more, moving ever closer to Malfoy's face. He'd got the chin pointed just right now, and he was working on getting the eye shape. The color was easy, but the shape - that took some thought.

There he was in the library now, bending over a book, his hair hiding his face. Harry couldn't concentrate on his own research, and the first of McGonagall's essays was due on Monday. Finally, he gave up and, glancing around, he took out his precious photograph and the quill. This was stupid. This would get him caught. This would wreck everything.

He propped the book open on the table in front of him, hoping it would screen what he was doing.

The girl was clearly a boy now, with white blonde hair and grey eyes and a pointed chin. He hadn't done anything to the hair yet. He wasn't sure he could. He fiddled with the eye shape, adjusting the corners and adding a hint of arrogance to the mouth. The mouth was wrong - the lips were still too full and it was too small. He made some adjustments, but it wasn't working. He peered over the book. He caught Malfoy looking up - there was that curl in his lip.

He'd love to...what? Kiss it? Or maybe get rid of it? He didn't know anymore.

Someone touched the back of his neck. He jumped, slamming one hand on his picture while the other went for his wand. He turned to see who it was.

"Hermione, don't sneak up on me like that!" He covered the picture with the book. "Not after last year."

"I didn't. You were just concentrating on what you were doing." She looked at the book. "Yes, that Transfigurations assignment is fascinating, isn't it?"

"Uh. Yeah. Is there anything you wanted, Hermione? Some prefect thing?"

"No. Dinner's almost over, though, and I didn't see you there."

He looked at his watch, and hastily grabbed up his parchment and quills, leaving the book on the table. "Thanks!" If he ran, he might make it there before pudding.

It wasn't until he got into his bed that night that he realized he'd left his picture in the library. And that Malfoy had been watching him. And there was nothing he could do. The picture was gone - if Malfoy hadn't found it, Madam Pince had, and had surely destroyed it.

He prayed Madam Pince had found it. She wouldn't know it was his, after all. And she wouldn't care, either.

Every time he thought he was calm enough to sleep that night, he got another image of Malfoy finding the picture and he panicked again. By the next morning, he'd felt like he'd played Quidditch all night.

The bugger was that it was that he'd be playing Quidditch all morning. Ron was just itching to try out the strategies the three of them had hammered out that summer, and he wanted to get everyone used to playing together again.

He forced himself up and into the one set of Dudley clothes he still had - no sense in getting his new things mucked up - and then had three cups of coffee at breakfast. He thought he saw Malfoy looking at him for a moment, and began to panic again, but decided he was being too vigilant. He forced himself to finish his meal in time for Ron to drag him and the rest of the team to the pitch.

Where they worked hard, practicing Ron's maneuvers over and over again. Harry knew he'd been right to insist Ron take over the captaincy of the team - he was a master strategist and he knew Quidditch the way Harry knew Defense, and he lead like he was born to it. Even his sister obeyed him.

Finally, the time they'd booked was over, and the Slytherins arrived. Malfoy, who was now captain himself, sneered at them as they left.

Or did Harry imagine that Malfoy gave him a different look as they passed? Something more calculated? He winked at him, just in case.

He exchanged a few more words with Ginny before she ran off to change before a Charms Club meeting, and then, on a whim, turned to look at the pitch again.

Malfoy stood, tall and slender, in the center of the pitch, holding his broom and directing his team in warming up exercises, while a line of Beater hopefuls waited for their turn. Crabbe and Goyle hadn't made it back for their sixth year, as they hadn't got a single OWL between them, and last year's Slytherin Beaters had already left.

Harry left before anyone thought he was spying. He had to go over a lesson plan for the first DA session anyway.

As he left, he could feel eyes staring at him. He shivered but did not turn back to look.

The next week was busier than he could have imagined. When Ron wasn't making them practice Quidditch, he was having meetings with all the prefects or with the prefects of a certain year or of a certain house - and he seemed to have appointed Harry and Hermione as his deputies, just as Susan had done with Ernie Macmillian and Hannah Abbott, who had been reappointed when Susan had become Head Girl.

Then there was Dumbledore's Army, now 200 strong. He finally had to turn away anyone under 3rd year just so they would be able to work more effectively. Fortunately, Kingsley was all for the club. He did make Harry write up plans for each meeting and go over them with him, but Harry didn't mind that at all. It gave him more confidence and authority.

And all this was besides schoolwork and homework - Harry didn't feel like he had time to breathe, let alone sleep.

And when he did sleep, he dreamed of Draco Malfoy standing tall and beautiful in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, or kneeling naked at his feet, his lip curling in disdain. He couldn't even look at him in class, at meetings or during meals anymore without seeing that image - and wondering if he'd seen that picture. Malfoy's face gave none of that away.

He ventured back to the library a week later, looking for that same book for yet another essay. He stared at it in the stacks, wondering if maybe Madam Pomfrey really had destroyed it. She didn't look at him any differently than usual, and he certainly couldn't ask.

Then Malfoy sauntered in, removing the book from the shelves. He stared at Harry for too long a time, took a deep breath, and turned towards him.

"Were you using this book last week, Potter?" Malfoy didn't meet his eyes.

Harry forced himself to smile. "For a while, yes. I was just looking for it - McGonagall's essay, you know." He apparently had given himself permission to breathe too soon.

"Yes." He nodded. "Then, please." He held the book out oddly, balanced flat on the palms of his hands as if it were on a cushion. After a moment's confusion, during which time Malfoy looked only at the book, Harry took the book with both hands. It felt formal, but also - there was something else that made him shiver inside.

"Thank you, Malfoy. Don't you need it?"

"I'm nearly done. After you're finished will be fine."

"All right. I'll…get it to you soon."

Malfoy nodded and walked towards the Charms section, all without looking up.

It took Harry twenty minutes before he could concentrate on his essay. He could not imagine what Malfoy was playing at, or what it meant. However, he was waiting for the book, so Harry went to work. He finished his research and the essay sooner than he thought.

He took it over to Malfoy, who was sitting at the same table he was the week before, working on his Charms assignment. "Here. I'm done." He held the book out in a normal fashion.

Malfoy sat for a moment, doing nothing, seeming to think. Then he stood up. He took the book with both hands, much like Harry had done. "Thank you, Potter."

"You're welcome." Malfoy stood there holding the book, as if he were waiting for something. "Um. Good luck with it."

"Thank you. You, too." He still didn't move. Finally, Harry shrugged and walked back to his table. Only then did Malfoy sit down. What the hell was going on? And why was he getting hard just at the thought of Malfoy waiting for him like that?

He looked back at him. Malfoy seemed deep in the Transfigurations text, but he was also shifting in his seat.

What if Malfoy actually had found that picture? And was…what? He shook his head and pulled out the DA lesson plan. He was going to have to show it to Kingsley later, before the next meeting, and there were things he needed to clear up. And while he was at it, he might as well do his own Defense homework. Kingsley had asked them to find times it had been permitted to use an Unforgivable, and the reasons cited for the permission. Harry was vitally interested in those cases, and was surprised at the number.

He barely made it to the beginning of dinner this time.

He glanced at Malfoy as he sat down next to Ron and Hermione and began to help himself to chops and mashed potatoes, but Malfoy didn't look back. He was busy disciplining a couple of second year girls and a first year boy, who had been arguing over something.

Ron followed his look. "He doesn't do a bad job there, you know. He caught that fight early. He's pretty firmly in control." He laughed. "Who'd ever think I'd say a good thing about that snooty?"

Harry shrugged and attacked his meal. He added spinach and carrots as his plate emptied, to Ron's disgust. Ron never met a vegetable he liked, even if Hermione kept dishing them up for him. As he reached for a flagon of pumpkin juice, he saw caught a glimpse of Malfoy again. He was sitting apart from his own year and, though he was surrounded by chattering students, he looked very alone.

And when he noticed Harry's eyes on him, he glared back and cut into his meat savagely. Harry shook his head. What happened to his…the Malfoy in the library?

Before he could think about it further, he had to wander over to a pair of third year Gryffindors who were daring each other to greater heights of carrot flicking and give them a good, hard look. By the time he got back to his seat, Malfoy was gone.

Kingsley approved his plans for the DA, so he called the first meeting for that Monday night, after Quidditch practice. The lot of them gathered in a knot in an underused corridor.

"Okay, people. Professor Shacklebolt has got us our own room now. Professor Dumbledore has made it unplottable, so it's not on any map, and if you're not a member, you're just not going to find it."

"Why not the Room of Requirement, Potter?" Zacharias Smith leaned against the opposite wall, his robes outlining his well-built body. "It worked well enough in the past."

Harry swallowed, his mouth dry at the sight. "We're official now, aren't we? So we should have a place of our own, not some room that'll turn into a broom cupboard on alternate Wednesdays and that anyone can get into." He looked into Smith's clear, bright eyes. "Because there are other uses for that room, aren't there?" He smiled slowly at him.

Smith smiled back. "I think we can talk about that. Later."

"Uh. Right. Okay, so. We have a password. This password will change daily - Hermione has charmed our coins so that the new password will be encoded as soon as it's picked. Sir Rufus the Unconcerned will watch it for us." He indicated the full length portrait of a man in a large hat with a feather, a pink floral jacket and an enormous pair of pantaloons. Sir Rufus waved nonchalantly. "Sir Rufus. Nimbletoes."

Sir Rufus bowed, and the portrait swung open to reveal a full sized doorway with a door in it. Locked. "This door has been charmed so that only people who are signed members of this club can open it. That's also Hermione's doing. Anyone here not a member yet?"

He saw a long, graceful arm raise up, and move forward, the mob of students parting in front of it. "Me, Potter. I haven't enlisted in your little army yet, have I?" Malfoy crossed his arms and smirked.

"Dumbledore's Army, actually." Harry smiled back. "Didn't think you'd want to, you know. Given your dad and all. Reckoned you'd be following the family tradition."

"Let's say I've had a rethink on all that. Wondering just who the blood traitors are, you know?"

"Voldemort's not got your dad out, then?" Of course he hadn't - everyone would have known.

"Not likely to. So. Since one must choose sides, and the other side won't have me in any way, shape or form, I've come to join up."

"You know you'll have to abide by conditions."

"I'll do whatever you want me to do, Potter." Malfoy's voice dropped to a whisper, which sent a current through Harry's body. He looked around at the others. Ron was staring open mouthed, Hermione was looking almost smug and Smith was licking his lips. That last almost distracted him.

"Well, you'll do as a demonstration, then. Try to take hold of the door handle there, Malfoy." Harry tried to regulate his breathing as Malfoy walked by him, and Smith's glance became wandlight sharp.

"Whatever you say." He tried to touch the knob, but his hand kept bouncing off. After several attempts, he stopped.

"That's what'll happen to anyone not authorized to use the room." Harry smiled. "Filch is not authorized to use this room. But for members of the Army at meeting times - " He opened the door with ease.

"Everyone, please enter. Sir Rufus, would you be kind enough to conceal the door once it's closed?"

"Of course, Master Potter."

"Thank you."

Harry walked in the room flanked not by Ron and Hermione but by Malfoy and Smith. It was going to be a difficult session. Harry decided that they would not be working with each other. Or with him.

He looked at both of them. Well, maybe with him.

Malfoy signed the form, and Hermione confirmed that he did so honestly. He and the other newcomers, which included some fifth and fourth year Slytherins, all received their gold coins and were instructed on how to use them. Then Harry launched into what had already become his traditional first day lesson - banishing charms.

He walked around the room, correcting grips and pronunciation, and watching older members of the group helping new ones. He was surprised to see Malfoy assisting a small mixed group of fourth years, but Harry gave him a smile.

Malfoy ducked his head so fast that Harry almost missed it, and then sneered at him.

He also passed Smith, who was working with another group of fourth years, and with a distinct flair, and who gave him a look that burned through his robes. Smith hadn't given him a second look last year, even after he'd broken up with Justin.

At that thought, he glanced at his former boyfriend, who grinned back from his flock of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. At least that relationship had ended well.

He stopped the practice and asked for the uses of the charm, and got some very creative answers. Then he dismissed them all. Smith hung back, unlike Malfoy.

"Well, Harry? You wanted to see me?"

Harry smiled. "Perhaps. If you'd tell me what's changed since last year."

"Last year, I was jealous as hell of Finch-Fletchley, and didn't understand *why*." He walked closer, and then stroked Harry's face with his fingertips.

"Well then, Zacharias... perhaps we do have something to talk about." He placed a hand on Smith's waist and stroked the firm muscles underneath his school robe. Smith shuddered and drew in a sharp breath. "Or maybe we don't have to talk at all." Harry smiled. Then he stood on his toes and kissed Smith on the mouth.

Seconds later, he found himself pushed against the classroom wall with Smith's tongue trying to reach down his throat. He fought the intrusion with his own tongue, kissing Smith as bruisingly hard as he could and pushing their bodies together. He was not surprised to feel Smith's hard cock against his body - he was, in fact, quite happy to feel it, to move his own erection against it, letting the friction of robes and underwear and the wall behind him bring them both off while Harry drove his own tongue down Smith's throat.

Snogging with Justin had been nothing like this.

They broke apart, breathing heavily. Smith stumbled against one of the desks while Harry used the wall as support.

"So. Smith. I have a bit of free time tomorrow night." He grinned.

"Meet you here, then? After dinner?" Smith - Zacharias - pushed his hair back over his forehead. His mouth was red and swollen and at that moment, Harry formed plans for it.

"Yes, please." Still breathing heavily, he glanced at his watch. "And it's nearly curfew now. We'd better run."

He nodded. Harry cleaned them both with a muttered "*Scourgify*" and a tap of his wand, and let him leave first, after kissing him on the cheek. He took one last look around the room to make sure all was in order, and then stepped through the doorway. Sir Rufus gave him a salute and shut his portrait.

"Is there a reason you're sleeping your way through Hufflepuff, Potter?" Malfoy leaned against the corridor wall, the languor in his voice betrayed by the tension in his body.

"They work hard. Can you work that hard, Malfoy?" Harry, on the other hand, was still quite relaxed after his session with Zacharias.

"You never know, will you?"

"You haven't begged me yet." Not sure why or what he was doing, Harry tapped his fingers on Malfoy's mouth. "I need to hear it from those lips. Draco."

"In your dreams, Potter. In your dreams." But when he grabbed Harry's hand to move it from his face, he stroked his wrist with his thumb.

Harry took his hand away and shook his head at him. "Not until you ask, Draco." He smiled again and left him leaning against the corridor wall.

Ginny took one look at him when he entered the Gryffindor common room, and laughed. "You did more than talk to Zacharias, didn't you?" He must have looked confused, because she pointed to her lips. "You're all swollen, so you either fought or snogged. I'm betting on snogged."

He flung himself onto an armchair. "You win the bet. He's pretty good, too."

"I'm not going to find out, will I?" Ginny winked.

Ron looked up from his homework. "What are you doing, Harry? Sleeping your way through Hufflepuff?"

It felt so different when Ron asked that question. "Not got much choice, do I? You lot are straight or spoken for, or straight *and* spoken for, and Ginny and Neville are doing Ravenclaw." He grinned over at Neville, who was dating Anthony Goldstein. Neville blushed. "That leaves Hufflepuff and Slytherin. So what's a girl to do?" He fanned himself with his hand.

Everyone laughed. "Speaking of Slytherin - what do you think Malfoy's game is?" Ron turned around to face Harry.

"Game? What do you mean?" Did other people notice his odd behavior?

"You know. Joining the DA. What's going on with that? What happens if he tells?"

"His hair will turn bushy and bright green." Hermione put her book down. "And his nose will sprout whiskers. Just like if anyone else does."

"Maybe, but I'm keeping an eye on him from now on. You should, too, Harry."

Harry smiled. "I will. Except for when I'm with Zacharias. And I think I have loads of homework to do." He pushed himself out of the armchair and went to get his schoolbag so he could get to work on his collective six yards of essays.

Zacharias was waiting for him after dinner in front of the room. "You're a bit late, you know, and the portrait won't let me in."

"Sir Rufus, this is Zacharias Smith. He has the same rights as I do. Zacharias, greet Sir Rufus." They bowed to each other.

"Good to meet you, Master Smith." Sir Rufus gave Zacharias a long look. "Quite a beautiful young man, Master Potter. I do so like seeing beautiful boys." He smiled. Zacharias blushed.

"*Dancing Feet*, Sir Rufus." Harry put his arm around Zacharias' shoulder. Together, they entered the classroom. "We could also go to the Room of Requirement, you know. So he won't tease you."

Zacharias shot him an amused look. "He's a *portrait*, Harry. I don't really care what some enchanted oil paint thinks. Now, then. You'd best defend yourself, Harry." And he pounced, lips first.

They wrestled each other to the ground and managed, between gropes and kisses, to Summon a bunch of cushions and to get each other's robes off.

Zacharias hadn't bothered with pants. He lay naked and golden in the candlelit room, his skin beginning to flush with desire and his cock full and purple above the yellow thatch between his legs. It looked very delicious to Harry, so he took it in.

Later, it was Zacharias' turn, and if he were new to this, he was also a fast learner. In between, they kissed and wrestled and rubbed against each other, making the cushions fly everywhere. They lay panting in the wreckage of the room when it was all finished. Harry rolled out of touching distance to look at his new boyfriend.

"That was fun."

Zacharias smiled. "I quite agree. And far less uncomfortable without clothes. We should have to do this again." Then he rolled over and tickled Harry until tears came. "Pillock. It was more than fun."

"You are a pillock, Zach."

"Don't call me that." His face was deadly serious, so Harry nodded.

Then he blinked. "Which one? Pillock or Zach?"

That got him tickled again, which lead to more wrestling and more kissing and, thus, to more mess in the classroom. Finally, they got up, got dressed - a very simple matter for Zacharias - straightened the room and parted with a mutual peck.

By the next day, everyone knew about them. They kissed when they met in front of mutual classes, and their teachers flatly refused to let them sit next to each other because they flirted and played with each other's feet. After those classes, they walked arm in arm to whatever was next, and they watched each other's Quidditch practice. And, of course, they met every other night or so in the DA classroom or the Room of Requirement, or just some place private.

And a week later, the school gossip was all about Professor Flitwick getting caught with Madam Rosmerta when she delivered butterbeer for the school Halloween party, and Harry and Zacharias were old news, which meant they could go about their lives without stares or whispers, stealing what time they could to shag each other blind.

Only Malfoy seemed to watch them anymore. Harry didn't know what he thought about those deep and hateful stares they got, or the way he and Zacharias hissed at each other in the corridors. But he did keep an eye on Malfoy when he wasn't otherwise occupied. So far, he was exemplary as a prefect, a good addition to the DA and the same sort of toady he'd always been in class. Harry couldn't understand that last. Malfoy was bright and capable and would have got good marks anyway. It didn't endear him to anyone but Snape, and sometimes Harry wondered about Snape.

Once again, Halloween and the Hogsmeade weekend came at the same time. He and Zacharias stole away from the feast early, their napkins full of cakes and biscuits, and spent the rest of the night snogging and eating their goodies, and the next day, they wandered around Hogsmeade together, occasionally bumping into friends or fellow DA members. Malfoy entered Honeydukes just as they were discussing which sweets to buy.

Harry finally picked up the lot and took it all to the counter. When he came back, his money bag lighter but with a sack full of Chocolate Frogs, Peppermint Toads and Jelly Slugs, he stopped short. Zacharias and Malfoy seemed to be having a staring contest, and the looks they were giving each other were just short of murder.

"Malfoy, what do you want?" He looked at Harry for a moment and then his eyes dropped.

"He's jealous, Harry. Can't you *tell*?" Zacharias smirked at Malfoy. "Poor Malfoy can't have you."

Harry laughed. "He had his chance. I told him." He tilted his head. "All you had to do was *beg*, Draco."

"You didn't make *me* beg." His boyfriend slipped a hand around his waist, under his cloak. Harry smiled at him.

"Let's go. There's nothing else in this store that interests me."

Harry could feel Malfoy's eyes on him as they left.

"You're not interested in him, are you?" Zacharias stopped him before they got to The Three Broomsticks.

"I'm going out with you, aren't I? Why would I want him?" He gave Zacharias a kiss, and pulled him into the bar, where they were greeted by a bunch of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors.

Just as they'd settled at a table with hot butterbeers, Harry felt his scar burn more than it had in months. He grabbed at it so fast that he knocked the table over, drinks and all on his way to the floor.

"Harry!" He heard Zacharias as if he were far away. "Harry, what happened? Are you all right?" He could feel his head being supported on something firm. "Get help, someone!"

"I'll get the Headmaster!" Neville's voice sounded scared but firm, and then Harry heard him shout "Hogwarts!" to the fireplace.

"Harry?" Hermione was kneeling next to him. He twisted his head to see her, but the movement made her dizzy.

"He's...happy. Something's happened, and he's happy and he wants me to know it, so he pushed his way through." All those months of Occlumency finally worked . He couldn't do Leglimency yet, but at least his mind was his own.

