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 08

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 they realise that things can never be the same again.
Posted:
07/11/2002
Hits:
5,305


CHAPTER EIGHT

~

THE BATTLE OF HOGWARTS

Suddenly he was awake. 

There was no gradual, gentle coming to, just an abrupt bursting into instant consciousness.  His eyes pinged open.

'Tempus,' he whispered.

The Snitch-clock informed him politely that it was just after 2am.  Wow, he thought. OK, it was early, very early, practically a late night rather than an early morning; but that meant he had slept for at least six hours, maybe six and a half.  He had not slept that long since the beginning of term.

He'd fallen asleep so quickly that he hadn't unfastened the drapes around his bed, and now, with the room faintly illuminated by the dying embers of the fire, he could see that of the other four beds, only three were occupied.  Ron's was empty.   Instinctively, he was worried, but two seconds later he saw that there was no need: Ron was asleep in the deep armchair next to Harry's bed, in his pyjamas and wrapped in a blanket.  Harry was touched.  How ever could he have pushed Ron away for all that time?  He got out of bed and shook Ron on the shoulder.

'Ron,' he murmured.  'Get into bed.  I'm not going to run away.' 

But there was absolutely no response:  Ron, true to form, was in a deep sleep.  Harry groped for his glasses and wand, muttered mobilicorpus, and manoeuvred Ron into his own bed, pulling the covers over him.  And even before he had seen Ron settled, and despite what he had only seconds before whispered to his sleeping friend, he knew what he was going to do.  There was a strong, irresistible pull in his chest, and Harry dressed swiftly in his warmest winter clothes and left the dormitory.

As he sneaked through the castle shortly afterwards, he felt some of the thrill of nocturnal wandering that had been missing for weeks, and he was particularly careful about avoiding Filch, Mrs Norris, Peeves and anybody else who might have been prowling the corridors.  He had made it to as far as the entrance hall when he saw something move in the shadows.  The silent form of a sleek tabby cat darted out from a side room and positioned itself between Harry and the main door out of the castle into the grounds.  Harry stopped and contemplated the animal.

'Hello,' he said softly.  'Have you been outside?  I wonder if it's cold.  I expect it's lovely with the moonlight on the snow.'

'I wouldn't know,' said Professor McGonagall, who stood before him in the exact spot where the cat had been only half a second before.  'I haven't been outside.'

'Oh shit,' muttered Harry under his breath. 

Typical; the one night he was actually bothered about getting caught, and he walked straight into the Deputy Headmistress.  But if trouble was coming, it certainly wasn't immediately obvious.  McGonagall was looking at him in her slightly-less-than-harsh face.

'Harry,' she said, with genuine concern, 'how are you feeling?'

'Er, I'm fine thank you, Professor,' he replied uncertainly.

There was a little pause in which Harry wondered if he should say something else, but then she spoke again.

'It's late, Potter.  And even though I haven't been outside, I am sure it is freezing.  You have one hour.  If you're not back in bed within that time, there will be a hefty point deduction and a detention.  And don't think because you haven't seen me means I won't know where you are.  I can get round this castle more stealthily than you.'

Harry was certain he saw a glimmer of a smile cross her face, but couldn't be sure because at that moment McGonagall suddenly purred loudly and slunk away back into the shadows.

Well, thought Harry.  Curiouser and curiouser.

Out in the grounds, with only an hour's grace, Harry knew there was not time to go over to his favourite spot by the lake.  So, instead he made for the rose garden where he and Ron had overheard Hagrid talking to Madame Maxime nearly a year ago at the Yule Ball. 

It was amazingly beautiful in the icy air.  The snow crunched underfoot and as his cloak brushed past one of the frozen rose bushes a shower of petrified leaves scattered themselves over the path around him.  The image of frosted green on white was captivating, alluring, like the cold depths of the lake, and Harry stared at the leaves for some minutes.  And when he finally dragged his eyes away, he noticed that there was another scattering of leaves slightly further up the path, like somebody had disturbed another of the bushes in front of him.  Suddenly he knew that he was not alone.  He looked up and around the garden, and even before he saw him he felt his presence.  A figure in a heavy black cloak was sitting on the stone bench about twenty yards in front of him, his white blond hair gleaming in the moonlight.  It was too dark to see if he were smiling or not, but Harry could sense that he was.

