Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Harry Potter
Genres:
Romance Angst
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Stats:
Published: 07/04/2002
Updated: 08/24/2002
Words: 138,117
Chapters: 18
Hits: 119,499

Unthinkable Thoughts

Aidan Lynch

Story Summary:
When Harry and Draco first met in Madam Malkin's robe shop, neither ``of them could have anticipated how much loathing and mistrust would follow. But ``one day in their fifth year something happens which forces Harry and Draco to ``reconsider exactly what such abhorrence is founded on. Little by little, each ``of them is overwhelmed by Unthinkable Thoughts, and they begin the voyage that ``takes them from their safe harbours of deep suspicion well out into uncharted ``waters. And the more they discover, the more the realise that things can never ``be the same again!

Chapter 03

Chapter Summary:
When Harry and Draco first met in Madam Malkin's robe shop, neither of them could have anticipated how much loathing and mistrust would follow. But `one day in their fifth year something happens which forces Harry and Draco to reconsider exactly what such abhorrence is founded on. Little by little, each of them is overwhelmed by Unthinkable Thoughts, and they begin the voyage that takes them from their safe harbours of deep suspicion well out into uncharted waters. And the more they discover, the more the realise that things can never be the same again!
Posted:
07/09/2002
Hits:
5,850

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER THREE

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING?

Ah, the Library.

Books, Knowledge, Learning, Experience.

Hermione's favourite place.

With a clear head, and with an academic's intellectual approach, Hermione determined to draw no conclusions until she had done the research. She circled the shelves with intent, face set in a look of half stern purpose and half enjoyment. Expertly flipping books down from their perches, she amassed a pile to begin with, then tottering slightly with an armful of about a dozen volumes, she made her way to the corner reading table, set the books down and tapped the lamp with her wand.

'Lumos,' she intoned lovingly. The lamp flickered into life.

Hermione was quite territorial in the library. This table was the one she had favoured since she had first come to Hogwarts, when she had spent a great deal of time in the library, soaking up everything she could about her new world. And then, part way through that first year, she had become firm friends with Harry and Ron, but her habits were set, and the corner reading table in the library had remained Hermione's ever since. Other regular library users respected her territory, as she did theirs. Funny places, libraries, especially magical ones. The atmosphere is as important as the books. Hermione looked at her watch: forty-five minutes till supper. Easily enough time to make a start.

She began with Magical Creatures and Where to Find Them. Four pages on Fauns, which Hermione devoured.

'Hmmm.'

Then Woodland Folklore.

'Really.'

Then, in swift succession, A Brief History of the Forbidden Forest and Pastoral Delights: A Study in Faun Behaviour.

'Good Lord.'

There was more to fauns, it seemed, than met the eye. This new knowledge was filed away in her orderly mind, under a new directory: Fauns and their possible implications.

Onward. The enquiring mind knows when to explore further and when to sit and reflect, and Hermione's research took a left turn. Next was Essential Principles of Magical Biochemistry. Hermione was captivated.

'Extremely interesting.'

Reluctantly she turned her attention to Ten Ways to See the Truth: Interpreting Emotions.

'Useless fluff.'

Still, it had given her an idea. She got up and walked quickly to the shelves where official documents were archived: the Ministry's annually published statistics of births, deaths, marriages, census returns, employment figures, domestic arrangements and all manner of other socio-demographic information concerning the magical world. She looked extremely thoughtful. Then, replacing the reports quickly (and accurately of course) she turned round and went back to her table. She glanced through the books left unconsulted from her original selection.

And then at five minutes before supper, The Crimson Cloud: Love in the Wizarding World.

'Good God...!'

Oh.

* * *

While Hermione was busying herself in the library, Professor McGonagall was just starting her weekly meeting with Professor Dumbledore. Truth was, that this was an important time for both of them. In happier times, the two used this time for tea and idle chat, cementing their friendship, while Dumbledore - neither of them admitting that they were aware of what was happening - went about the business of passing on absolutely everything he knew about most matters in general and Hogwarts in particular, in preparation for the day that they both knew would come sooner or later: the day when she would have to take over the helm of the school.