"Who's happy, Harry?" Zacharias was stroking his hair back from his forehead. "Your scar is hot..."

"Voldemort. He's discovered...oh, God. He's discovered spies. He knows who they are. He has...he has...oh, God, no. Where's Dumbledore? I have to see him!" He struggled to get up, but the movement made him feel sick.

"Shhh. Shhh. Longbottom's fetched him. He's on his way. Shhh. Just stay here, all right?" He sounded worried.

"That's right, Harry. It'll be fine. It'll have to be fine." Hermione didn't sound fine. In the background, he could hear the table being righted and Madam Rosmerta using charms to clean things up. He heard Ron thank her, which meant he'd got drenched, too.

"Harry! I came as soon as I heard, my boy!" Dumbledore sounded as worried as Hermione. He could hear Dumbledore's robes rustle as he also knelt down. "Please excuse me, Hermione."

"Headmaster!" He managed to sit up, although he still had to lean on Zacharias. "Voldemort sent me this. He has Snape!"

The entire bar became silent.

"Are you sure, Harry?" Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder.

"As sure as I can be. He forced his way through my defenses and he feels so very happy. He's found Snape out, Headmaster, and he wants to make sure we know." Harry could feel Voldemort's gloating fill him with grease and horror.

He nodded once, decisively. "Mr. Smith, please take Harry to the Hospital Wing." Harry opened his mouth. "That is the best place for you, Harry." He subsided into Zacharias' arms. "The rest of you, back to Hogwarts now. Mr. Weasley and Miss Bones, please make sure everyone leaves Hogsmeade. Madam Rosmerta, I'm sure you can alert the village." Madam Rosmerta, who had come over with a glass of water, nodded and drank the glass herself.

Within moments, Ron and Susan had all the other prefects organized, while Madam Rosmerta knelt in her fire. Harry struggled to his feet, but, to his disgust, he couldn't stand without help. Walking to the castle would be impossible.

Malfoy walked into the bar and took a look at him clinging to Zacharias.

"Malfoy, I need you to help with the Slytherins!" Ron looked up from instructing the fifth year prefects.

"In a moment, Weasley. With your permission, Potter." He gestured at Harry with his wand, and murmured an incantation. He immediately felt much lighter. "Smith, Potter weighs about five pounds now. The charm will wear off in about thirty minutes, so I suggest you Floo back to Hogwarts immediately."

"Uh. Good idea. Hold on, Harry." Zacharias picked him up and Harry wrapped his arms around his neck. Malfoy stowed his wand and moved closer. "Thank you, Malfoy."

"Don't drop him, and don't leave him alone. Or I'll have something to say."

Zacharias hurried to the fireplace. Harry held on very tightly until they emerged at the Hogwarts public fireplace, but the dizziness made him close his eyes until they reached the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey attempted to take charge.

"You can go now, Mr. Smith. Mr. Potter will do quite well with me."

Zacharias, after placing Harry carefully on a bed, turned. "I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey. I'm not leaving him alone. He needs protection."

"I assure you, young man, that he will be perfectly safe in this hospital. He doesn't need anything extra."

"Let Mr. Smith stay, Poppy." McGonagall stood in the doorway, her wand in her hand. "I think we can do with the help."

"Minerva, are you sure?" Pomfrey looked from her to Harry and Zacharias. "I don't normally allow visitors like this."

"Mr. Smith, kindly keep your wand at the ready. Thank you. And you remain quiet and try to close off your mind, Harry." She turned to leave. Zach pulled a chair to Harry's side, with Harry's hand in his left and his wand in his right.

"Professor? What's going on? Are we going to rescue Professor Snape?" Harry tried to sit up.

"*You* are not, Mr. Potter." She looked at him sternly, then softened. "Of course we are, Harry. He's one of us."

"Do you know where he is? And - it could be a trap!" He struggled some more. He could feel his weight coming back.

"We know. We know both things. But we have to do it." McGonagall looked tired. "I'm having Professor Flitwick and Professor Vector guard the hospital wing, Poppy. I think you should prepare for casualties. We'll try to let you know how many."

"Be careful, Minerva. And bring everyone back alive." Pomfrey looked stern. "Everyone."

McGonagall nodded sharply and left.

"Lie down, Harry. There's nothing else you can do." Zacharias settled him back on the bed.

He wanted to struggle, to get up. "I can't just lie here!"

"Gryffindors." Zacharias shook his head. "Let me take care of you for a bit, okay? You can save the world when you can stand up." He gave Harry a peck on the cheek. "I promise to wake you if we hear anything, all right? Go to sleep, or Madam Pomfrey'll give you a draught."

Harry held his hand tightly and, even though he could not empty his mind the way he had for the past year, he fell asleep.

He was in a room more beautiful and more terrifying than he'd ever seen before. The walls were covered with cold, pale grey silk, with mouldings of a green so light it was almost white, and the furniture was severe and elegant and uncomfortable looking, on a carpet of darker green and grey with a serpent design. And there were things in the cabinets and tables that chilled his blood. The Blacks were trying for a room like this, but had failed.

Above the door was, in plaster, a crest combining serpents and a plain M.

Malfoy Manor. It had to be.

And there were people there with familiar looking faces kneeling on the carpet, ignoring the furniture. One was Mrs.Malfoy - he remembered her from the World Cup Quidditch match, except she didn't look so haughty now. She did, however, look delighted.

And in the center of everyone's attention was a black bundle.

"How does it feel, Severus, to be the instrument of your friends' destruction?" Harry could feel himself gloat.

The bundle forced itself to sit up, becoming a man. Becoming Professor Snape. "You can't destroy them. All you can do is hurt them."

He smiled. It wouldn't be a pretty smile, and it was echoed on the faces of his followers. "Hurting them would be quite enough, my dear spy." He lazily raised his wand, and Snape twitched and screamed, tears running down his cheeks. "And then, you die." Next to her sister, Bellatrix Lestrange laughed.

Harry wondered if she'd laughed that way around Neville's parents. At that moment, he could easily have done Crucio on her, on Voldemort. Maybe even kill them - even Snape didn't deserve this.

Maybe especially Snape - he hadn't wanted to believe how much of a risk Snape was taking. He'd wanted to think of Snape as cowardly, as being cruel to Sirius for cruelty's sake.

He still hated him - hated the way he taught, hated the way he treated non-Slytherins. He was still a nasty, greasy-haired git. But he was an incredibly brave nasty, greasy-haired git.

And there was nothing he could do. He was just a passenger in Voldemort's body - and he couldn't even leave.

Just then, a house-elf materialized in the room with a pop of displaced air. "Mistress! They is coming. Nimby tried to stop them but they is coming anyway!"

Voldemort's followers stood up, wands out and at the ready and faced the door.

And Dumbledore Apparated right in front of Harry's face, and tapped Voldemort with his wand.

Harry woke up screaming.

"Shhh, Harry." Zacharias patted his arm. "You just went to sleep..."

"They're there. Dumbledore and the Aurors and Snape's being tortured. They're all in Malfoy Manor." He clutched at his scar with one hand and Zacharias with the other.

"How do you know this? How can you be so sure about this?" Zacharias gripped his wand tightly. His face went paler. "What is going on?"

"I know." He lay back on the bed, still holding on. "I was in Voldemort's head. I could see it." Zacharias winced at the name, and then looked confused.

"You were what? How?"

His scar flared up and then the pain dropped to its normal level, a level that would have had him running to Dumbledore his fourth year, but was now something he mostly ignored.

He let go of his forehead and closed his eyes. "Voldemort and I have a sort of connection."

"What!" Zacharias shouted so loudly that Pomfrey shushed him. "What do you mean?" He lowered his voice.

Harry took a deep breath. "It started when, you know. When I was a baby, and he attacked my parents and me. The curse that backfired made a connection. Which is why I'm a Parselmouth. Remember? The duel Second Year?" The one with Malfoy, and the way he'd looked at Harry.

"Yeah. I remember. Finch-Fetchley was terrified. So that's why you can be in You-Know-Who's head?" Something about Zacharias' voice made Harry open his eyes. Zacharias was staring at him in horror.

"Partly. Partly..." Harry told him about what the events after the Triwizard, with Cedric and the cauldron and the blood. "And he's a *leglimenos*, which is supposed to be different than reading minds, but I don't really know how it is. So he can use the link to *show* me things. He used to be able to show me lies, but I learned how to detect those. And to shield him out. Except he broke through this time."

"Oh. So. You're connected to You-Know-Who. You were in his *head* when you were asleep. And this doesn't bother you?" He stepped away from the bed, letting go of Harry's hand for the first time.

"Of course it does! I *hate* it. But if it helps me kill - " He stopped.

"Harry? You don't - " Zacharias was almost out of the room.

"I don't *want* to. I want to stop him for good. I want to punish him for what he did to my parents and to Cedric and - and to Snape. I think there's only one way to do it. And if I don't, Zacharias, he *will* finish the job he started when I was one." He didn't want to talk about that prophecy. "He's been threatening to since he killed Diggory."

"How do you live this way? Live like this?" He stood in the door way, clutching his wand.

"Living is the thing I do best, isn't it?" He turned over on the bed. "You don't have to stay. If you don't want to, I mean."

"Harry. Harry, I'm sorry. I'll...I'll be back." Harry kept his eyes on the pictures on the wall, not wanting to see him leave. Not wanting to think that he was lying. He heard Zacharias murmur something to Madam Pomfrey and then run off.

He stared at the wall. He didn't move when Madam Pomfrey walked in and sat next to him, a few seconds later. People he knew and cared about were fighting, maybe dying, in Wiltshire; his boyfriend had left him and a man he hated was being tortured and there was nothing he could do about either. He was worse than useless.

"Professor Flitwick, you have *got* to let me in. That idiot left him alone." The voice was familiar - cold despite the anger. It was also out of breath.

"Mr. Malfoy, I assure you that Mr. Potter is not alone. You should go back to the Great Hall immediately and attend to your duties."

"Madam Pomfrey is going to have her hands full, isn't she? And you and Professor Vector can't be spared. Someone has to be with him."

Harry struggled to sit up in bed, noting that he was no longer dizzy and that, in fact, his scar hurt less than usual now. He heard Flitwick say something to Vector, and then to Malfoy.

"I will not fight. I...he needs someone."

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey can make use of a pair of hands; perhaps Professor Snape will need you."

"Thank you, Professor." Harry heard footsteps increasing in speed until they came into the ward.

"I'll be here, Madam Pomfrey."

"I'll tolerate no shouting or fights here, Mr. Malfoy." She stood up. Harry watched her tuck a short wand into her apron pocket. "And keep that wand of yours at the ready."

"Yes, ma'am." She bustled away, leaving them alone.

Harry said nothing. Malfoy looked at him for a moment, and then dropped to the floor in one fluid motion, leaning against the bed.

"There *is* a chair, you know."

"The floor is fine.. I can see the door better."

"I don't need you here." He regretted the words as soon as he said them. What if he left? "I can take care of myself."

"It doesn't matter. I'm not going anywhere." Indeed, he looked very comfortable there.

"On the floor?"

"I'll sit wherever you want me to."

"Outside the infirmary, then?" Harry felt himself grinning.

"Except that. Floor *is* hard." He turned to face Harry, still cross-legged on the floor, still leaning on the bed. His hair was ruffled. Harry wondered how his hair would feel.

"There is fine." Malfoy nodded, adjusting his legs a bit. "Except. Why are you even here, Malfoy?"

"Because that wanker you call a boyfriend left you alone." Cold anger filled his voice.

"I." Harry bit his lip. "I don't know if he is my boyfriend anymore. I think I scared him." He rubbed at his scar, which was tingling again.

"You told him that scar of yours wasn't just some souvenir, did you? That the Dark Lord left a bit of himself in you?" He looked satisfied.

"How..." He thought about denying it, but what would be the point? "How did you know?"

"You're a Parselmouth, right? And you *knew* things - and my father told us how the Dark Lord used your blood as part of the spell. He kept on and on about how he'd have sacrificed his hand, too, if the Dark Lord had wanted it. Except he also kept rubbing it." Malfoy rubbed his own left hand.

"Your father told you that?"

"My father...told me a lot of things, but none of them *useful*. He didn't think I was ready to hear them." He looked at his wand. "I know all you Gryffindors think that Slytherins get tutored in Dark Arts, right?"

"Yeah. Not like the Ministry is going to go after *you* for underaged magic, is it?" Harry played with his blanket.

"If I'd gone to Durmstrang, maybe he would have done." He pushed the hair out of his eyes. "But here they keep an eye on me, and Father knew it. And he said he didn't trust me not to use something I shouldn't know in school, and he couldn't take that risk." He grinned for a moment. "He never trusted me with much. Guess he was right."

"Malfoy? Why are you here? And it's not just about Zacharias." Funny how it hurt just a little to say his name.

"Because you're the Dark Lord's prime target. Which means he's more scared of you than he is of Dumbledore."

"I defeated him five times. That might mean something."

"Yeah. That you missed killing him. Potter, you have to do better than that." He raised himself on his knees and looked into his eyes. "You need to be getting along with the job."

Malfoy wanted him to kill Voldemort? "You think it's easy to kill someone? Maybe for a Death Eater, but I. I can't. I mean, I want to. I want that bastard gone from the world." He pounded the blankets.

"Bastard. Good name for him. Maybe I'll use it. The Bastard. I like it."

"Malfoy, I would like a straight answer from you *now*. Have you switched sides?"

"No. Not really." He still grinned.

"Malfoy." Harry glared at him.

He sighed. "You do look good when you're angry, and you're such fun to goad."

"Please, don't."

"Fine, Potter." But he cast his eyes down for a moment. "Father never expected the Dar...the Bastard to come back, although I grew up with tales of how much better the world would be if he'd won. And I believed him. He's my father, you know?" Harry shrugged. "Oh, yeah, right. Anyway. And of course, purebloods were better than Mu...Muggleborns or halfbloods and you lot were ruining things for us, and I believed that, too. I believed that for years after I knew it was wrong."

"You...knew?"

"I'm not *blind*, Potter. Smartest person in our year is Granger. Prettiest girls are the Patils. *You're* crap at Potions, but you're natural at Charms. Longbottom, who has an older family than mine, is crap at everything. Or, he was. Something happened fifth year, didn't it?"

"Stop changing the subject." When would they get back? He rubbed his scar.

"I'm not changing the subject. I'm telling you. Anyone who wasn't blind could see this - most of the best people in the school are half bloods or Muggleborns. Not everyone - but the Weasleys have always been blood traitors - um, married half-bloods and Muggleborns."

"Huh. But you still believed."

"He's my father, you pillock. I thought I owed him that. That's what he told me. Even when he was arrested by the other side. Except." He bit his lips. "They're in my house, aren't they?"

"Yeah."

He nodded. "They've been there since my father was taken. Death-Eaters and followers in and out. Professor Snape showing up and scowling at me. Wormtail sleeping in the guest wing. The Bastard sleeping in my mother's bed. With my mother. And with my Aunt and Uncle Lestrange. And looking at me like I was dessert." He shuddered. "Touching me, too."

Harry didn't think. He scooted down the bed and began stroking Malfoy's hair. It was smooth and soft, and Malfoy leaned his head into Harry's hand. "I'm sorry."

"Kill him next time, Potter. Kill him. Get him out of my house and my family, and don't let him destroy our world."

"I will. I have to. Or die, trying."

"I'll make sure you don't die." He turned and kissed Harry's palm. "Or I'll die, too. Better that than watch our world die of stagnation and attrition."

"Attrition?"

"Look, Harry. I'm the last of the Malfoys, *and* I'm a pouf, so no kids here. Your godfather was the last of the Blacks. Same for Longbottom, and Goldstein's not likely to get pregnant. You're the last of the Potters. Diggory had no siblings. The Crouches are dead, too. It's only going to be Weasleys left, and the Death Eaters'd kill them all off for blood treachery."

"Macmillan. Bones. Half of Ravenclaw, half of Hufflepuff. You lot would survive."

"Not bloody likely. You're not in Advanced Herbology, but you are in Care of Magical Creatures, right?"

"Yeah."

"Hasn't that great fool been teaching you about breeding? We're all inbred. All of us. Even if I wasn't a pouf, who would I marry? Pansy Parkinson, who is my first cousin on that side? Millicent Bulstrode, who is a second cousin on two sides? I'd be raising Crabbes and Goyles. Who are also cousins. Mine and each others."

Harry struggled to remember what Hagrid had told them last year. "Bad traits getting reinforced or such, right?"

"Yeah. See, a lot of purebloods have trouble even having kids - my own parents had to use magic, which makes the next time harder. And when they do manage to get pregnant, the kids come out...I take daily potions. If I don't, my lungs fill up with gunk and I can't breath. Nott *bleeds.* Macmillian - I see him at Madam Pomfrey's once a week, too. My Black cousins - just slightly unstable, you know?" Harry winced at this, but had to agree. "And if you ever go to a Wizarding graveyard, you'll see lots of very small headstones. Why do you think there's such a big gap in the Weasleys?"

"They don't talk about it." Harry shrugged. "I haven't thought about it."

"There were two girls and another boy. The boy didn't live a month. The girls each lived a year or so before the potions stopped working. Potions do stop working, sometimes." He swallowed.

"Malfoy?"

"Oh, mine are working fine. Can't even tell I need them, can you?"

"So. You think Muggleborns are good?"

"Healthier, anyway. But Muggles are still a threat, and Muggleborns and halfbloods mean Muggles knowing about us, so that Bastard is right. But he'll destroy their world and our world at the same time, and I can't have that. And I want him out of my mother's bed!"

Harry was silent. "I think he wants to do that. I think he wants to destroy both worlds - just him and his followers forever. He's a halfblood, too."

"I'd heard rumors, but my father said they were ridiculous." He looked at his watch. "It's past time for them all to return, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Harry looked at his own. "Been gone over an hour, haven't they?" Malfoy shifted on the floor. "Oh, come up on the bed for God's sake! It's not like I'm lying down, is it?" He slowly stopped petting Malfoy's hair.

"Okay, then." He hopped up in one single move and sat crosslegged again, facing Harry. "And you told me I'd have to beg to get in your bed, Potter."

"You're on it, not in it." But he laughed until he noticed his watch again. And his scar started to burn. "Something's going on. Voldemort's not happy, but he's not strong enough to attack me."

"How do you live like that, Potter? I'd hate it."

"I do, but. You know. Living."

"Yeah, that and Quidditch. What you do best."

"So. You're on our side because..."

"Because that Bastard is a prick and because purebloods aren't viable anymore. Because he's wrong. Because he'll destroy the entire world before he's happy."

"Because he's sleeping with your mother?" Harry tilted his head.

Malfoy laughed. "Especi-"

At that moment, a horde of people appeared in the infirmary, all holding onto a piece of bric-a-brac. They all let go except for one - Lupin, as it turned out - and several fell straight to the floor, while Kingsley ran for Pomfrey.

Lupin, still holding the thing, looked around for a bit. His eyes widened when he saw Malfoy still sitting on Harry's bed. Malfoy scrambled to his feet. Lupin walked over. "I believe this is yours, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy took what turned out to be an ivory porcelain vase with gilt edges. "I doubt that Mother would approve of your using this as a portkey. But then, you didn't ask, did you?"

"She was otherwise engaged." Lupin gave him confused look, and then rushed to help with the fallen. Malfoy blinked twice, handed the vase to Harry and dashed off after him. Harry put the vase on his bedside table and stood up - quite steadily, too. However, several pairs of eyes, including Professor Dumbledore, who was bleeding heavily from a cut on his cheek, glared at him. He glared back but got onto the bed, his arms crossed.

One or two people looked surprised at Malfoy, but accepted his help after Lupin nodded at them. Only Snape seemed to need no reassurance. He allowed Malfoy to bring him to his feet and guide him to the bed next to Harry's, there to await Pomfrey.

He was shaking. Harry wanted to ask what had happened, to find out what happened to Voldemort and his people, and, as he looked around anxiously, where McGonagall was.

He looked at Malfoy, who was staring with narrowed eyes, and realized that Malfoy was concerned about the same thing.

"Professor Dumbledore, I must entreat you to go to your own bed if you will not stay here. You just had a very tiring battle." Pomfrey walked to them, carrying a tray with several potions and a large piece of dark chocolate. Dumbledore walked next to her, dried blood on his face under the newly healed cut.

"Now, now, Poppy. I suspect you have two very curious and worried young men here. It surely cannot be good for Harry to continue in ignorance, and as Severus is Draco's head of house, I would say he has some stake in things."

She tutted at him, and drew a screen between the two beds. Dumbledore settled himself on the chair Zacharias had vacated. "I'm sure Harry won't mind if you join him, Draco." He patted the foot of Harry's bed. Malfoy looked at Harry, who nodded. He immediately sat down, pocketing his wand for the first time since he'd run into the Hospital. Probably the first time since he'd run from the Great Hall.

