Unthinkable Thoughts

CHAPTER ELEVEN

~

A CONSPIRACY UNMASKED

Over the next few days, the time seemed to drag more slowly than he had ever known.  The weeks of indecision and confusion between the lesson with the fauns and the cigarette by the lake were nothing by comparison to this constant cycle of sleeping and waking and worrying.  And each time he woke, Harry was still asleep.

Madam Pomfrey was often in and out, bringing Draco food and more sleeping potion when he wanted it, and she had finally stopped asking Draco to return to his own bed.  Dumbledore was a daily visitor, but after that meeting when they had discussed the possibility of St Mungo's, he had not said much at all.  He would arrive just before the main school went into supper, and would sit with Draco for about ten minutes.  They did not speak of much, but Draco felt that Dumbledore somehow needed this time near Harry, just to check that the situation had not worsened.  Hermione had been once, and Draco had sensed that Dumbledore did not know about this visit, but Draco knew how much Hermione must herself have been worrying, and so he said nothing.  Neither Snape nor McGonagall had visited at all since that day, and Draco felt that this was right; after all, what on earth would be the point?

Sirius was noticeably more edgy though, more worried; he visited each day at around lunchtime.  Draco wondered what he was doing outside these visits.  After all, his presence in the castle must surely be secret; he was still wanted by the Ministry.  But since Draco was still mystified by the exact nature of the relationship between Harry and Sirius, he enjoyed these chances to get to know the man a bit more. 

Back in a part of Draco's mind that he had promised himself not to examine until Harry was awake and they had sorted their differences - if indeed that time ever came about - Draco knew, if things worked out in a certain way, it was likely that Sirius would be someone he would know personally for the rest of his life.  That was an intriguing thought.  Everybody knew that Harry had no parents, and that his blood family, the Muggles, were the worst sort imaginable.  But in Sirius, Draco sensed something entirely different.  Here was a wizard that anybody would be delighted to have as a relation - he was clever, funny and caring, had the total trust of Dumbledore and obviously knew about many important matters beyond the school.  But why Draco warmed to him most of all was that, however much Sirius actually tried to hide it, he was without doubt frantically worried about Harry. 

As they had a sandwich together on the Wednesday following the Snowball challenge, when Harry had been asleep for approaching seventy-two hours, Draco felt bold enough to start a conversation that touched on more than food and the weather.

'He is extremely fond of you, you know,' began Draco.

'How do you know that?'  Sirius's tone was soft and friendly.  'Have you spoken about me?  I understood that you had only had a couple of very short conversations before he took the potion.' 

'I don't need to have spoken to him to know that,' replied Draco.  'There was the reaction when he saw you in Dumbledore's office, when he went up and hugged you without a thought.  That's not usually his style.  And there was also the way he made sure that clock you bought him was by his bed before he went to sleep.  And also, I don't know if you can understand this, but it's there in his head as well.  When we were all in the office that time, there was great warmth from him.  He was obviously hugely relieved to see you.'

Sirius was thoughtful.  'That is touching to hear, and you can probably also sense that I return those feelings.'  His words were slightly obscured by a sudden scrabbling at the window.  Draco and Sirius looked up and saw Hedwig tapping insistently on the glass.

'Oh yes,' laughed Sirius, 'I almost forgot. I saw Hedwig this morning and it was obvious that she was missing Harry.  I know Dumbledore said no visitors, but I hardly thought that rule would apply to owls!' 

He got up and let her in.  She glided silently to the head of Harry's bed, where she perched and took up sentry duty.  Another of Potter's admirers, thought Draco.

Sirius sat down again and hesitated, obviously weighing something up.  Then he began to speak slowly.

'Draco, under these circumstances, there is probably much you should know about me.  On one level I suppose I am just Harry's dad's best mate from school, but now, in actuality, I am the only link Harry has to his parents.  Though Harry and I have been meeting recently, they have hardly been the happiest occasions, so we haven't ever had a real chance to discuss this.  But I know we both feel that we are the only family each other has, even though there is no blood that ties us.  I was James and Lily's best man, and they named me godfather to Harry when he was born. At the time, we were not much more than kids, but even so it was a great honour.  I couldn't have been more proud.'

Draco remained quiet during this unexpected but welcome insight into a new part of Harry's life.

'Now, it's more than an honour, it's the most important thing in my life; I've got to be more than a godfather, I've got to be a real father.  And a mother.  Yet I have been no kind of godfather at all to him.  I was in Azkaban for twelve years, when Harry needed me the most, when there was absolutely nobody to look after him apart from those awful Muggles he now has to spend the summers with.  And just when it looked like I was going to be able to give him a home at last, Peter Pettigrew - who committed the murders I was imprisoned for - got away and so I had to go into hiding again.' 