Before, such a day had seemed ages, years, away. But now, with Voldemort on the rise again, both suspected that Dumbledore would be called away to deal with higher matters, and the responsibility of Hogwarts would fall to this determined, principled, highly able Scottish witch. Lately, their conversations had been concerned with more serious matters, and increasingly prominent on their agenda was the security of the school and those within its walls, the ever-present threat of Voldemort hovering between them, rarely voiced. This day was no different.

'Minerva!' said Dumbledore, his eyes glinting warmly. 'Pumpkin juice or Earl Grey?'

'I think you should know my preference by now Albus,' she replied equally warmly, as she watched the great wizard effortlessly conjure up a tray of delicious tea things.

Both settled down for their chat, which, even in traumatic times, was enjoyable for both of them.

'Hagrid's had some fauns in today, I hear,' said Dumbledore, smiling. 'I wonder what consequences there shall be this time?'

'I honestly don't know why you permitted it, Albus,' came McGonagall's reply. 'You know the trouble it caused last time. Ravenclaw was an absolute nightmare after their last visit. I would have thought that, at this time, we would have tried to eradicate anything, which was likely to upset the precarious balance of this school.'

'Right you are, as usual, Minerva, but' - he took a mouthful of cake and then sprayed crumbs down his beard as he carried on - 'we must remember after everything that this is a school. Creatures as interesting as fauns don't come visiting that often. The school has every right to learn about them.'

'But honestly, fauns,' protested McGonagall. 'And already I have heard that there was a right scene down at the paddock. Something triggered a full-scale orgy. And my own Gryffindors were there!'

'Yes...yes, indeed.'

'What is it? You know something, don't you?'

'Well...yes. Alastor's box of tricks has been going haywire for the last hour.'

'Oh, that load of nonsense. Really Albus, I would have thought that a wizard of your ability would not put so much faith in a collection of old toys.'

Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, ex-Auror and friend to both Dumbledore and McGonagall, had sent the Headmaster some magical detection devices at the beginning of term, as his own contribution to the increased security of Hogwarts. A couple of sneakoscopes, a large sapphire that glowed in the presence of dark magic, a chart similar to the Marauder's Map and a half dozen other gadgets, some of his own design.

'Maybe so, Minerva. But this one has been spinning like a whirlwind since the fauns... er, you know, since the fauns, er, did what fauns do...'

'So it can tell you that fauns are randy old goats. What a hugely useful device.'

'Yes, indeed; I did not need a box to tell me that. But, when I heard it rattling, I got the others out, and, well, I really think you ought to see this, Minerva. I don't know yet whether it is good news or bad, but, whichever, it is certainly going to create a stir, and it just could be very important indeed.'

He proffered a small sphere at McGonagall. It was clear like crystal, but light as air, like a beautiful delicate bubble. Inside were a thousand minute crimson fireflies, all glowing like superheated coals. McGonagall was captivated.

'What is it?' she asked.

'It's an Orbis Ardens. If you like, it's, erm, ahem, it's a love detector.'

'Oh really Albus. What nonsense.'

She handed it back to him, no longer interested in it.

'Don't mock, Minerva. This is a highly perceptive device of great magical provenance, and as far as I am aware, it is one of only three in existence. Alastor said that this one was crafted by Rowena Ravenclaw herself. You know how complex the magic surrounding love between two magical people can be. Their innate magic combines in some way; very few wizards understand it completely. The love itself can take on an independent force, binding couples together in a way that Muggles cannot imagine, giving the couple emotional strength beyond the sum of their parts. The fact that neither you nor I, Minerva, have been blessed enough to feel this intensity of emotion for ourselves should not mean that we close our minds to its, erm, possibilities.'

'So, what are you saying? That we can tell who is in love with whom at the school?'

'No, nothing that base. Or that worthless either. At first I thought the same as you, that this device would be useless in a place like this. I thought that with all the hormones washing around the castle, the readings would be confused and unclear. But...this globe seems to act as a filter, removing all the usual teenage crushes, in fact, ignoring them completely. It has been totally inactive since the beginning of term. Until today. When I looked at it about an hour ago, it showed me - a picture I suppose, an image - of two of our own students, both experiencing a level of emotion so powerful that the tiny flies were buzzing in a frenzy.'