"Now, then. I'm sure you both have many, many questions." They nodded, and Harry opened his mouth. Dumbledore held out a hand. "Please, wait. Perhaps I will answer them before you ask. First." He nodded at Malfoy. "You will probably be pleased to know that your family home is, in large part, still intact, although I fear your mother will have to redecorate that drawing room."

"Professor? Does this mean Mother is still alive?"

"Oh, yes, my boy." Harry could hear Malfoy's sigh of relief. "Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of your Aunt and Uncle Lestrange. I'm afraid that they got caught in the crossfire of spells and curses. My condolences."

Malfoy nodded. "Thank you for telling me that."

Dumbledore then went on to describe the battle - the barrage of curses and hexes, the closely fought duels, the destruction of the lovely room. The deaths of the Lestranges, and how fortunate they were that all of Dumbledore's party had survived.

"And what of Voldemort, Professor?" Harry found that his hand had crept into Malfoy's during this tale. He let it stay there.

"He fled, of course. I believe his servant Wormtail fled with him."

Harry nodded. It was nothing less than he'd expected. "I wish I could have gone with you."

"I know, Harry. I would like to spare you that, but it is impossible." Dumbledore looked sad.

The curtains moved. All during this time, they could hear Madam Pomfrey cajoling and ordering Snape to drink this draught or eat some more chocolate. At first, he took things without comment, but as he clearly began to feel stronger, he argued more.

Now she removed the curtains, leaving Snape with the remains of the chocolate in his hands and an exasperated look on his face.

He was also quite pale and the hand holding the chocolate shook a bit. "You needn't fuss so much, Poppy. I did manage to fight the Dark Lord without your potions."

"That was the crisis, Severus. You're reacting to that as well." She turned to Dumbledore. "He is not to leave here until tomorrow morning, and both he and Mr. Potter need rest tonight."

"Please, Madam Pomfrey. I'm feeling quite fit now. May I go back to Gryffindor tonight? I doubt I'll be in any danger now." Harry looked from her to Dumbledore. "I'm also sure Professor Snape would rather I was not here."

"For once in your life, Potter, you're right. If I must stay here, I must, but not with *him*." Snape took a savage bite of the chocolate.

She pointed her wand at Harry and took his pulse. "He's fit enough. You can leave whenever you wish, Mr. Potter. And it's as well tomorrow's Sunday. You are to do nothing strenuous. And see me Monday morning before class."

"But Professor Snape will be all right, Madam Pomfrey?" Malfoy was now standing by Snape's bedside. Harry fought down a sense of jealousy - except that Malfoy was still holding his hand.

"I am fine, Mr. Malfoy. A night's rest and I will be back to normal." He looked at the two boys. "I wonder about others in this place." Malfoy let go.

"Professor? Where is Professor McGonagall? Is she all right?"

"Oh, yes, Harry. She escaped quite uninjured, and remained behind to make sure that the Ministry could handle the remains. I suspect she is Nimby dismissing the students from the Great Hall. Mr. Malfoy, please escort Mr. Potter to his House, and arrange for him to be sent some food. You might think of getting some for yourself as well."

Malfoy nodded, and helped Harry out of bed, even though Harry didn't think he needed it. They pointedly did not hold hands on their way out, nor did they speak.

Zacharias was waiting for him. Malfoy gave him a searing look before departing for his own dungeons. "He ran out of the Great Hall before I could stop him."

Harry shrugged. "Why are you here? Why aren't you with the other Hufflepuffs?"

"Because..." He ran his fingers through his yellow hair. "I was an idiot. I'm sorry, Harry. It's...none of it is your choice, is it?"

He shrugged. "Except that I haven't let them kill me yet, no. It's just how it is." He smiled, feeling his mouth twist to something rueful. "I learned that growing up, you know? You can't change the way things are." He pulled one of Zacharias' curls to watch it bounce back.

"We're good, then?" Zacharias looked so hopeful.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. We're good." He stood on his toes to kiss Zacharias' mouth. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Only, Pomfrey said nothing strenuous." He grinned.

"We'll think of something." He kissed Harry on the cheek and strode off. Just before Harry said the password, though, he saw Malfoy following behind. He shook his head to himself, waited for the Fat Lady to open up and crawled into Gryffindor.

And he wished he were back in the hospital wing. Or in the corridor with Zacharias, or with Malfoy. Everyone crowded up to him, demanding that he say what had happened, just as a flash of rage from Voldemort hit him. He quickly brought up his defenses, wondering why he'd waited so long, but the effort after the events of the day left him exhausted. He wanted to climb up to his dorm and close himself down.

Instead, he fell into an armchair and answered what questions he felt comfortable answering. "Professor Snape is all right. I'm all right. Professor Dumbledore will probably explain it all soon. No, I don't know anymore. I was in the hospital wing, wasn't I? No, Voldemort is not going to attack the school that I know about. He wouldn't dare, would he?"

Finally, Hermione chased everyone away by threatening to hex them all, and sat down on the arm of his chair. "Ron and Susan are back in the Great Hall. I'm guessing they'll go to Slytherin and Ravenclaw first and then tell everything to us."

Harry nodded. "Malfoy knows about as much as I do, and Zacharias has a good clue, but I think they both have the sense not to say anything until they know officially."

"What is going on with the...three of you? Smith came running into the Great Hall, and the next thing I know, Malfoy ran to him - stepping on not a few first years, too - gave him a bloody good shake, pulled out his wand and ran out. I was really afraid he was going to hex Smith."

"Malfoy told Zacharias to guard me. But we had...I told him some things about me. And he got scared. I don't blame him. Would you want a boyfriend who was connected to Voldemort?"

"I have a best friend who is. And if he weren't gay and I wasn't in love with his other best friend, I wouldn't mind." She squeezed his hand.

"Yeah, but you've known me for five years." He smiled at her and squeezed back. "Zacharias - I've only known him since our fifth year and we've only started dating in September. I don't blame him for running. And we've made it up anyway. He was waiting for me."

"So Zacharias runs off and Malfoy comes in. And you weren't worried?"

Harry shrugged. "He's changed. Things are bad at home and he doesn't like what Voldemort wants. I don't think he'll ever approve of Muggleborns and that's a problem."

"I should say so!" She tossed her hair back from her shoulders.

"But. Did you know that Nott's a haemophiliac? And. You probably know what this is better than I do. Malfoy takes daily potions so his lungs don't fill up with gunk, and it's because he was born that way."

Hermione shrugged. "I could ask my parents, I suppose. Inbreeding, then?"

"Yeah."

He was about to mention Ron's family when Ron himself walked in. "Okay, people. We're staying here tonight. We'll have our dinner here but back to normal for tomorrow. That means Quidditch practice for everyone except Harry." Harry glared at him, but Ron just shrugged. "Nothing I can do about that, mate. Pomfrey's orders. Anyway, here's what happened tonight. It seems Professor Snape has been a spy for Dumbledore, and he got caught this afternoon. You Know Who was torturing him, and made sure we knew it. Dumbledore went after him with a bunch of Aurors and teachers and got him back. Unfortunately, he's just fine." Everyone laughed except for Harry. "He'll be teaching on Monday, so make sure you have your Potions homework done, right? And that's all there is. No one on our side got badly hurt."

"What about Potter? We saw him fall in the Three Broomsticks." A fourth year girl shook the hair out of her eyes.

Ron shrugged. "We all know Harry is Voldemort's main target. He's learned techniques he's not allowed to share, just for his own protection. They have bad side effects sometimes. And that's all I can tell you. And, clearly, he's on the mend now." He gestured towards Harry's chair. Harry nodded, not sure if he should laugh or just be impressed.

Hermione frowned at the misdirection, but Harry knew there was nothing she could do. A few minutes later, dinner appeared on the tables and everyone began tucking in. Hermione pinned Harry to his chair with a look and filled three plates, handing one to Ron before she walked back with hers and Harry's. Ron joined them, perching on the other arm. He found he was hungrier than usual, and polished up the generous helping quickly. When Hermione offered to get him more, though, he shook his head. Instead he levered himself up from the chair and made his way to the stairs.

To his disgust, Ron jumped up and walked with him, looking like he expected Harry to pass out at every step. Even when they got to the seventh year boy's dorm, Ron stayed with him, watching him get ready.

"Keep looking like that, Ron, and you'll have me thinking you're on my side of the fence. And then what will Hermione do?" While Ron sputtered, Harry quickly changed the Muggle clothes he'd been wearing for pajamas, and climbed into his bed. He used his wand to flick his curtains closed.

He spent the next day in bed or lounging around the Common Room, watching the Quidditch practice from the window. He did manage to get most of his homework, including a lengthy essay for Snape, finished, and he had a chance for a fast snog with Zacharias after dinner. Things felt a bit awkward, but otherwise it was back to normal.

Everything went back to routine that Monday. Life was a round of classes, homework, meals, prefect duties and Quidditch, with DA and Zacharias fit in somewhere. And with Draco Malfoy on the edges, inching his way in further. Sometimes he found himself dreaming of Malfoy - but more of the boy sitting on the floor next to his bed, letting him stroke his hair, or of him dropping his eyes for just a moment, than of that naked picture.

He rarely had time to play with the enchanted quill, anyway. He put it away in his trunk.

"I'll see you tonight after Quidditch practice, shall I?" Zacharias leaned against the wall outside the Great Hall. "Unless you're abstaining from snogging because of your game with Slytherin."

Harry grinned and touched Zacharias' cheek. He resolutely didn't notice the tiny flinch. Or that it was bigger than it had been two days ago. "Ron's not that bad. Besides, they haven't beaten us yet, have they?"

"Always a first time, Potter." Malfoy stood with his hands in his robe pockets. He could have been posing for Wizard's Quarterly.

"What do you want?" Zacharias glared at him.

"Not you, Smith. I can tell you that." Malfoy eyed him up and down. Harry was amused at the sight.

"Good job on that, since he's taken."

"You think you belong to Potter, Smith? You'll never belong to Potter." And he walked away in a swirl of robes.

"He's been taking walking lessons from Snape." Harry shook his head.

"Harry?" Zacharias blinked in confusion. "What did he mean by 'belong to?'"

"Probably some Slytherin thing." He ran his hand down Zacharias' arm. To his annoyance, Zacharias moved it away. "Tonight after practice, yeah. I'll see you in the DA room." Harry kissed him on the cheek and ran to join Ron and Ginny on their way to the dorm. They had strategy to discuss.

Quidditch practice went very well. They had the same team as last year, which helped, and Ginny proved she was as born a Chaser as she was a Seeker. So Harry was up and happy when he wandered over to the DA room.

Sir Rufus winked at him when he showed up. "Your chap is waiting for you, Master Potter. The tall one with the curls."

"He's the only one I have, Sir Rufus. Toasted Cheese." Sir Rufus chuckled and bowed.

Zacharias looked up from the textbook he was reading. "How was practice?" He looked wonderful - he'd got his hair cut and it was a riot of curls and his eyes shone blue in the candlelight. Harry walked behind him and began to stroke his chest through the school robes.

"We're going to destroy Slytherin. As usual." He bent to kiss Zacharias behind the ear, while he let his fingers find Zacharias' nipples, which he knew would make the boy jump.

"Harry." He pulled away.

"What is it? I thought you wanted to shag tonight. We haven't in a couple of weeks."

"I've been hit with so much homework..."

"I know. Me, too. But tonight - we had plans. You're here. You can do me if you want. It's your turn anyway. Come on, mate." He reached for Zacharias again.

"I. Not tonight, Harry. Please. I need - I have a zillion essays and McGonagall is taking points off because my homework is...I need to study."

Harry backed off. "I thought you were over that. You lied to me."

"What are you talking about?" Zacharias closed his book and stood up.

"You know! Voldemort and me and you said you were over it!"

"I am. I'm just tired and busy. Harry, we can do this on the weekend. After you humiliate Malfoy again." He wouldn't look at Harry's eyes.

He took it from Dumbledore in his fifth year. He was damned if he'd take it from his boyfriend now. He grabbed Zacharias' robes and pulled him towards him. Zacharias pushed back. "Look at me, damn you. I'm HARRY, not VOLDEMORT! LOOK!"

Zacharias turned his head. "It doesn't matter, does it? You're acting just as bad. Let go of me." His voice was calm. "We'll talk about this when you're calmer, Harry, all right?"

"NO! We'll talk about it NOW!" He could feel the anger welling up inside of him - how could this Hufflepuff treat him like that? How could he just brush him off, lead him on. Harry cocked his fist, thinking how Zacharias would look with a black eye. He grabbed Zacharias' neck with the other hand.

"Harry! Stop! Harry, you're hurting me! You're choking me! Harry! Stop! Please, stop!"

He heard the voice, he knew what it was saying, but he couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. "You don't care about me. You just want to bag someone famous, right? Famous Potter - just wait till he cracks and..." He was about to let fly with his fist when he heard a familiar voice murmuring a spell. Next thing he knew, he was bound head to toe in ropes.

"Take your books and get out of here, Smith. I'll deal with Potter."

"Malfoy?" Smith stuffed his things into his bag. "What are you going to do?" His eyes were wide as he looked from one boy to the other.

"I will take care of things. Don't worry. Potter won't get hurt. Unless you're worried that he won't?"

"No. I...thank you!" He scurried to the door.

"Oh, and Smith? If I hear a word about this, I will know where it came from. Keep that in mind, will you?" Smith nodded and ran out the door.

Harry glared at Malfoy. "Why are you here?"

"Saving your reputation, apparently. If you were any other student, you'd be in danger of expulsion right now." Malfoy perched on one of the desks, still holding his wand. "But then, if you were any other student, we wouldn't be talking like this, would we?"

"Let me loose!" He hated being tied up. It put him right back in that cemetery.

"I don't think so, no. I really don't want to be hurt. I'm very sorry about that."

"I won't hurt you." He glared, fighting the ropes and trying to get to his wand, the anger bubbling in him. If he could get his wand, if he could get loose, he'd show Malfoy...

Malfoy shook his head. "I don't believe you, Potter. I saw what you were doing to Smith, and he's your boyfriend. You hate me. If you had a chance right now, I'd be twitching in pain." He looked into Harry's eyes.

Harry thought about it. Malfoy on the floor, twitching like that spider.

Like Harry did in that cemetery. He fought the ropes harder, struggled to get to his wand, hating being helpless, being tied, being...he wanted to scream. He wanted out of those ropes.

He wanted to use that curse. He wanted to see Malfoy like that. Like.

Snape had been in Malfoy's drawing room. Not even human - just a mess of nerve endings until he could have been like Neville's parents.

Like he might have done to Zacharias if he'd thought to use his wand.

He could have used his wand.

He was a fortunate fool.

His stomach knotted so hard he wondered that he could breathe. How could he have done such a thing? He knew it was wrong, he knew that there was nothing Zacharias could have done to have deserved that, short of turning into a Death Eater. What sort of monster had he turned into?

He couldn't even blame Voldemort on this one. He knew everything he'd done came from inside him.

"I've fouled up everything, haven't I?" He bit his lip, wondering if he could turn his wand on himself when Malfoy set him free. Or, better yet, if he could just fly his broom to wherever Voldemort was and just have it out at last.

"If you mean you and Smith, I certainly hope so. I don't like him. I'm quite insanely jealous of him, actually, but I don't think he's fool enough to want to stay with you now." Malfoy's voice was light, conversational, but he never took his eyes off Harry.

"Given I just tried to beat him up, I don't blame him. God, I'm the fool." He blinked for a moment. "Malfoy? You're jealous of him?" That's it, Harry. Beat up one boyfriend and chat up another. Good show, that. Not even Malfoy would want someone like him. Should have someone like him.

"Well, not this evening, I'll grant you that. But, yes, in general. Surely you've noticed? Or were you just so wrapped up in him? Were you in love with him, Potter?" His voice became more intense.

Harry shrugged as much as he was able. "No, not really. We were going out, you know? And I do care about him, I think. Because it hurt so much when he stopped trusting me." And that was still not enough reason, but it had burned when he did. He didn't deserve trust.

Malfoy twiddled his wand in his hands. He had graceful hands. "He wasn't off the mark, was he?"

There was no answer to that. He was right. And it wasn't even the Voldemort inside him. It was all Harry. "I need to find him." He struggled some more. "I need to apologize." Assuming that Zacharias would let him even go near him again.

"If you feel you must. I'd rather think you'd worry about not behaving like that towards future boyfriends." He smiled at that. Was Malfoy insane?

"Why are you here?"

Malfoy blinked. "It was my night to patrol this corridor. Sir Rufus told me something bad was going on, and so I did my prefectly duty. Good thing it was me, too. Someone else might be taking you to see McGonagall right now."

Okay, that made sense. Except. "Why aren't you? Isn't it also part of your prefectly duty?"

"Probably. But we're seventh year, you know, so I can use my own judgment. And I judge that I want to have you right here without Smith." He leaned forward on his perch.

"Are you going to let me free? Or are you *enjoying* this?"

"No. I am not enjoying this. You...you don't belong in my ropes. It feels all wrong to me." He kept looking at Harry, and Harry understood, a little, of what Malfoy meant.

"Free me, then." He used the same voice he did when teaching the DA, and he never took his eyes away from Malfoy's.

"I want to. I want to, so much." Malfoy was whispering, his voice desperate. "I want to do what you want me to do. I can't."

"I won't hurt you. I promise. I won't do anything but sit here. I'm not angry anymore. You. You can have my wand." He was willing to give his wand to Draco Malfoy? To the son of the man who followed his worst enemy? To the boy who - who perhaps hated his worst enemy in a way Harry never could?

Yes, he was. Anything to get out of those ropes.

"I..." Draco bit his lip. He tapped the bonds with his own wand, and then summoned Harry's. He carefully stowed the wand in his robe pocket. "Sit at the desk next to you, okay? And hold on to it. This is so..."

Harry sat down as requested. Draco looked around uncomfortably before snapping his fingers in frustration. Then he summoned a cushion and placed it on the floor, and sat on it. He leaned back on the desk he'd been perching on. He kept his wand aimed at Harry, though. Harry couldn't help staring. Draco looked like he belonged there, relaxing on the floor looking up at him. He'd hardly grown since fifth year while Draco had shot up the past summer, so this was just. Weird. But also right.

"What's going on? You say you're jealous. You just..." He gestured with his head. "Sat like that. What...you hate me."

Draco was silent for a long time. "Because. Because of this." He reached into his robe pocket and took out a folded piece of glossy paper. It was full of creases and there were little tears around the edges. "It doesn't move. I'm not sure why." He opened it and held it up. Harry didn't have to look. He knew what it was. "I found it in the library. It's...it looks a little like me." Harry nodded. "It's yours, isn't it?"

"Yes. It's from a Muggle magazine. My cousin's pornography collection. I was making it look like you."

"Well, you got the hair right, anyway." He grinned for a moment. "The rest needs some work."

"I didn't do a half bad job, you know. The picture used to be a girl, after all. Muggle pictures don't move."

Draco shook his head. "How odd." He looked at the picture again, stroking it with a forefinger. "I've been staring at this ever since." He looked up again. "Is this how you want me, Harry? At your knees? Helpless? Naked? Yours?"

Harry licked his lips. "Not helpless. I don't want you helpless." He clutched at the desk and squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "I want you there because." He looked at him. "Because you want to be there. Because you want to do..."

"What you want me to do. And know you won't ever hurt me. I need to know that, Harry." His eyes were dark now, and shining, and the knuckles on the hand holding the wand were white.

"I. I don't know. I don't know what to do. What does it mean? To be mine? My slave? I don't want a slave. I want..." He turned his head away from Draco so he didn't see him sitting on the cushion. "I want you to always be able to say 'no.'" He looked so beautiful that way that Harry couldn't stand looking at him.

"Did...did Smith say 'no', Harry?" Was his voice shaking?

"Yeah, but that wasn't what bothered me. It's that he didn't trust me, and that he lied to me." He stopped himself. Was that what had happened? No. "He didn't lie. He wanted it to be true, but it wasn't. He wanted my curse to mean nothing, but it did. And I knew that when I shouted at him. But he wouldn't look at me. He did nothing wrong, but I got angry. And the anger took over and I...God. I could have killed him, Draco. If I'd thought to go for my wand, I could have killed him."

"I don't believe that." Draco clenched his hand over his own wand. "I don't believe you could do that. You're Harry Potter. You're the hero. You're good. I need you to be good. Just like you need me to say 'no', I need you to be good."

"Then what can we do?"

"I can't make promises. I can't even promise not to lie outright. I don't...we need rules. And you have to obey them, too, Gryffindor or not." He managed to chuckle at that. "I can promise to look at you."

Harry turned back. Draco had moved. He was not on the cushion anymore. He was on his knees. "I'm scared of this, Draco. I just destroyed Zacharias and me - it should be too soon for anything else. But I want it so much."

"I know." He bit his lips. "I'm halfway there all the time now. And I'm scared. Harry. Is there anyone you can. I don't know. Talk to. Like I can talk to Snape?"

