Splitting Hairs

Harry was in, of all places, the library.

"Alright, now, pay attention," Hermione was saying, "We're looking for something to do with Sleeping Spells, or Draining Spells. Maybe dreams, at this point my best guess is that someone's trying to control you, or do something to you at the least, through your dreams."

After another week of walking around feeling - and looking, people had started to tell him - like the living dead, Harry had confided to Hermione that he was getting worried. He'd fallen asleep during classes, and the headaches he'd developed were getting almost more than he could bear. Even Mcgonagall had noticed, and sent him to Madam Pomfrey, but she found nothing wrong. He was sleepy every waking moment, had dizzy spells, and while he slept his dreams had started to become disturbing, very real. The worst part was that locating the problem had become a race against time: Gryffindor had a Quidditch match against Slytherin in two days, one that would guarantee their eviction from House Cup running if they didn't win.

Hermione had listened patiently to the description of that strange feeling when he woke up every morning, and of how he couldn't work, couldn't concentrate on anything because of how tired he was, and then, in a fit of originality, dragged him off to the library.

He leaned his head on his arm.

"Hermione, can we do this some other...other time?" He stumbled over his words stifling a yawn. His eyes were shut.

"Harry!" Hermione trilled, "Look at yourself! We can't do this some other time!" She lowered her voice. "What if there is no other time! And if you don't snap out of it before the match, we're done for!"

She looked genuinely anxious, and Harry felt some of her urgency wake him up a little. He knew he should be worried, but he was so tired; she was right, he wouldn't see the snitch until it flew up his nose. He tried to stay alert. He owed her that much, after all her concern. He saw her shuffling between the shelves, stacking books on her arms. His head hurt, he felt awful. He groaned.

"What's the matter?" She rushed back to his side, scattering her books on the table. Harry had the distinct feeling that besides being concerned, she had a slightly academic slant to her worry for him. "What's the matter?"

"Head hurts." he bit out.

"Well, that's not a very recent development, is it?" She confirmed Harry's earlier suspicion. "Look, why don't you start on these books, and I'll look for some more."

Harry smiled a bit at her brusqueness. She was trying to stay on top of things, and he was grateful. He was also grateful, and not surprised, that he understood and wasn't hurt.

He looked at the books she'd picked. The Empowering Dream and How To Counter It, Magically Induced Headaches, The Sleeping Guide, Sleeping Maladies, Sleeping Remedies: The Best-selling Sequel To Sleeping Maladies, Sleeping Spells For Sleepyheads and, finally and inexplicably, the transcript of While You Were Sleeping.

He was looking quizzically through it as Hermione returned and started throwing more books on the table.

"These are all I could find on sleeping," she said, sounding disappointed at her haul.

Harry tried to see her over the mountain she'd created and gave up.

"I'll just...get started then..." he said, bleakly.

They spent the next hour flipping through books, with the occasional gasp and subsequent click of tongue in disappointment. They found out many things but none applied to Harry's situation. None of the sleeping spells mentioned dreams, as magically-induced sleep was dreamless; and the dream books were all about interpretation, stuff that Hermione turned up her nose at, reminders of Professor Trelawney's lessons making her snort in disgust as she flipped through the book. When the pile had been reduced substantially, she looked over at Harry, going to suggest continuing their search some other day, and saw that he was asleep. He was talking in his sleep, and his face was contorted in what looked like severe pain. She pursed her lips and leaned closer to hear, hoping for some sort of clue.

"Oh, yeah, right there..."

Hermione's eyes widened. She made a small, indignant sound in her throat and got up. But what she heard next made her stop.

"...Draco..."

*    *    *

Hermione and Harry were making their way back to the portrait hole. Hermione had sat for nearly half an hour, doing nothing but watch with mounting confusion what was, unquestionably, Harry making love to Draco Malfoy. Then, when she couldn't take it any longer, she'd shook Harry and woken him up, only to be snapped at very grumpily. Harry had no recollection of the dream, but had a lingering feeling of pleasure and an acute emptiness. Hermione filled him in on what he was missing. Literally.

"What?!"

Hermione nodded. "You were. I heard you."

Harry looked down. Then he noticed something and frowned.

"But I'm not...you know..." He gestured almost poetically. They both blushed.

"I know."

Harry looked at her, horrified.