'What are you getting at Albus?'

'Imagine if we had had this here at Hogwarts in years past. What would it have shown us? Couples that we know of, for sure, whose love was so obvious and warm and strong that it brought joy to all those around them. The Browns. The Weasleys. Severus and...'

The pair looked at each other with smiling eyes.

Then Dumbledore hesitated, and continued slowly and quietly, 'James and Lily.'

There was a long sad pause. Eventually he went on.

'And maybe, couples that we don't know of, who didn't realise their love till after they left school. And of course, couples that didn't get together at all, but married others or stayed single. With this, we would have been able to make sure that none of that emotion was wasted. We wouldn't, have of course; but we certainly would have been able to.'

'Yes. But why is this important now?'

'Because this is a true piece of wonderfully ancient magic, like the Mirror of Erised. And I think that anything it tells us, it is doing so for a reason. I don't believe that something like this is here by accident. I think it needed to be here, to tell us something. Something that might help us. Minerva, if the love between this pair of students is as strong as the Orbis indicates, we might be able to, er, harness it in some way. Think what a positive and potent force it could be. Think how useful that might be in a fight against, say...a powerful dark wizard.'

McGonagall pondered Dumbledore's words for some time in silence.

'But, it's playing God. Manipulating children for our own gain.'

'You are right. It is those things. But, ordinarily of course, such meddling would not be necessary. Those concerned would know as clearly from their own experiences as we can see with the Orbis.'

'So then, we need do nothing. As the pair are obviously both at the school at the same time, they will get together; and when they do, they may be able to help in some way.'

'You're right again, Minerva. But, say that the couple concerned don't understand what they are feeling? Say that they face each other across such a vast divide that any conciliation is unlikely? Do we owe it to them to put them right? Do we need to correct this misunderstanding for their gain, or for ours, or both?'

There was another long pause, as Dumbledore refilled their cups.

'Who is it, Albus? Who did you see?'

Dumbledore reached slowly for the Orbis and gently tapped his wand against the wafer-thin glass, muttering an incantation so quietly McGonagall couldn't make out one word. He stared at it for several long seconds, lost deep in thought again. Then he passed it to McGonagall.

Letting out a loud gasp, she stared, not noticing she had dropped her cup in a tinkle of delicate china. Dumbledore's voice sounded clear and controlled.

'Over the last hour I have thought about this a great deal. It's not actually surprising, if you can look past the sensational. They both come from highly magical backgrounds. They are both immensely headstrong and determinedly independent. And, the level of animosity is such that neither is likely to appreciate exactly what they are feeling; indeed, for every reason that we could think in favour of uniting them, they would each be able to come up with ten for ignoring us. And of course there were the fauns. But. But...we may need every weapon and more. And considering whom it is, any increase in ability would be of significant importance. And remember: we're not manufacturing this love; it's already there. We may just be steering a little.'

McGonagall was still totally silent.

'But I understand your reservations, Minerva. Of course I do; they are mine also. So. We wait. We see what happens. We wait.'

* * *

Draco left the paddock feeling decidedly unnerved by the whole faun experience. Back in the Slytherin dungeon, in the slack period before supper, he was as unsettled and uncomfortable as he had been when he woke from the dream that morning. He lolled on his bed, half puzzled, half furious with Dixter the faun and with blasted Harry Potter. Crabbe and Goyle were cooking up some mischief for the next day's Potions class, but Draco was uninterested in their little schemes. There was a time when he would have been the one organizing the trouble making, but now, his henchmen's plots seemed childish and immature. And unworkable: no way were they going to get Weasley to fall for that!

He went over the strange happenings of the Care of Magical Creatures class. Dixter's reaction had been, precisely that. A reaction. But to what? And why on earth had Draco found himself looking so intently at Potter's chest when he had taken his jumper off? And why had he experienced an amazing body shiver when Potter had looked at him? And WHY, why had he almost thanked Potter for dragging him out of the faun's path? And, even more bizarre, why, when he spat out his usual insult at Potter, just as they had left, did he feel a pang of regret? Crabbe and Goyle had certainly found it funny. Ha! Drink your own urine! Good one, Dra! But, it had felt empty. No venom. No feeling. No nothing. Just regret.