"You can talk to Snape?" He shook his head in disbelief. "About this?"

"Us? No. I'd ask whoever about Zacharias, though. Your temper. You think I'm going to risk my skin?" He laughed. "I'm a Slytherin. I don't do that."

He thought. Who could he talk to? Ron's parents? McGonagall? Dumbledore? Lupin? Lupin. He'd write to Lupin. "I think I can talk to someone. And. It's late. You have to go and finish your patrol." He thought. "Put my wand on a desk out of my reach and leave. I'll wait ten minutes before I go." He hated that he had to take these precautions, but Draco would understand.

"All right. I'll see you at breakfast." He did as Harry said and left.

He spent the rest of the night writing and rewriting a letter to Lupin. Even when he could no longer stay awake, he saw parchment and quills in his dreams. He tossed the lot into the fireplace when he woke up the next day.

Zacharias wouldn't look at him. Draco did - lowering his eyes for a moment before turning away. Harry nibbled on toast until Ron and Hermione both nagged him to eat, and then he decided he was hungry and piled egg and bacon on his plate.

When their morning break came, he sat in the library wrote what he hoped would be the final draft of his letter. He decided "direct" would be the best approach - how Zacharias found out about his connection to Voldemort; how things became tense and then how things went so horribly wrong.

*I don't think Zacharias will want to be my boyfriend anymore. I think the relationship is over. But there will be someone else, and I need to know how to control this anger. I don't want him, whoever he is, to be afraid of me. I don't want to be afraid of me. Help me, please, Remus.

Love,
Harry.*

And he did love Remus, he realized. Like Sirius, he was a combination of a big brother and a father, except Remus was Remus - quietly leading things.

He ate lunch quickly so he could send Hedwig to out to find Remus wherever he was. As he watched Hedwig fly off, he felt as though he'd already accomplished something.

Zacharias was there for that night's DA meeting. He stayed in the back, worked with another Hufflepuff and never caught Harry's eye once. Harry pretended to ignore it. Instead, he worked with Neville as usual. What surprised him was how little it hurt to stay away from him.

"What happened with you and Smith?" Ron piled the cushions, by hand, into the proper bin. On the other side of the room, Ginny and Hermione gathered books to put away.

"We broke up. It's probably for the best." Harry righted chairs and desks. He stopped to stare at "his" desk from the night before. It should have had fingermarks on it.

"You yell at him or something?"

Harry looked at him sharply. That was rather too close to the truth. How did Ron...he really did need the help. "Yeah. Something he didn't deserve."

"You okay with this, mate?" Ron came over and squeezed his upper arm. "Because I'm available for talking to."

"I'm okay. It's not like we were in love or anything." He gestured towards a broom, which had been sweeping the floor. It placed itself neatly in a closet. "Okay, it's all tidy now. So Hermione's house-elves won't get overworked."

She grinned at him. "Ron's mum taught you how to sweep like that, didn't she?"

"No one knows housekeeping spells like Mum." Ron took her by the hand. "Let's get some rest, then. Big game tomorrow." They all walked back to Gryffindor together, parting in the common room.

To his surprise, Harry fell right to sleep after clearing his mind, and his dreams were all of flying without a broom.

The day was fine - clear and cold under brilliant blue skies, and the game itself was hardfought. It lasted an hour and a half under those skies, and both sides played well. The Snitch came out midway through. While the rest of the teams played by the sets of hoops, blocking and scoring and taking the occasional penalty, Draco and Harry circled and raced.

The final score was 450-310, and there was no mistaking the anger on Draco's face as Harry landed, the Snitch tight in his fist. Harry's own teammates pounded his back cheerfully, and Ginny kissed his cheek. Even so, he couldn't help looking at Draco, talking to his team with a cold, hard expression on his face. The team, on its part, looked scared.

He envied Draco his control.

At that thought, he glanced at the Hufflepuff seats. Zacharias was there, sitting next to Justin. He looked okay, but then he wasn't looking at Harry. The Hufflepuffs had cheered as loudly for Gryffindor as they always did, so he assumed Zacharias hadn't told anyone. This only made Harry feel worse.

"I thought you and Smith were over, mate." Ron touched Harry's shoulder, making him jump.

"We are. Which means I miss him." He tightened his hands on his broomstick.

"You'll find a new bloke. There's some of Ravenclaw left, you know." He grinned.

"Yeah. I've mined out Hufflepuff, haven't I?"

"Too right." They walked to their changing room.

The Gryffindor common room was noisily jubilant that afternoon. The first-year muggleborns were especially excited, telling and retelling the action and comparing it to football and basketball. Harry and Ron were greeted like heroes, and Ginny, who'd scored 200 points all by herself, was practically crowned queen.

In the middle of all of this, McGonagall came to the door, still wearing her Gryffindor scarf, but looking serious.

"Potter, come with me straight away. And good job with the game today. We'll be keeping that cup." Everyone cheered as Harry followed her out of the common room and down the corridor. After making sure it was empty, she turned to him. "Go to your classroom, Potter. There's someone waiting for you."

His heart started beating quickly. Who could be there? He thanked her and ran off to the DA room. Sir Rufus, looking rather uncomfortable, greeted him, and at the password, opened up. "I do not like people coming in uninvited, Master Potter."

"I'm sure he came with Professor Dumbledore's permission." He opened the door and smiled.

"Hullo, Harry." Lupin sat on one of the desks with his feet resting on the seat. His robes looked newly patched, if still shabby, and his hair didn't seem much grayer. He stood up as Harry entered the room.

Harry ran to him and then stood still. "Professor. It's good to see you."

"None of that." Lupin smiled and wrapped him in a hug. Harry hesitated before hugging back. "And you are to call me Remus now."

Harry kissed his cheek and stepped back. "You'll always be my professor. My best one."

Remus smiled at that. He sat back down on his desk. Harry climbed on the one facing him, sitting crosslegged. "You have to be wondering why I'm here." He rummaged in his pockets the while.

"It's because of that owl I sent you?"

"Good guess." Remus opened the parchment. His face became serious. "I'm glad you wrote to me. This is not something to ignore - which is why I rushed over here."

"I *know*." Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I wish I could...I wish I could say it won't happen again. I even wish I could say it was the Voldemort inside of me."

"Your mother had a temper like that." Remus smiled. "I suspect her sister does as well."

His mother? The same girl who'd been so *loud* in the pensieve. "Did...did Mum ever hurt anyone? Aunt Petunia has threatened me with frying pans and so on, but she lets me duck." They'd underfed and neglected him, but they never touched him in any way. Maybe they were afraid the wizardry would rub off.

Remus nodded. "She had some nasty fights, and I think James was frightened of her a little. We all were."

"I've frightened people when I get angry." His stomach twisted. "But I've never wanted to hurt them before."

"No?" Remus lifted an eyebrow.

He shook his head. "Not when they haven't done anything. He hadn't done anything - nothing I wouldn't have done in his place. I need to control this, Remus! I. I think I'm going to need control for my next boyfriend."

"Do you want to tell me why?" Remus' voice was slow and careful.

His mouth went dry. "Yeah, but. Later. I need to tell you, but I don't know how yet."

Remus nodded. "When you're ready." He smiled. "But you already did show control, Harry."

"I nearly hit my own boyfriend, Remus! I would have done had D...someone not interfered! I was seconds away. I could feel his face under my fist! I wanted to hit him." He burned with the shame.

"Where was your wand?" His voice was quiet. His voice was always quiet.

"In my robes, of course." Harry frowned.

"Not in your hand, then? You weren't going to hex Zacharias? Or curse him?"

"Huh?" He stared at Remus. "Why would I do that? Isn't it bad enough I wanted to hit him?"

Remus jumped off his desk and reached into his robe. Harry was on the floor, his wand in his hand, before he could think. He blinked in confusion as Remus waved his empty hands in the air before climbing back on the desk. "That's why. You're a trained fighter now. And you know it. You nearly killed this past June."

"I'm bloody dangerous is what I am!" He leaned against his own desk. "I'm glad I didn't kill them, you know. Even if they were Death Eaters. Even if one of them was Bellatrix Lestrange." He shook his head. "And I came damned close with her."

Lupin paled. "I remember. But you don't draw your wand in anger. You don't *start* fights with it. Keep that up, and you'll do all right."

"Are you saying that what I did to Zacharias is right? Because I didn't use my wand?" Harry couldn't believe that.

"Oh, God, no." Remus shook his head. "It's just that the worst that you can do with your fists is give him a black eye or a bloody nose. Which is bad enough."

"I need to apologize to Zacharias so much." He clenched his fist around his wand.

"Yes, you do. You should wait a couple of days first, and do it in public, but you should apologize." Remus gestured to Harry's wand. "Please put that away." Harry complied. "But, you see, it proves you have control. You just need to extend it to your fists. You can, you know. I have faith in you, Harry. You just need to learn to trust yourself the way I trust you."

Trust. That word hung in between them as if written in letters of fire. It made him think about Draco and this...thing that could happen between them. Draco wanted to put himself in Harry's hands *after* seeing what Harry was capable of. How could he trust Harry so much?

How could Harry trust himself with so much power? Even if he knew how to have such a relationship?

And why did he crave the trust and the relationship so much?

He looked at Remus, pale and quiet, but so strong inside. How much did he trust Remus? How much could he tell him?

Last June, he'd trusted Remus with his life. Remus already knew his other peculiarities; even shared one with him. Remus knew what it was like to be different and to have needs.

"Remus. I need to ask you about something. It relates to everything."

"You can tell me about anything." Harry looked into Remus' eyes and knew that for the truth, even without violating him with Leglimency.

He took a deep breath. "This summer, I saw some magazines belonging to my cousin..." Remus listened to everything he said, and asked the right questions, and when Harry didn't identify the boy, he didn't ask.

By the time he was finished, he was as out of breath as he had been after the Quidditch game. Remus sat quietly for a long time, and he didn't look happy.

Finally, he spoke. "I'll do my best to help you, but I can't say I like it."

Harry's stomach twisted. "I…I. I need this."

"I can see that." He twisted his hands in his lap. "I just don't understand why you need to own this boy, whoever he is. And you say he wants to submit to you, too?" He shook his head. "I know that a homosexual werewolf is in no position to judge, and I do believe you don't want to hurt him, but I don't know about this. You don't want to hurt him, do you?" Remus' voice was anxious.

"No! I don't want - I saw some stories in Dudley's magazines. I don't want to make him hurt and I don't want him helpless. I've been helpless, and I get nightmares. But to have him belong to me, as he says - Remus, I want it so badly." He had to make Remus understand this.

"Is it the boy himself or the fantasy? Would you do this with any boy, or would you take the boy without the…submission?"

Harry thought hard. "They're the same thing right now. I can't separate it."

Remus took a deep breath. "These can be dangerous games. These can be more dangerous if they stop being games." He looked at Harry. "I don't understand it, but I do have a couple of friends…You need to be careful. And, Harry, it means he has to trust you. He has to be able to trust you absolutely. You're dangerous."

"So is he. He's the one who stopped me with Zacharias, which means he knows what I can be like. But he still wants this, I think." He could barely breathe. Remus had to accept him this way. Or, what would he do when he found out it was Draco?

"I want to tell you not to play these games, but you're seventeen years old, I have no authority over you and you would anyway." Harry grinned at that. "So. Take it very, very slowly, Harry. Both of you. And before you do anything at all, talk. Decide what the rules are. Decide on a safeword. Decide what happens if he uses it."

"If he…if he says anything, I'll stop. I'll let him keep his wand. I'll do whatever he wants to feel safe. I promise."

"It might not be so simple. But you won't know until you start these game." Remus leaned forward on his desk.

Harry wanted to protest that they weren't games, they were something more, but he realized Remus wanted to think of them like that. "Okay. We'll figure them out. I won't do anything to put him in danger - or more than he would be just going out with me."

"Can't you just get off with him? Go here or sneak around the staircases like everyone else? Please?"

He shook his head. "I mean, we'll probably do normal stuff, too. It's that I think we need to do this too."

"Okay." He sighed. "Take it slowly, take no chances with hurting him, *talk* and if you need me, owl me."

"You don't like this."

"I don't understand this." He got off the desk again and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "But I love you, and I want you to take whatever chance you have to be happy." He kissed Harry's forehead. "Owl me."

"I will, Remus. I love you, too." Harry kissed him on the cheek. "I'm glad you came here."

"I'll come whenever you need me." There was an old, tattered book on the floor. "Give my regards to Albus." Remus picked up the book and he was gone.

"You weren't at supper tonight." A voice he used to think was cold whispered to him as he passed an unused corridor. Harry turned to see Draco sitting on the floor in the shadows, next to a basket that smelled delicious.

He sat next to him on the floor. "I had to meet someone - I had to talk to him." He didn't offer more information, but Draco didn't seem to care. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"It's between your classroom and Gryffindor, of course. You need to eat something." He began to dig through the basket, taking out first a cloth and two complete table settings and arranging them neatly in front of them - even twitching the silky napkins until they were just so. Then he pulled out bowls of still steaming food - hot chicken, mashed potatoes, peas, carrots - and a cool jug of pumpkin juice. "The house-elves were all worried about Master Harry, for some reason." He flashed Harry a smile and filled Harry's plate and goblet. Then he sat back on his heels.

"What about you? Aren't you eating?"

"I ate supper. But, if you want me to join you, I will." He looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry shrugged. "Just don't want to be the only one eating, I guess."

"All right." Draco put some veg on his plate and filled his own goblet. He took a sip. "Can you tell me what you were talking about?"

Harry swallowed his mouthful of food. "Me. What happened with Zacharias. Us, a little. Not that I said who you were." He smiled. "I think the whole ownership thing was enough for my friend."

Draco sipped his pumpkin juice. "Are we going to be a secret, Harry?"

"I don't know. Do you want everyone to know you belong to me?" He put his fork down.

"Yes." Draco frowned. "No. I don't know. On the one hand, people would know I'm against That Bastard. On the other, no one would believe it anyway. And think I was using you. Or something."

Harry squeezed his shoulder. "My friend didn't like dominance stuff. He kept asking me why I didn't have a normal relationship." He laughed.

"You mean, with a girl?"

"No. He's cool with that - he's gay, too, so it doesn't bother him that I'm a pouf." He took a big bite of chicken. He was so hungry. Draco stirred the veg on his plate. "He'd freak, though, if it were you."

"Snape would freak, too." He stared at his goblet. "I told him. Not about you, but about what I want…I need to do with my boyfriend." He looked at Harry. "Are you my boyfriend?"

Harry shrugged again. "I guess. I think I'd like to be. What did Snape say? Wait, let me guess. 'I do not understand what you are doing. Take it slowly. Talk it out. And talk to me.'"

"Actually, he said it made sense for me, and that he understood the need. And that we should not do anything that might be dangerous. But the rest of it is pretty much what you said." He smiled. "I nearly went mental when he said he understood, you know. Gave me all sorts of pictures in my head that, on the whole, I'd rather not have."

"God, yes. I hope you didn't ask him about details." He didn't want to think about it. Especially since the image in *his* head was Snape twitching after Voldemort's *Crucio*, and the idea of something similar with Draco made him ill.

Draco's eyes went wide. "I'm drinking here, Harry. You want to know details about McGonagall's sex life next? Or Dumbledore's?" He laughed. Harry had to join in.

"Hey, maybe…maybe Flitwick is Snape's Dom. And…and…oh, God. D..dumbledore and Grubbly-Plank?"

"Or Shacklebolt and Vector?" Draco smirked.

"Hell, I'd do Shacklebolt. He's hot." Harry found his plate was empty. "You got more?"

Draco helped him to more food. "I have to admit, he's raised the bar for Defense teachers. All teachers." He emptied his own plate. "Adult men."

"I think he's straight, though. Should I save room for pudding?"

"Pity. You'd better, given I'd lugged it up here." Harry demolished his second helping and held out his plate. Draco heaped it with gateau and still-cold ice cream. And he took an equally large portion for himself. "Remember some of the duds we had as Defense teachers? Only that werewolf was anything like decent looking."

"What about Lockhart?"

Draco started laughing again. He fluffed his hair. "Professor I'm-So-Lovely-I-can't-stand-it?"

"Oh, that's why you don't like him. He stole your line." He finished up his pudding.

Draco put the last bit of cake in his mouth, leaving his mouth and chin covered in chocolate. Draco, who ate as neatly as a cat otherwise. "How did you ever guess? I was *never* evil."

"I *knew* you were a cream puff!" Harry pounced on Draco and tickled him, and then, surprised at his own initiative, started to lick the chocolate off Draco's face.

Draco pulled away. "Please. That is, if you insist, but please, no. Not now." He picked up a napkin and wiped off his face.

"All right." Harry let go. "I suppose it's getting late." Draco nodded and started packing plates in the basket. Harry stopped him and pointed his wand at the dirty utensils. "*Scourgify*." In seconds, everything was clean enough to suit Aunt Petunia. Then he let Draco finish. "We have to talk, though. Tomorrow, in my classroom, after lunch."

Draco nodded. They got to their feet, and Draco picked up the basket. Harry looked at him for a moment. "Would it be all right if I kissed you?"

He lowered his eyes. "That's up to you."

Harry reached for Draco's chin and raised it up. "Do you want to kiss me?"

"Yes." And he leaned forward and brushed his lips across Harry's. Then he stepped back, the basket in his arms. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry got some stares when he got back to Gryffindor, but one look from him quelled them. He went up to his empty dorm room and sat on the bed to rummage through his schoolbooks. He always had essays due, after all.

The pain in his scar hit him hard enough that he fell backwards onto the bed. He wanted to shut Voldemort out so that it would subside, but with Snape no longer useful as a spy, he didn't dare.

Voldemort was angry. Snape was still alive and untouchable; Harry was alive and untouchable. Draco was slipping out of his control.

Harry tried to see where they were. He got a sense of moldy elegance, including a rack of rusting swords, but nothing more, until he saw his hand moving on a slender arm, an arm covered in bruises. "We will get your son back, my sweet Narcissa."

Mrs. Malfoy turned to him. "You don't need him, Master." Her eyes were black and her lips were swollen and bleeding. "Leave him to the blood-traitors. He's no son of mine. Give me another son, Master. I'll make sure he serves you."

"So, I can kill him, my dear? I have your leave?" His hand tightened on her arm. He could feel the flesh move.

She gasped. "I serve you in all things, Master. Only you."

He tossed her to the floor. She was naked, clothed only in the marks on her skin. Voldemort thought it was beautiful. Harry shuddered. "Good. Because I will bring him in, and you will kill him for me. Slowly. He has not the right to defy me!"

"Yes. Yes, Master." Next to her, a woman Harry didn't know smiled.

"You'll enjoy it, Narcissa. I know you will."

"Don't heal her. She deserves it for raising a traitor." And he brought out his wand.

"NO! NO! Stop!"

"Harry! Harry, what is it?" Harry opened his eyes to see Ron leaning over him, worry in his face. "We could hear you screaming in the common room."

"I need to see Dumbledore *now*." He rubbed at his scar, which was still burning. He gulped to keep down his food. And then remembered the source of the food and who he'd just seen and he gulped even more.

Ron offered him a hand, which he took gratefully. "Did you see something?" He nodded, not wanting to say anything. "Okay, then, I'll take you there."

He was about to refuse any help - the floor was quite steady beneath his feet - when he saw Ron's face. "You're worried, aren't you?"

"Too right, mate. If Voldie's contacting you, that means nothing but trouble."

*

Dumbledore frowned. "Are you certain, Harry?"

Harry put down his teacup. "As I can be, given past events. He touched her, after all. I can still feel her arm under my hand."

"This *is* most disturbing, Harry. Why would he send you a vision like that?"

"I don't know. I mean, seeing Mrs.Malfoy like that was bad, but I've only met her the one time, at the Quidditch World Cup, and we didn't say a single word to one another."

"Is there something concerning Draco Malfoy, perhaps?" Dumbledore poured more tea.

"He's part of the DA now. He's changed sides. But we've known that since the beginning of the Fall term."

Ron shot him a look over the biscuit he was demolishing. "Maybe he's spying for You-Know-Who."

"Then why would I be shown Voldemort doing that to his mother? To make me trust him more? Anyway, I thought you liked him now, since you worked with him last year."

"She's a Death Eater's wife, isn't she? Maybe a Death Eater herself. Probably putting on an act for you." Ron shrugged, ignoring that last bit. "But you do have a soft spot for mums, don't you?"

"Just yours, Ron." Ron grinned. A thought came to him. "It's a message, isn't it? He knows...he knows that Draco's helping me. Someone told him." Ron shot him a look. Oh, no. He'd used Draco's first name.

"When did he help you? And since when..."

"At the Three Broomsticks." Harry had to interrupt him. "Remember? When Snape was being tortured? He made me lighter so Zacharias could carry me to the infirmary, and he ordered him to watch me." And when Zacharias couldn't handle the truth and deserted him, Draco took over. "Ron, if *I* remember..."