Draco could hardly begin to imagine what that must have been like.  The sense of tragedy, which surrounded Harry in a general sense for most of those at Hogwarts, was beginning to focus itself into something sharper.  It was an oddly sobering moment.

'So, you have no memories of him at all, between his being a baby and then seeing him again recently?'

'No.  None.  And of course neither does he.  So there is a lot to put right, when he wakes.  The saddest thing of all is the only thing I can actually offer him of his parents are my own memories.  Another way I failed as a godfather was that...' Sirius trailed off.

Draco said nothing.  These were obviously painful thoughts.

'...Was that I should have been the guardian, not just of him, but of all that should have been his.  But that night, that bloody awful unthinkable night, I wasn't there.  I bloody wasn't there.  So I not only couldn't try to save James, and Lily, or rescue Harry, but I couldn't stop the house at Godric's Hollow being destroyed either.' 

Draco sensed he should stay quiet.  Sirius was lost in some awful memory.

'So there's nothing I have to give him, apart from the memories.  The few small things I had of James's since we were at school were lost while I was in prison.  There's money in his vault at Gringotts, sure, he'll be fine there; but I have no photographs, no personal belongings, not even the smallest most insignificant thing of theirs.' 

'But then, if the house was destroyed...how did he...?' Draco didn't quite know how to word the question.

'To be honest, we will probably never know all the details.  But as far as I can piece it together, and I have had twelve years to think about it, the Death Eaters must have gone mad at seeing the Dark Lord vanquished, and maybe they destroyed the house in anger.  But they didn't dare touch Harry after what had just happened.' 

Draco felt suddenly crushingly mortified.  Had his own father played a part in this episode?

'Thank God Hagrid got there quickly enough to pull Harry from the wreckage.  When I arrived - too late! - I wanted to take Harry myself but Hagrid insisted otherwise.  Harry was seemingly a special, magical baby - how had he survived otherwise? - and obviously Hagrid was right, he needed to be got to safety immediately.  I gave Hagrid my motorbike so that Harry could be taken to Dumbledore as quickly as possible.  That very night Dumbledore entrusted Harry to Lily's sister and her family.' 

Draco shuddered to think of the immense danger Harry had been in at such a young age.  Vulnerability, it seemed, had been something Harry had lived with from the very beginning.  Somewhere in a dark, unexplored recess of Draco's mind, there was a faint ringing of a small bell.  He was still wondering briefly what this meant when Sirius spoke again.

'As soon as I knew Harry was safely away, I took off after Pettigrew, knowing that, as their secret-keeper, he was the only one who could have betrayed the whereabouts of James and Lily to the Dark Lord.  I caught up with him the next day and cornered him, but he made a great show of wailing about how I had betrayed James and Lily; then caused a huge explosion in which it was assumed he himself had died.  Died a hero's death too, and was honoured for it, even though he was not a dead hero but a living traitor.'

Draco was astonished.  This part of the Story of the Boy Who Lived was entirely new to him.

'When the Ministry turned up, they had eye-witnesses that said I'd blown Pettigrew away together with half the street.  It was easy for them to assume that I had caused this massacre because I was enraged at having defected just at the moment of the Dark Lord's demise.  Very few people knew that the Fidelius Charm - that's the complex spell of secret-keeping - had been performed at all.  And of those that did, none living except for Pettigrew and myself - not even Dumbledore - knew that it was Pettigrew, not me, who had been the secret-keeper.  And Pettigrew was long gone.  Everything pointed to my being the traitor.  I was taken straight to Azkaban, and I did not see Harry again until last year.'

'Oh my God,' gasped Draco softly.  'Twelve years in Azkaban, as an innocent man.  They say it's inhuman in there.'

'Yes, it is', Sirius answered, not wanting to elaborate.  'But do you know what?  It's the house that troubles me most now.  The house was in ruins.  Everything was gone.  At the time it was not important compared to the awfulness of losing James and Lily, or of being imprisoned. But now it seems just as tragic.  A few presents - that clock, his Firebolt - they hardly make up for it'.

'Wow!  You bought him his Firebolt?'

'Yes,' laughed Sirius, glad that the mood had lightened a little.  'Thirteen years of birthday and Christmas presents in one hit, from the only family he has.  And do you know what's strange?  On the couple of occasions I have seen him fly, I had to disguise myself as a dog. 

'Are you an Animagus?' asked Draco, amazed.  'You're not on the official Ministry list.'

'Well, I had my own reasons for keeping that fact a secret, Draco,' said Sirius, enigmatically.  'But even as a dog, I could see that he's fantastic at Quidditch, just like James was.'

