Unthinkable Thoughts

CHAPTER TWELVE

~

TOMORROW'S TASK

The next morning, Saturday, Draco experienced a weird additional restlessness mixed up with the usual discomfort of rising from enchanted sleep: Harry was going through it as well. What's more, the unease of both of them combined seemed to be more than twice as bad as Draco was (sort of) used to.

They were entwined in their most intimate position yet, a tangle of limbs and mild nausea.

'Eurghhh,' moaned Harry from somewhere near Draco's neck.

'Awful, isn't it,' muttered Draco, grimacing as his head and insides forced themselves through some sluggish internal gymnastics.

'You can say that again,' croaked Harry, his throat dry, his body unnaturally warm.

'Awful, isn't it,' repeated Draco.

Harry punched him half-heartedly in the ribs, a movement which required more effort than he would have expected, as his arm was crushed under Draco's body. Draco managed a tiny snigger.

The two of them drifted gradually into full consciousness.

'Tempus,' Harry whispered about five minutes later, once the nausea had passed.

The Snitch-clock informed him politely that it was almost 6am.

There was another pause, and then Harry said, 'Well, Malfoy, it's tomorrow now. I think we have some talking to do.'

'All in good time, Potter,' Draco replied. 'How about a shower and some breakfast first? Pomfrey managed to rustle up some bacon yesterday, how do you feel about that?'

'Bacon? Er...I'm not sure if I want...we had a huge meal just last night...'

'It was not a huge meal. It was some boiled eggs, and you finished precisely half an egg and no toast. Come on Potter, you can't do this not eating forever. You're painfully thin anyway, and I don't--'

'Are you nagging me?' asked Harry, his eyes wide in a surprised smile.

Draco looked at him, slightly sheepishly. 'Well, if I don't, who will?'

'Ha! That's an easy one, Malfoy,' laughed Harry. 'Ron. Hermione. Sirius. Mrs Weasley. You want me to add your name to that list?'

'No! Definitely not. I don't want to be on any list with two, maybe more, Weasleys. Eat what you want, Potter. I will have some bacon though. Probably in a sandwich. Don't whine when you see how good it looks.'

They laughed a bit more and fell back into their previous tangle, their bodies as closely mixed up as they could get. Suddenly Harry felt decidedly uneasy, and oh my God...no! He was becoming aroused. Incredibly, unmissably, rigidly aroused. The nearness of Malfoy's delicious body was having that effect on him. He broke away from the hug in a panic.

Draco looked at him in amusement.

'What?' said Harry, edgily.

'Can't fool me, Potter,' he grinned.

'What do you mean?' blurted Harry quickly.

'Well, you're forgetting. I can feel these things in my head. To say nothing of jammed against my leg.'

Harry blushed crimson, but Draco laughed. Harry felt warmed that Draco was so comfortable with what had happened.

'And I'm guessing it's not the thought of the bacon that's got you so steamed up,' he added, smiling.

They both stared at each other and burst out laughing, Harry seemingly losing his self-consciousness in an instant. Then the laughing stopped and Harry felt the mood swing abruptly to the left. Harry could feel Draco's intention in his own head.

Draco leaned over and kissed Harry on the forehead. Then on the nose, then on each cheek. His lips were as soft as feathers. Harry trembled, and then their mouths met, and the whole world seemed to stop. And this time, it wasn't one kissing the other, but a natural union of both of them.

It was wonderful.

'You,' stated Draco breathlessly, breaking away, '...bloody need a shower.'

'Malfoy, I...' began Harry.

'Shhhh. Shhh-shower. Now. Then food. Then we will talk, I promise.'

Harry smiled shyly and said, 'OK, Malfoy, it's a good plan,' and then rose and disappeared into the bathroom.

Draco got out of bed and turned to the window, but as it was so early in the morning it was too dark to make out whether there had been any fresh snow overnight. Staring at the shadowy nothingness of pre-dawn, he heard the water begin to run in the bathroom, and then his thoughts began to wander. This was going to be the make-or-break day. It was going to have to be handled very very sensitively and he was naturally nervous, but he was sort of looking forward to it as well. Here's where we lay the foundations, he thought. This day has got be...right.