"I was busy, wasn't I?" But Ron nodded. "Yeah, okay. He helped you. And someone told Voldie. Who?"

Harry shrugged. "There were a lot of people in the Three Broomsticks that day. I'm guessing it could have been anyone. Right, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Now, you have a responsibility, Harry."

"I do?" Harry felt his eyes narrow. "What is it?"

"That is something we need to discuss alone, I think. Ron, would you be so kind as to go back to Gryffindor? And I trust your discretion to not tell this to anyone but Miss Granger."

Ron stared at Harry. "You'll be all right getting back home?"

"I'll be fine." Ron nodded, and left, but not without looking back a time or two first.

"He cares for you greatly." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. Around him, various portraits opened their eyes.

"I know." He stared at the door for a couple of minutes. "I care for him, too." He turned to face Dumbledore. "Is there something you want to talk about, sir?"

"Have another biscuit, Harry." He offered the plate.

Harry knew better than to refuse. He held the Ginger Newt in his hand. "Sir?"

"Who do you think should tell Mr. Malfoy about his mother?" Dumbledore's eyes were serious for a change. They looked right into Harry's.

Harry didn't know whether he was apprehensive or relieved, because there was only one reason Dumbledore would ask that question. "You know, then?"

"What do I know? Is there something you need to tell me?"

How many times had they played this game in the past? How many times did Harry decline the invitation? Not this time. He was tired of playing games. "That Draco and I are..." What were they? "Starting to negotiate a relationship."

"There are murmurs, and you were seen picnicking with Mr. Malfoy not three hours ago. How do you feel about him, Harry?"

"I don't know yet. He's quite attractive, clever and there are other things, and I know he feels something, too. We haven't done much more than talk, though."

Dumbledore looked at him again. "In point of fact, I would say you two have done a great deal more than you realize. You and Draco need to be very careful."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Everyone says that." Inside, though, his stomach clenched. How much did Dumbledore know?

"You might think about why that is so." He took a deep breath. "You have not answered my question, Harry. Will you tell Mr. Malfoy about your vision, or shall I? Or do you think that he should know at all?"

"Sir? Why are you asking me that? Why is it up to me that Draco know or not?" He made sure Dumbledore did not look away.

"You know why, Harry. You know what Draco wants to be to you."

"We haven't even talked about it yet! Not really!" Dumbledore said nothing. Harry squirmed in his seat, crushing the biscuit in his hand. What was he letting himself in for? And how could he make those decisions about another person? But Draco wanted to trust him. And he needed to... "He needs to know, Professor. It's not pleasant or fun, but he should know. And, I had the vision so I should be the one to say."

Dumbledore nodded in approval. "If you wish, I can remain present."

Harry thought. "Yes, I think he would need you here. Thank you, sir."

"You're very welcome, my boy." He went to his fireplace and sprinkled in some Floo powder. "Severus, I'm sorry for waking you. Could you please send Mr. Malfoy to my office immediately? Thank you."

Fifteen minutes later, Draco came in. He wore a dressing gown and slippers, and he looked sleepy and confused. "Headmaster?"

"Come in, Mr. Malfoy. Have some tea and a biscuit." He served up a cup and a plate while Draco sat next to Harry, eyeing them both warily.

"Sir? What is Potter doing here?"

Harry licked his lips. His mouth went suddenly dry. He took a gulp of tea, which had gone cold meanwhile. "Draco, I have to tell you something, and it's not going to be easy. I'm sorry."

He took Draco's hand. Draco stared. "Harry, what are you..." He looked from their joined hands to Dumbledore and back. Dumbledore just sipped his tea.

"Listen, please. It hurts to talk about this. Voldemort sent me another vision..."

He told the story in as few words as possible, not taking his eyes away from Draco, who kept his face impassive, but who also squeezed Harry's hand hard when he heard what his mother had said.

"So. She'll do anything for that Bastard, will she?"

Harry shrugged, but nodded. "It may be something they put on for me, you know. Like they did with my godfather a couple of years ago."

"No." Draco shook his head. "That's how he treats her - all of them. My mother, Aunt and Uncle Lestrange, all of them. They show off their bruises. Blacks have fair skin, you know. They bruise spectacularly. I'm sure that with my aunt and uncle gone, Mother is even more valuable to him." He pushed his hair back out of his eyes. "I guess I'm right up there on that Bastard's list now, next to Harry and Professor Snape."

"Don't forget me, Draco. Some might consider it a place of honor." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled for a moment. "You are safer here than anywhere else. However, I'm afraid you cannot go home until we get this sorted out correctly."

"You mean, if we kill the Dark Lord?" Draco's eyes gleamed. "Because I could, right now."

"That is not your task, Draco." He looked at Harry, who was still holding Draco's hand.

Draco looked, too. "I know. But if I could do it for him, I would." His voice was hoarse.

"As would I." He played with his teacup. "You need to be there when he does. Do you understand?"

"YES." And he squeezed Harry's hands again.

"Good. Then we are settled." He sat back in his chair.

"So..." Harry looked at one to the other. "What about Draco and me? What we're thinking about..."

"Be careful. Be discreet. But, also, be happy. And tell those who need to be told before they no longer need to be told. They care greatly for you, even if they will not understand." Harry's stomach clenched more, but he nodded, as did Draco. He stood up. "I need to attend to other matters for awhile, dear boys. Please, remain here until I return. Have as much tea and as many biscuits as you like." He left the office.

Harry stood up as soon as Dumbledore was gone and wrapped Draco in his arms. "You don't need to wear that mask anymore."

Draco's body shook. "How...how...could she? I thought...oh, God. I want to kill her. I want to kill her and that Bastard and my father and...I want to kill them all."

"Shh. I know. I wanted to kill them for you." He placed a kiss on the top of Draco's head.

"No. No, you didn't." Draco twisted in his chair until he faced Harry directly. "You don't want to kill people, Harry. You never do."

"Why do you...how do you know?"

"I used to think that maybe you were weak, because you were so powerful - you are, you know. But you never *use* it, not to hurt. Not even to play pranks."

"I play pranks." He felt the need to defend himself.

Draco shook his head. "If you do, you use things you've bought. Things that you know are *safe*. You don't hurt anyone, Harry. Not really"

Harry shrugged. "I...don't you still see that as weak?"

"I should. I did. You're not weak. I don't know what you are, except maybe *good*. Oh, God, Harry, I need you to be good, so I know how to be good, too. You don't want to kill them, do you?" His voice sounded desperate.

"I...yes. No. I want them not around so they can't hurt you, or me, or anyone else. And if that means they have to be dead...and if that means I have to do it...I *will*. Draco, I have to kill Voldemort. And just thinking about it makes me cold."

"I know it does. And I could make it easier. I could show you how to really be cold, to not care. I'm *good* at that." He looked at Harry. "If you ask me to, I will."

Harry thought about it. "Do you want to?"

"No. I'm sorry, but no." And Draco hugged him. "I'm afraid of what it would do to you."

"I wish you weren't so good at it, either."

"Then don't let me be, Harry. Just like you're doing now."

They sat like that for a long time, ignoring the tea and the biscuits, until Dumbledore came back. He favored them with a smile and sent them back to their own dormitories.

Harry spent the three hours before breakfast tossing and turning in his bed, to the tune of Neville's snores. He could not get Mrs. Malfoy's image out of his head - and when he tried, it just changed into Draco's, and his reaction to that made him even more confused. Because if he'd bruised Draco - not on purpose, but by accident - with his fair skin and.

He wanted to dominate Draco. He wanted to own Draco. He knew that. But he didn't want to hurt him. So why was he aroused over this? Aroused and sickened at the same time?

He finally wanked himself off in the hopes that maybe he'd calm down enough to get some sleep in - he'd gladly miss breakfast. He'd eaten enough biscuits that night anyway.

"Harry? Are you all right?" Ron stood next to his bed, his face worried.

He blinked. "Let me wake up, won't you?" He forced himself to sit up. "What time is it?"

"It's gone eleven. Sleep much longer and you'll miss lunch." He sat down on the bed. "What happened after Dumbledore kicked me out?"

Harry rubbed his mouth clean. "We talked. And then I told Malfoy."

He filled Ron in on what he felt safe talking about. "And Dumbledore thinks Draco and I should be. Friends, I guess."

"You and him? He's still a git, even after that thing last year."

"I still don't believe you two did that - worked together for a year revising the prefects and all. I thought you'd kill each other by Christmas - Easter at the latest."

"We almost did. But it was a good job after that attack on Quidditch pitch. We got everyone out safe thanks to him."

Harry grinned. "Plus he's not so bad without his henchmen, is he? And he's not going to be doing much, I'll tell you that. I need to clean up before going to lunch. I'm starving!"

The Gryffindors were still full of their victory the day before. They all insisted on shaking hands with him as he walked to his normal seat. He noticed something flashing on their chests, but was too hungry to stop to look at it.

Then as he sat down, he saw the badge on Neville's chest. It flashed between "Weasley is our King" and "Weasley is our Queen." As he looked up and down the Gryffindor table, he saw that the other badges said the same thing. And that Ron and Ginny were grinning and blushing at the same time.

"We worked on them all morning, Harry." Neville grinned. "Do you want one?"

"No 'Potter is our Queen'?" He pouted for as long as he could. "I'm *hurt*." Then he burst out laughing, kissed Neville on the cheek and took the badge he'd offered, pinning it to his robes. Then he helped himself some fried chicken and potatoes.

Hermione, her own chest proclaiming Weasley royalty, leaned over and gave him a few spoons full of broccoli. He made a face. "Why weren't you at breakfast, Harry?"

"Something happened last night." He took a bite of his lunch. "I didn't get to bed until nearly dawn."

"What?" Ginny pushed her own broccoli to the side. "Did You Know Who do something?" She didn't need to be told keep her voice down.

He looked at Ron, who shrugged. "I don't really want to talk about it right now."

"We need to know." Hermione glared at him. "You know that."

"I've already told Dumbledore, haven't I? He's the one needs to know. You lot can't do anything. None of *us* can." He pushed his plate away. "Anyway, there's things you probably shouldn't know. Things I don't want to know." He peered over Ron's shoulders to see if Draco was at lunch, but he wasn't there.

"Let him be. He's right." Ron put down his goblet of pumpkin juice. "He told me a little last night, because I was there when he told Dumbledore. And it was enough to give me nightmares."

Both Ginny and Hermione looked daggers at him. Harry waved his hand. "Oh, let it go, Ron. I'll tell them some." He pushed away his plate. He wasn't sure he'd be hungry after. "I saw Voldemort last night. He sent me a vision - him and Mrs. Malfoy and the Death Eaters." Neville turned white. "And they were saying these awful things about...about Draco. And, yeah, Draco knows. I told him."

"That's why he's not been at meals." Hermione's eyes went wide.

"He hasn't been? What about Snape?"

Ron shrugged. "He's not been, either, but you know he often doesn't come up on Sundays."

Harry jumped out of his seat. "Ron, I need your help."

"*My* help?"

"You're Head Boy. You can get into Slytherin. Come on! I need to know if...if something's happened."

Ron shook his head. "If he or Snape doesn't show up by dinner time, we'll go to Dumbledore."

"Ron!" If Ron hadn't been on the opposite side of the table, he'd have pulled him out.

"Harry, I *am* Head Boy. I can't just go into the other Houses without a reason, and 'Malfoy missed lunch on Sunday' isn't one of them. I'm sure he's all right." Harry looked at him. Ron rolled his eyes. "Okay, he's as right as he can be." He shook his head. "I don't want to know why you're so worried about Malfoy."

"He doesn't miss meals. He never, ever misses meals. Haven't you noticed? And he eats all the time. His mother used to send him packages every day."

"Yeah, I remember that. That eagle owl of his. Just sit down and eat your own lunch, Harry."

"But he's missed two today." He couldn't even think of sitting.

"Harry?" Hermione frowned.

"Yes?"

"How do you *know*? I mean, we've been here seven years. I don't even know if Ron's not missed a meal." She grinned, then, and everyone else laughed. "All right, I'd remember that. But he sits right here. But, say, Dean or Lavender - I'm sure they've missed a meal or so."

"Knowing Lavender, more than one." Ginny looked down the table. "She needs to gain a stone, say I."

"Her sister was killed last summer, Ginny." Ron put down his knife. "You Know Who's been after families of Muggle-borns." Ginny's eyes went wide.

"That's...that can't be true!"

Hermione nodded. "It is. I got permission to set up wards around my parents." Her face was white. "But it's only time."

Harry wondered if the Dursleys were in danger. He was surprised that he actually cared a little. He shook his head. "I've noticed. I don't recall a time when I've been here that he hasn't been." He thought for a moment, then grinned. "That doesn't count the times I've been in the hospital wing, does it?"

"Or sulking, or snogging with some Hufflepuff boy, or getting in extra Quidditch practice, or catching up on essays or..." Ron laughed openly now.

Harry looked at the Slytherin and head tables again, as if that would make Draco and Snape appear. "You would have to be right, wouldn't you?" He sat down and looked at Hermione and Ginny, and even Lavender chatting with Pavarti. "What else is going on out there that I don't know about?"

He listened to the horror stories that, somehow, he'd missed before, but he kept glancing at the empty seats. Draco trusted Snape, but things were very different now, and Snape was as trapped in Hogwarts as Sirius had been in Grimmauld Place. He remembered Draco's taunts back in third year - how he'd have gone after his parents' killer if he were Harry.

And he was appalled at the numbers of attacks the Order had managed to thwart, and the ones they hadn't thwarted.

Lunch finally ended, with Harry's plate empty only because he hadn't noticed he was eating.

He thought about doing some homework. He even walked back to Gryffindor with the others, full of intentions to get ink and parchment and start writing a few feet of essay. But when he got to his dorm and gathered his things up, he saw his enchanted quill. He piled his supplies into his bag and left, stopping only long enough to say he needed to go to the library. Ron, deep in Quidditch strategy with Ginny, barely waved at him.

Draco was in his classroom, sitting on the floor with his back against all wall, his arms wrapped around his knees and his wand clutched in his hand. He was shaking it. No. He was shaking and it was moving with him.

Harry dropped his bag and ran to gather him in his arms. Draco stiffened and pushed Harry away and then looked even more upset. Harry moved a couple of inches away. "You weren't at lunch."

Draco shook his head. "I only woke up an hour ago, I think. I can't eat right after taking my potions." He coughed for a moment. "Took them late, too."

Harry held him tightly. "You shouldn't be here, then."

"You said to be here." He closed his eyes.

Yeah. But that was before last night, before Voldemort decided to ring me up." Draco blinked in confusion. "Purebloods. You've never used a telephone, have you?" Draco shook his head. "Before Voldemort paid my brain a visit."

"You didn't change it. You said to be here." Draco's flat tones made his stomach twist.

"What if I hadn't shown up? What if I were back in Gryffindor haggling over Quidditch?" It was such a near thing, too. Draco sitting here for hours, cold and alone and probably hungry, waiting.

"I knew you would. You might be late, but you would be here because you said you would be." Harry shivered deep inside. He could have hurt him so much - Draco needed him to be dependable, to be someone to hold on to. To trust. Unlike everything else he'd ever known. Harry looked at the boy next to him - his beauty hidden behind red eyes and mussed hair. If Draco was to be his, it wasn't just a game in an empty classroom.

He touched Draco's shoulder. It shook under his hand. Draco turned to him, his eyes wide, and Harry, not sure what he was doing, nodded. As if that were permission - and maybe it was - Draco fell against him and began sobbing into his shoulder - sobs as dry as Snape's words and as painful.

Of their own accord, his hands stroked and patted Draco's back, and he heard himself whisper nonsense phrases, assurances that it would be all right, that everything would be fine. Lies, most of them, and they both knew it, but if Draco needed to hear them, he was ready to say them.

His shoulder became damp, and Draco's whole body shook for a moment, so he wrapped both arms around him, and that calmed him, and eventually the shakes and sobs stopped and Draco was quiet and warm against him, letting Harry be quiet, too. In a way, it felt nice.

Then Draco began to shake again, and when Harry pulled away a little, he saw that his face was paler than usual. "Draco? What's wrong?"

"Hungry. I need to eat something soon. Something real, not transfigured." He wrapped his own arms around his stomach. "Those potions. Snape's going to be looking for me."

Harry jumped up to get his bag, blinking at the change of subject. "What has Snape to do with this?" He rummaged in his bag, coming up with several Chocolate Frogs and a Sugarquill. He handed them to Draco, who wolfed them down in seconds.

"I had to sneak away to get here - he knows exactly what those things do. He brews them." He took some deep breaths. "Thanks. Those'll hold me for a few minutes."

"Time enough to get to the kitchens. Come on." He held out his hand. And resolved to make sure he always had real food in his bag, just in case.

They walked quickly through the hallways, once narrowly missing Snape as he turned a corner. His face was a mixture of worry and anger, and he had a basket over one arm. Harry looked at Draco, but Draco shook his head.

Not long after, Harry was scratching the pear on the portrait guarding the kitchen, with Draco leaning heavily on his arm. The house-elves welcomed them and before long, Draco was sitting in front of a plate of sandwiches and a full pitcher of pumpkin juice, forcing himself to eat slowly.

He ate a tremendous lot of food, which pleased the house-elves. Even Dobby, who was hiding behind a cupboard door, looked happy at that. And, given that Draco was starting to get some color and stop shaking so much, Harry was happy, too.

He played with his goblet of pumpkin juice. "You never do miss meals, do you?"

Draco, his mouth full of ham and cheese and bread, shook his head. He swallowed. "I hate it, but I woke up coughing my lungs out, so it's not much of a choice, is it? Fortunately, I only need to eat as much as Crabbe and Goyle combined per meal." He looked at the plate of sandwiches. "This should do it."

"How are you feeling?"

He looked at the elves, busily preparing supper for the school. "Better. In both senses." He smiled. "I knew you would do what I needed, Harry. I knew it."

Harry's stomach twisted around the pumpkin juice. "I...Draco, that's what I want to do. But I'm not sure - I'm pretty new at this."

"I know it. I trust you, Harry." His smile was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. More than his smile. Draco complained about not having muscle, but under his robes, his body looked slender and elegant - and amazingly sexy - not skeletal. He wondered what Draco would look like without the robes, and his body responded. He told it to wait just a little longer, until Draco had eaten his fill. "And, maybe I should go find Snape. If that's okay?"

Damn. He was right. Draco would stay if he asked him to, but he couldn't do that. "Have you eaten enough?"

Draco nodded. "Yeah. And I don't want him any more worried. I'm sorry. You wanted to talk about us, didn't you?"

"Tomorrow night, okay? After dinner." Draco was not missing any more meals for him.

"If you say so." And he was gone, after thanking the elves for a bag full of pastries, walking out as if he owned them and the kitchens. Harry could not help watching him leave.

Dobby came out of hiding as the other elves, the ones not making supper, filled a bag for Harry as well. "Harry Potter is knowing Master's son?"

"Not as well as I'd like to, actually. Thank you." He accepted the bag, even though he wasn't in the least hungry. "Was he as bad to you as his father?"

"Master Draco is not saying much to Dobby. Master Draco is also not hurting Dobby. Harry Potter is liking Master Draco?"

"Yes. I think I do." He didn't let himself think past "like." "Am I making a mistake, Dobby?"

"Dobby isn't knowing. Harry Potter doesn't look happy."

"I'm just frustrated." He smiled. "I know I'm not your master, but please don't tell anyone about this, all right?"

"Dobby will keep Harry Potter's secrets and his silence, even if Harry Potter is Winky's master and not his. But Harry Potter must be careful about Master's son."

"I will." He would be very careful about Draco, indeed. In his own way. "Thank you. Thank you all." He picked up his takeaway bag and left.

He caught sight of Draco and Snape down a corridor as he walked back to Gryffindor. Draco was showing the contents of his sack while Snape waved his finger and looked both worried and angry. Well, at least he wouldn't be stalking the hallways for awhile.

When he returned to Gryffindor, everything was pretty much as he'd left it. Hermione and Lavender were off in a corner, and Ginny and Neville were playing chess. Ron, doing his essay for Charms, made room for Harry, who pulled out his own Charms books.

Draco showed up for supper, as did Snape, who sat glaring over the room, looking for any sort of misbehavior. Meanwhile, Draco managed to put away a young mountain of food without looking like he was eating anything. Harry tried not to get caught staring at him, but just as he was favored with a gorgeous smile, Ron kicked him. "What are you looking at that git for? You only just broke up with Smith; you can't be that hard up yet."

Harry just shrugged and dug into his pudding. "He's not so bad. He's not Zacharias, though. Or, for that matter, *you*." He leered.

Ron just rolled his eyes. "Just try having a go at me, Harry. Just try."

"And get into a duel with Hermione? She'd turn me into a Chocolate Frog!" They both laughed. Hermione turned with a grin.

"As if. I'd turn him into a quill. At least that would be useful." Lavender giggled. The conversation turned to other things, such as the Hufflepuff/Slytherin game in two weeks and how much homework everyone was getting.

