Unthinkable Thoughts

CHAPTER TEN

~

MANY MEETINGS

It was Dumbledore who shook him on the shoulder to wake him the next morning, the Monday following the great Snowball Challenge.  But was it actually morning?  All sense of time had been totally knocked askew thanks to the potions and the excitement and the newness of their situation.

'Tempus,' groaned Draco absently, and the Snitch-clock informed him politely that it was exactly 4:30am.

'Bloody hell,' Draco fumed, not really taking in that he was still in Harry's bed and the Headmaster was standing over them.

Suddenly the reality of the situation hit him hard and he sat up like he'd just been given a jolt of electricity.

'Shit, oh sorry, Professor,' he flustered, 'I mean, sorry, I didn't mean to disobey Madam Pomfrey, I just fell asleep here, nothing's happened, honestly...' and he hastily pulled back the covers to return to his own bed.

Dumbledore smiled.  'Shhh, Draco,' he soothed.  'Stay where you are.  There is no harm done.'

Draco opened his eyes and focussed hard, but he was still groggy and it was some minutes before any productive conversation was possible.

'I am sorry to wake you so early.  But Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape both thought it would be best if you were not allowed to sleep for great chunks of time, not yet anyway. They are both asleep now, so I volunteered for this early morning call.  I suggest you rouse yourself until lunchtime and then take some more potion, if you want it, this afternoon.  We'll build you up to nine hours or so again gradually.'

'Thank you, Professor,' Draco muttered, still rather disconcerted.  'Although I think I prefer real sleep to the enchanted kind.'

'That is pleasing to hear, Draco.  But don't be worried about using enchanted sleep to ease you back into the real thing. Now, I have to ask.  What about Harry, has he woken yet?'

'No,' sighed Draco.  He concentrated hard on trying to feel Harry's thoughts.  But all was blank.  Dumbledore said nothing.

'I would know if he had woken while I was asleep,' declared Draco eventually.  'It still feels...like he's in another world.  Before yesterday, when I could feel him asleep, it was different somehow.  I thought last night that it was just deep sleep, but now it feels like he's just not there at all.'

Dumbledore remained silent, and Draco added, 'am I allowed to start worrying yet?'

'Will my answer make any difference?' asked Dumbledore, his eyes slightly glinting.

'Probably not,' smiled Draco, endearingly shyly.

'I want you to know that this matter will have the fullest attention of the small group of people who know the truth.  But I still do genuinely think that this is not a major cause for concern.  And you must worry about yourself a little anyway.  You have a long way to go before you are back to your old self.'

'I don't think I want to be my old self again, Professor.  When I think of some of the things I have said and done...Potter is never going to forgive me when he takes in the reality of this situation.'

'That is mainly why I have given you this time together, Draco, so you can address your differences.'

'I am grateful for it...but the more I think about it, the less hopeful I get. I'm even sort of dreading him waking up because of it.'

'One thing at a time, Draco.  I am sure you will get there.  Harry is...decent.  He will hear you fairly.'

'Thank you, Professor.  I hope so.'

'Now.  To matters in hand.  Madam Pomfrey will be attending to you regularly, and with Harry in this state you will unfortunately receive several calls from other staff today.  I will call each day in the evening.  But apart from that I will not allow any visitors from the rest of the school.  This is to create the space you need to feel strong and healthy again.  All your concentration is to go into sleeping, eating and resting.  Your issues with Harry will arise as and when they do. Oh, and one more question,' finished Dumbledore.

'Yes?'

'What is this neat little device?'  Dumbledore reached for the Snitch-clock.

'I'm not sure exactly, but it's a clock of some kind.  It's Potter's.  Great isn't it?  I've never seen one before.'

'Tempus,' commanded Dumbledore.

The Snitch-clock said nothing. 

'Oh.  Did I do it wrong?  How does it work?' asked Dumbledore, interested.

'Er...you just say 'tempus' and it tells you the time,' replied Draco, oddly, as this no longer seemed to be the case.

'Hmmm,' mused Dumbledore, with buckets more meaning than Draco could define exactly.