Surely not. No. It was unthinkable...wasn't it?

The Slytherins were congregating for supper. Supper was a meal that they did well. Not like breakfast, which the Gryffindors had the monopoly on, with their constant cheery chatter and happy laughter. When the senior Slytherins arrived at supper, the whole school would notice. Draco would take his seat; acolytes would position themselves around him in order of social standing. Pretentious conversation would ensue. Pansy would flirt and simper. Crabbe and Goyle would laugh at his wit. God, no. Not tonight. He wasn't going to go.

Crabbe and Goyle were confused by their leader's mood.

'Not going to supper? But that's when we show the pureblood pride! That's when we are truly Slytherins, for all to see!'

'Bloody well do it on your own for once. I'm not going to supper.'

Pansy affected concern.

'Feeling alright, Draky? Under the weather? Shall I send for Madam Pomfrey?'

'No. Sod off, Pansy. I can be moody if I want. You are most of the time, after all.'

They left. Strangely, Draco felt no better when he was on his own. There was just...confusion. Draco hated not understanding things. He was clever. He was smart. He was bigger than this. It was nothing. He could turn his hand to anything. Potter unnerving him was hardly the end of the world. If he could cope with his father, he could cope with Potter.

Some time after his cronies had left, Draco tried hard to snap himself out of his stupor.

A shower. It had worked that morning. He stripped to nothing and chose a luxurious towel. It was good to be in the House alone. He strutted along the corridor to the senior boys' bathroom, a room of oceanic size and almost indecent luxury. Feeling slightly better, he stood and preened in front of one of the large mirrors. Damn it, Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are one hot looking wizard! He ran his hands over his white blond hair, then ruffled it madly. Ha! Even with messy hair you look great! Messy hair. Messy hair...

Fuck off out of my head, Potter!

He selected his favourite shower cubicle. Cubicle was not really the right word, as it was a palatial black marble chamber with heavy gold fittings; almost as good as some of the showers at Malfoy Manor. The water coursed over his body. Warm, safe, soothing. He stood. Totally still, the water plastering his hair to his head and his face. This was a great shower. Good water pressure (one reason to be pleased about living at the bottom of such a large building), totally private, plenty of room. Yes, plenty of room. Easily enough for two, if that was your thing. Except, Draco knew not one person in the whole world with whom he wanted to share a shower. Bloody Pansy. How she would jump at the chance. And a fair few others. Sycophants, all.

Well, never mind. He was only sixteen. There was still time, it wasn't embarrassing still to be a virgin at sixteen. Seventeen however, that was different. If he were to maintain the Malfoy reputation, he would have to do it soon. Or, be seen to have done it at least. Who should he choose? His father, as usual, had been prescriptive and definitive on the matter, in one of their more sensitive chats last holiday.

I don't care how casually you screw around, he had said, but make sure you start soon. But if you get some halfblood or Muggle pregnant I will kill her. Then the baby. You will not besmirch the family name by siring some mongrel. You know who the purebloods are, find your fun among them. That way, there need be no 'accidents'.

And then he had grinned, like he had just shared the secret of life man-to-man with his son and heir. Oh Christ. Draco felt his eyes close in shame, as if he were blinking back tears. Fuck, he was blinking back tears.

Blanking out the thought of his father, he picked up a bar of soap, and began to rub it idly over his chest. Surprisingly, Potter's chest had seemed much more muscly than he had expected.

Expected?

Had he actually had a previous mental image of Potter's chest with which to compare the real thing?

Surely not.

Must be all the Quidditch training, constantly tensing himself in all directions trying to grab the Snitch. Still, Draco was a Seeker too; why hadn't he got muscles like Potter?

Oh God, Potter...

His thoughts came fast and furious as he tried to ignore his increasing arousal. There had been some connection with Potter that afternoon. Draco had felt...something. And that bloody faun. Dixter. Dick-ster. He had sensed it. What had he said? Something about something being unexpected. A turn-up for the books. Something about he'd heard of it before, but actually as a preference, as a first choice? Draco knew about fauns. Hey, they were a boy's favourite magical creature; all that endless fornication with no shame. They had some special powers too. Mainly to do with sex. But what had he meant?

