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 ju