Draco took the clock and muttered, 'tempus.'

The Snitch-clock informed him politely that it was nearly 4:45am.

'Hmmm indeed,' pondered the Headmaster again.  'Well, that is quite enough of your time.  I will leave you now. If I were you I would doze for a while then busy yourself with a book or something.  Madam Pomfrey will be in later with some food.  I expect, Draco, when she does, she will want you in your own bed.'

'Oh right, yes,' said Draco, blushing.  'I'd better move now, in case I drop off again.'

'Or...' added Dumbledore intriguingly, '...Maybe she will simply give up on that point in time.  Who can say?'

Draco smiled at him, and while Dumbledore left the room, Draco snuggled down again alongside the unmoving, peaceful warmth of the body next to him.  Natural, unenchanted sleep came again after only a short while.

***

Lessons proceeded as usual the day following the Great Snowball Challenge.  More snow had fallen overnight, covering the physical evidence of the previous day's battle, but in the corridors and classrooms of Hogwarts School the memories were still vibrant and clear, and to Gryffindor House this had been right up there with winning the Quidditch Cup and the House Championship.  But only a handful of people knew exactly why Dumbledore had suddenly sprung the idea on the school.

Schools, especially boarding schools, are funny places, where it is practically impossible to keep a secret.  With so many people living in close proximity day in day out, anything slightly out of the ordinary is jumped on and run with for a while as that particular week's vital topic of conversation.  Dumbledore knew this of course, but he wasn't known as the Greatest Headmaster of Hogwarts Ever for no reason.  Certainly in ordinary conditions the news that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were confined under mysterious circumstances in the Hospital Wing would have been irresistible as a source of conversation.  But, on the back of such an event as the Snowball Challenge, and with the news disguised as a sickness and then distributed to the school in a long list of deliberately tedious notices that evening at supper, there was scarcely a batted eyelid.  There was simply too much talk of how Hermione had won the Battle of Hogwarts for there to be room for any other interesting news.

Hermione herself had of course smelt a rat immediately.  A few things hadn't added up, but she'd kept them to herself, even kept them from Ron.  It was all to do with timing.  OK, she could accept that Dumbledore would want to speak to Harry.  But.  At the very moment that he was about to start the Snowball Challenge?  And.  There had been no need for Emily de Souza to come into Gryffindor House.  The instructions could have been given out much more efficiently to the whole school when they were outside.  Hermione knew that the only reason Emily had been there was so she could get hold of Harry and remove him from the rest of the House at a time it would go unnoticed.  And then there had been McGonagall's curious reluctance to tell them whether Malfoy was also affected, even though she had actually ventured up to the dormitories to find them, and had volunteered more information than Hermione could ever remember.  Hmmm.  And what was all that rot about a sleeping sickness?

If Hermione was suspicious, Ron was just plain sulky.  It had seemed bitterly ironic that the very minute Harry was again removed from their company, it was Hermione who had become the talk of the school.  And he was mightily irritated by the fact that within only a few hours of his forcing a reconciliation with Harry - one of the most difficult and moving moments of his life - others had stepped in to do the job of helping Harry through his problems, the very job that Ron wanted to himself.  He was still in a sulk when Hermione joined him at lunch and gathered the rest of the Gryffindor family around them for a quiet chat.

'Strange things are afoot,' she said to the group.

'What do you mean, Herm?' asked Seamus.

'I'm not sure, but I know it's imperative we don't breathe a word of what we know about Harry to anyone.  Dumbledore has evidently taken control of the situation now, and he's obviously gone to great lengths to conceal it from the rest of the school, so I think secrecy is the order of the day.  We are going to have to get on and forget all about it, and trust Dumbledore's judgement on this one now.  We've done all we can for the time being.'

'How has he gone to great lengths, Hermione?' wondered Ginny.  'All he's done is said they are ill.  Which is sort of true.'

'Yes, but to create the enormous sideshow of the Snowball thing, just as a cover?  I call that great lengths.  The entire school was looking the other way, including us.'

There didn't seem any argument to this, and the group went back to eating and talking about the Snowball Challenge, but Hermione was still suspicious, and Ron was still in a sulk.