'Hello Malfoy,' said Harry as he sat down next to him.

'Hello Potter.  I was hoping you would come.'

They sat in silence for a little while.  Maybe a minute, maybe fifteen, Harry couldn't tell.  Then Malfoy spoke again.

'It's as nice here as out by the lake, don't you think?'

'Yes.  And different.   The lake has a great beauty at night, but this garden does too.  Funny, I wasn't going to come here at all actually, but I am glad I did now.'

'What made you change your mind?'

'To be honest, it was Professor McGonagall.  She's given me a one hour curfew.  Not enough time to go to the lake and be able to sit for a while.'

'That's odd; she said something similar to me.  She must be feeling generous tonight.'

They both smiled. 

'She's not a bad person you know,' Harry offered.  'Not as bad as you probably think.'

'I'm beginning to discover that,' Draco muttered, rummaging in his cloak.  'Do you want another cigarette, Potter?'

'Yes, please.  Although, I don't think I could actually be more relaxed than I am now.  It's so peaceful here, with the rest of the castle asleep.'

There was the smallest of laughs from Draco. 

'Potter,' he coughed, as he lit a cigarette and passed it to Harry, 'don't kid yourself that we are the only ones awake.  It's a Saturday night.  I expect the Astronomy Tower is very busy, considering the weather!'

'You're probably right.  But if that's true I'm glad there's nobody else out here.'

They sat and smoked for a while.  Harry began to feel lightheaded again.

'Whoa,' he moaned, feeling suddenly very dizzy, and he dropped his cigarette into the snow, 'Malfoy, I feel...oh shit!'

'What?' Draco, and even though Harry felt like he was about to pass out, he could still sense concern in Draco's voice.

'I think I ought to stop, I feel rather...dizzy,' and at that Harry began to slump forward.

Quick as lightening Draco threw his own cigarette away and used his arm to steady Harry next to him.   It wasn't until about a minute later that Harry realised his head was against Draco's neck and Draco had his arm around him.  Harry didn't move though, he didn't want to.

'OK now?' asked Draco, gently.

'Yes, thanks.  Fine,' replied Harry. 

Draco could feel Harry's cold breath against his neck.  He felt himself shudder slightly at the intimacy of their situation.  Neither of them made any move though.

'Filthy things.  Still, they were the last two,' said Draco.  'And I have no idea where you buy them from, so I guess that's my career as a smoker over.'

Reluctantly Harry felt he ought to move.  He shifted slightly and Draco removed his arm. 

'I don't think I want any more either.  Perhaps...' mused Harry, the words slipping out before he had a chance to check them, 'we don't need cigarettes to enjoy sitting here together.'

'I'm sure you're right,' whispered Draco, so softly that Harry felt the words in his head as much as heard them.

The stillness of the night was intoxicating.  The only movement was the slight rise and fall of the boys' chests and the visible clouds of their breath settling gently on the crystallised roses.

'Malfoy,' wondered Harry aloud, his heart in his mouth, 'what's happening?'

'We're sitting here in the snow.'

'No, I meant...'

'I know what you meant, but...I was scared of answering.  I don't know, but, I know that I feel more peaceful now than I have ever been.'

'I feel that too,' confirmed Harry.  'Ever since we met by the lake this afternoon, I feel...different.  I made up with Ron, I even managed to sleep.'

'I know.'

'Really?  How?'

'I...er, felt it.  I felt you were asleep.'

Harry felt the extraordinary peace envelop him further as Draco's words seemed to turn on the night air in front of him long after he had uttered them. 

'Malfoy,' he whispered, 'I think...I think I came to the rose garden because I felt you were here.'

Draco's reply seemed to bypass regular speech and form right inside Harry's inner being: 'I don't think it's anything to be scared of.  At least, I hope not.  It would be a shame if we ran away from this because we don't understand it.'

Harry's eyes closed in some kind of breathless relief.  Every thought, every sensation that he was having, Malfoy seemed to understand.  And Harry thought that he could sense Malfoy's thoughts inside his own head.  He opened his eyes again, and gasped slightly.  He and Malfoy were holding hands, and Harry had no memory of when, or how, this had come about.

Draco felt Harry's surprise, mingled with his own, but neither boy removed their hand.  They sat there for many more minutes, so still that to a passerby they could have been two more statues nestling among the frozen flowers.