When Harry dared to look again, Draco was gone.

"Smith is staring at you." Neville spoke around a large mouthful of porridge the next morning. Harry looked towards Hufflepuff. Zacharias' eyes could have been daggers. "What happened between you two, anyway?"

"Bit personal, aren't you, Neville?"

Draco walked in to sit in his customary seat. Harry watched how his robes moved over his body, and then caught his eyes, and suddenly, Zacharias was staring at both of them.

It seemed impossible that no one noticed the invisible lines of fire crossing the Great Hall, but everyone kept on eating and talking as they always did. Except...Neville was staring at all three of them, but especially *him*.

"Harry? What..."

He took a deep breath and looked around. No one was paying either of them any attention. "Zacharias and I had a fight. I started it. I finished it, too. You know...you know how I can get, but this was worse."

"Did you...did you hurt him?" Neville looked frightened and worried.

Harry shook his head. "I didn't. It was a near thing, though. He hasn't spoken to me since. And I don't blame him."

"He doesn't talk about it. He's in my Herbology class and he doesn't talk about anything anymore."

"I...it's up to him, I guess." He shrugged.

"And Malfoy? Harry, what is going on between you and Malfoy? Was.." Neville's eyes widened. "Is Smith dating Malfoy now?"

Harry couldn't help it. He laughed. "Can you see Dr...Malfoy dating a Hufflepuff? He'd sooner date Hermione, I think." He frowned. "Maybe not Hermione. Dean Thomas, then."

Neville had to laugh. "As soon think he'd date me." He shuddered. "I wouldn't want that smarmy git touching me, even if he is sex on two legs."

"He is that, though, isn't he?" Harry grinned.

"Oh, yeah. Not as pretty as my Anthony, though." Neville looked towards Ravenclaw, where his boyfriend was chatting with Padma.

Anthony had wiry brown curls and thick glasses. "You must be in love, Neville."

"Yeah...takes all the fun out of boywatching, doesn't it?" He took a sip of tea and smiled.

Harry didn't know which classes were worse - the ones he didn't share with Draco, and so was thinking about him the entire time, or the ones he did, and so he couldn't think of anything else, even if he did sit across the room. He was grateful that he didn't have Potions that day.

Even lunch was weird - Zacharias kept looking at him, and then he stopped at the Slytherin table to say something to Draco, who turned white, but said nothing at all. Harry wanted to go up and do *something* to stop this - he'd even got to his feet, which caused Neville sit back in his seat, his eyes wide.

Draco caught his eye and shook his head a fraction before crossing his arms and *smiling* at Zacharias. And everyone in Slytherin looked from Draco to Harry and back, which meant that everyone *else* in the Great Hall did the same thing. And as they did, Harry could almost see them catch on - at least those old enough to really understand. This meant his entire year and all the teachers.

Snape looked like someone shoved a pole into him, while Dumbledore smiled even more broadly. And McGonagall was pure red. Professor Flitwick fanned her. Even Kingsley looked shocked, despite a rather happy grin.

And everyone at the Gryffindor table stared at him. Ron was openly weeping, with Ginny patting his shoulders; Hermione was letting her pumpkin juice overflow onto the table; and Neville - Neville had a very curious expression indeed.

He got up from his place, punched Ron's shoulder in passing and walked to Draco, who immediately took both of Harry's hands in his own. "So, what's going on here?" He spoke only to Draco.

Draco shrugged. "This bloke seems to think that he has something to say I want to hear." He smiled, keeping a firm grip. Harry turn around as far as he could. The room around them was totally silent.

"You want to say something, Zacharias?" He tilted his head, keeping as pleasant an expression as he could.

"Remember what I said, Malfoy." Zacharias stared at their joined hands. "He'll turn on you same as he did me. Not that I care what happens to a Death Eater's son, but it's only fair to warn you."

"Warning taken, Smith. But just because *you* couldn't handle him doesn't mean *I* can't." He squeezed Harry's hands tighter.

"It's your funeral, Malfoy." Smith tossed his head and left the Great Hall. When Harry tried to go after him, he found that Draco wasn't about to let him go.

"I need to talk to him."

Draco shook his head. "Take a deep breath. Please."

Harry did. And then another. And the world shifted back into focus. He grinned and stroked the backs of Draco's hands with his thumbs. "He did manage to out us pretty thoroughly, didn't he?"

Draco looked over at the suddenly murmuring room. "If you mean that we're not a secret anymore, yeah, I'd say so." He let go of Harry's hands. "Must we stay here?"

Harry smiled. "That's rather for me to decide, isn't it?" Draco nodded, his eyes down, and let Harry guide him from the Great Hall. He wanted to tangle his hands in Draco's hair, he wanted to kiss him in full view of the entire school, to let them know that this beautiful boy belonged to him, to Harry Potter.

But that would humiliate Draco beyond redemption, and probably lose points for both houses and gain them both detentions.

There was a statue guarding a niche nearby. He pulled Draco behind her, grinning at her wink.

They'd kissed before, but it felt like the first time. Draco's lips were soft and talented, his tongue sweet in Harry's mouth, and he was warm and compliant in Harry's arms.

This lasted until the rest of the school poured out of the Great Hall. Which meant they had to get to Advanced Potions, and their bags were by their tables. Harry hated to let him go, but he did. Draco looked at him, his lips red and swollen and his face flushed, and Harry wanted to Apparate with him to some place with a bed.

They stepped out from behind their new friend, only to find Ron and Hermione, blushing bright red, standing next to the niche, holding Harry and Draco's school bags. "Thought you might need these." Ron handed Harry's over.

"Thanks, mate."

"Yes, thank you, Gr...Hermione." Draco's effort to be polite made Hermione smile. The four of them walked to the Potions classroom together, walking close as couples.

Snape glared at both sets of them, and ordered them to sit far apart. With a great deal of effort, Harry managed to keep his eyes on his notes and pay attention to the theories behind healing potions.

For his part, Snape seemed to be less sarcastic than usual, which made no sense at all. He even praised Neville's answer to a complicated question, giving actual points to Gryffindor.

And Hermione kept looking at both of them.

And then Snape looked at Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, I would like to talk to you after class is over."

Draco turned white. "Yes, Professor."

Finally, Potions was over. Harry tucked his notes and his homework assignment back in his bag. With everyone staring at them - Snape's eyes felt like they were boring holes in him - Harry confirmed their date for after dinner and gave Draco a hand squeeze for courage. He wanted to stay, but one look from Snape told him that would be a bad idea. He still would have stayed but Draco shook his head. So he ran to catch up with Ron and Hermione and walk with them back to Gryffindor.

As soon as the portrait closed behind them, Ron turned to face him.

"Are you *insane*? You have to be insane. You were insane to let him in the DA, and now you're actually *shagging* him. Is he a good shag, Harry? Is that it?" His face was redder than his hair.

Harry collapsed into an armchair, conscious that his entire House, down to the smallest first year, was watching him argue with the Head Boy. "Yeah, I am probably insane. Sorry about that."

Ron flopped next to him, deflated as quickly as he blew up. "You should apologize. He's a git. Even if he is acknowledging my existence lately."

"He is a git. But he's my git. And even you have to say he's sexy as hell."

Ron shook his head. "Come on, Harry. He's a *bloke*. I'll never understand you poufs, you know?" He grinned. Hermione came to sit on the arm of his chair. "Do you think he's sexy, Hermione?"

"Oh, no, Ron. I never look at anyone but *you*." She fluttered her eyes for a moment. They all laughed. "He's not bad looking if you like the type, but his hair isn't red enough for me." She leaned down and kissed Ron's head. "Honestly, though, Harry, *have* you gone mad?"

Harry shrugged.

Ron took Hermione's hand and looked thoughtful. "Harry, are you in love with him?"

He shrugged again. "I don't know. We...I think I could be. Or at least, I think I'm heading that way. He's important to me." Ron stared at him in disbelief. " It's true. His...oh, God. How he is, how he feels. It's important to me. And, I think he feels the same way. But love? I don't know. I can't think any further than tonight. You know that."

Ron nodded and Hermione squeezed his shoulder. "Do you really think he feels the same way you do? He is Draco Malfoy."

"I think so, yeah, Hermione. He's still the same git he always was, but, yeah. I believe him. Anyway, it doesn't really matter, does it? Things are getting hot out there. I expect it'll all come crashing down come June anyway. And we still have NEWTs to study for." With that, he pulled out his Transfigurations textbook and began reading for the next class. Hermione and Ron drifted to another part of the common room to do the same, or to pretend they weren't shagging, or something.

He turned the pages in his text, and even took notes, but nothing seemed to register. All he could see was Draco's white face and the anger on Snape's. He should have stayed - Draco needed him.

Instead, he found a clean piece of parchment and wrote a letter to Remus. He hoped Remus would understand. And he wondered when he'd be speaking to McGonagall.

She cornered him on the way to dinner. "Mr. Potter, may I see you in my office?"

"Of course, Professor."

She didn't offer him a biscuit this time, nor did she pour him any tea. "Mr. Potter. Do you understand what you are getting into?"

"Yes, Professor. I'm going out with Draco Malfoy."

She closed her eyes as if in pain. "I can't tell you what to do about your...romantic life. You are over the age of seventeen and we are no longer in loco parentis. But you know who his parents are."

"I do. His father is Azkaban and his mother is in thrall to Voldemort. And he's not. Either." He ran a hand through his hair. "Professor, I know you're worried. We've never been friends, and now to see us kissing -- I'm a little shocked, too. But there's something between us that...we both need. And I know he's not on his parents' side. My last...visit from Voldemort told me that."

She sighed. "Just be careful, Mr. Potter. It's getting rather dangerous outside Hogwarts and we need you."

"I know. I will." He stood up. "May I go to dinner now?"

"By all means. I will be along after you."

Just before he reached the Great Hall, he saw a flash of Malfoy's hair. He was standing in a corridor next to Snape, who was still talking to him. He thought about rescuing Draco, but they both looked calm and relaxed. Then, to his surprise, Snape placed a hand on Draco's shoulder before Draco left him.

He snagged Harry's hand in passing.

"What was that about?" Harry had to ask even as he entwined their fingers.

"He thinks I'm a fool for seeing you, but he wishes me well." Draco smiled. "Shall we brave the staring faces of disapproval?"

"Let's. Meet me in my classroom after dinner."

Draco nodded. They walked into the Great Hall side by side.

Harry wasn't sure what to expect - stares, catcalls, stony silence - but what they received was...nothing. Or almost nothing, anyway. There were icy looks from the members of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, but Ravenclaw ignored them entirely, and their own Houses apparently had had their fill of gossip already. Snape walked in just behind them and even as they took their seats at their respective tables, he sat next to McGonagall and the two of them shrugged at each other. Dumbledore gave them both huge winks.

He shook his head as he helped himself to lamb stew.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Neville put down his goblet.

"You'd think that a Slytherin and a Gryffindor going out with each other would be enough to get the school buzzing for a couple of days. Not that I mind being a fifteen-second wonder..."

"What did you expect, mate?" Ron let Hermione put a big spoonful of peas on his plate. "Once we had a moment or two to think about it, it made perfect sense. You two have been sniping at each other since, well, always. If one of you had been a girl, we'd have had bets on."

"You mean like you and Hermione? Big difference there, Ron. Last I heard, you two weren't the kids of mortal enemies." He took a bite of his meal, and stole a look to make sure that Draco was eating.

"Like that that matters. You should hear the girls. 'It's soooo romantic!'" He pointed to Lavender and Pavarti, who had their heads together and were cooing. "Mortal enemies turned lovers? It's classic. And boring, really. Although it may add some spice to the game on Saturday, what with both your boyfriends in the air."

Oh, that was going to be fun. Good thing Zacharias was a Chaser or he'd be really afraid for Draco. Not that Draco couldn't take care of himself. "Speaking of Quidditch, when is our next practice?"

"Tomorrow and Thursday. And I won't take a date with Ferret Boy as an excuse."

"Yes, sir, Captain Ron, sir."

Then Ginny joined the discussion with some new strategy she'd cooked up. She'd be the best captain Gryffindor ever had next year.

After pudding, everyone drifted apart to whatever they were planning that evening. Goldstein came over to claim Neville for some Herbology project, or so he said, and Ginny's sixth year beau took her to parts unknown, ignoring her big brother's scowls, which lasted until Hermione dragged him off to the library.

And Harry was about to saunter over to the Slytherin table himself when he noticed that Draco was gone. Shrugging, he stopped by the kitchen to get a bag full of food.

He wasn't in the classroom, either. Harry thought about that and what it might mean. He bent to kindle the fire - the castle was getting chillier with the advance of winter - took out his Transfigurations book and began to wait.

Two chapters in, Draco showed up. "Sorry, Harry. Prefect business in Slytherin. Two of the little tossers insisted on hexing everyone in sight. I really couldn't help it." His eyes were huge and his hands were shaking despite his layers of clothing.

Harry put his book down, carefully marking his place, and stood up. He walked up to Draco, taking his time. They had all night, after all. He cupped his hand over Draco's cheek. It was smooth - he'd taken some time to shave, then. Harry smiled. Draco shivered more.

He stepped back into the warmth of the fire, taking Draco with him. "Undress. Now. I want to see you."

Draco, his eyes still wide, removed his clothing as rapidly as he could until he stood in front of the fire, pale and slender, his skin tight over long muscles, with not an ounce of fat to soften it. Everything was pale - his skin, his nipples, the light dusting of hair on his chest, leading down to a thicker patch around his cock. That last wasn't pale - that was becoming thicker and darker under Harry's eyes.

"God, you're beautiful." He shook himself. "Get your wand. I want to you have your wand in your hand or in reach at all times." Draco bent to fumble through his clothing. He stood again. "Put your arms at your side."

"Harry?" Draco complied, his wand pointed to the floor.

"Good." He sat down on a desk. "Draco, if we do this...these are the rules. And I need you to agree to them because if you don't, we can't do this."

"Whatever you want, Harry. Sir."

"Harry. Just Harry." He smiled for a moment. Draco nodded. He took a deep breath. "Zacharias is right. I can hurt you. I would have hurt him."

"You won't hurt me, Harry." What did he do to earn Draco's trust like that? His head spun.

"I wish I could be so sure, because if...if this is the way we both want it, it would be too easy. So. These are the rules. The first is your wand. The second is *my* wand." He reached into his robes, and took it out. Carefully holding it away from Draco, he walked across the room to put it on a bookcase. He walked back without it, breathing more easily.

"Harry, what if..."

"You'll have your wand. I trust you to use it." He sat down again. "The third thing is a signal. If I do anything to you that you don't like or you think is dangerous or wrong or...whatever...we need to stop. And I know 'no' is part of the game, so that's not going to work. Say 'Snape.' If you say 'Snape', we stop. Right then. And we talk and then we decide where to go. And if I don't stop, you say it again, and then we stop for the night. And if I still don't listen, you use your wand. And never, ever let me do this angry because when I'm angry I hurt people, and I never want to hurt you."

Draco looked at him. "Well, you picked a word that would turn me right off, didn't you?" He glanced down at his flaccid penis.

"That is the point, yeah." Harry had to grin.

"Yeah." Draco frowned. "I will agree to those rules. But you can't let me get away with things - you have to tell me when to show up and when I can be late and - those rules give me too much control. You need to take some."

"I will. Don't worry. You're mine, Draco Malfoy, and I have some plans for you. My beautiful boy." He eyed Draco's body up and down. "Put your hands behind your back - keep hold of the wand - and put your legs apart for me. And don't say anything until I let you."

Draco obeyed immediately. Just seeing that made Harry's cock surge, made him quiver. Draco was *his*, doing what he wanted the way he wanted. It felt like Quidditch felt - pure exhilaration, pure freedom. He walked to Draco and began to stroke him, starting from his hair and working his way down, kissing as he went. He could feel Draco tremble under his hands, see his cock respond even as he avoided it.

He could also feel the goosebumps covering the side of Draco's body away from the fire, and the heat of the other side. He told him to turn around and move his hands to the front. And Draco did as he was told without a word and without hesitation - and with far more grace than Harry would ever possess.

He was as beautiful from this side - the heat of the fire brought a blush to his skin, which faded rapidly in the chill air. Harry stroked his slender back down to his perfect rear, letting his fingers explore between his legs, between Draco's cheeks. As he probed, Draco began to move, spreading his legs wider, moaning softly as Harry moved deeper into him, as Harry's other hand reached around to grasp his hard, thick length, knowing that Draco could not and would not deny him.

And he was so tight there, tight and hot and Harry knew he had to be there soon, had to claim every inch of Draco's body. He forced himself to let go and to remove all of his own clothing, letting it fall in an untidy heap on the floor, kicking it and Draco's out of the way.

Draco gasped as Harry hugged him close, burrowing under his arms and bringing their bodies close together, reveling in the warmth of skin on skin. He was still trembling. "Draco, answer me. Are you all right?"

"Yes."

"You're shaking."

"I'm a little cold. But you're making me warm." And, indeed, the shaking diminished as Harry held him in his arms. He didn't know what cold would do him, and he didn't want to find out.

"Make the fire a little warmer."

"Yes, Harry." Draco gestured with his wand and the blaze turned brighter and the air became more comfortable.

"Good. Shhh." Harry began to caress him, stroking and pinching at his nipples, pumping at his cock while rubbing his own on Draco's arse until he could feel Draco's balls tighten. "Summon lubricant from my robes."

"*Accio*!" He caught the tube and passed it on to Harry, his hand shaking and not from cold.

"Lean against the wall near the hearth. I'm going to make you mine right now."

"Yes!" Draco complied, his arms and legs braced and his head bent. Harry took the lubricant and began to prepare him. It was surprisingly difficult - Draco was tighter than anyone he'd had before.

"Your first time?"

Draco gasped and moaned, but said nothing.

"Answer me, Draco."

"I've...topped. Mostly. Is that all right?" He wriggled some more, pushing himself on Harry's fingers.

"So it really is mine, isn't it?" He pulled on Draco's nipples with his other hand and then got himself ready. He needed to make sure none of this hurt.

"I'm yours. Oh, God..."

Harry positioned himself and pushed in. He'd meant to be slow and careful, but Draco was so very hot and tight that he had to move quickly.

"Yeah, you are. I'm going to go in all the way now."

"Oh, please, yes!"

"Who do you belong to?" Harry pulled back slowly.

"YOU! Always! Yours!"

"Yes!" And Harry drove himself in as far as he could, claiming Draco's body. "Mine." He stood there as long as he could stand it and then began to move again, driving himself in and out, bracing himself against the wall with one hand and pleasuring Draco with the other.

"Draco. Come for me. Now. Right now." And Draco sighed and gasped and Harry's hand was covered with hot stickiness, and the tremors that wracked through Draco's body brought Harry over.

Together, they slipped to the hearth stone, Harry falling out of Draco as they did. He maneuvered them so that he was leaning against the fireplace wall, which was quite warm, and Draco was sitting on him. For all his extra inches and slender muscles, Draco didn't weigh anything.

"Are you all right?"

Draco collapsed on him, shaking slightly. Harry reached for his robes to cover them both up. "Thank you. I've just had the shagging of my life, you git. How do you think I feel?"

"Hungry?"

"That, too." Draco laughed. "I'd say you can do that to me anytime, but you pretty much know that."

"Yeah. Get my wand, will you? And there's a bag of food in that corner."

Within moments, Harry had his wand back in his hand, and both were devouring the sandwiches and cakes the elves had packed for Harry. "You think of everything."

"I have to. If you're mine that means I have to take care of you. Which means I have to keep you warm and I have to make sure you eat enough. I..." What did he want to say now? "You're important to me, Draco. You need to know that."

"Does that mean I have the right to keep you out of trouble? To keep you alive?"

Harry was silent for a moment. Draco reached for his own robe, made it into a cushion and moved to sit on it. "I'm sorry, Draco. It's not like I want to...you know. But Voldemort's out there. And it's getting worse. I have to fight him."

"You don't have to fight him alone." Draco smiled at him. "And you won't. You have your own army, after all."

"Dumbledore's Army." Harry draped his robes over both of them. "Not mine."

"Yours. Ask anyone. Even Smith would die for you, Harry."

"He hates me." He wrapped his arms around his own chest.

"So did I." Draco leaned against the wall, wrapping the robes tighter. "Harry, when you made those rules tonight...it was a gift."

"A gift? That I'm scared of myself?" He rolled his eyes.

"That you trust me that much. No one trusts me - I'm betraying that Bastard, but your lot is waiting for me to betray you. Except for you."

"And Dumbledore. And Snape."

"Dumbledore's insane. And Snape...He's in the same boat, isn't he?"

"Maybe you're right, but I do trust you. I have to, or I'd go nuts wanting you. God, I want you. You're so beautiful. My beautiful boy." He leaned over to kiss Draco. "And yeah, he is in the same boat. Both of you stuck at Hogwarts, I think."

Draco accepted the kiss. "You're going to have to keep me sane, Harry. I don't know who Snape will have."