Leaving the Great Hall about twenty minutes later, Hermione was not at all surprised when Dumbledore appeared almost out of thin air at her elbow, and without anyone else noticing, asked her if she would be good enough to stop by his office after Arithmancy that afternoon. 

'The password's Worrisome Worms,' he glinted.  'Just come on up.'

Hermione sniggered after he left.  Worrisome worms were the latest sweet craze to come out of Honeydukes'.  In appearance they were just jelly worms about six inches long, but as soon as you bit into them they wriggled manically until you had bitten them into at least ten pieces.  If you swallowed without disarming them in this way, they churned in your stomach for several hours afterwards.  Rumour had it that the twins had actually sold this recipe to Honeydukes' for a large sum of money, but so far all parties had refused to confirm or deny the story.  (Both the twins had been on new brooms that term though.)  The image of the Headmaster trying to talk with jelly worms squirming in his mouth was an amusing one, and Hermione was still laughing to herself when she got to Arithmancy.

***

Dumbledore had been right about Madam Pomfrey's instructions; when she had entered the boys' room at shortly before 9am with some tea and toast, she had insisted that Draco return to his own bed immediately.  After the Headmaster had woken him so early, he'd slept on and off for a little while but still the need for more deep sleep ached though his whole body.  Draco sighed heavily and crawled out from next to Harry, who was still asleep.

He had picked at a slice of toast and managed half a cup of tea while Madam Pomfrey fussed round Harry, straightening his bed clothes and placing her hand on his brow at frequent intervals, and then she had left, and Draco had promptly got back onto Harry's bed and sat sort of over Harry's legs as he had the day before.  He had a book to read, but his mind and gaze kept coming back to Harry.

The next visitor was Sirius, about half an hour later, who made no objection to where Draco was sitting.  They had an odd conversation, the first they had ever had, in which precisely nothing of any real meaning was said.  After about five minutes Sirius had left, with one parting comment to Draco.

'Draco, whatever happens, please promise me that you will never, ever hurt him.'

Draco sighed.  Sirius was missing the point.  But, instinctively, he kind of liked Sirius, and said kindly, 'why would I hurt him?  I can't even bear to be more than three feet away from him.'

There was a moment of understanding between them, and Sirius left.

The next caller was Snape, who arrived a little after ten.  Draco found it amusing to think that he had just taught the potions class at which he and Potter would ordinarily have been present.  Snape was business-like and professional, without actually being gruff; no doubt to hide his embarrassment at this situation, thought Draco.  Harry slept on unaware.  Snape tried to make some kind of examination of Harry while he was sleeping, wondering if any clues to the extension of Harry's enchanted sleep could be gained from his temperature or breathing rate or such.

When Snape picked up one of Harry's arms and let it drop back to the bed with a thud, Draco shot him a warning look, and when Snape actually clumsily lifted one of Harry's eyelids, Draco said sharply, 'is that really necessary?  I am sure poking his eye out isn't the best way to wake him up.'

Snape looked shocked at this insubordination from his most favoured pupil, but desisted nevertheless, and left shortly afterwards.

By the time McGonagall arrived about an hour and a half after that, Draco was beginning to wonder whether it might actually have been more peaceful to remain in the main school.  But as he saw the genuine concern on her face when she saw that Harry was still not woken, he softened, and after she had been so kind to both of them only two nights before when they were out of bounds in the middle of the night, he found himself in a conversation with her that pleasantly surprised him by its openness.

'Draco,' she sighed as she sank heavily into one of the armchairs, making no comment that Draco himself was sitting up in bed next to Harry, 'we think that there is no point trying to understand any more about why Harry is still asleep until we maybe know a bit more about what happened beforehand.  I know this is very personal, but can you tell me the extent of your contact with Harry since, well, over the last couple of days?'

'Er, Professor,' Draco blushed, 'the extent of my contact?'

'Oh goodness, Draco,' flustered McGonagall, 'no, I'm not asking for information that personal.  Just, where and when you saw him, and what his mood was like.  I know for example that you two spent some time together in the rose garden the night before last.  How was he then?'