The view was still nothing and the water was still running. His mind wandered back to what had been niggling him for a couple of days now. Sirius had said there was nothing left. Why did Draco feel deep in his guts that this was not so? How could it possibly be that he might know something that Sirius did not? And if he did know something, what on earth was it? Blast. This frustration was not exactly welcome considering everything else that was still to be tackled.

He sighed deeply, and tried to shake off the irritation by concerning himself with something totally mundane. Hell, it was probably nothing. Hearing once again the dull hiss from the water in the bathroom, his thoughts turned to Harry, and he busied himself clearing the table so that he and Harry could have some breakfast when he got out of the shower. Madam Pomfrey always seemed to know within a few minutes when the effect of the sleeping potion had worn off, and no doubt she would be in within moments hassling them about eating. Leaving Harry's clean pyjamas where they were, he picked half a dozen objects and moved them to the spare bed: some parchment and quills, a bag of Hedwig's owl treats, a library book on Transfiguration and their wands.

And then he stared.

Of course! The recognition became a memory, and the memory linked itself to several other thoughts in quick succession. Of course! That book.

As he thought about that day years before, the drumming of the water from the shower seemed louder. And then the moment was gone, as Madam Pomfrey opened the door and entered, followed closely by Sirius.

'Where's Harry?' he asked, alarmed at not being able to see his godson.

'In the shower,' smiled Draco. 'At last.'

Sirius looked relieved, and Draco warmed further to him.

'So...to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit...' enquired Draco, in mock annoyance, '...so early?'

Madam Pomfrey looked like she has already tried to ask Sirius the same question. 'Well, I'm here...so early,' she mimicked, 'to see how you slept. But as for Mr Black, I have no idea.'

'I just couldn't stay away,' said Sirius, grinning.

'I slept well, thanks, and so did Potter. At least as well as you ever can sleep with the aid of a potion. And I also have something of an appetite, and I think I have convinced Potter of the same.'

'Good. I'll see what the kitchens can do,' she said, and left.

'Sirius,' began Draco, sounding rather puzzled. 'You know what I said yesterday about not remembering something? There's a book.'

'Er...sorry?' said Sirius, slightly bemused.

'There's a book. In the library at home. I've been trying to remember something for the last couple of days, ever since you told me the story of how...of you know, the night when Potter was a baby, and the house...well, it rang some kind of bell in my head.'

'Draco, you're not making any sense. What book?'

'I just remembered. When I was little I used to go and sit with my father in his library. He used to tell me about a different book each time. I suppose that's when my education began. There were magical textbooks, history books, and, well, some others too.'

Sirius did not push the point. What Lucius Malfoy might keep in his library didn't really bear thinking about.

'And then there was this one particular book', continued Draco, half-smiling at the memory. 'I must have been eight or nine years old. And my father told me that this was a very special book indeed, because some books could hold more than words. They could hold thoughts and feelings and memories. And this book, he said, held memories of a magical baby boy. I thought he meant me. But it wasn't me. The pictures were not of anyone I knew. The words came from voices I had never heard. It was obviously...a different magical baby.'

'Do you mean...?'

'I don't know. I never thought about it again. Maybe--'

'Happier now?!' trilled Harry as he came out of the bathroom, utterly naked, despite a towel he was trying (and failing) to secure round his thin waist. 'I'm completely clean and fresh as a baby and, oh shit, Sirius! Er, hello.'

Harry gave up on the towel in his haste to cover himself up and grabbed the clean pyjamas. He tried to jump into them as quickly as possible but in his rush his leg got caught and he went hopping clumsily towards the bed considerably more out of the pyjamas than in them. He landed on the bed in a heap of nudity that was far from elegant.

Draco was highly amused, but Harry was mortified. Harry's intense discomfort at being caught naked made a powerful and immediate presence in Draco's head. Not just naked either, but naked in a way that he obviously intended to be fine in front of Draco but which was way beyond embarrassing in front of his godfather. He went quickly to where Harry, whose blush was so angry it looked like he'd been scalded, was struggling with the pyjama trousers tied in some kind of knot around his ankles. Draco speedily and effortlessly helped him to a state of decency.

Then with Harry sat tidily on the edge of the bed, Draco placed his hands on Harry's shoulders and said quietly and warmly, 'steady on, old boy.'

They exchanged grins.

'Er, I think I'm intruding,' said Sirius. 'So I think I'll go.'

Neither Harry nor Draco heard him speak, or leave the room.

***

It was not going badly, but it was not exactly going well either.