Harry stirred first.  'Malfoy,' he declared, not knowing whether he was speaking or thinking, 'you're cold.  I can feel it.'

'Yes,' Draco agreed.  'So are you.  We should go in.  If you like, we could come back tomorrow.'

'I would like that, very much.'

Harry felt Draco squeeze his hand slightly.  And then, as they were both about to stand - Harry could feel them both being about to stand - Draco leaned over to him, and in one movement that lasted only half a second and yet an entire lifetime, he delicately brushed his lips over Harry's, exerting the slightest, most delicious pressure, like the faintest breath of a winter breeze.  Draco tasted of cold night air, of fresh-fallen snow, of frozen roses; but there was nothing cold about the feeling that flooded through Harry's body.  Right from his fingertips to his toes the chill of the still winter night was magically transformed into a sparkling, golden tenderness, cloaking them both in the inner warmth of the other.  The almost unbearable exquisiteness of it faded gently until the glittering, silvery iciness of the garden was restored.

'I...I'm sorry', stuttered Draco, 'I shouldn't have done that...'

'Shhhh,' soothed Harry gently.  He squeezed Draco's hand.

The peace rolled over them again, and they could have sat there until morning, neither wanting to break the spell, but a slight movement at the other end of the garden disturbed them.  A cat had appeared at the end of the path leading back to the castle.

'I think,' Harry said softly, 'that our curfew is over.  We should go back inside.'

They both rose reluctantly and walked past the cat and up the steps to the main door of the castle.  The cat followed them in and brushed past both their legs, before darting off again.

Draco and Harry stood in the darkness at the foot of the main staircase.

'Well, good night, Malfoy,' said Harry.  'I hope we will be able to meet again tomorrow.'

'Yes.  Good night, Potter.'  Draco smiled, and stood and watched Harry ascend the stairs, remaining motionless until Harry was finally out of view.  Slowly he turned away and made off for Slytherin House.

Professor McGonagall, human once again, stood in the shadows, moved by what she had witnessed.  She remained thoughtful for a little while, then made her own way over to the stairs.  Might as well have a clear out of the Astronomy Tower while I'm up, she thought.

***

At shortly after 9am the following morning, Sunday, the castle was mainly at rest.  On Sundays, breakfast was a casual affair, with bacon and eggs for those that wanted it from about 8:30 onwards, and tea and toast available right up until noon for those who preferred to sleep in.  Professor Dumbledore actively encouraged his students to sleep late on Sundays, and as he breakfasted alone at the staff table that morning, there were perhaps just a dozen students in all dotted around the four tables.  Correction, three tables: the Gryffindor table was completely empty.  But even though attendance at breakfast was sparse, by no means all of our main players were asleep.

In fact, only Ron was actually asleep, indeed in the same unbroken sleep he had been in when Harry had put him to bed the night before.  Hermione and Ginny were talking quietly in the common room in their dressing gowns and slippers, and in the boy's dormitory, Dean was reading in bed, Neville was working on a Herbology project, and Seamus was dozing, hoping he might drop back into sleep for an hour or so.  Harry lay, totally still, looking at the ceiling, practically unmoved since he got back from the rose garden the night before.   His mind was both empty and overfull, as the events of the night before left no room for any other thoughts whatsoever.  Malfoy had kissed him.  That was going to take a lot of getting used to, but, he really wanted to get used to it.  There were a thousand thoughts connected with that same issue that ought to make him regret what had happened, even be repulsed by it.  This was Malfoy.  His father was a Death Eater, who might even have had a direct hand in the deaths of his own parents.  So why did he still want to see Malfoy again, hold his hand again, even kiss him again?  Harry also knew that - elsewhere in the castle, at least half a dozen floors below - Malfoy was also awake: he had slept heavily for three or four hours when he had eventually got to bed, a couple of hours after Harry, as he had sat up in bed pondering what had happened in exactly the same way that Harry was now.  Then he had slept, and, Harry knew, had woken about half an hour before.  He was still pretty groggy, Harry could sense; and he decided Malfoy was unlikely to go to breakfast.  So he saw no need to go himself.