'Professor', began Draco delicately, 'I know that you gave your 'permission' for both me and Potter to be out of bounds that night, but how did you know we were in the rose garden?'

'Draco,' she almost laughed, 'I thought you were supposed to be intelligent.  Tell me, what is the subject I teach you?'

'Transfig--' he began.  'Oh!  You were the cat.  I'd forgotten you were an Animagus.'

She smiled sort of serenely, but Draco had an uncharacteristic attack of shyness.

'Were you in the garden that night?' he asked softly.

'Good Heavens, no,' laughed McGonagall.  'I was not spying on you.  I just turned up after a while to remind you of the curfew I'd given you both'.  She carried on sympathetically.  'Was that...an important time for you?  What was Harry's mood?'

'He was amazingly at peace, more so than he had been for weeks.  Which is comforting because...' Draco broke off, not knowing quite how to continue, 'because in fact that was the most emotionally, er, charged time we had spent together yet.'

He knew he was blushing now.

McGonagall nodded.  Draco spoke again.

'But we had actually spent some time together that afternoon too.  It was only about ten minutes, but that was also peaceful.  It was out by the lake, and it was snowing, but it was the first time we had ever spoken without animosity.  But this peace in him is recent, Professor.  Until we spoke by the lake, he had been in all sorts of anguish.  I have been able to feel it in him for some time now.'

'So, you had spoken together twice?'

'Yes.  But there are other significant things that have happened to him over the last couple of days.  He had a very difficult and emotional scene with Weasley after he came in from the lake on Saturday.  They patched up their friendship, and I know it was an extremely, er, tearful time for him.  For both of them actually.  After that I saw Potter at supper.  He was reunited with his other friends and the relief and joy in him were overpowering.  Later that night as you know I saw him in the rose garden.  That occasion was also an emotional one.  The next time I saw him was in Professor Dumbledore's office before the snowball thing.  He was tired and, to be honest, apprehensive, nervous of what was suggested about coming here.  When we got here almost the first thing we did was argue.  Quite nastily.  But, we had...' - he was definitely blushing now - '...more than made up by the time we took the potion.  I honestly thought he was genuinely happy when we were getting ready for bed yesterday afternoon.'

McGonagall nodded again.  'That is very helpful, Draco.  Please do not think we were prying.'

'Will you tell me something now?' he asked suddenly.

'Of course, if I can.'

'Why hasn't he woken up?  Even without the factor of the potion he has now been asleep for nearly twenty hours.  And it's not normal sleep.  He just lies here, unmoving.  He's not dreaming.  His head is empty.  It's like he's not here.  You must have some idea, and I need to know.'

'Draco, as soon as we know we will tell you.  I know that will not be enough for you now, but Professor Dumbledore will be back to talk to you again this evening, and hopefully Harry will have woken naturally by then anyway.'

That was obviously the only answer he was going to get.

'Now,' said McGonagall.  'It is nearly lunchtime.  How much have you slept since Professor Dumbledore woke you this morning?'

'Not much.  Just on and off for a while.'

'I think you should have something to eat and then sleep some more.  Would you like more sleeping draught, or do you want to sleep naturally?'

Draco made a snap decision.  'Sleeping potion,' he declared.  It was the only way he could get closer to Harry.  Maybe he could join him wherever he was right now.

'I will ask Madam Pomfrey to bring you some shortly.'  In standing up again she became the stern Transfiguration teacher that the rest of the school knew.  'I expect she will want you to move to your own bed.' 

And then she was gone.

Blimey, thought Draco.  This is weird.  And hardly very quiet and relaxing, or whatever it's supposed to be.  When Madam Pomfrey did duly appear a little while later with some sandwiches and another goblet of the smoky purple liquid, she gasped in exasperation to see Draco sitting up in bed reading next to the comatose Harry.  Draco rolled his eyes in full view of her, and made a big show of getting out of the bed.  He drank the potion in one gulp, left the sandwiches untouched and, when she had gone again, got back in next to Harry and knew no more.