Harry grinned. "Well, not *me*. He's not my type."

"Good. Because, Mr. Potter, I'm very possessive. Or very possessed, anyway." He snuggled deeper into Harry's arms. They stayed that way for a long time, just holding each other. Eventually, though,
Sir Rufus began to cough. Harry looked at his watch.

"We have to go."

"It's early yet, and anyway, we're prefects, Harry. So curfew doesn't apply to us."

"Still. We need to get back." He stood up and gave Draco a hand. They cleansed themselves and got dressed. "Next time, Draco - the Prefect's Bathroom. We'll turn the mermaid to the wall."

"When's next?"

"I have Quidditch practice tomorrow night, and there's a DA meeting Wednesday. After the meeting, perhaps?"

"If you say so." Draco smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "I'd better head back to Slytherin. Things were getting a bit tense when I left."

Harry nodded and looked at his watch. It was only seven - plenty of time for him to do some homework.

The Fat Lady looked worried when he said the password. "They've been looking for you, Mr. Potter."

"I wonder why." He climbed through the hole.

The common room was empty except for Ron and the other prefects. "Harry! Where the Hell have you been?" Ron stood up, his face red.

Harry blinked. "I was on a date. I'm not on duty tonight, am I?" He glanced at the rota on the bulletin board. "No, I don't come up until Wednesday." He sat down in the circle of prefects, between Hermione and Ginny. "Besides, you had a pretty decent idea where I was, and there *is* a fireplace there." He blushed when he remembered what when on in front of that fireplace.

"Yeah, well." Ron apparently had the same thought, given that he turned beet red. So did Hermione. Ginny just grinned. "Ginny was all for talking to you, but..." He sat down again. "Enough of this. Harry, from now on, we have to be able to contact you. The events outside are...we had fights all over the school tonight, in all the Houses."

"Draco said things were tense in Slytherin. He didn't say what they were." He looked at the others. "What happened?"

"Fights." Ron ran a hand over his hair. "Fights all over the school. Half the school is facing detention in one way or another, and some of them are in the hospital wing right now with nasty hexes. Thankfully, Hermione here could dehex a lot of ours herself. That's why everyone is in their dorms now."

"I still think someone should be in with the first years." Hermione stroked Crookshanks. "There are so many of them that I'm afraid to leave them alone. Who knows when the next fight'll break out?"

"Right after this meeting, then. You watch the girls and Romeo here will watch the boys. Ginny and Colin, you look after the second years. The fifth year prefects will look in on the third years and just be around in case the others need help, okay? I'll be meeting with Susan and the teachers."

"That's it? Loads of fights?"

"Loads and loads of them. And there doesn't seem to be reason - not even they know why. One minute, they're peacefully doing homework, and the next..."

"Ron! Ron!" A third year girl ran to the top of the girls' staircase. "Mercy and Constance are fighting. And Mercy's hair is already green!"

"Hermione, can you see to that, please? I don't want to spend the time uncharming the stairs." Hermione nodded and ran up, Crookshanks in her arms. "That's what I mean. They start arguing for no reason, and it gets violent or they start using magic - if this goes on, I'm going to suggest we confiscate wands. Madam Pomfrey is already taking them away straight they come into the infirmary."

"No. Don't do that." Harry gripped the arms of his chair so tightly he could almost feel the frame. "Don't take away their wands."

"Why not? Harry - didn't you hear Wendy just now? They're using hexes. There's a fifth year with three noses and a sixth who has to get his fingers unknotted. Not even Fred and George could figure that out when we floo'd them, and Madam Pomfrey is consulting with Flitwick now."

"They'll be unprotected! You can't."

"You'd think Hogwarts was going to be attacked!" Ron chuckled. "I'm pretty sure this is some enormous practical joke. You might want to check with loverboy, Harry. Seems like something a Slytherin would do."

"Which Slytherin? Malfoy's the only one clever enough, and he's too smart to do it. Slytherins never do anything where they might get caught. You know that." Ginny sat back in her chair.

Harry nodded. "And he had to hurry back to Slytherin after - afterwards. So, I don't think it's him, and I can't think of anyone else it could be there. Now, a *Ravenclaw* - same problem, you see? I'd believe it of your brothers, Ron, but I think that's a line they'd never cross."

"Yeah. Or they'd have done it just before they left. Something's up. I just don't know what."

Hermione came downstairs, her sleeves still rolled up and Crookshanks on her shoulder. "Got that sorted out, Ron. Third year hexes - easily reversed." She sat down next to Harry again.

"No clue, again?"

"None. They're best friends again, crying over each other about being sorry." She rolled her eyes. "Third years, but I can't really blame them. To go off on your friend like that for no reason - poor things."

Ron stood up. "Okay, you lot. I have to go meet with Susan and the teachers. Consider yourselves on duty until I tell you otherwise. I also think it's safe to say that all nonclass activities will be suspended until we know what's going on. Sorry, Harry. That means no DA meeting."

Harry nodded. "Good thing I'm dating another prefect, isn't it? He's on duty, too."

"I still don't know what you see in that git." He walked to the door. "You know where you're supposed to be until I get back, right?" They all nodded. "I'll be back as soon as I can." Ron disappeared through the hole.

Hermione stood up. "We'd better get up to the dorms."

The first year boys were wide awake, as Harry expected. Fourteen eleven year olds, some still bearing signs of being hexed, sat on their beds, fully dressed, their curtains open.

"All right, you lot." He looked at his watch. "It's too early for bed, isn't it?"

"Harry?" One very small boy with curly blond hair and fading polka dots on his face got up from his bed.

"Yes...Michaelson, isn't it?" He walked over and sat on the bed next to him. "What d'you want to know?"

"We're going to be all right, aren't we?" His eyes were huge. "My mum...my mum's Muggleborn."

"Same as me, then." Harry forced a smile. "Dumbledore is taking care of things right now. Ron Weasley's gone to talk to him and the other teachers. How'd you get those spots, Michaelson?"

"Felicia Montrose. She's in my year. I didn't say anything to her, either. She just walked up and started yelling at me, didn't she?"

"Yeah, Harry. She did." Another boy - Cooper - spoke up from two beds down. "I was there. It was like she just went off her nut."

"That's a pretty advanced hex for a first year." He looked closely at those spots. "I don't think anyone but Hermione Granger or maybe Malfoy could have done it in my year. And Hermione wouldn't."

"Her sister's three years older in Ravenclaw." Harry nodded.

"That makes sense, then. But, anyway, since you're stuck in here, you might as well use the time. What are you doing in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

They all began to shout, pulling out their textbooks. He stood up and held up his arms for quiet. "All right, you lot. You're talking about types of dark arts now, are you? Which one is King...Professor Shacklebolt teaching you about this week?" In a few minutes, he was in the middle of an impromptu lesson, with the boys all joining in. He'd never taught anything but a practical lesson before. It was...not flying, but still exciting.

Just as he'd taken out his wand for a demonstration, the doors to the dorm burst open and a masked figure in black ran in. Harry tried to stun the intruder, but before his spell could reach him, the man pulled something out of his pocket and disappeared with a crack. The spell bounced harmlessly off the wall.

"Stay in your beds, all of you! And keep your wands out!" He threw open the dorm door and then locked it behind him with a spell.

Neville and Colin were on the staircase, with Dean and Seamus close behind. "Harry! They got two third years and a fourth - any firsts?"

"Nope. All safe. He left before I could stun him. How did they come in here?"

Hermione, her face white, was already in the common room. "She got Ginny. The second year girls are terrified - she ran right into their dorm and grabbed her. I have Lavender in there now. She's got very good with protection spells."

"How did they get in?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. They left with portkeys, so maybe they came in with them." She took a handful of powder from a container on the mantel. "We need to tell the Headmaster and..." She looked at Colin and the two fifth year prefects. "And he'll know what to do. Headmaster's office."

Twenty minutes later, Gryffindor had joined the rest of the school in the Great Hall, as they had that Halloween when Sirius had attacked - except this was no giant slumber party. The students were all scared, and some were openly crying. Ron, white-faced, stood with Susan and the teachers. Harry could see him mouth the words "My sister!" McGonagall, who was never physical, had an arm around his shoulder. Her eyes were wide and her hand clenched and unclenched around her wand.

They were all holding their wands, even Snape. Snape who was not standing with the other teachers but who was questioning a couple of third year Slytherin boys. They looked more scared of him than they did of whoever had attacked them. Harry looked around for Draco to share his amusement.

Draco wasn't there. He wasn't standing with the other Slytherin prefects or helping with his House, or sneering at the Hufflepuffs, who were all standing in a circle holding hands. He wasn't anywhere in sight. Harry found it hard to breathe.

Snape dismissed the boys with a sneer and a handwave. Harry, after making sure that the rest of his House was well in hand, ran to him before he could join the teachers.

"Professor!"

"What is it, Potter?" To Harry's surprise, his voice held neither contempt nor sarcasm.

"Where's Draco?"

Snape's face actually *softened*. "I'm sorry, Potter. He was taken. He and two other Slytherins. I believe the other two were random. Perhaps we should have told you sooner, but..."

"Taken. Like Ginny."

Snape's eyes widened. "The Weasley girl? Does the Headmaster..." He looked towards the Head Table. "Yes, of course he does." Dumbledore noticed them and waved them over. Snape nodded, but Harry held back until Dumbledore gestured at him, too.

"Professor? Who else is missing?" Harry stood as close to Ron as possible.

"Apparently, you know about Mr. Malfoy." He nodded. Dumbledore went on to list the other missing students - four from Ravenclaw and three from Hufflepuff. Harry only knew some of them, from the DA. Ginny and Draco were the only prefects. "I believe it's clear that Miss Weasley and Mr. Malfoy were targets."

"Why not Harry?" Ron's whole body tensed. "I mean, he's...he's Harry! Why my sister?"

"Because I was lucky. I don't know what Ginny or Draco were doing, but I was giving a DA lesson. Just to keep them distracted. Basic stuff, but it meant my wand was out and I was alert." He caught sight of Ron's and Snape's faces. "Not that Ginny wasn't alert, or didn't have her wand out, or Draco, but defense was on my mind right then and the boys were quiet. So when he came in, I was ready for him." He shrugged. "Otherwise, I'd probably be there with them. Professor, what are we going to do?"

"Everything we can, Harry. I promise you we will get everyone back."

"I want to help. We need to go after them *now*."

Ron nodded vigorously. "Even if it weren't my sister, sir. Even if it were just Malfoy. We need to go."

"The Order will get them out. But you must recognize that this must be a trap." Dumbledore's eyes lost their twinkle.

"Are you sure?" Harry fingered his wand. "I don't think this is a trap, not like last year when they...you remember." The others all nodded.

"Surely they'd expect you to go after your friend and your...current boyfriend, Potter." Snape managed to get the sneer back into his voice, but it didn't seem like he meant it.

"Except it doesn't make sense that they weren't after me, so I'm going to assume they were. Voldemort's obsessed about me since I was born. And this took a lot of planning. Hogwarts found out about Draco and me at lunch *today*. Unless Zacharias told them what he'd suspected - and he has good reason to hate me - they wouldn't have time to have found out. And, frankly, I don't think he'd risk other students to get back at me."

Ron frowned. "Why Ginny? I mean, it's not like he'd know how she'd got that diary. No one would be stupid enough to *admit* it." Harry jumped. Had he really not told Ron and his family who slipped the book into Ginny's cauldron all those years ago? "And Draco's dad's still in Azkaban, so Voldie must not like him much."

"As much as it pains me to say this, Albus, I believe Potter is correct. I don't know what the Dark Lord's purpose was in this attack, but I think it was clearly not intended as a trap for him." Harry stared at Snape. Snape stared back. "However, as you were not taken, it has now become one, and you would still be safer staying here in Hogwarts. If that matters to you."

He looked at Snape. He did more than look at him - he looked right into his eyes. Snape did not turn his head away. "Professor. I need to talk to you." Snape raised his eyebrow, and nodded. He looked at Dumbledore for permission in an oddly familiar gesture. Dumbledore waved a hand.

Snape drew them both off to a corner of the room. "What is it, Potter?"

"You *know* why I can't just stay here. You know what's between Draco and me; what we are to each other. I know he told you. And." He smiled a little, despite his worry. "You know why he needs me to be there."

Snape was silent for a long time. Harry couldn't keep still - he could only imagine what Voldemort's followers were doing to his Draco, and to Ginny. And to the other students that he didn't know. It was torture. It was Cruciatus. And Snape just stood there. "Say something, professor!"

"Very well, Potter. If you insist, I will speak to the Headmaster. I daresay he also will know." Snape seemed to consider something. He jerked his head up. "Having done so himself for similar reasons."

Harry knew he didn't need to say anything more on the subject. Snape would do as he'd asked. "Will Draco be all right? How long before he needs his potions. Or to eat?"

"Did he eat anything after...dinner?"

Harry nodded. "I made sure of it after we...well." He blushed. "I reckoned it was my place to do that - take care of him like that."

Snape's eyes widened and his lips twitched. "That is another pleasant surprise, Potter. Very well. He's had a meal - you did bring adequate food?"

"We had a sandwich or two left."

"Very well, then. He's had an adequate meal. Without his potions, his metabolism will reduce to normal and his appetite, in all probability, to below that. Assuming he's fed at all, he will not starve to death. Quickly."

"How long before he can't breathe?"

"He should start coughing in twenty-four hours, after which things will proceed at a fast pace. Narcissa knows this, however, and she is a more than adequate potion maker herself. If I recall, she led her class and did superbly on her potions NEWT. Much like her son will."

"Do you think she'll make him the potions he needs?" Harry could not keep the hope from his voice.

"I have no idea. It depends on what her Lord wants her to do." Snape took a deep breath. "Come on, Potter. We need to talk to the Headmaster now." They walked together back to where Dumbledore had just sent Ron and Susan off, and told him the relevant portions of their conversation.

Dumbledore shook his head at the end. "I'm sorry. No."

"Headmaster, Potter makes a good case, much as I loathe to admit it."

"Voldemort is waiting for him as we speak. He failed to capture Harry in this attempt; he will not permit failure if Harry walks into his arms. We will determine another way of rescuing my students. Severus, Harry, I suggest you return to your respective Houses. I am sure you both are needed." Snape nodded and turned towards the Slytherin tables, which the house elves had covered with pitchers of milk and crackers. Harry held up a hand and he stopped.

"Headmaster, it's Ginny. And Draco. I have to do something besides babysitting. I believe I know something about where they're being kept, if he hasn't moved since my last vision."

"What do you propose, Harry?"

Harry licked his lips. "I'm not great at describing things, especially wizarding things or places I've never been to, but I'll never forget that room where Voldemort was doing things with Draco's mother." Snape turned white. He shook his head. Dumbledore picked up a hand and Snape subsided. "I think Professor Snape knows what I'm going to ask." He took a deep breath. "I want the professor to do Leglimency on me. I think there's a better chance that he can recognize the room and the location."

"Potter, are you sure about this? Whatever either of our intentions, if you allow me in at all, I may well discover things you do not wish me to know." Snape clasped his hands in front of him. His knuckles were white. He looked at neither of them. "You must think about the ramifications of this."

Images came to his head - polyjuice in second year, the Marauder's Map, hitting Zacharias, pounding into Draco…Resolutely, he pushed them back. None of that mattered right now. He'd deal with the results after Draco was safe in his arms. "Yes, sir. I'm sure." He turned to Dumbledore. "Sir?"

Dumbledore nodded. "If you hadn't asked, Harry, I would not have required it of you. But, as you have, I think it is a very good idea." He looked into Harry's eyes. Harry looked back. "I can assure you that whatever the professor learns will not cause anyone further problems. Severus, please take Harry to my office."

"Yes, Albus."

Everyone seemed too busy to notice the two of them leaving the Great Hall, although Harry believed he felt Hermione's eyes following them.

The password, apparently, was Skivving Snackboxes. The portraits all started asking questions at once when they appeared, and Harry realized they'd be watching his mind laid open. Even if they were long dead and Dumbledore probably knew everything, he didn't want them watching.

"Professor, is there somewhere else here? Somewhere without *them*?"

"If you wish, we can use the Headmaster's private room." Harry nodded in relief. Snape walked to a wall as laden with portraits as any other. "*His*" Snape's whisper was sharp, like knives down Harry's spine. A door swung open, and candles lit, revealing a comfortable-looking room - a sitting area near the fireplace and a large bed, a bright eiderdown visible between the open bedcurtains.

"Will this do, Potter?" There was something behind the sarcasm.

"Yes. Thank you, Professor." He led the way to the hearth. Snape paused to light the fire with a word and a gesture of his wand, and then waited until Harry sat in one of the upholstered armchairs. Snape looked at the other one for a moment, and then sank to his knees. He looked…natural in that position. "Professor?"

"I need to look into your eyes, Potter. This brings mine level." Harry nodded.

"Don't you need to use the Pensieve?"

"Not this time, as you will not be attempting to fight back. Also - I suspect that you will learn nothing you have not already surmised." He took a deep breath. "Prepare yourself, Potter. I trained you well and this may be painful. I do regret that." Harry nodded, and concentrated on allowing his shields to fall. "May I touch you?" Harry nodded again. Snape put a hand on each of Harry's wrists, supported by the armrest. His hands were warm and surprisingly soft.

He made himself look into Snape's eyes again. They mirrored the fire in their darkness, just as Draco's silver did. "You can start anytime, sir."

Snape nodded and whispered the charm. Harry could feel Snape's mind entering his - as gentle a penetration as he'd ever felt, and fought to bring his memories of that vision to the fore just as he fought to not close his mind to the intruder.

That memory emerged, but so did the ones he wanted to keep hidden. Nor could he keep himself from absorbing the upper level of Snape's thoughts - to do that would require his closing his mind, and this was for Draco and Ginny.

And what he saw the room they were in, with Snape kneeling on the floor, his robes open to reveal his thin, pale body, and the owner of the room on that same chair, still clothed, his hands over Snape's arm - where the Dark Mark would be. And Snape's face was warm and relaxed - almost handsome. And then he was gone from Harry's mind.

Harry opened his eyes. Snape was sitting back on his knees, his face white and his hands in his lap, shaking. Not knowing what else to do, Harry reached for them, holding them in both of his. They stilled as he stroked them. "I know that house. I know what went on in that house." His voice was high and frightened.

"Shhh, Professor." No, that was wrong. But all of this was wrong. He shouldn't be treading on Dumbledore's responsibility. He kept Snape's hands in one of his - they were long and slender, but somehow they fit in his smaller one - and touched the side of his head with the other. "Severus. You will not have to go there. The Headmaster won't make you. Where is it?"

Snape nodded and wrapped his hands around Harry's. "It's the Riddle House. It's - in the last war, that's where he did his punishments." He took a deep breath. "And I certainly will go there if I must, Potter." He never let go of Harry's hand, nor did he protest when Harry stroked his hair. He trembled slightly under Harry's touch.

"Of course, Professor. When you're ready to leave, sir?" Snape nodded, but made no move to stand until he stopped shaking, and then he held onto Harry's hand until he regained his feet - and after.

"We should return to the Great Hall, Potter. The Headmaster needs to know this now."

Harry nodded. He'd have liked to have left Snape there. He'd sensed through the intrusion in his mind that Snape felt comfortable and safe in that room, and making him leave now would be cruel, but he also knew that he had to take him back to the Great Hall. Dumbledore would know how to take care of him. He stood, and took hold of Snape's upper arm. "Let's go back, then." Snape nodded and stood. Harry made sure to keep a hand on him as they left the office.

The halls were eerily quiet and empty, even of ghosts. It made Harry's skin crawl. He had to do something.

"There's something you want to ask me, Professor?"

"Excuse me, Potter?"

"When you were...inside me, I could feel you had a question, but I didn't want to go deep enough to find out what it was."

Snape bit his lip. "Yes. Yes, Harry. I have a question. May I ask it now?"

This was mad. Whatever Snape was to Dumbledore, he should not be that way to Harry. It was wrong - or it should have been wrong. Harry had no idea what would happen in Potions class after this. He'd worry about that when it happened. He didn't have room for more than Draco now. "If you want. Severus."

Snape made no protest at that familiarity. "Do you love Draco?"

Harry stopped. "I don't know. How can I know?"

"I've often wondered myself." Snape rubbed his wand. "But we are not speaking about me. How do you feel about him?"

"I care about him. I'm so desperately worried now I can't think. I need to take care of him, protect him and I can't do that with him *there*. I know he's scared and angry and probably hungry and he's probably not waiting for me - I know Ginny's brave, but she can say things that will make Voldemort mental. And. I think I'd die for him."

Snape looked at him. "That may well be love, Harry. Good."

"*Good*? You're glad *I'm* in love with *Draco*?" In love with Draco. He tasted those words on his tongue. They worked. But he didn't have time to think about that.

"I would not choose to socialize with Gryffindors, and having them run missions is asking for foolhardiness if not worse, but in relationships such as ours - we need you. Your honor. Your trust."