***

To be honest Draco was more than groggy.  The heaviness of the sleep he had eventually drifted into the night before had left him feeling exhausted, even slightly hung over, and his head was as confused as Harry's.  When he was feeling 'rational' he was just about still capable of dismissing this thing with Potter as a silly infatuation.  But, thought Draco, unerringly clearly despite his emotional hangover, I haven't felt 'rational' for about ten days.  Before that, there had been maybe only three other such moments since the day of the fauns.  So which was rational, the 2% of his thoughts, or the 98%?  He had to face it.  He was in love with Potter, he had been in love with him for some time, and he never wanted not to be in love with him again.

But what right did he have to expect Potter ever to feel the same way?  There was simply too much bad blood to be overcome.  There were too many things he had said, plotted and schemed, too many times he had insulted, deceived and betrayed.  He was going to have to work very hard at convincing Potter, but he wanted to start.  Even if it takes a hundred years, thought Draco, I'm going to have to tryWe can't just carry on talking about nothing, slipping easily into something that is not built on solid foundations.  Last night had been beautiful, the kiss had been exquisite, but surely they had miles to travel before they could kiss again and for it to be the beginning of something real, rather than a magic, timeless moment in the snow?  Shit, thought Draco, I want to see him.  Now.  I know he is awake.  Perhaps if I just went to the rose garden, Potter would follow, the way he had done the night before?  No.  Not yet.  God, he was tired.  Why couldn't he sleep?  A few fitful hours grabbed here and there between hours and hours spent trailing Potter round the grounds had not been enough, not nearly enough.  He slumped back into the covers, willing sleep to come, almost at any cost.

***

A sleek tabby was at that very moment nosing around the Shrieking Shack, wondering if she were too early.  Her instructions had hardly been specific, and she had thought it best to get there in good time in case there were any mishaps.  One of the problems with being a cat was that even though she had the full mental capacity of an able Scottish witch, her concept of time did tend to drift.  She had no idea whether she had been there one hour or two, as cats tended to judge time by how hungry they got and when they last slept.  The weather seemed to affect the speed of the passing time as well, and when it was as cold as it was that Sunday morning, it seemed to drag more slowly than humans could perceive.  Still, this was an important mission.

Another thing about being a cat when you were more used to being human was that the urge to stalk and chase small vermin was often irresistible.  And for the last ten minutes (as far as she could judge) there had a been a vole or something snuffling around in the snow under some bushes about twenty yards away, and she had tried her best to ignore it.  But as she eyed the small creature with deadly intent, her muscles tensed into stalk mode, and she took a couple of noiseless steps towards it, then stopped and surveyed the surroundings.  Cats have far more heightened senses than humans, and even though her attention was totally on the vole, she was suddenly aware of a huge, blundering, careless presence behind her.  She turned round, and a great shaggy black dog was exiting the Shack.  Despite the fact that this was whom she had come to meet, she couldn't help but feel rather irritated at the interruption.

The dog and cat approached each other warily, but when they were right up close, touched noses.  Communication was problematic when you were a cat too.  She had no problem understanding, even conversing on a limited basis with other cats, but dogs were a closed book to her.  Still, this was no ordinary dog, and she was no ordinary cat.  After a couple of minutes of snuffly inspection to make sure they really were both who they thought they were, the cat set off with the dog trotting behind at a jaunty pace.  The cat's instructions were to take the dog into the castle unobserved, and her route was worked out with exact feline precision to avoid all possible human contact.  If any of the inhabitants of Hogsmeade noticed this odd couple traipsing through the village that Sunday morning, it is thankfully irrelevant to our story.

***

There was a certain amount of ill-feeling in Professor Dumbledore's office that Sunday morning.  The case conference that he had called the day before had not got off to a good start, frankly because Snape and Sirius were bickering as incessantly and as nastily as Harry and Draco used to do.  First there had been the problem of who sat where, which had only been resolved by Madam Pomfrey swapping places with Snape.  Then there had been the difficulty of Snape and Sirius not ever actually addressing each other directly, but always doing so through Dumbledore.  But if the great man was irritated by this, he did not show it.

'Tea!' he cried happily, as a minor distraction.  A sharp whip of his wand produced not just a tray of tea and other breakfast type foods, but a small table for the tray to sit on as well.  McGonagall smiled at this little show of magic.  Nobody did this kind of effortless conjuring as well as Dumbledore.  Madam Pomfrey was not at all thrilled though, and made her views clear.