***

Hermione sat back and took in all Dumbledore had said to her.  None of it had been exactly new; it was more an extension of what she already had worked out.  The implications concerning Draco's parents and ultimately You-Know-Who would have been the next logical step in her thoughts, and as she sat there that afternoon, there was the odd sensation of shock to her.  Like, she had discovered something too early, or that the speed of her own understanding had been forced.  It would take a while to adjust to.  And even as she was sitting there in front of Dumbledore, she began to think of Ron and how he would react to this.  He would be in despair.

Sometimes it just seemed as if Dumbledore could actually see right into people's heads.

'I would appreciate it if you did not mention any of this to the rest of your Gryffindor friends,' he said.  'Fair enough, they might simply have these thoughts themselves, seeing what they already know.  But until that time I would rather that the potential for an outbreak of panic was kept to a minimum.'

'Of course,' she agreed, 'but in that case, Professor, why have you told me?'

'Because, Miss Granger, I would very much like you to help.  I wonder, how are your studies going?'

'Fine, I think,' she answered, puzzled.

'Good.  Then you might have a little extra time for an additional task?'

'Yes, anything.  If it helps Harry, I will do it.'

'I rather thought you would say that.  I need you to scour the library - I know you are very familiar with its contents - for information concerning how the magic between the two of them might have bonded, and what the effects might be.  It is important that we understand this, and it is not an area of study familiar to any of the staff.'

'I will do all I can, Professor.'

***

This was becoming more distressing than Draco could ever have imagined.  When the effects of the latest potion wore off and he was flung uncomfortably back into consciousness in the early evening of that same Monday, there was all the disorientation there had been before.  But it was made immeasurably worse by the awful realisation that next to him, so close that Harry's body warmth was indistinguishable from his own, Harry just slept on, unaware of the mounting concern in the staff, unaware of Draco's now almost debilitating anxiety, unaware of anything.  Harry's mind was as blank and as empty as it had been now for - Draco consulted the Snitch-clock - over twenty-seven hours.

'Wake up!'  Draco yelled at him, right into Harry's face, his anguish bursting out uncharacteristically.  'Bloody wake up, Potter!'

He tried to get his arm underneath Harry's body, then managed to lift his torso slightly off the bed to shake him in both hands.  There was absolutely no reaction.  Harry was heavy, limp, utterly relaxed.  He stared at Harry's closed eyes, trying to see a way inside, but there were no clues.

'Oh Jesus,' muttered Draco under his breath.  'Where are you Potter?'

Then he gently laid Harry back down on the bed, with his arm still trapped underneath him, flung the covers right over both of them, and held Harry closer than he had ever held anyone in his life.

Time, which was now utterly irrelevant in his life yet seemingly crucial in Harry's, drifted.

Presently the door opened and the light from the main ward flooded in.

'Oh what is it now?' fumed Draco from under the covers.

'Ahem,' came a discreet cough from somewhere in the room.  Draco threw back the cover with his free arm and saw Professor Dumbledore standing there with Madam Pomfrey behind him.  Behind her he could see more bodies entering the small room.  Snape, Sirius.  Oh God.  What was this?  Then McGonagall.  Jesus, did they want to sell tickets?  Then, inexplicably, Hermione Granger.  Granger????

Hermione closed the door behind her.  Of all the newcomers to their little kingdom, Hermione's reaction was the one that Draco would remember afterwards with the most enjoyment.  She had last seen Draco up in the fourth floor classroom when she and Weasley had tried to make their peace with him for Potter's sake by suggesting a cosy little fact-swapping session.  That had been only two nights before, but it felt like it belonged to another life.  She was now agog at seeing him pyjama-clad in a small bed with Harry cradled in his arms.  If things had been slightly different, Draco would have sniggered and offered some sharp comment.  But he himself was totally bemused by her presence.  Snape and Sirius looked to varying degrees embarrassed at having interrupted, and McGonagall wore the same slightly stern face that she did most of the time.  Draco also rather enjoyed Madam Pomfrey's reaction, which was immediate and predictable.