'He's brilliant,' glowed Draco.  Sirius thought he could detect a touch of pride in Draco's voice.  'I've wanted to acknowledge it for years.  He's totally natural on a broom, absolutely no fear at all.  I don't know if you know, but from the very first time he got on a broom he outwitted me.' 

Draco was embarrassed now. 

'I provoked him into disobeying Madam Hooch's orders, on our first ever flying lesson.  Oh God, I was trying to get him expelled.  Think if I had succeeded...'

'Much has changed since then, Draco.'

'Yes, I know.  That seems a lifetime ago now.  Well it has changed for me anyway, I hope it has for him too.'

They both looked sadly at the sleeping Harry, who was sprawled inelegantly at Draco's side.  Harry seemed to move a little from time to time, or maybe Draco was imagining it: he certainly was repositioning Harry's body so frequently (casually draping Harry's arm over his own lap and pretending that Harry himself had placed it there) that he often lost track of whether Harry or himself had been responsible for Harry's latest arrangement of limbs. 

'You know, when he first got that Firebolt, I was so jealous, but my father said he wouldn't buy me one till I beat Potter at Quidditch.  Now I'm really glad I know it was you who bought it for him.  I can't think of anyone who deserves one more.'

'Well, Draco, if it means that much to you, it needn't be your father that buys you one.  I am sure we can sort one out another way.  Then you can go flying off together wherever you want.'  Sirius smiled warmly.

'Do you really mean that?'

Sirius smiled again.  'Racing brooms are easily available from Quality Quidditch Supplies, Draco.'

'No, not that,' he gulped, uncertain of how to word what he actually meant.  'That...you would be happy to see us fly off together?'

'Draco, Harry is the only person in the world I care about anymore.  If it's what he wants, I will do everything in my power to see that he gets it.'

There was a moment of silence in the small room while they both looked again at the sleeping Harry.

'I hope it's what he wants,' Draco wished softly.  'It's what I want.'

***

On the Friday morning, Draco woke to find himself disturbingly at ease with the situation.  For five or so days now, this had been his life.  He would sleep and wake and eat a little, and he would do it all within inches of Harry, but Harry had no knowledge of it.  He would worry about a thousand things, all of which were connected with Harry.  But on that morning, there was less anxiety, and in a funny kind of way Draco was actually disturbed by how peaceful he was feeling.  He didn't even need to look at Harry to know that he had not yet woken; right inside Draco's head there was some emptiness that told him he was still unconscious.  But he did look all the same, and ran his hand through Harry's messy hair.

'Yick, Potter,' he sniffed.  'You really need to wash your hair.' 

Fucking hell, thought Draco.  I haven't had a shower in all this time either! How disgusting! And these bedclothes: constantly occupied by two people for God knows how many days.  Today will be a day of Steps Forward. 

'What's the matter?' asked Madam Pomfrey as she came in with some tea a little later.  'You look different.'

'I've stopped worrying,' stated Draco.  'Or at least I've tried to stop worrying. And start waiting.  Madam Pomfrey, can we have some clean bedclothes?'

'There is a bed over here on which the linen appears to be clean,' she smiled.

'Good point,' said Draco, smiling back.  'Can you help me move him while we switch the sheets over?'

'Why not just move him into this bed?' she asked, puzzled.

'Because, I'm not sure really, but, well, this one is his bed.  We argued about it.  He won.'

'You could have fooled me.  He won, you say?  Looks more like it was a draw.'

Draco laughed, and Madam Pomfrey was pleased at his reaction.  He's different today, she thought.  She performed a mobilicorpus charm on Harry and they left him hanging in mid-air in his crumpled blue pyjamas while they switched the bedding over.  That is to say that she did it while he watched, as Draco had absolutely no idea how to make a bed.  When Harry was settled again, Draco turned his attention to the one piece of toast that was on the tray.  That and the odd sandwich with Sirius was about all he had managed each day since he had come to the hospital wing. 

'You know, I feel genuinely hungry this morning.  Do you think the kitchens might have a spare bit of bacon hanging around?'

'I can easily find out.  How did you sleep last night?'

Draco had tried to go a whole night without sleeping potion the night before. 

'Rubbish,' he sniffed.  'On and off all night. While he's still asleep I've got nothing to lose by taking the potion, so I think I'll have some more later.  Enchanted sleep makes me feel uneasy when I wake, but at least it's sleep.'

'Well, try to doze for a bit longer then, and I'll see if I can sort out a bacon sandwich.'

'Sounds excellent, but I think I'll get up for a while.  I'm awake now, and I want a shower actually.'

Madam Pomfrey laughed.  'About time. It's been horrible in here, with the two of you just lying around unbathed all week.'

'Eurgh, sorry.  I could do with some clean pyjamas too, do you think I can sneak back to Slytherin house to get some while the school are at lessons?'