'Headmaster,' she said curtly, 'could we possibly get down to business?  I have three patients in the hospital wing, and I have been here fifteen minutes now, still without any idea of why we are all here.'

'Right, yes, good point Poppy,' beamed Dumbledore.  'Minerva, would you...?'

'Ahem,' coughed McGonagall, clearing her throat in exactly the same way as she would if she were silencing an unruly class.  Not that her classes were unruly.  Ever.

'To business.  The Headmaster has assembled this particular group of concerned parties because of a grave situation facing two of our students.'   She stopped, thinking.  The truth was that since she had witnessed the immense tenderness between the two boys the previous night, she couldn't help thinking that this meeting was now largely irrelevant.  Oh well, on with it. 

'The Crimson Cloud is hovering above Hogwarts at this very moment.  Ordinarily this would be a cause for celebration.  It may still be.  But the two concerned, as we all know, are not at all amenable to the idea.  At least, they weren't yesterday anyway.'

'What on earth are you talking about, Minerva?' asked Madam Pomfrey impatiently.  'Why are we here discussing teenage love lives?  Headmaster, I really do have more important things to attend to.'

'You certainly do Poppy,' confirmed Dumbledore, still smiling, 'because the two concerned are both ill as a result of these circumstances.  However well they disguise it, both have appalling insomnia, and at least one has acute depression and is positively malnourished.  Very shortly I shall be turning them over to your care for an indefinite period.  During which, if possible, you will try to restore a regular sleep pattern, build up appetites again, and use your unmatched skills to banish the darkness from their hearts.  Because it is of the gravest importance that this couple are fit and well and in full control of their abilities considering the current bleak state of affairs beyond these walls.'

Madam Pomfrey looked immediately serious.  'Very well.  Who are we talking about?'

'Draco Malfoy,' snarled Sirius, as if the name were poison on his tongue.

'And Harry Potter,' sneered Snape, with equal distaste.

'Oh,' sighed Madam Pomfrey.  'Oh, indeed.  The Crimson Cloud, you say?  How unfortunate.'

'No, not unfortunate at all,' said Dumbledore, still smiling.  'It's a joy.  And I sense that the two concerned are beginning to be reconciled to the idea themselves, which is of course something to be encouraged at all turns.  But there's a long way to go, and for a way forward now, Poppy, I need you to take them away from the rest of the school and provide them with an environment where their physical and mental ills can be cured.  And where, of course, they can be together without distraction.  Please place them in the small side ward and make sure their visitors amount to no more than half an hour a day, and nothing at all for the first week.'

'Headmaster, are you suggesting that I make my sanitarium into some kind of love shack?'

'Good Heavens no.  Two beds will be supplied, Poppy.  I do not say these things lightly.  Potter in particular is dangerously ill, which is the real reason we are here today.'

'What is it, Albus?' said Sirius.  'What has happened?'

Dumbledore's words became slower. 

'The latest owl from the Ministry indicates that Harry may well be needed sooner rather than later for...for, well we all know what for.  Naturally I will do all I can to shield him from any danger as long as possible, but none of us can deny that he may well still have a crucial role to play.   All of us know that Harry in his current unstable state is highly vulnerable, but happy and secure and drawing on the innate magic of both him and Draco, his strength in any unthinkable situation would be greatly increased.  It is therefore in all our interests, most especially Harry's, if this matter is dealt with immediately, for who knows how long it may take for the two of them to become sufficiently comfortable to exist together without rancour.  Hence, the need for action.  Sirius will be remaining in the castle incognito for the immediate future.  Poppy, please make your preparations and expect both the boys before lunch today, and I will call by each day in the evening for a report.'

Madam Pomfrey took this as her cue to leave.  'Certainly, Headmaster.  I understand.'  She stood up.  'But I beg you to try and limit interest in the hospital wing.  Curiosity in the school at large is bound to mount swiftly.  I don't want it turned into a circus.'

'You have my word, Poppy,' Dumbledore replied, his face serious.   'Poppy, on your way back to the hospital wing, I would be grateful if you could you please seek out the head boy and girl and ask them to see me at their earliest convenience.'

'Very well.  I will expect you this evening,' Madam Pomfrey concluded.  She exited the room.

'Right,' said Dumbledore to the remaining members of the group.  'Another cup of tea, and then we have a lot to talk about.  Fudge's latest memo reads as follows...'