'Mr Malfoy!' she exclaimed, maddened by the sight of him in the wrong bed yet again.  'How many times--'

'Hush, Poppy,' soothed Dumbledore.  'There is no harm being done here.  Hello, Draco.'

'Hello all', replied Draco pointedly, gently removing his trapped arm and laying Harry delicately back down.  Hermione was struck by the immense tenderness of his actions.

'How are you feeling?'

'Does it take one-two-three-four-five-six of you to be here to ask that question?' snapped Draco, then felt a little embarrassed and said, 'sorry, yes, I am fine.  Just immensely tired still.  And rather hungry now.  And actually, flipping frantic.  Why hasn't he woken yet?'

'We don't know.'

'You don't know?'

'No, not fully.'

'Well how about telling me what you partially know then?'

'Mr Malfoy!' came McGonagall's warning voice.  'I will remind you that, whatever you predicament, this is still the Headmaster you are talking to!'

'I'm sorry, Professor, I apologise.  But please be aware of what this is like for me.  You all just come in here poking around between bouts of startlingly unsatisfying sleep, and expect me to be all smiles while he just lies there like he's dead.'

'He is not dead, Draco,' reassured Dumbledore.

'Well, what is he then?  You must have some idea.  And why on earth is she here?' he asked, indicating Hermione.

'Miss Granger is helping us,' said McGonagall sharply.  'And you will afterwards owe her some gratitude because it is thanks to her that we know what little we do.'

'Ok, Ok, Ok!  I'm really sorry.  I won't bark any more.  But please just tell me what you know.'

'Draco,' began Dumbledore, 'this may be difficult for you to accept.  But we think that Harry is caught in some kind of magical coma.'

Draco remained utterly silent.  Comfort came from an unexpected source.  Sirius walked up to Draco, placed his hand on his shoulder, smiled warmly, and pulled up a chair.

'Draco,' he spoke softly.  'I admit it seems insensitive of us to troop in here in such numbers.  But you will understand of course that you are not the only one who is worried about him.  And everyone in this room has been working hard today to try to work out what is going on. And after this chat I promise you will be left alone.'

'Thank you, Sirius,' he said, the name feeling unfamiliar on his lips, but not uncomfortably so.

'We must consider that Harry's innate magic is unstable due to er, circumstances,' continued Sirius.  'Also he has acute insomnia, and therefore a desperate need for sleep.  He has recently been given the chance for such sleep, in an environment in which he would have been happier than he has been for weeks.  Perhaps the potion delivered him into deep enchanted sleep and has now worn off, but his disturbed magical self senses it is safe, and has kept him there because of the severe need for rest.'

Draco listened intently.

'So we suspect that this sleep has nothing to do with the potion.  We think that there has simply been so much turmoil in his life recently that his body can't cope anymore.  And now two of those issues are partially resolved for him - the uncertainty surrounding his feelings for you, and the pain caused by separation from Ron and Hermione and his other friends - and this resulting sense of safety and relief has enabled him to sleep properly again.  He is resting, Draco.  His mind, his body, his magical self.  They are all trying to recover from recent weeks.  And when he feels stronger, he will wake.'

'That makes a ton of sense.  But how long till he wakes?'

'We have no way of knowing,' answered Sirius.  'Hermione has been in the library all afternoon looking up previous similar cases; she even voluntarily missed both History of Magic and Muggle Studies.'

Both Sirius and Draco smiled.

'But there are precious few such cases to refer to I am afraid.  Usually the Crimson Cloud is not met with such anger and antagonism, so an explanation of the effects we are seeing in Harry is admittedly more guesswork than anything else.  There are in fact only three previous instances of magical coma caused solely by psychological trauma that we have found.'

'How long did they last?'

'One lasted three days, another eight days,' replied Sirius.

'And the third?' asked Draco, very quietly.

'Draco,' said Sirius softly, 'don't be upset.  That one lasted two years.'  He finished almost silently.

'Two years?' howled Draco.  'He won't last two years!  He'll waste away before then!  There's no fat on him at all!  Two years!  Bloody hell, I won't last two years either!  I'm frantic after just twenty-seven hours!'