"I didn't look for fun, you great idiot. I've been sitting here thinking, while you were...doing what you were doing. And I realised that if you didn't show any outwardly physical signs, then it wasn't...you."

"What?"

"I mean, it wasn't a dream. That's why we haven't been able to find anything. Someone's been controlling you, but not through a dream. I don't understand it...we have to look up some more."

Harry blanched.

"Er...we could come back tomorrow." He looked up hopefully.

Hermione wasn't listening. She was busy figuring out the next step.

"We'll come back tomorrow. At night. That way we can check the Restricted Section. And we'll bring Ron, three heads are better than two."

And so they made their way back to the Gryffindor common room. As they stepped past the portrait hole, both lost in their individual musings, Seamus came bounding up to them, all smiles. He pulled Harry away.

"Hey. Can I have it back?"

Harry blinked. Thinking that he'd lost control entirely, he asked, "Have what back?"

Seamus lowered his voice urgently. "Oh, come on, Harry. I'm going down to the bathroom with Dean..." He let the sentence hang, expectantly.

Harry felt like his brain was moving in slow-motion. "Right...and you want...er...what, again?"

"The Revoicer!"

"Well, I don't have it, do I?"

Seamus gave him an exasperated look.

"Look, this isn't the time to try to be funny. I need it back! They're going to finish any time now..."

"Seamus!" Harry burst out, "I don't have it! And it's sick, what you're doing!"

Seamus looked stunned. Then he muttered, "Look, just give it back."

"I don't have it!

"GIVE IT BACK!"

"SEAMUS! I DON'T BLOODY HAVE IT!"

Seamus jumped on top of Harry and wrestled him to the ground. Taken by surprise, Harry fell on the carpet with a loud thud, and Seamus pinned his arms down and started searching his pockets. To Harry's amazement, Seamus lifted off him seconds later with a silvery object held in his fist. The Revoicer. Harry gaped at him.

Seamus gave him an odd look before striding out of the common room. Harry looked at Hermione, who shrugged helplessly. Library? she mouthed.

And this time, Harry nodded.

*    *    *

"I don't understand!" Hermione said angrily, "I don't understand it at all." She stopped pacing and glared at Harry, who was lying on his bed. Ron sat beside him, still a little unable to accept that his best friend was...well. Dreaming about...Ron shifted uneasily. He didn't like to think of it. As long as Harry wasn't doing it of his own volition, Ron told himself, he thought he might just be able to swallow it. Harry was his friend. Harry needed him. It wasn't Harry's fault. Quite the cliché, Ron thought, humourlessly. Torn between love and hate.

They were back in the boy's dormitory, having had no success in the library. Hermione was, undoubtedly, made even more frustrated by that particular failure. It had never let her down before.

Harry tried to fight the sleepiness that threatened to overcome him. It's Dark Magic, he told himself, I have to fight it...but even as he thought that, his eyes drifted shut.

"Are you sleeping again? Harry! Get up! Open your eyes! Do you want another wet dream about Malfoy?

He was beginning to think that a pleasant alternative to her ranting. But he roused himself and sat up on the cushions. He looked at Ron, who was turning a peculiar shade of green. Frustrated, Harry ran a hand through his hair.

"I thought we'd agreed it wasn't dreams."

Hermione sighed and threw herself down beside Harry. She buried her head in her hands. "Oh, Harry, what are we going to do?"

Harry realised she'd used the word 'we'. His heart wrenched with a sudden emotion. He looked at her, all messy hair and loyal friend.

"Thanks, Herm."

She patted him on the arm.

"And you, you great prat. Thanks." Harry punched Ron on the shoulder and smiled at him. Ron smiled back, despite serious misgivings. Then his head came up.

"Do you suppose," Ron said, in a very small, reluctant voice, "do you suppose Malfoy knows what's going on? I mean, he's in your dreams and everything..."

Harry frowned. "He's definitely got something to do with it. But I don't know what."

"Maybe we could ask him...?" said Hermione, hopefully. Anything for a way out.

Harry threw his arms up in disgust, tiredness making him cranky. "Oh, yeah. 'Hey Malfoy, I've been having these dreams where I'm kissing you, and I was wondering if you were casting some sort of evil spell, you know, to make me want to do you or something.' Yeah, Herm. That'll go down well."

Hermione coloured. "I just want to find out what's happening. It's just...infuriating."