Surely not...

Oh God, Potter. Potter, FUCK OFF!

Why are you in my head? Why are you smiling at me like that? Why do you offer me your hand when we hate each other? Why is your hair always unruly? What does it feel like to run your hand through it? How did you get muscles like that? What do you dream of? What does your skin smell like? What do your lips taste of?

WHY AM I THINKING LIKE THIS? WHY ARE YOU HAVING THIS EFFECT ON ME?

The shame hit him at the same time as his climax. He dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face, his seed sliding down the drain. He wailed, like a baby in distress, alone, scared, guilty, bitter, unsure, panicked, ashamed, crying aloud like he never had in his life. The surge of emotion in him was more powerful than anything he had ever experienced. He was breathless, he was drowning. And in that moment, with the water crashing over his shoulders and the back of his neck, as he stared unseeing at his knees on the marble floor of the shower, he saw that no amount of water, not even an apocalyptic deluge, could wash away the feelings that had made him more alive than he had ever been. In that moment, his life had realigned itself: ghastly, terrifying, unthinkable.

* * *

When Hermione arrived at supper, there was a great deal of hilarity at the Gryffindor table.

Ron, Seamus, Dean, Neville, the twins and a number of other senior male Gryffindors were huddled in a group, poring over their food and something else on the table, all exploding in regular howls of raucous laughter. Her eyes instinctively scanned the room for Harry, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Faced with the choice of eating with the large group of boys or the giggly group of Ginny, Lavender and Parvati at the other end of the table, Hermione opted for the girls. It wasn't usual that she chose not to eat with Harry and Ron, but, well, seeing as Harry was not there and as the other boys were obviously continuing talking about whatever smut it was that they had been obsessed with all day, the girls looked like a much more pleasant proposition. And anyway, that particular male gathering looked like one of those boys' talks that she would only have a passing interest in. Ron was so caught up in whatever the boys were discussing, that Hermione couldn't even catch his eye to signal that she would be eating with Ginny.

'Hmmm,' peeved Hermione to herself, subconsciously pursing her lips slightly, 'I wonder if he ever actually notices me?'

'Oooh, let me see,' said Lavender as Hermione dumped a pile of books next to her as she sat down, on top of which was The Crimson Cloud. 'Didn't know you were into all this stuff Herm,' she tittered.

Parvati was also extremely interested, and the two buried themselves in the book. Ginny looked up at Hermione.

'What on earth happened down in Care of Magical Creatures this afternoon, Herm?' she asked, smiling, 'rumours are that there was an orgy!'

'Well, to be honest, I think there was,' laughed Hermione, 'at least, among the fauns! Hagrid chased us all out of there the moment things got frisky. Funny though, it just blew up out of nowhere. One minute we were all chatting to them - my God, Ginny, have you ever spoken to a faun? They are obscene! - and the next there was just mayhem.'

'What caused it?'

'I'm not entirely sure,' mused Hermione, still pondering on what she had read in the library. 'But I'm fairly certain that fauns will be off the curriculum for the time being! Hey, Harry!' she called out, seeing him enter the hall.

Harry saw her and waved but made a beeline for the secretive huddle of boys where Ron appeared to be holding court. Hermione was surprised to see Ron refuse Harry (albeit extremely good-naturedly) admission to their group. Harry however did not seem to mind, and slid into a seat next to Hermione, smiling.

'OK,' said Ginny, 'tell us. What the bloody hell are that lot cooking up?'

'Erm, er...' said Harry, 'I'm really, honestly, not at all certain, but I think it's, well, it's something to do with...'

'Oh for Heaven's sake spit it out Harry,' interjected Hermione, 'or is this censored by that ridiculous Boys' Code of Ethics that you lot have?'

'Well, yes,' he grinned sheepishly, 'I rather think it is actually...'

'Fine,' she said, though not at all unkindly. 'I'm hardly interested anyway!' she added, unconvincingly.

'Aren't you? I am,' laughed Ginny.

'So am I,' said Lavender, giggling.

'Me too,' Parvati smirked.