***

The Gryffindors were all in the common room just before noon that Sunday, and excitement was mounting.  A challenge to a mighty inter-House snowball fight had been received by owl about half an hour before, and the twins were marshalling their troops to the task.  Practically the whole House was assembled in the common room, all dressed in cloaks and scarves and gloves.  Fred was announcing strategies in snow warfare to the junior years and George was ticking names off a list.  But just as the vast majority of Gryffindor House was about to pass out through the portrait hole, the picture swung wide, and the Head Girl entered, obviously bypassing that week's password with her own prefects' version which seemed to override all others.

Emily de Souza was a ravishing Hufflepuff honey with flowing black hair and a smile that could turn stone to jelly.  She was clever and genuine with a whiff of European aristocracy about her, the latest in a long line of pureblood de Souzas who had been coming to Hogwarts for about eight hundred years.  But most of the school acknowledged she had not been made Head Girl because of her breeding.  She was simply one of the best-respected and nicest people in the whole school.

'Good morning Gryffindor House!' she cried as she stepped into the common room.  All were silent more or less immediately.  Normally an intrusion by an outsider into the common room would not be viewed with any delight, but normally such intrusions didn't come from Emily de Souza.  They waited expectantly for her to carry on.

'Please excuse my presence here in your lovely common room, but I bring news of the arrangements for this afternoon's battles.  At noon at the foot of the castle steps the Gryffindor v Ravenclaw snowball challenge will begin.  It will last for no more than twenty minutes, and a panel of independent judges situated nearby will assess your performance.  The panel will consist of Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout and Flitwick, together with Andy Johnson, the Head Boy, and myself.  You will be given marks for accuracy of targeting and effective blocking, as well as for any whole-House manoeuvres or strategies that are spotted by the panel.  Madam Hooch will referee, she will be on her broom, but no brooms are allowed for the competitors.  If she touches you on the shoulder, you have been penalised and should leave the pitch quickly.  All competitors are required to wear a house scarf as identification.  At 12:30 Hufflepuff v Slytherin will commence on fresh snow in the Care of Magical Creatures paddock.  You are of course welcome to be spectators.  At 1pm the winners of the two semi-finals as judged by the panel will contest the final on the Quidditch pitch.  At 1:30 Professor Dumbledore will announce the winner and the whole school will be treated to a large lunch feast in the Great Hall.   The winning House will receive one hundred House points.  Good luck Gryffindor, and may the best House win!'

There was a huge cheer, and the level of excitement was now rising sharply.  There was indeed so much anticipation of this surprise event that only Ron and Hermione noticed that immediately after finishing her announcement, Emily de Souza sought Harry out and spoke to him in a hurried whisper for about three seconds.  He nodded to her and then turned back to the stairs.  Ron followed him.

'What was all that about, Harry?' asked Ron as the rest of the House filed out singing a Gryffindor battle song, hastily composed by the twins.

'Dunno.  She said Dumbledore wants to see me in his office right away.  I was just going to take my cloak and stuff off.  Go and give them hell Ron, and I'll hopefully be back for the final, which of course we will be in right?  Hopefully against Slytherin too!' he grinned.

'You bet, Harry,' smiled Ron. 'See you shortly.'

***

At that very moment, the Head Boy had just finished making the same announcement to Slytherin House, who were feeling as competitive as the Gryffindors.   And exactly as Emily had done to Harry, Andy Johnson collared Draco and gave him the same instruction to go to see Dumbledore at once.  Draco was secretly quite relieved.  Although he lacked no competitiveness, he really didn't want to go jogging round in the freezing snow taking hits from the Hufflepuffs in the name of house honour.  Blimey, his hair might get messed up.  Nobody noticed as Draco didn't follow the rest of house outside, but made off for Dumbledore's office instead.

And as he turned the corner to where to stone gargoyle which indicated the secret entrance to the Headmaster's study was situated, his face cracked into a smile, because Potter was waiting there too.

'Hello, Potter,' he said.

'Hello, Malfoy,' came Harry's reply.

'What do you think we've done?' smiled Draco.

'No idea.  Unless, well, we were out of bounds in the middle of the night in the rose garden.'  Harry blushed as he said it.

'You don't think McGonagall told him?' asked Draco.