She got up and walked around the room. Harry and Ron watched as she absently ran her hand over Neville's drapes, and then walked over to Seamus' drawers and opened it. Then her eyes widened. She picked up the Revoicer, and turned it over in her hands. Harry knew what she was thinking.

"What do you suppose Seamus was on about?"

"I don't know. I was with you in the library the whole time, how could I have borrowed it?"

"Exactly. But Seamus wouldn't have any reason to lie about something like that." She bit her lip. "And, it was in your pocket."

Harry frowned. He didn't understand how it could have got there. He'd tried to ask Seamus, but his dorm mate wasn't speaking to him, and Harry had actually understood a little of what Seamus was feeling. Telling Seamus to his face that what he'd been recording was sick had been rude, in a strange sense. They all knew it was, but no matter what, they should never cast judgement on each other. Like he'd betrayed him in some sort of boy-to-boy way.

And, on cue, the door opened. Seamus walked in. The smile on his face vanished as he saw Harry, and then furthered into a frown as he saw Hermione holding his Revoicer.

"Give that here." he said, not looking up at her.

Hermione placed the Revoicer in his outstretched hand with a very determined look on her face.

"How did you know Harry had your Revoicer?"

He raised his eyebrows. "He asked for it, of course."

Harry felt he had to protest. "No, I didn't."

Seamus ignored him and spoke to Hermione. "Look, he came in while me and Ginny were playing cards. He asked me for the Revoicer, and I gave it to him, and he left. That's it. That's all there is to it. And now he's lying. I don't know why, ok? Maybe it's because he thinks what I get up to is sick."

The last of this was muttered, but Harry caught it. His stomach suddenly felt funny.

"Seamus, I'm sorry."

Seamus glanced up.

"I'm sorry for saying that, I didn't mean it. I really didn't. I can't...explain, but I'm really sorry. Can we..." Harry didn't know how to say it without it turning out slightly girly. "Can we be friends, again?"

Seamus laughed at the phrasing, like Harry hoped he would. Harry grinned, too, and suddenly everything was right as rain. Then Seamus looked uncomfortable.

"Listen," Seamus said, "could you erase what you recorded? I shouldn't have listened, only I thought it was my own stuff, and I heard it. I just...well, if you don't really need it, which I hope to god you don't, could you...?"

Seamus trailed off, as if embarrassed. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione and Ron exchange a startled look, but kept his eyes on Seamus.

"Yeah...yeah sure..." Harry said, reaching out for the Revoicer. Was this what they'd been waiting for? A definite clue? What had he recorded? How could he have recorded it? This...new development only seemed to raise more questions, but perhaps it might answer some of them, too.

"I'll...er...leave you to it, then. Just don't go nuts when I want it back."

With a quick grin, Seamus left, not wanting to hear whatever it was Harry had recorded again.

For the second time in his life, Harry watched the harmless-looking Revoicer very nervously. Hermione and Ron did the same. Harry picked it up, heart in his throat.

"Revoicera."

*        *        *

"Oh yeah...ohhh...yes..."

And then a second voice.

"Harry...oh, Harry..."

For the tenth time, Harry Potter muttered "Revoicera". For the tenth time, Harry Potter listened to himself moaning Draco's name. Malfoy's name. For the tenth time, Harry avoided Ron's accusing glare. And, for the tenth time, he felt a stab of arousal shiver through him.

"So this actually happened?"

Harry looked up at Hermione, who sat, white-faced, opposite him on the bed. This, it seemed, was too much for her. Dark Magic she could deal with, Sleeping potions, deadly Sleeping Spells, the works. But this was beyond her. She picked up the Revoicer and stroked it with her thumb.

"I guess so," she said. "There's no other explanation."

"But how could I have been here? How could I have spoken to Seamus? Ginny said she saw me, too."

He sat there quietly, watching her. He didn't dare look at Ron. Hermione was chewing on her lower lip, thinking. Concentrating on something. He could almost hear the wheels turning. Then she looked up, blinked, and smacked herself on the forehead. The wheels reached grinding point, and then they turned to fine powder.

"Oh..."

Hermione turned and gaped at him and Ron. The she jumped off the bed and mumbled a string of words, the only audible of which was 'library', and rushed out of the dorm. Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged, and then ran after her.

It took Harry a while to realise what had just happened. He contemplated going after them, mildly irritated that Hermione seemed to leave him out of her findings. Then he lay back, and sleep took him over.

.