Breakfast lay in a cold, congealed mess on a plate next to their bed, as Madam Pomfrey had optimistically provided them with enough bacon for a dozen people. If only the bacon itself had a way of making this easier, they would have been laughing. But there was no laughing, not yet anyway.

'So...' said Harry, 'our magic's got mixed up together?'

'Er, in a way, yes.'

'Why exactly? That's the bit I don't understand. And go over that bit about the fauns again.'

'Potter! Have you been listening? I have tried to explain it hundreds of different ways. But if you refuse to accept what this is all about, this is going to get very very difficult, not to say painful.'

Harry looked hurt and turned away from Draco. His world, so newly sort of patched back together, was falling apart again. Was this warmth between them not due to anything other than a crazy side-effect of having innate magic? Was it not actually real?

'OK, Potter, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. Let's start again; very slowly. I know this is a lot to take in. When two people with innate magic meet for the first time, there is the possibility that...'

***

It was nearly lunchtime. The mood in their little kingdom had been rocketing around all morning, and Draco was beginning to wonder if it was all simply going to be too much for Harry to take in. After all, he was still rather vulnerable.

'So let me get this straight,' summarised Harry. 'A long time ago, on my first full day of consciously being a wizard, I met you in a shop.'

'What do you mean, consciously being a wizard? Haven't you always been one? You must certainly have been one when, as a baby...'

'Yes, but I don't remember that. When I went to London with Hagrid that day, I'd only found out I was a wizard the night before, when I got my letter. But that's another story. We're way off the point and I was going--'

'You only found out when you got your letter?' Draco was astonished. 'Nothing at all before? No brooms, wands, Quidditch, nothing?'

'No!' Harry was getting irritated again. 'Now it's you who's not listening! I only found out the day before! My aunt and uncle had hidden it from me, hoping I would never get the letter, so that they would never have to acknowledge what I was, what I am. They told me my parents had died in a car crash, that I got the scar from the same crash.'

'They did what?!' exploded Draco.

'You heard me. Dumbledore knew the letters weren't getting to me - my uncle was destroying them - and he sent Hagrid to sort it out. The next day Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley to buy my Hogwarts stuff. It was all amazingly new, overwhelming. And I met you in that robe shop. Hagrid was the first member of the magical community that I ever met. Apart from a few casual hellos, you were the second.'

'I can't believe your aunt and uncle did that! You're...you're Harry Potter! Famous and everything. And you knew nothing about it? How come I don't know this?'

'Malfoy, shut up interrupting will you? This is difficult enough as it is without you getting bogged down with boring past history.'

'But Potter, your past now affects me, greatly. I need to know this kind of stuff. I'll never truly know you otherwise.'

'Malfoy,' Harry was choking with frustration, 'my past history affects you? What about yours? What about your father? Do I need to know about your shameful background too? Do I even want to know?'

It was too difficult to continue. Draco paced the room while Harry fumed on the bed, and another impasse was reached.

***

The arrival of some hot soup and bread at lunchtime had temporarily eased the situation. But only marginally.

'So,' began Harry again, trying to state conclusions. 'A long time ago, I met you in a shop. Details of that meeting, like for example how you called Hagrid some kind of servant or something, are for the moment irrelevant--'

'Don't mention them then, if they're irrelevant,' snapped Draco.

'And in that moment,' said Harry, ignoring him, 'we fell in love? At eleven years old? I hardly think that's credible. I am sure--'

'Potter, listen. Not in that moment, no. Nor in any other specific moment. But in the shop that day a connection was made. We'll probably never know why. Maybe because you were more susceptible to new things on that day than you had ever been. Maybe because I had never really had any friends. Or maybe because I was simply the first person of your own age you met in your new world. But whatever, a connection was made. And since that day, the love has grown a little at a time, a tiny bit more each day, like stacking up bricks until we had a castle. Until in fact, we reach a stage where you can be comfortable being naked in front of me, and where I can't bear it if we don't sleep in the same bed, and where we can kiss, Potter, like our very lives depend on it.'

Harry looked at him incredulously.

'And they may very well depend on it, in fact,' added Draco casually.

'But that doesn't make any sense! I hated you until last week. I haven't been stacking "love bricks" anywhere. This is crazy, Malfoy!'