'Well, I definitely can't tell then if you lot all want to know,' laughed Harry. 'It's against the rules of being a boy; I'd probably have my membership revoked or something! Anyway I'm not really sure; and besides, you lot have your girly chats before breakfast and don't let us hear, and I'm telling you it drives Ron insane that he can't know what you're talking about!'

'Ooooh, does it?' said Lavender, eyes wide.

'Excellent,' said Hermione, with a broad smile.

All four girls laughed loudly, temporarily attracting the attention of the boys further down the table. The girls exchanged looks and Harry realised he was out of the loop on this one as well as concerning whatever Ron and the boys had wanted to hide from him.

'See?!! You're doing it now!' laughed Harry. 'That girly thing you do is just as exclusive as what Ron and company are talking about! I should think - '

But he was cut short by a sudden sharp feeling in his stomach accompanied by a lightheadedness and dizziness.

'What's the matter?' asked Hermione urgently. 'Your scar...?'

'Er, Herm! Oh God, oh, nothing...' moaned Harry, 'Oh, Herm, shit, oh GOD where did THAT come from?'

'What?' asked Ginny, nervously looking at the ashen colour Harry had just turned.

Hermione grabbed Harry's wrist and felt for his pulse.

'Blimey,' she said quietly, 'your pulse is--'

But she didn't get to finish as Harry slumped inelegantly forward over the table, narrowly missing a glass of pumpkin juice. Fainted. Out cold.

Hermione scanned the large room for Dementors, but of course there were none. In fact she was quite at a loss to see anything that might have caused this. It was a serious moment on the Gryffindor table. Hermione, suddenly desperately worried about Harry, began to wonder how she could engineer his being covertly carried out to the Hospital Wing, and she shot another quick look around the whole hall. All seemed to be as normal, and miraculously, Malfoy did not appear to be anywhere to be seen.

Ron was there in a flash, all joking gone from his worried face.

'Herm! What happened?'

'No idea, he was laughing with us and then, all of a sudden, whoosh. We've got to get him out of here.'

Unspoken between Ron and Hermione, and among all the Gryffindors, was the knowledge that The Boy Who Lived did not faint without reason. There had been precious little news of Voldemort's increasing rise outside the safety of Hogwarts, but what there had been was worrying. Both Ron and Hermione knew how sensitive Harry was to all kinds of Dark Magic and Hermione feared Death Eater involvement, or Dementors, or maybe even the proximity of Voldemort himself.

The Gryffindors snapped into order, leaping into action as naturally as if they had rehearsed this drill a hundred times. Ron took control. He gathered Harry in his arms as Hermione performed a simple charm to make him about a quarter his normal weight. Ron swept out of the hall, Harry lolling unconscious, looking as pale as death. Hermione walked alongside, trying to shield what had happened from the rest of the school. Seamus, Dean, Lavender and Parvati surrounded them. Neville and Ginny exited behind them making a lot of noise as a distraction, and the twins remained at the table having a sudden game of Exploding Snap to divert the school's attention from the urgent entourage that was leaving the hall.

Outside, Ron spoke quickly to the group.

'I'm taking Harry to the Hospital Wing,' he said in a low voice. 'Hermione, you go to Dumbledore, and Ginny, you go to the Owlery and send Hedwig to Sirius. The rest of you, form a group around me and we'll try to keep the rest of the school from panicking; the sight of our main hope against the Dark Lord out cold will not instill confidence in the others.'

Hermione looked at Ron, a huge mixture of emotion suddenly enveloping her. What on earth was wrong with Harry? This was no ordinary faint; he had been out for about two minutes now. Her heart plummeted at what this might mean, for Harry, for all of them. Then there was Ron, who, when it mattered, even when they argued and fought, would rather die than let anyone harm Harry.