'Absolutely not.  Professor Dumbledore wouldn't hear of it.  Tell me what you want and I'll make sure the house elves bring them here.'

'I've got some more like this but dark green,' he said.  'They'll do.'

'Very well,' she muttered, eyeing his expensive silk pyjamas with a little disdain, and then she left.

Draco went to the small bathroom, and fiddled with the shower till it was just right.  It was nothing like as good as the Slytherin showers, but it felt marvellous to wash away all the worry of the last few days.  However long it takes, wherever we have to be, he thought, I am just going to wait.  It's all I can do.  He spent nearly half an hour under the jet of water, and felt better than he had for some time when he emerged back into the room to find a fresh pot of tea, some bacon sandwiches and his green pyjamas on the table.  I could get used to this, he thought.

And in the relative comfort of this new-found state of relaxation, another issue surfaced, almost as if it had been lurking until it was right to declare itself.  Something Sirius had said a few days before was bothering him.  Nothing left, he had said.  I should have been the guardian of all that was his.  This special, magical baby boy.  Why was this vaguely familiar?  And, coupled with this, there was the awful realisation that his father might have been present at the murder of James and Lily Potter.  Perhaps the Death Eaters destroyed the house in their anger.  Draco allowed himself to examine more closely the tinkling of the distant bell that had sounded in his head when Sirius had spoken to him earlier in the week.  He tried to focus on the memory but still it eluded him.  Something about...what?  But it was definitely something he remembered from before...before he'd heard the story that Sirius had told him.  Bloody hell, what was it?

He pondered for a little while longer while he had a pretty good stab at a bacon sandwich.

After breakfast Draco noticed that he was beginning to get twitchy for the first time that week.  He recognised it as boredom.  The morning spread out before him with only Sirius's lunchtime visit to look forward to.  It looked a cold bright winter day outside, with the sun glinting on the semi-frozen surface of the lake, and he wondered if they would ever be allowed some fresh air.  Even though they had been in the room nearly a week, Draco thought, Harry had no recollection of that time.  For Harry, most of the memories that concerned their recent er...thing, belonged outside.  Draco thought about the lake, and of course about the rose garden...

It was Hermione who made him snap out of these thoughts.  She tapped on the door and walked in some time later, and Draco found himself curiously pleased to see her.

'Hello, Granger.'

'Hello, Malfoy.  Still asleep is he?'

'Fraid so.'

'You look better, though.'

'Good.  Thank you.  In fact, could you do me a favour?'

'What is it?'

'You'll think this is weird.'

'Malfoy, nothing is going to seem weird after this,' she sighed, indicating the room in general and Harry in particular.

'Good point.  But, you will still find this weird, I bet.'

'OK.  So I am going to find it weird.  What exactly is it?'

'I'm bored.  I want to do some work.  Can you ask McGonagall if she can take just a few minutes to finish explaining about that Transfiguration project we were doing last week, and then I could write the essay.'

'You're right.  That is weird; coming from you anyway.  I'll ask her, I know she hasn't been here because she didn't want to disturb you and Harry, but I'm sure she would come up.'

'Excellent.  Quills, ink, parchment, that kind of thing would also be useful.'

'Why do I get the feeling I am running errands for you?'

'Don't know, Granger.  Must be your natural negative predisposition to me.  I bet if Weasley asked for some parchment, you wouldn't think of it as an errand.'

'You,' she stated, half smiling, 'are definitely feeling better. Where's all the blackness gone?'

'Don't know again, Granger.  I suppose I just couldn't carry on fretting at that level.  It was too draining.'  They both looked at Harry.  Then Draco continued, 'Talking of Weasley, ask him to sort out some clean pyjamas for Potter would you?  It's getting a bit sweaty in that bed.  Potter needs freshening up.'

'Eew,' coughed Hermione.  'That was definitely too much information.'

'Don't be coy, old girl,' smirked Draco.  'Get used to it.  We could be in bed for weeks yet.'

'OK, stop it right there.  Ron will be only too pleased to do something to help.  He's driving me up the wall with questions.  I wonder if Professor Dumbledore will let Ron bring them himself.  You may have stopped worrying, but Ron hasn't.  He's almost--'

'Not yet, please, Granger.'  Draco was serious again now.  'I accept that Weasley and I will have to make our peace sooner or later, for his sake' - he indicated Harry - 'but I'm not ready for that yet.  Just some pyjamas to start with.  And that message to McGonagall.' 

'I'll do what I can,' she said, and after a little while chatting about how Harry was still asleep, which seemed to be the only reason she had for visiting in the first place, she left.

Not a bad sort, after all, thought Draco.