'The connection was made that day,' insisted Draco. 'On that day, we both took our first step on the path that leads to where we are now. But...there were complications.'

'What complications?'

'Well, loads; thousands probably. But they all stem from the first, critical complication.'

'Which was what?'

'Weasley.'

'Leave Ron out of this.'

'I can't. You wanted to know. You've got to know. The next time we met, on the train, I offered you my hand. You refused it, because of Weasley.'

'Of course I did. You insulted him outrageously. And have done countless times since.'

Draco softened a little, sighing slightly.

'Potter, we're going to have to split this conversation into two bits. The first is this one: the facts, and getting our heads round them. The second will have to be dealing with all the shit that comes out of the first bit, but which we can't look at now, or we will never ever get to the fucking end. I'm sorry about Weasley. I truly am. And I'm going to owe you more apologies than that before the end of the day. But just try to put aside the ill-feeling for now. Please.'

'OK,' grunted Harry, after a while.

'Good. Now. On that day, you refused my hand. And somehow, because of that refusal - I don't quite know how, and Granger's still trying to understand it I think - the emotional intensity between us increased as hate instead of, well, instead of love. But it increased all the same...'

***

'That bloody faun! You mean, we've got Dixter to thank for this mess?'

'POTTER! You have understood NOTHING! The fauns did NOT cause this! They merely brought our attention to it. Well, my attention. You were so blind you just went off on a six-week moody because you didn't understand what was going on. Try to understand NOW, please, I'm begging you! God, you've no idea what this has been like for me! Watching you night after night creeping closer to the edge of despair, wondering how on earth I was going to tell you! And your bloody friends! They were frantic. Weasley was distraught. Granger had it all worked out of course. She--'

'Hermione knew?'

'Yes of course she bloody knew. And in your heart of hearts you know she knew. She came to me with Weasley to call a truce for your sake, trying to make it easier for you to come to terms with it. You don't know how fucking lucky you are having friends like that. How on earth could you have put them through all that pain? Have you any idea what--'

'Hermione knows everything? And Ron?' For the second time in his life, Harry was fighting a losing battle against tears.

'Yes. And all your other mates from the Tower. And all the Inner Circle of staff, and Sirius. And me. All of us frantically worried about you. And what did you do? You cut everyone out and try to be valiant and self-sufficient. Typical bloody Gryffindor.'

'Hermione and Ron came to talk to you, because of me?' Harry's voice was small, almost terrified. 'They did that for me?'

'They love you, you tit. Even in the face of startlingly shoddy behaviour from you. Everyone cares about you, moron. Most of all me.'

Such an awful realisation, that he'd thought they would hate him, but they had actually become even more like a family than he could ever have hoped, made him feel both indecently blessed and wracked with guilt. The combination was too much, and tears began to leak silently from his eyes. Draco stopped talking, and, unable to stop himself, pulled Harry toward him. They sat for a long while, Harry sobbing into Draco's chest, and Draco rubbing Harry's back softly and murmuring gentle nothings into his neck.

***

Harry was edgy now. The range of emotions he'd been through that afternoon was too much for anyone, especially someone still as vulnerable as Harry was. He paced the room incessantly, pausing by the window every few steps to watch the dusk settle over the snowy world outside. Draco watched him from the bed, eyes never leaving him, trying to work out exactly what Harry's state of mind was now.

Suddenly Harry grabbed a quill and a small piece of parchment, and scribbled something in double quick time. He nuzzled Hedwig for about one second and then despatched her with the note.

'What was that all about?' asked Draco.

'Nothing,' muttered Harry quickly.

'Have it your way then,' sniffed Draco.

Harry paced for a long while more, and then stopped and said quickly, 'so it's not unnatural then? It's not caused by magic, or fauns; it's not a disease or a sickness; it's just, real emotions? And what I'm feeling, what I've been feeling increasingly for weeks now, about you, that's real? It's true, and decent, and I've not been tricked into it, or anything? And all the pain I've felt, it's because I haven't dared face up to the fact that I might' - gulp - 'like you?'

Draco smiled.

'Bingo. We have a winner! And it's the same for me. But the one difference is, Potter, that I am not afraid to say the word love.'

Harry's shoulders sagged, and Draco thought for a second that Harry might be about to collapse. He jumped up and steadied him, and held him close in the middle of the room.

'Potter', he whispered. 'You're exhausted. And I am too. Let's get some potion, and sleep for a while'.