There was some sort of bond between them, Hermione knew. Perhaps that of a boy who wanted a brother with one who could have spared three or four; or perhaps the bond of a boy who had craved to be needed with one who wanted to learn in an instant eleven years' worth of magical life. When Harry had been introduced to the magical world, Ron was the first person he had connected with, and he had subsequently seen everything new in terms of Ron's own experiences, through Ron's own eyes; from Quidditch to chocolate frogs, from Dumbledore to Lord Voldemort. Hermione had never been a factor in that part of their friendship, where they had stayed up half the night talking about things Ron took for granted and of which Harry had no knowledge, but she did not regret it. She was warmed to think that these two boys, her own two best friends, were themselves inseparably close. Simply, they brought out the best in each other, and, Hermione found herself thinking, the best in Ron was really very fine indeed.

He looked wonderful there in that moment, his best friend possibly in danger, his comrades rallying to the cause, his easy natural leadership blooming. She shook herself, blushing slightly, cursing her frivolity at such an important moment, and made her way in the opposite direction to find the Headmaster while Ron efficiently marshalled his troops to the Hospital Wing.

Hermione had never been to Dumbledore's office before. She knew where it was, but when she got there she had not the remotest idea of how to get in. She knew that the password was likely to be something you could buy at Honeyduke's, but when she had exhausted everything she could think of, she just slumped down on the floor against the stone gargoyle and prayed that a member of staff would come along soon who could help her.

Help in fact arrived quicker than she could reasonably have hoped for, and from an unexpected source. As she leaned back against the gargoyle she suddenly felt a grinding in the stone behind her and as the secret door opened she actually fell backwards into the space and landed right at the feet of Professor McGonagall.

'Miss Granger! What on earth are you doing?'

'Oh, Professor McGonagall!' she cried as she jumped to her feet. 'I need to see Professor Dumbledore! It's Harry! Something's happened!'

'Come up, Miss Granger,' came Dumbledore's voice from the top of the moving staircase. 'You too, Minerva, if you wouldn't mind.'

Hermione told her story to both of them. They sat in silence as they listened. And when she had finished, they remained in silence. Hermione sensed they knew more than they were letting on.

'Well,' said Dumbledore eventually. 'What do you think, Minerva? A catastrophe, or just the natural reaction of a boy who hadn't eaten enough in an exciting and overly warm day?'

Oh God, thought Hermione. Of course. What a fuss we had made. He had only fainted after all, but we are just so protective of him, we couldn't help but fear the worst.

'I think,' replied McGonagall, 'twenty points to Gryffindor for Weasley acting calm under pressure, and a bar of chocolate for Harry when he comes round. Which he almost certainly will have done by now. Crisis averted.'

Oh how bloody foolish do I feel now? wailed Hermione inside her head.

But then, as always with Dumbledore, came the unexpected.

'Miss Granger, would you mind telling me exactly what happened in Care of Magical Creatures this afternoon?'

Thrown off track for a second, Hermione quickly recounted all she could remember.

'Interesting creatures, fauns,' mused Dumbledore to nobody in particular. 'They have some unique magical powers. Still, I expect you knew that Miss Granger, being the fine student that you are.'

Hermione didn't quite know what to make of this, and said nothing.

'You can learn a lot from fauns,' continued Dumbledore, 'all sorts of surprising things sometimes. They have a knack for seeing things, things the rest of us don't notice.'

Hermione looked at McGonagall for guidance at this point, but there was none coming. Her face was unreadable.

'Oh yes. Very surprising, some of the things are.'

There was another pause, then Dumbledore seemed to snap out of whatever he was thinking.

'You did right to come and see us, Miss Granger. An extra five points to Gryffindor for your especially inventive attempts at the password. Now get back to your friends, and see if Harry is all right. I'll be along to see him myself in a short while.'

That was most definitely the end of the interview, and Hermione withdrew with a lot less drama than she had entered.

* * *

Draco lay in bed, devoid of all feeling, staring blankly into nothing. He was utterly drained, both physically and emotionally, by his experience in the shower earlier that evening. It had totally wiped him out. And without a wand too, he thought absently. He had fastened the drapes round his bed and ignored all efforts from the Slytherins to coax him out to join then on a nocturnal trip out of the dungeon for some malicious mischief.

His tears had finally gone away, but his conclusions would not.

* * *

Later that night, the Gryffindors were all sitting around the common room, still concerned for Harry even though Dumbledore had not seem worried at all. They talked over the events of the day, from the mad Care of Magical Creatures lesson to the events of supper and after.