"I do trust him." Harry started walking. "I have to trust him. Just like the Headmaster trusts you."

"Do you trust me, now, Harry? I know you have not in the past." There was something naked in Snape's face - more than his mind had been before.

"I don't know anymore, Severus. Things have turned around a lot in the past few days. Hell, in the past few hours. But Dumbledore has always trusted you, and now I understand, I think. I can't...I don't know more."

Snape nodded, looking relieved. They finished the walk in silence. The corridors didn't feel so cold anymore.

This time, they were noticed. Everyone aimed their wands at the opening doors - and then pulled them back with embarrassment. Some even laughed. Harry grinned at them. "Good job being vigilant! Well done!"

Snape, for his part, sneered. "Obviously, Potter, they know who you *really* are." Harry shook his head and escorted Snape back to Dumbledore and the other teachers. Hermione stood with them. She was passing her wand over an odd spangled quill in her hand. It emitted purple sparks.

"I see Miss Granger is showing off her great Charms ability." When they got close to Dumbledore, Snape inclined his head towards Harry and stopped. Dumbledore moved very slightly closer.

Professor Flitwick nodded. "Miss Granger is doing just that, Severus. She's discovered why the students were acting the way they were earlier."

"Actually, we can only hypothesisize the 'why', Professor, but I have discovered *how* the Death Eaters did this." She reached into her robe pockets and pulled out a handful of quills, Chocolate Frog cards, a top and several other small objects. The Chocolate Frog cards proved to be Gilderoy Lockhart.

"I didn't know they made Lockhart cards." Harry blinked.

"Oh, yes. They're quite rare. I confiscated all of these from students who have started fights today. I noticed that the Gryffindor students who started fights had all got packages from home in the past two weeks - and all of them got odd little trinkets mixed in with the biscuits and comic books. So I ran a charm detector over one of them, and there it was."

"Brilliant, Miss Granger." Flitwick fairly bounced. "Fifty points to Gryffindor. Did you develop that detector yourself?"

Hermione nodded. "It was rather spur of the moment. I should have asked you for one instead of reinventing the broom, as it were. This was an interesting charm, too. Not only did it cause the owner to become overly aggressive for a short period, it also allowed him or her to perform a hex that they actually did not know. I believe it's embedded in the original charm. Is that possible, Professor?"

"Oh, yes, Miss Granger. It's a very elegant solution, even if it's also diabolical." Flitwick picked up the first quill. "If they can do this on a larger scale, it would be most unfortunate."

"A larger scale...if we..." Hermione's eyes glazed over. "We can use this. I don't mean the way they will - I don't want to actually hurt someone but that's the good part. If we could do this large scale, we could disable them without causing any harm. Professor, what if we..." She and Flitwick drifted to a corner of the room, where Hermione wrote runes and symbols in the air with her wand and Flitwick pulled out writing materials and took copious notes.

Dumbledore and McGonagall looked at both of them fondly. "She is quite brilliant, is she not, Headmaster?"

"I think Miss Granger is a credit to your House and this school, Minerva." Dumbledore turned to Harry and Snape. "And what have you two found out?"

"Nothing on the level of the *so* brilliant Miss Granger, I'm afraid, Albus." Snape shook his hair back. "*We* have only discovered the Dark Lord's possible location, and we did so using only an established spell." He still looked pale, despite his bravado. He took a deep breath. Dumbledore moved closer. "Riddle House, Headmaster. His last known location was Riddle House."

Dumbledore's eyes stopped twinkling for a moment. Then he put his hand firmly on Snape's shoulders. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Severus."

"It is of no matter, Albus. We need to find our students." He placed his own hand over Dumbledore's. "And Harry was kind to me."

"Was he?" Dumbledore looked at Harry. "Thank you. And thank you for bringing him back."

"I...I was there." He ran a hand over his hair. "I couldn't do anything else." He shrugged. "What now?"

Dumbledore looked at the corner, where Flitwick and Hermione were still talking very quickly at one another, with Kingsley now taking notes. "Now we create some embedded charms of our own and go to Riddle House, so I can rescue my students."

"Professor..." Harry began to marshal arguments again, and to form a backup plan in case Dumbledore remained firm.

Dumbledore smiled. "You're about to tell me that you need to go, aren't you? That young Mr. Malfoy is your boyfriend - or perhaps more than a boyfriend - and that Miss Weasley is your friend."

"My sister, sir." Harry smiled back. "And I will have to face Voldemort sooner or later - this way I can come in prepared to fight him and perhaps he won't expect me. If I can defeat him now, I'll save a few lives."

"And if you don't..."

"Then you're no worse off and Neville will do the job."

Dumbledore looked at the Gryffindor table, where Neville was talking to two second years and demonstrating wand techniques. "I have perfect faith in Mr. Longbottom's ability. However, if you fail, it will mean that we will be worse off. We will have lost you and two other valuable fighters."

Harry had to laugh. "I'm not very good at it, Headmaster, but I do play chess. If you have to sacrifice a player, you will." He held out a hand. "I know you do care about us, and if something happens, you will mourn. The way you mourned for my parents and for Sirius. And, honestly, if that's what it takes, I'm willing. I reckon I'll be fortunate if I get to take my NEWTs." He shrugged.

"I'm sorry, Harry. If I could have done things differently - you deserved a childhood." Dumbledore looked repentant. "Right now, though, you had both better eat something. And you need to talk to your friends."

"Professor, Voldemort killed my parents and the Dursleys chose to mistreat me of their own free will. None of that is your fault." Harry smiled and drifted towards the Gryffindor table where he managed several sandwiches and goblets of pumpkin juice while he answered endless questions. It was only when everyone around him became silent that he noticed that the doors to the Hall had opened to admit several Weasleys, Remus and - was that Winky?

Ron was swept up in a tide of parents and brothers that bore him back to Dumbledore, who was still talking quietly with Snape.

"Master Harry! Master Harry! We is here to help you, Master Harry!" Winky appeared by his side with a pop.

Remus walked a bit more slowly behind her. "Save your magic, Winky. We're going to need it." He smiled at the house-elf. "Why don't you go down to the kitchens and visit for a bit? We'll call you when we need you."

"Can Winky visit Dobby, Master Harry? I has much to tell Dobby."

"Of course." She smiled and disappeared.

"You have your own house-elf, Harry?" Colin looked even more impressed than usual. Harry just shrugged at him.

"We both needed someone." He put down his goblet of pumpkin juice. "Remus, what's going on?"

"We're here to help, just as Winky said." Remus sat down at the table and helped himself to a sandwich. "I'm just grateful the full moon was last week. Do you know anything?"

Harry nodded and filled him in as best he could. "We think they're in Riddle House now."

"Riddle House?" Remus turned pale. "We have to get them out quickly. Voldemort is at his most vicious there."

"I know. I don't know who I'm more worried about. Ginny's tough on the outside, but Riddle hurt her so much before, and Draco - I can't even think about Draco there." He got up and started pacing. "Why are we waiting? We know where they are; we don't need to know why they have them."

Remus looked distracted. "Harry? Is Draco the boy you were talking about before?"

"Huh?" He blinked. "Yes. He is. Whole bloody school found out this afternoon, too." He paced some more. "And that's why Dumbledore is letting me go with you. He's already said. Because he knows I'll try to rescue Draco anyway." He clenched his fingers over his wand.

"Harry, do you love him?"

"WHY IS EVERYONE ASKING ME THAT?" He nearly broke his wand in frustration. "I DON'T BLOODY KNOW, ALL RIGHT?" The entire Hall went quiet.

Remus put a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry shrugged it off. "I'm sorry. Of course you've been asked that a lot today."

"Yeah, well, how is it any of your business?"

"Because we care about you, and it's Draco Malfoy."

"HE'S NOT HIS FATHER! Any more than I'm MINE! My father would never be involved with a bloke, would he? Much less the son of a Death Eater? Or the daughter of one." The Hall began chatting again. He let Remus steer them into a corner and cast a privacy spell.

"Draco Malfoy was a pretty nasty kid all by himself. And you know he was. And you, Harry, are not James, and I've never mistaken you for him. I'm not Sirius. Or Severus."

"It's my business who I'm with, isn't it?" Harry managed to keep from shouting. Even so, his voice was loud in the confines of the privacy spell.

Remus shook his head. "I'm sorry, Harry. I know you hate being famous; this is just another problem."

"I didn't have this problem with Justin and Zacharias!" Even as he spoke, he realized he lied. Maybe the news hadn't leaked to the rest of the wizarding world, but both boys had been the center of attention for dating him. That was one of reasons Justin had said goodbye last Easter - he didn't like everyone watching him. He sat down on the floor, still holding his wand. "All I want is to be a normal wizard - okay, a normal queer wizard. To finish here with a decent number of NEWTs, get a job, settle down with some nice bloke. Play uncle to Ron and Hermione's kids, not that they'll need another one."

Remus nodded. "I wanted the same things, you know." He slipped beside him, leaning against the wall.

"Yeah. I do. Uncle." Harry smiled at him. "I guess neither of us have much of a choice."

"That's not true. We always have choices." Remus adjusted his robes. "I could have chosen to go feral, just as an example. It happens to children who get bitten. Adults…they often choose another way." His face became more serious. "You're a very powerful wizard, Harry. Perhaps the most powerful in generations."

"Hermione…"

"Is brilliant, talented and creative. Flitwick and McGonagall are teaching her simpler spells to the younger years, and are still trying to figure out her more advanced ones. But she doesn't have your raw power. That's inborn. You're up there with Voldemort, Dumbledore and the Founders. You and Neville, actually."

Harry sat back against the wall. "But...Neville…"

"You have more control than he does." He held up a hand. "Did. You have this power. You have the history - you can't help this. And now you've taken up with the son of a man who may well have helped kill James."

"Do you hate him for that? Do you hate me for liking him?" He felt as though the cold stone had leached all the anger from his body.

Remus shook his head. "I can't ever hate you, Harry, and I don't hate Draco. He's not his father. I barely knew Lucius when he was Draco's age - he was a seventh year Slytherin in my first year - but he was clearly the lord of the school. He was cruel to the first years in his House - like Severus - no matter how beautiful he was flying over the Quidditch pitch." He shook his head. "Draco is a beautiful boy - more so than his father at that age. I think that's because he's cruel only to please his father, not because it's in him."

"Draco never mistreated the younger Slytherins. Ron tells me he was always a good prefect to his House." Harry smiled a little bit. "But he *is* beautiful. And he's mine."

"Do you love him, Harry?"

This time, it was easier. "I don't know. Maybe, if we get a chance. I hope we get a chance. Just thinking of him in that dreadful house, and what they might be doing to him - and to Ginny. It kills me."

"We'll get them out tonight. All of them. Dumbledore has a plan." They both looked at the head table, just as Dumbledore gestured to them. Harry bounced to his feet and gave Remus a hand. He raised his wand to dispel the privacy screen, but before he could say anything, Remus wrapped his arms around him in a hug. "Just remember, Harry. Whatever happens - your parents loved you, Sirius loved you and I love you."

Then the sounds of the Great Hall came rushing in, louder than before they'd closed them off. That was probably because of the mob of house-elves all chattering together, and all the students pointing and whispering.

"Is everything go, Albus?" Remus leaned back on the head table.

"I do wish we had a bit more time, but things are as ready as they will be." Dumbledore stood very close to Snape but was not touching him. "We should leave as soon as we fill in Harry."

"Headmaster?" Harry looked at the elves, with Dobby and Winky in their midst. They all looked very happy.

"House-elves, Harry, have a great deal of powerful magic. Most wizards are unaware of this, which is to the benefit of the elves. Today, we shall make use of this power in service to the children of Hogwarts." His face looked grim. "We will rescue our students and, if you are prepared, perhaps end this thing for once and for all. Are you prepared, Harry?"

Prepared. Was he prepared to do what he had to do? He looked around the room. The Weasleys were standing in a bunch - eight redheads, all worried, all supporting each other - even Percy stood with an arm on his mother's shoulder. Arthur and Molly both looked at him - faith and support pouring out of their eyes. He had Ginny's life in his hands - his sister in all but fact. And there were the other Gryffindors and the other students who were in the wrong places.

And there was Draco.

Draco needed him to be prepared. Needed him to face his destiny.

He looked at Snape and Dumbledore, standing so close together. And Snape looked at him and nodded.

Snape thought he could do it. That meant more than any amount of Weasley love.

"Yes, Headmaster. I'm prepared to do what I have to do."

"I wish you had more time, Harry." He raised his hand, and asked for members of the Order to stand forward. Several teachers and all the adult Weasleys, plus Remus, did so. Dumbledore and Snape had an entirely silent argument that led to Snape standing with the others, but Dumbledore looking apprehensive. Harry, after consulting with Dumbledore, asked the seventh year DA members to also stand forward.

They all did - several couples standing side by side, including Ron and Hermione. Zacharias looked determined. Harry went up to him.

"You don't need to do this."

"Yes, I do, Harry. This has nothing to do with us, or with him. It's something I have to do."

Harry nodded and held out his hand. Zacharias stared for a moment and took it. They shook. Then Harry turned to exchange hugs with his friends. He stood with them facing the adults. Mrs. Weasley wiped a tear from her eyes.

"Thank you, all." Dumbledore left Snape's side. "We are about to attack an old house filled with evil doings. All of you, be on your guard. And remember - all of you are equally valuable in my eyes. I do not place any student's life over any others." He looked at Zacharias as he said that. "Would the elves please divide up?"

The great mob of elves split into pairs, each pair going next to a student or Order member and taking their hands. Winky, however, went by herself to Harry, and Dobby went alone to Dumbledore. The remaining elves, the ones not paired, formed a circle around them.

"On my signal - we will go to Riddle House." The elves all looked terrified. Winky gripped Harry's hand painfully, and there were tears in her eyes. Before Harry could ask what was going on, Dumbledore raised and lowered his hand.

A heartbeat later, Harry stood with the others in a field of snow, in front of a decaying manor house. Winky's hand shook in his. Dumbledore bent to talk to Dobby, who nodded. Next moment, they were inside the manor itself, in a large, empty ballroom.

Dumbledore cast a privacy spell. "I see we have all made it here. I want to extend my thanks to the Hogwarts elves for their service to me and to the students, and especially I wish to thank Dobby, who has been to this place before." Dobby's eyes were wide with fear, but also with pride. "While I should be glad of whatever further help they can provide, all are free to return to Hogwarts now, knowing they have served fully." Not one elf left. Harry signaled to Winky that she, too, could leave, but she shook her head and held his hand tighter. "Be on your guards, do not permit the nightmares in this place to destroy you and follow Dobby. May all of us return to Hogwarts."

He removed the screen, and released Dobby's hand. Minutes later, they were outside another room, outside an ornate set of double doors. "They is in here - the bad, evil wizards is in here."

Dumbledore nodded and drew his wand. All the others drew theirs, their sleeves rolled up. "*Alhamora!*"

The great doors swung open to reveal the moldy drawing room Harry had seen in his vision. He had a moment to see Voldemort lounging with three people draped over him, and a crowd of others standing around before they all pulled out their own wands and it became too confusing to sort out.

He began tossing hexes and charms at anyone he didn't recognize while trying very hard to not hit anyone he did. He ducked and shielded and protected anyone close to him as he worked his way across the room. As he did, he caught sight of a crowd of children in a group of chairs. Ginny's robes were torn and Draco was bloody and far too pale, and neither had wands, but they had their arms around the smaller kids.

Dumbledore directed Dobby and another elf to them. Both shook with fear, but no one else could get near. When a minion tried, they found themselves flung across the room.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry could see everyone else fighting. Anthony got hit in the chest with a bolt of blue light; Neville, eyes blazing, retaliated before asking one of his elves to watch. Zacharias fell in a blaze of green. Lavender, fighting beside him, screamed but continued to shoot hexes from her wand.

And then he was there, in front of Voldemort himself. Mrs. Malfoy stood next to him, her robes open in front and her hair down around her shoulders. Her smile was not pretty. "So, you thought to woo my son away from his heritage, Master Potter?"

"He left by himself. He made his own choice."

"And he will die from it. I brewed a special potion just for my darling traitor. And as for *you* - " She pulled a wand out of her robes.

"Stupefy!" Mrs. Malfoy tumbled to the ground. Snape walked over and poured a bit of a potion in her ear.

"Ah. My sweet Severus. I see you have returned to me." Harry turned to see Voldemort leering at Snape. "And Harry Potter, too, who has grown to look quite delightful. No wonder young Malfoy is in your thrall."

There were screams and shouts all around them now, and Harry could smell ozone and fire and blood. Some of the screams cut him to the heart. He knew those were house elves, and he knew they were serving to the end. But that didn't matter.

"It's time, Tom Riddle." He smiled. "It's time."

"Yes, it is." Harry did not turn. He knew Neville's voice, even with the new hardness in it. He was glad to hear it. "I know about the prophecy, Riddle. My grandmother told me. Can you fight both of us? Can you afford to let either of live?"

"Two schoolboys think to defeat me?" Voldemort laughed, but it wasn't convincing.

"Put up your wand, Voldemort." Harry held his up, smiling, and knowing it was uglier than Mrs. Malfoy's.

"Very well, young Potter."

Neville had practiced in a triangle for years now; Harry had worked with him as long. Everything Voldemort threw at them was countered by one while the other attacked. Behind them, at the edge of his consciousness, he could hear more elves screaming, and Hermione shouting "Ron! Oh, no!" and he looked into Voldemort's eyes and then at Neville, who nodded at him.

He summoned a sword from the exhibit over the fireplace and just ran towards him, striking Voldemort in the heart and then slicing off his head. Neville, at the same time, shouted, "*Avada Kadavra*!" and the green light hit the headless body just as something tried to rise from it. Snape dashed a vial of potion over it, and it smoked but didn't burn. He was white and shaking. Dumbledore caught him before he fell.

"Stop!" His voice roared over the room. "Voldemort is dead! Stop now!"

And, perhaps because they'd all been his students one upon a time, or because of the command in his voice, or because he was who he was, everyone stopped. There was no sounds but the whimpering of those in pain.

Harry looked at the ugly, headless body in the pool of blood in front of him. There was blood all over his glasses. All over him and Neville. He knelt down and threw up everything he'd eaten that evening. Moments later, he felt a pair of cool arms wrapped around him. He looked up to see Draco sitting next to him, mindless of the mess on the floor. He turned and cried on his shoulder. Next to him, he could make out Ginny, still holding her robes together, comforting Neville.

It felt good to be in Draco's arms - he could almost forget the horrors of that night. He would have happily stayed there forever, with Draco murmuring softly in his ears and holding him. Then Draco started choking. Winky and Dobby ran up. Dobby touched Draco for a moment, and he started to breathe again, but he also fell unconscious. Harry looked up to see Dumbledore's worried face. He nodded, and the four of them transported to the Hogwarts Hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey did mysterious things that stopped Draco from turning blue and forced Harry to go bathe and change. When he returned, Draco seemed to be asleep. Harry took his hand.

Draco had the most beautiful eyes when they were open.

"Shh, Draco. Don't talk."

"Wh...wh..." He coughed so hard he had to sit up.

Harry eased him back onto the pile of pillows behind him, placed so he would not lie flat. He coved him up again. "We put your mother under *Veritas* and she told us what she dosed you with. Pomfrey kept you alive until Se...Snape came up with the antidote. But the poison was designed to work with your daily potions, so we can't give them to you for a couple of days."

"B...bl...dy h...ll."

"Yes. I'm sorry, Draco. Your mum's in Azkaban now. No, no, I know. She tried to kill you and all, but she's still your mother." He stroked Draco's hair.

"H...h...w....many kld?"

"Shh. It was a bloody miracle, it was. Almost no one. The hospital wing got filled with injured on both sides, and half the seventh year is walking wounded, but not even a house-elf died. Just. Him."

Draco's eyes grew wide in shock. "B...b...t..."

"I know. It was the elves. They kept defending us - and nothing hurts them. Not really. Not spells, not hexes, not swords so far as I can tell. And the more they defended us, the stronger they got. Except Dobby, but Dobby's a mutant. A freak of nature. People got hurt, and elves got...well, they can't get hurt but they can feel pain. Did you know that?" Draco shook his head. "No one did. Except Dumbledore. The way they got us there to rescue you, and to take you here..."

"I...sw..."

"I saw, too. Zacharias. Goldstein. A few others. But the elves managed to save them. I don't know how, but they did. The only one who died was Voldemort, Draco, and he's really gone. And this time the Death Eaters and his other followers can't get away with claiming *Imperio.* Flitwick and Hermione took her charm-detector and expanded it. One gesture and we'll know if someone was *Imperio'd*. And most weren't. I wonder what it was, then? Threats? Personality?"

Draco looked like he wanted to say something, but he just coughed some more. Harry smiled at his beautiful boy and held his hand until it stopped. He'd be out of bed in a week or so, and then everything would be wonderful.