***

'Pyjamas?  Is that it? After days of telling me that you aren't able to say anything, that it's totally top secret, even though I know most of it anyway, and far more than Harry, and you've been chosen as Dumbledore's special helper when I want to help too, all I get is, Harry needs some clean pyjamas?'

'Yes,' laughed Hermione.  'Now, does he have any?'

'I expect so.  He's got two pairs.  Did he say where they would be?'

Hermione, under Dumbledore's instructions, had not told Ron or the others about Harry's magical coma.  She tried to brush this question off in such a way so that she wouldn't have to reveal why Harry hadn't asked for them himself.

'No,' Hermione said.  'He didn't.  He was asleep actually.  The request came from Malfoy.' 

'Malfoy?' snorted Ron.  'Why on earth does Malfoy want Harry's pyjamas?'

'He doesn't, you fool.  Not for himself.  He wants them for Harry.  I think he's being thoughtful, giving Harry the chance to change if he wants to.  He's been in bed for six days, must be getting a bit sweaty by now.'

'Malfoy is concerned by how sweaty Harry is getting?' goggled Ron.

'That's about it, yes'.

'Hermione, why do I get the feeling there's something you're not telling me?'

'Ron, you know I am not able to talk about this.  But I will tell you one thing.'

'What?' Ron asked eagerly.

'Well, it's not really telling you anything.  It's more of a sort of a word of caution.'

'Whatever it is, just say it Herm,' said Ron impatiently.

'Ok.  I think you are going to be surprised by...erm, I don't know how to put this...by exactly how close Malfoy and Harry have become.  Well, actually I'm not sure about Harry, but Malfoy's softened considerably towards Harry.  They are very close now.  Be prepared for it when the time comes.'

'Yick,' said Ron.  'Exactly how close?'

'Well,' mused Hermione.  'Close enough I guess for Malfoy to be bothered by how sweaty Harry is getting. So.  Clean pyjamas, as soon as you are able.'

The look of queasiness on Ron's face actually made Hermione laugh aloud. 

***

The next visitors were Sirius and McGonagall, who arrived at about the time Draco was expecting Sirius for lunch.  Draco found himself rather irritated that McGonagall was there at all, even though he had requested her presence; he was tentatively looking forward to another chat with Sirius alone.  Harry, it goes without saying, was asleep.

'So,' began McGonagall.  'How long has it been now?'

'It's now one o'clock on Friday,' Draco sighed.  'He took the potion at about three o'clock on Sunday, maybe three-thirty.  So, practically five days.  Or one hundred and eighteen hours, to be more precise.'

'You look better though.'

'Thank you, Professor.  I feel better.'

'So I gather.  Hence, your request for some Transfiguration to work on.  Delighted though I am that you have chosen my subject for this great honour, we feel there are better ways for you to be spending your time.  Have you practised your wand skills like I suggested?'

'No, not really.' 

'Well, that's your project then.  Charms, rather than Transfiguration.  Just revise all the charms you know, and see if your abilities have altered.  Go on, try it now.  Levitation charm, this tea cup.'

Draco reached for his wand.  'Wingardium Leviosa' he intoned.

The cup rose out of McGonagall's hand and hovered about six inches above.

'Neatly done,' she judged, 'but a second year could do that.  Now try the whole tray, and keep it steady.'

He duly did so.  The tray lifted effortlessly from her grasp, and as a neat trick he raised the plate some way off the tray itself.

'Now that is more impressive.  Try the chair.'

Draco was able to raise the chair easily, and he let it rise to the ceiling, where it bumped gently.  Then he turned the chair twice in different directions, firstly swivelled so it faced the wall, then rotated so it was hovering legs upwards.  'Where shall I bring it down?' he said, enjoying himself.

The chair safely back on the floor, McGonagall said, 'now the bed.'

It was ludicrously easy.  Draco raised the bed smoothly about four feet above the ground, then looked over the edge and down at Sirius and McGonagall.  'Wow!' he cried.  'I feel like I could take it out the window and around the Quidditch pitch!'

'That is excellent, Draco,' smiled McGonagall.  'Especially as I meant the empty bed, not yours.'

'Oh!' laughed Draco.  'Sorry!'  He let the bed glide serenely back to the floor.  'This is amazing!  I've always been crap at Charms!'

'And Mr Potter has always been excellent.  You have much to discover, Draco.  We expect you to have far greater magical ability now.  You can do some more Charms later.  Tomorrow you can do some Transfiguration, which is something Harry is not quite so good at.  That will be interesting to see.  After lunch, we want you to take some more sleeping draught, just a five hour dose, to make up for the rough sleep you got last night.  You can do some more Charms this evening; in fact I'll ask Miss Granger to come and help.  She will be an excellent partner for this kind of thing.'