'Twenty-eight actually,' corrected Snape pedantically.

Both Sirius and McGonagall shot him venomous looks.  Draco was approaching a state of high distress, and Hermione, but only Hermione of the group assembled in the small room that evening, was shocked to see tears welling in Draco's eyes.

'Hush, Draco,' said Sirius warmly.  'There is absolutely no certainty that Harry's sleep will last anything like that long.  He could wake tomorrow.  He could even wake tonight.  We just don't know.  But', he continued as softly as before, 'we all think that it would be dangerous to try to wake him before then.'

'But what will trigger his waking?' persisted Draco, highly agitated.  'There must have been some reason that those other cases lasted as long as they did, and no longer.  What was it that eventually brought the comas to an end?'

Draco was trying to hide that he was close to crying, and doing a very bad job of it.  Sirius put an arm round him, and Draco found himself curiously thankful for it. Dumbledore took over.

'It is mightily difficult to be specific about what caused those other cases to become resolved,' said the Headmaster. 'We think that the body just decides when it is strong enough to resume normal life.  When Harry feels rested enough, or safe enough, or maybe loved enough, he will wake.'

He let this hang in the air, watching Draco intently.

Parting from Sirius, and blushing unashamedly, Draco declared 'he couldn't be more loved than he is at this moment'.  What the fuck, he thought.  After all, they know everything.  They've all seen me in his bed.  I don't care about skirting round this issue any more for the sake of politeness.

'Every ounce of me aches for him.  Every thought, every feeling, every...er, everything of mine is bound up with him.  That's got to make him loved enough.  There's simply no more of me to give.  And he's still asleep.  I lie here, holding him, begging him to wake up, and it's not enough.  I obviously don't feel strongly enough.  Oh God, I've failed him again...'

Hermione was deeply moved, and this time she was not the only one.  Sirius rubbed Draco's back gently.  Dumbledore continued, very sensitively.

'Draco, all of us here share your concern.  But you are too emotionally distressed to see at the moment that how long he sleeps is not dependant on you.  Please try not to saddle yourself with that guilt.  It would only be destructive, and when Harry wakes, he will need you to be strong.'

Draco sat up further in the bed and flopped back against the head of the bed.  He sighed and looked at the Headmaster.  'But I just feel so powerless, so helpless.  There doesn't seem to be anything I can do.  And I want to help him so much...'

'Draco, we all feel that.  Take some comfort from not being alone in that respect.  In fact, wanting to do something, but not being able to, has forced us to come to the one decision, the only one, that we can take at this time.'

'What is that, Professor?' said Draco.

'We cannot deny the facts here.  Harry is in a state that none of us has any experience of dealing with.  There is no care, magical or otherwise, that we can actively use to bring him around.  So we have decided that if Harry has not come round within two weeks, I shall arrange for his removal to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies.  There, he at least can be cared for by people who will have a way to feed him.  Unfortunately this will necessitate informing the Ministry, and from there the news may enter the public domain.  But I fear it would be wrong of us to keep him here for longer than that if it would be potentially injurious to him.'

'Professor,' countered Draco urgently, 'that absolutely cannot happen.  I would not be able to go with him.  My parents would find out.  He will be in even more danger if news of his condition reached the Ministry, it would certainly get to my father from there.  He has, you know, certain contacts...' Draco trailed off.

'Quite,' agreed Dumbledore.  'But there may be no other way.'

'We will have to work out what exactly the advantages of his being in St Mungo's would be, and provide them for him here.  Just give me the medical textbooks, I will work out how to feed him.  I've got flippin' hours on my hands. Granger could help me, couldn't you, Granger?'

Hermione was about to reply that of course she would, but Draco didn't give her the chance.

'Or do you not know someone at St Mungo's you can trust?  Someone you could bring here?  Or could we not provide a totally separate location, somewhere secret?  Somewhere we could keep him stable far away from the eyes of the Ministry and my parents and the whole world?  Or couldn't we--'

'Draco!' cried Dumbledore, almost smiling.  'You are gabbling.  We will give those ideas some thought.  But I say to you honestly now, I do not expect such measures to become necessary.  I'm sure he will wake soon.  I should not have told you my thoughts on this matter, they have distressed you further.  Severus, can you make a sleeping draught that will give Draco a couple of hours of enchanted sleep and leave him in natural sleep for several more?'