'I wouldn't have thought so,' Harry pondered.  'I've really no idea what this is all about.'

At that moment the familiar stone grinding came from the gargoyle and the secret door opened.  Dumbledore stood there, beaming.

'Ah!  Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy, exactly on time, excellent, excellent,' he began, eyes twinkling a little.  'Do come on in.'

The boys followed him up the moving staircase until they appeared in the beautiful circular room that was the Headmaster's office.

'Sirius!' exclaimed Harry, and without even thinking, ran over to his godfather who smothered him in a big bear hug.

'How're you feeling, Harry?' murmured Sirius as they parted.

'Good, Sirius, honestly; I feel better.  I managed to sleep a bit last night.'

Sirius smiled.  'That is good news, Harry, you certainly look a little happier this mor--'

'If we could possibly get this over with,' interrupted Snape, with the look of utmost contempt on his face.

'Yes, yes sorry to rush you all, but I have a snowball thingy to be at very shortly,' Dumbledore countered, beaming wider than ever.  'Take a seat please, Harry, Draco.'

Harry sat next to Sirius on one side of the room, and Draco reluctantly sat next to Snape on the other.  Suddenly Harry had a horrible feeling of foreboding.

'You will have as long as you like to ask questions about what I am about to say, but not now.  I will happily speak to you both at length this evening, if you should want to.  But for now I want you just to listen and do as I ask.'

Harry and Draco caught each other's eyes.  What on earth was going on here?

'Harry, Draco, this may come as a shock to you, but I suspect, not as much as a shock as it could have been some weeks ago.  The nature of your er, predicament, has not gone unnoticed by me, and I have been distressed by the acute lack of sleep you have both been experiencing.  You may put on brave faces now, here in this room, but I know if either of you denied there were a problem you would both be deceiving yourselves, so I have decided to take action, for reasons which I will explain at some future date, presently unknown.'

Draco and Harry maintained eye contact at this unexpected turn of events.

'You will each go back to your Houses and pack a bag that will enable you to stay in the Hospital Wing for an indefinite period.  When you have done that, you will go and report to Madam Pomfrey who will have further instructions for you.  Neither of you will be missed until this evening at the earliest, by which time you will have been completely removed from all the day-to-day stresses of the school.  There will be no lessons or any other school activities for either of you for the time being.  I will call on you this evening after supper.'

Removed from the school? wondered Harry.  He could feel the same bewilderment in Draco's head.

'Harry, Sirius will be remaining close by for a little while but I warn you I am not going to allow an endless stream of visitors.  Draco, Professor Snape and I have decided, after much careful thought, that we will not be notifying your parents of this action.  Should you wish to owl them of course, that is your right, and I will be only too happy to explain my decision to them.'

It came so fast, that Harry didn't know what to make of it.  Draco was equally nonplussed.   Dumbledore saw their confusion, and continued more gently.

'Severus,' he requested, 'would you mind going and telling Madam Hooch to start the contest without me?  And please tell Minerva and the judging panel I shall be with them in a few minutes.'

Snape looked livid at having been excluded from any further discussion, but nodded curtly and left.  Dumbledore carried on.

'Sirius, I suggest while the castle is empty you make your way to the room I have made available for you.  You will be allowed to see Harry this evening, and I will want to speak to you again after lunch today.' 

Sirius nodded, smiling.  He knew that Dumbledore wanted a little time with the boys alone.

'Sure, Albus,' he replied, and squeezing Harry's shoulder, he left.

The remaining three looked at each other.  'Professor...' began Draco, but Dumbledore shushed him.

'Harry, Draco.  You will think I am interfering.  You'll think I have no right to take the actions I have.  And in some ways you are right.  I have put off meddling in this matter from the very beginning, but I now have serious and weighty reasons for taking these steps.'

He softened further and spoke gentler.  'But my reasons are not only serious or weighty.  They are also because I am worried about you.  You need to sleep again, and you need to get stronger and feel happier.  And above all, you need to talk, probably for hours and hours, maybe longer.'

Then his eyes twinkled a little, and he said, 'And it will be easier and more comfortable to talk in the warm than roaming the grounds in the middle of the night.'

He looked thoughtful again, as he held what looked to Harry and Draco like a small glass sphere, he looked hard into its depths, and then he continued, 'So.  Try not to look upon this as an imposition, although I am certain it will sometimes feel like one.'