'OK,' agreed Draco, still quite thrilled at his dramatic improvement at the Levitation charm.

She left after that, and Draco and Sirius settled down to another light lunch.  Draco didn't eat much though, and strangely enough, neither did Sirius.

'You seem sad today, Sirius,' said Draco softly.

'Yes, I am a bit.  It's just strange to think that I now know you better than I know Harry.  I wish Harry and I could have had a chance like this.  I have so much to tell him, so much he doesn't know, about his parents, about what they were like, about how much they loved him'.

Draco remained silent.  That was indeed sad, but he didn't feel it meant they should never have started talking.

'I'm still glad we've had these chats though,' he ventured.  'I think Harry's really lucky to have you as his family.'

'Thank you Draco, that is very generous of you.' 

Draco let this compliment hang in the air, but inside he turned thoughtful.  He wanted to say something, even though he had nothing concrete to say.

'Sirius, there's something on my mind.'

'What is it?'

'That's the problem.  I have no idea.  I can't remember.'

Sirius smiled.  'Well, I can hardly advise if--'

'It's weird though,' interrupted Draco, afraid that Sirius thought he was joking around.  'At least, it feels weird.  If only I could blasted well remember what it was.  But it's certainly something to do with what you said the other day.  About Harry as a baby.  It's been nagging in my head for two days now.  But I just can't think why.'

Sirius was silent, as if saying something now might sever the connection that Draco's mind was trying to make.  But Draco remained in thought for some minutes more, and Sirius decided that the moment had passed.  Draco looked suddenly tired, and Sirius felt it was time to go.

'Well, I'm sure it's not important,' he said.  'And if it is, it will occur to you soon enough.  Now, take this potion, and get some more rest.  You are looking lots better, but it can only help more.  Oh, and by the way, these are for Harry, from Ron, via Hermione and me.  How's that for a good delivery service?  We'll work out a way to get him into them tomorrow.' 

He placed a clean pair of pyjamas on the other bed. 

Sirius watched Draco drink the draught, and then waited till he was deeply asleep, curled up in the little bed with his godson.

***

It had been a regular sleeping potion, so there was the usual uneasy jolt back into consciousness when its effects wore off at about six o'clock that evening.  Oh God, I am never going to get used to this, thought Draco, feeling slightly sick.  He stayed as still as possible, waiting for the anxiety to pass, gaining reassurance from the warmth that surrounded him.  Harry's arm had somehow got around him while he had slept, and Draco snuggled lots closer to him to ease the discomfort he was feeling.  This was soooo comfortable.  I could stay here like this for the rest of my life, he thought.

His thoughts cleared slightly.  Evening.  Another attempt at a meal, and then some extra Charms with Granger.  Not an entirely awful way to spend an evening, he thought.  Although, blimey.  Hang on, something's different here.

His eyes pinged open.

Harry was laying on his side, his arm draped round Draco, looking at him and smiling.

'You're awake!' cried Draco.  'You're really bloody awake!'

'Yes,' replied Harry smiling.  'Unlike you, who was sleeping like a baby till just now.  It was nice watching you.  What did you do, sneak in with me when Madam Pomfrey left?  I don't remember you getting in, I must have already been asleep.'

Draco had so many things to say that precisely none of them came out.

'Er, er, erm...!'

'Can't stay away from me eh, Malfoy?  Or were you just bitter about losing the bed?' grinned Harry.

'Potter, listen to me!  You're awake!  That's marvellous!'

'Marvellous, is it?  Well I do feel better, that's for sure.  Although, it's only six o'clock, so that can't have been a full five hour potion like Madam Pomfrey said.'

'Potter, shut up!  You think it was nice watching me sleep?  I'm the flippin' School Champion at watching you sleep, you git!'

'What do you mean?  You've only just woken up.  It was strange being able to feel you become conscious again.'

'That is true.  I have only just woken up.  But, well, Potter, you might find this difficult to take in, but it is not Sunday.'

'Eh?  Don't be silly.  It's evening.  We went to sleep this afternoon, after we changed into pyjamas.  It was funny, remember, seeing Madam Pomfrey's face!  You said, you said, blimey I can't even say it.  You said you found me attractive.  I can't believe you said that! I've been thinking it about for the last half hour, watching you sleep so peacefully.  And do you know what Malfoy, I can't believe I'm going to say this either, but I find you--'

'Potter, stop side-tracking me!  Save the special compliments for later.  What colour are my pyjamas?'

'Malfoy, what on earth are you talking about?  I was just about to say--'

'Potter!  What colour are my pyjamas?!'

'Black, you idiot.  Black silk.  I watched you put them on just this afternoon.'

'Oh God, are you infuriating!' cried Draco.  He threw back the covers that lay over both of them.