'Yes, of course,' said Snape immediately. 'It will require only a minor adjustment to the one I prepared yesterday.'

He left the room.

'Oh great,' sighed Draco.  'More sleep.  Fab.'

'You need it, Mr Malfoy,' said Madam Pomfrey.  'We have distressed you, and that was not our aim.'

'What I need,' argued Draco, 'is to be able to do something.'

Hermione couldn't help agreeing with him.

'Draco,' said Dumbledore, 'you are doing something.  In fact you are doing more than any of us ever could.'

'What?' asked Draco, surprised.

McGonagall spoke this time.  Her tone was warm.  'You are making him feel safe.  Giving him the security he needs to get through this.  Let him rest.  Help him rest.  And in the meantime, practise your wand skills.'

'Sorry?' Draco said, goggling slightly at this totally unexpected suggestion.  'How on earth is that going to help?'

'It isn't,' smiled Dumbledore.  'But, I think you are going to be surprised by what you are now capable of.  We have inadvertently made something of a discovery.  That charming clock of Harry's, it is enchanted so that only Harry can use it.  Miss Granger confirmed this with a no doubt rather mystified Ronald Weasley earlier, before we realised that it was actually a present from Sirius, his godfather.  You used it without problems earlier today.  It wouldn't work for me, but your innate magic is bonding with Harry's and has been for some time.'

'Wow. Really?'

'Yes,' said Dumbledore.  'In time you will both draw on the same pool of innate magic, but we do not know how quickly this will happen, or by how much your abilities will be increased.  But it will be an exciting time of discovery for you.  And you might as well get on with it while Harry is asleep, and then you can bring him up to speed when he wakes.'

'That's kinda cool,' said Draco, sort of smiling now.

Sirius laughed.  'I knew Harry would like that clock.  How odd it should turn out to be so significant.'

'Now, Draco, you're going to think I'm fussing again, but what have you eaten today?'

'Er...'

'Exactly one slice of toast and no sandwiches,' deduced Madam Pomfrey, eyeing the uneaten food on the table.

'Name anything you would like to eat,' beamed Dumbledore.  'I shall have the house elves prepare it directly.'

'Er, well, I am quite hungry,' thought Draco aloud.  'How about...oh I don't know, honestly I really don't mind.  What are the school having tonight?'

'Chicken-and-ham pie,' Dumbledore said happily.

'That will be fine.'

'That's Harry's favourite,' put in Hermione, speaking for the first time.

'Is it?' asked Draco, sadly.  'I didn't know that, in fact I don't know any of that kind of stuff about him.'

'There will be loads of time for you to swap favourites, Draco, when he wakes', said Sirius warmly.  'Which he will. Soon.  You just see.'

'Oh well, chicken-and-ham pie it is then,' said Dumbledore.  'That's easy, it is already prepared in the kitchens.'

He whipped his wand expertly and murmured something, and a tray appeared hovering in mid-air.  Sirius stood up to fetch it, and laid it in Draco's lap.  Snape reappeared at that moment with another goblet of smoky liquid, this one a deep green colour.  He set it down next to Draco.

'Well, that's that, I think,' Dumbledore concluded merrily.  'A nice meal, a good sleep, all will seem better in the morning I am sure, Draco.  Mmmm, that pie does smell good; I think we should all go down to supper ourselves.  It's about that time.'

Goodnights of various sorts were said, and Draco was once more alone with Harry.

'So this is your favourite, eh?' mused Draco, looking down at the still peacefully dormant body next to him.  'One day we will enjoy this together.'

He ate more than he had for a while, then moved the tray over to the table and drank the potion.  Snuggling down next to Harry, he realised that Madam Pomfrey had not insisted on his switching beds.  He giggled slightly and held Harry close, and peace was soon washing over him.