Harry and Draco wondered if this was the end but after another little while he suddenly said, 'and above all, don't be scared.  You are standing on the edge of a wonderful thing.'

That definitely was the end.  Draco looked at Harry, who was sort of smiling.

'Professor,' wondered Harry, 'did you think up this snowball thing to give us a chance to get out of our Houses without having to answer any questions?'

'Now, Harry,' beamed the Headmaster again, 'would I do a thing like that?'

***

Ron and Hermione missed Harry much earlier than the evening of course.  Ron was looking round for him as they smashed Ravenclaw into oblivion, and couldn't concentrate on the Hufflepuff v Slytherin fixture because he was looking constantly at the castle door to see when Harry arrived.  By the final, which was indeed Gryffindor v Slytherin, Ron was getting edgy, and couldn't get into the match at first.

'Where is he?' he moaned to Hermione.  'He won't want to miss this.'

'I don't kno--,' Hermione began, but then screamed, 'Ron, watch out!'

A forward wing of Slytherin snowballers came in a wave towards them and suddenly the battle was on at a furious pace.  Hermione veered off to Ron's left with a terrific enthusiasm for combat, yelling obscenities that Ron found quite scary.  She was frenzied in her efforts, at the same time as being more or less unable to control her laughing.  Right in the thick of it, at the head of the Gryffindor attack formation, Fred and George were frantically screaming instructions at the troops behind them as, to be honest, absolute mayhem broke out around them.  The melee split into several smaller battles and Hermione, Ginny and a group of fourth year boys were swiftly overpowering a cohort of furious Slytherins who found their retreat blocked by Fred and the Gryffindor seventh year girls, headed by Alicia Spinnet, who looked frankly terrifying.   At that moment Ron found that he, Seamus and some third year boys were totally surrounded by some leering Slytherin senior girls and, fearing the worst, he heard Seamus bellow an Irish battle cry that practically froze the blood of all those around him.

In an effort to sabotage this Slytherin ambush, George counter-attacked from the rear with Lavender, who was displaying remarkable accuracy, and Parvati, who had given up on technique and was just blindly kicking snow in all directions, but screaming like a banshee in the process.  But it was Hermione - at least as much as the twins - who was the driving force of the Gryffindor team that day.  She was utterly committed to victory and, being both bossy and determined, had gained control with her band of guerrillas of practically half of the field, and after about fifteen minutes had managed to hem in a big chunk of Slytherin House against the goal posts.  She had by no means the best throwing arm, but, the twins conceded afterwards, she had more than made up for it.  Ron was amazed at her.  It was like he was seeing her in a new light.

It was, quite truthfully, absolutely the most fun any of them had had for ages.  Madam Hooch swerved around above them all, but made no disqualifications as it was impossible to see more than a fraction of the action at any one time, but she did award Gryffindor ten penalty points against Goyle, who had simply grabbed Dennis Creevey, held him off the ground and stuffed snow down the back of his cloak.   The Gryffindors roared their approval and the match would probably have turned (even more) nasty, but shortly afterwards Madam Hooch blew her whistle in a shrill blast that brought the combat to a close.

All eyes turned to Dumbledore, who was conferring with the judges in the top box of the Quidditch stand.  His magically amplified voice rang out over the pitch.

'Students of Hogwarts!' he boomed.

There was a mighty roar.

'The judges are completing their final tally of points in conference with the referee', he continued.  'Very soon we will know the winning House, who will receive one hundred House points!'

More cheering.

'After the winners have been announced, you will have fifteen minutes to return to your houses and change into dry clothes.  Then a vast and delicious lunch will be served in the Great Hall.'

Even more deafening cheering.  Then Dumbledore turned away to consult with Madam Hooch.  He then stood up tall, holding a Slytherin banner in one hand and a Gryffindor in his other.

The entire school watched him with breath held.

And then, very slowly, Dumbledore raised the red and gold banner of Gryffindor House.

The cheers echoed round the whole valley, and even in that huge noise, Hermione could be heard screaming victoriously.

Up in the hospital wing, Harry and Draco looked out of the window of their new room, watching Dumbledore holding the red banner aloft.  Harry was grinning sideways at Draco.

'Don't say anything,' sighed Draco, trying to fume, but failing.  'Just don't say anything at all'.