'Or...green,' said Harry, surprised.  'How did that happen?'

'I changed, you moron.  Because today is not Sunday!  Now, will you let me speak?'

'OK, speak.  It appears we have time.'

'Time?  Stop interrupting!  Don't say anything; not till you've heard me.'

Harry said nothing, waiting, mildly interested.

'You took that potion on Sunday.  We both did.  I slept for the duration expected.  You did not wake.  There was some alarm.  Snape said that it could not be due to the potion.  I got more worried the more I thought about it.  Then after a lot of indecision and ignorance and guessing, they finally worked it out.  You had not slept for ages, and your body was tired.  The potion delivered you to an enchanted sleep; your body and mind liked it there.  You needed to rest, and blocked everything out.  No wakey-wakey.  Granger and Dumbledore got to the bottom of it: you were in a magical coma, caused by psychological distress.  I was frantic; couldn't help it.  You slept on and on.  I changed my pyjamas, because now it's been ages.  Potter, you won't believe me, but it's Friday.  You have slept for five days.  And now thank God you are awake again, and I can begin to stop worrying.' 

Draco, shivering suddenly, pulled the covers back over them, and held Harry tightly.

'It's Friday?'

'Yes.'

'I've been in a coma?'

'Yes.'

'Hermione worked it out?'

'Yes.'

'Well, at least that bit makes sense.'

'It all makes sense, dummy.  And when they find out you are awake, they are all going to be so happy.  Everyone's been so worried.  Sirius - really nice guy by the way, your godfather - he'll be made up.'

'You've been talking to Sirius?'  

'Yes.  He's nice.'

'I know he's nice.  He's my godfather.  Did you know that?'

'I just said I knew that.  Blimey Potter, keep up.'

'I can't keep up.  What you said makes no sense.  I can't have slept for five days, you git.  Your brain's distressed.'

'My brain has been distressed, you bastard, I can't even begin to tell you how much.  OK, have it your way.  But boy are you going to be proved wrong!  Quite soon, I would imagine.  What's the time?  Dumbledore usually comes in about seven.  Tempus.'

The Snitch-clock informed him politely that it was twenty past six.

'Hey!' cried Harry.  'That clock is enchanted so only I can use it!  How did you do that?'

'Potter, we have a great deal to talk about.  I have about a hundred things to tell you, and we have many disagreements and tears in front of us.  The clock is about as far down the list as it is possible to get.  Now, just concentrate hard on what I am saying: YOU HAVE BEEN ASLEEP FOR FIVE DAYS!!!  That is a fact.  In that time they've all been worried, but none of them as much as me.  Potter, do you get all this?  I have been here next to you for five days.  And on that note, you bloody need a shower.  And Weasley dug out some fresh pyjamas for you.  Nice to see they're as stylish as these groovy babies.  So, a shower, some clean PJs, and you must be mighty hungry.  I didn't know chicken-and-ham pie was your favourite, so I tried to eat enough for both of us.  That sounds very very soppy now I have voiced it aloud.  I am sure Dumbledore will let you have whatever you want.  He let me, and I had chicken-and-ham pie, because Granger told me it was your favourite.'

'Malfoy, are you on drugs?'

'No!  You're not listening.'

'Well, you're not explaining!  Have you really been here in bed with me all that time?'

'Yes,' Draco blushed.  'I just couldn't leave, sorry, it was so awful, the only way I felt better was to be right next to you.  I'm sorry.  Are you upset?'

'Yes,' said Harry, slowly.  'I'm upset that I wasn't awake to enjoy it.  I would like to have known what that was like.'

'Well, you're awake now. And I'm here. Are you enjoying it?'

'Yes.'

'Well, that's what it's been like.  Except for five days.  And with the most enormous dose of frantic worry.  They were all worrying, even though not all of them showed it.  But I can stop worrying now--' 

'Who is this "they all"?'

'Me.  Sirius.  Dumbledore.  McGonagall.  Snape.  Pomfrey.  Granger.  And me.'

'Ha! A regular conspiracy.  You said me twice.'

'I was worrying twice as much.  I should have said me twenty times.  A hundred times.'

'Snape was worried?  Come off it.  And why Hermione but not Ron?'

'Snape was worried. Believe me.  Especially when he thought there might have been something wrong with the potion he made.'

'What about Ron?'

'What about him?  Did I mention that I was worried?'

'Yes, you mentioned it about a hundred times I believe.  What about Ron?'

'He's not in the Inner Circle, it seems.  The only visitors have been Sirius, staff and Granger.  Dumbledore's had her researching stuff about comas in the library.'

'She would have been excellent at that.'

'Apparently she was. Sorted it all out. Even missed lessons to do it.'