Madam Pomfrey, true to form, had shooed them all out of the hospital wing soon after she had got Harry settled in a bed. He still had not come round, but she maintained that he was in no immediate danger. And as they had all trooped out, Dumbledore had met them on his way in, and beamed at them all.

'Well done, all of you, especially you, Mr Weasley. Earned yourselves some serious house points this evening, as I am sure Miss Granger has told you.'

Ron had flushed scarlet at his pride at being singled out by Dumbledore for individual praise.

'Now get back to your common room, and I don't want you to worry about Harry. I'm sure he will be fine.'

Now they were back in the common room, and even without Harry, the situation seemed a lot less desperate. Maybe they had overreacted. But, how were they to know?

Hermione was still thinking about what Dumbledore had said to her about fauns. She was sure he was encouraging her to do some research into them. Well, some more research. He probably knew she had already been in the library for that very reason. He seemed to know everything in fact. She was suddenly very tired, and with thoughts of Harry and Dumbledore and fauns swimming round her head, she excused herself and went up to bed.

'Good night Herm,' said Ron warmly as she left the room. Hermione's heart skipped a beat as he said it, but she didn't look back.

'Come on,' said Ron, to Seamus, Dean and Neville, who the only ones left in the common room, 'let's finish it. I'm sure he could do with a laugh when he gets back.'

Their mood was lighter again. Harry was fine; he'd be back soon, maybe even that night. Up in their dormitory, the boys got back to work on what they had been doing at supper, and were soon laughing and joking as they had been before.

They got so engrossed in their task that, about an hour and a half later, when Harry got back from the hospital wing, he was able to stand unnoticed and watch his friends secretly busy with something on Seamus's bed for a couple of minutes before he coughed and smiled at them.

'Glad to see you're all terrifically worried about me!' he laughed, as the others all whooped and Ron rushed over to him.

He reached out and held Harry's shoulder. 'We were worried, you git,' he beamed, 'the whole bloody house was.' Then, softer, so the others couldn't hear, 'are you OK? You gave me a bloody fright. What on earth happened?'

'I'm really not sure. Neither is Madam Pomfrey. I just fainted, no bloody idea why. I think Dumbledore might know though.'

'Really? What did he say?'

'Nothing. That's how you tell with him! I'll talk about it tomorrow, I'm sure ready for bed right now,' he said, smiling.

'Oh no you don't,' said Ron grinning, 'we've got a small presentation to make.'

'What?'

'Get yourself over here, Harry,' called Seamus, laughing. 'We've got a little present for you!'

'What is it?' Harry always got excited about presents, probably because after years with the Dursleys, they were still something of a novelty. 'Is this what you were up to at supper?'

'Sure is,' said Dean, grinning as madly as the others.

They all stood up and Ron handed Harry a small book. Handmade, parchment sewn together with cord, in a black leather cover. On the front in gold lettering some words had been magically emblazoned into the leather:

THE BOYS' BOOK OF SPELLS (SPECIAL EDITION)

Harry looked at them all, his eyes wide with an imminent roar of laughter.

'Is this what I think it is?' he said as he opened the cover and read the frontispiece.

To Harry

The Boy Who Used His Hands

with best wishes from your long-suffering room mates

Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus had all signed it underneath the inscription.

'Well, we said there was no handbook, but now there is!' laughed Dean.

'Wizard Wank Manual,' stated Neville, grinning as widely as the others.

'Including a silencing spell,' added Seamus, 'so you don't carry on waking us up at the crack of dawn every morning!'

Harry was laughing so much he had to sit on the end of his bed.

'Oh my God! Have you been doing this all day?'

'Everyone put in their favourite spells and charms,' said Ron, his eyes alive, his embarrassment factor nil. 'Fred and George knew loads! And we got to speak to Charlie in the fireplace and he sent us this wicked one he learned in Romania. Well, he said it's wicked; none of us have tried it yet. You'll have to let us know. Welcome to the Wizarding World, Harry. Wands are not optional from hereon in.'

Harry looked at them all in happiness.

'I don't know what to say,' he said, a bit choked.

This was one moment he definitely wasn't going to forget in a long time.