'Good on her.  But what about Ron?  He would have helped her I am sure.'

'Potter, it's secret.  You and I being here is secret.  The Inner Circle is small.  The rest of the school think we're suffering from sleeping sickness.  Weasley is not in on this one, Potter.  Dumbledore's decision.' 

'Oh.  How cloak-and-dagger.  Sleeping sickness?  What are we suffering from?'

'That, as I said to you earlier in the week, is tomorrow's task.'

'Oh.  Yes.  You said that about five hours ago.'  

'No, five days ago, you cretin.  Haven't you listened to anything?'

'How worried were you again?' asked Harry coyly.

'Potter, don't make me say it again.  Anyway, I've stopped worrying now.  Well, worrying about that, about the coma.  I have loads of other things to worry about.' Draco turned rather quiet.  'Like...whether you can ever really like me or not.'

'Ha!  You're worried about that?  Bit late now you've just been in bed with me for five days.'  Harry was grinning again.  'Jesus, five days, I still don't believe you!  Let's call Madam Pomfrey, she'll be able to sort this out.'

'No!'

'Ha!  She'll expose your Inner Circles and sleeping sicknesses and clever pyjama switches and chicken-and-ham pies. Five days!  Come on, let's call her.'

'No!'

'Why not?'

'Because, Potter you moron, because I want to have you to myself for a little while,' said Draco softly.

Harry smiled.  'Well, you've got me.  God only knows how it happened, but I appear to be in bed with you.  And I am surprisingly sort of enjoying it, as we established earlier.  So that would seem to count as having me to yourself.  What do you suggest happens now?' 

'Potter, you insufferable git, come here.'

Draco hugged him hard, breathing deeply.  Harry could feel a mountain of tension flooding away from him.  He felt so comfortable there in that warm safe hug with Malfoy, and he instinctively hugged him back.  Something close to genuine relaxation filled the room. 

'Don't go away again,' said Draco into Harry's neck.

'I'm not going anywhere, ever.'

They parted and lay still in the bed, aware of each other's breathing, sensing each other's comfort.

It was twenty glorious minutes before Dumbledore arrived for his usual brief visit, and in that time Harry and Draco lay quietly together under the covers of Harry's bed, talking a little more, but not much.  There was such genuine happiness in the small room that Harry kept smiling and laughing to himself, and then thinking Bloody Hell!  Malfoy! 

Draco himself was increasingly more sober.  After the initial thrill of seeing Harry awake, he was beginning to feel weighed down by the task in front of them, but found Harry's mood infectious all the same.  As the minutes ticked by, Draco was torn between trying to enjoy the moment and worrying about what was to come.  And seeing as he had made no issue about being in Harry's bed all week in front of the whole Inner Circle, why was he suddenly feeling that their current situation was too intimate to be seen by the others? 

Because, he supposed, before, he knew they all shared his concern, so it wasn't as personal to him, but now, they had no part of this thing between him and Potter, so he didn't feel they had a right to see this closeness.  Even Dumbledore.  In fact especially Dumbledore.  He sat up suddenly, drawing his knees up close and leaning uncomfortably against the head of the bed.  Harry was surprised. 

'What's the matter?' he asked.

'I don't know really,' said Draco.  'It's just...Dumbledore's going to be here any minute.'

'So what?  Dumbledore put us here.'

'Yes I know.  But did he put us here so we can do...this?'

'I don't know.  You tell me.  Why did he put us here?' 

Draco was silent.

'And anyway, why are you suddenly embarrassed, if you've been in this bed for five days? I'm not embarrassed.'

'Aren't you?' said Draco slowly, looking at Harry hopefully.

Harry shook his head, smiling warmly.

'Potter...' began Draco, very tentatively. 'Do you really not know why we are here?'

'Well...' breathed Harry slowly.

The door opened, and Dumbledore entered.

For a man who, despite eccentricity, always seemed totally in control of even the weightiest situations, his reaction on seeing Harry awake was striking.

'Harry!' he cried.  'How terrific! Gosh, all awake and smiling!'

Among the Inner Circle, as Draco had called it, news spread fast once it was discovered that Harry had woken.  Over the next couple of hours each member of the group called by briefly, and they all looked relieved to various degrees ranging from Snape's brusqueness through Sirius's warmth to Hermione's squeal. And when Madam Pomfrey left them for the night with some more food and, surprisingly, some more sleeping potion, Harry felt disoriented, as if he'd been overtaken by events. 

'Everybody I have seen since I woke up,' he said to Draco, 'has known something that I haven't.  Including you.  Especially you.'

'Potter...' said Draco, feeling tired again, and bashing the pillow in the same way that a dog circles its bed before sleep, 'that's tomorrow's task.'