He laid Harry down in the bed, and then ventured out onto the main ward to find Madam Pomfrey, who nearly had a fit at him for the effect his sudden appearance had on a group of Ravenclaws who were being treated for Quidditch injuries. He asked for two goblets of five-hour deep sleeping draught, and, refusing food, retreated back to the little room.

'Blimey', said Draco, as he snuggled up next to Harry. 'It was Slytherin v Ravenclaw this afternoon. I wonder who won? I wonder who we used as Seeker?'

'No idea. You know something else weird? Apart from Sirius, we've had no visitors today.'

'I think that was probably deliberate. Give us a chance to talk and such. You know.'

Madam Pomfrey entered with the smoky potion, and set them down. She tried briefly - without success - to get them to eat something, then left.

'Come on Potter, down in one, and let Morphia be our companion.'

'I think she'd probably feel like she were intruding, don't you?' grinned Harry, as they settled down again into each other's familiar warmth.

***

'It's Hedwig!' cried Ron at supper that night.

Hedwig glided to Ron's shoulder and stuck out her leg to deliver the slip of parchment. Ron took the note and began to feed the elegant snowy some of his dinner: cold beef and potatoes.

'Ron!' said Hermione sharply. 'Don't feed animals at the table, it's gross.'

Seamus and Dean ooohed dramatically at this rebuke. Hermione pursed her lips. Ron didn't notice.

'It's not an animal, it's Hedwig,' stated Ron, reading Harry's words intently.

'Is it from Harry?' asked Hermione, her manner softened again.

'Yes. He wants the cloak. Tonight. I'll take it to him after midnight when the castle is quiet.'

'Ron! You can't! McGonagall said dire consequences if anyone snuck in there before tomorrow evening!'

'I don't care. Harry wants the cloak, and he's asked me for it. I'm going to take it to him.'

'Ron you're so stubborn...sometimes I think--'

'I don't care what you think, not this time, Herm. I'm going to take the cloak to Harry. So live with it.'

'OK. Well. I'm coming with you then. You're not going to risk anything without me.'

Seamus, Dean, Neville and Ginny all ahhh!-ed at this moment between them.

'Oh! So...cute!' cooed Ginny.

'Shut up, Gin', said Ron, blushing.

'Or what?' demanded Ginny.

'Or, I'll tell everyone what I saw you and Seamus up to last night.'

'And what exactly do you think you saw, Ron?'

'You really want me to say in front of everyone?'

'Er...no,' said Ginny, blushing as much as Ron.

Ron and Ginny resumed eating to the accompaniment of more sarcastic ooohs from around the table.

***

Harry woke up not far off midnight that night, with the same uncomfortable feelings he'd had that morning. Draco was still in enchanted sleep: there was an emptiness in Draco's head that he'd not felt before. But that is not to say that Harry was not aware of Draco's presence. Their legs were completely entwined, and their arms were all mixed up under and around each other's bodies. Draco's (empty) head was lodged somewhere in Harry's left armpit, and though there were no thoughts to connect them, each shallow exhalation from Draco seemed to be in synchrony with his own relaxed heartbeat.

This is what it must have been like for Malfoy for five whole days, thought Harry. He wanted to hold Draco even closer, but that was not possible, so he just kissed his hair lightly instead. Who would ever have thought that Malfoy would have been so warm, he thought. But that was the least surprising thing about the last couple of days.

Curiously (or was it curious?) it wasn't whatever was going on with Malfoy that was on his mind the most. It was Ron and Hermione. The thought of what he had done to them just made him cringe in guilty disgrace. Doubting Ron and Hermione was something you just never did. Their loyalty was unshakeable. Thinking of the time Ron had begged him to tell what the matter was, tears streaming down his face, Harry felt another wave of shame wash over him. He didn't deserve them. Just give me a chance, thought Harry, and I'll make it up to him...to both of them. Properly.

Draco's head remained empty. Harry, still uncomfortable with his guilt concerning Ron and Hermione, suddenly felt undeserving of Draco as well, and he gently untangled himself from Draco's embrace and got out of bed.

With a little bit of luck, thought Harry, Ron might get here before Malfoy wakes. I seem to have only been asleep for four hours, which might well mean that he will sleep for another hour, perhaps longer. But despite the enormity of the situation with Draco, and the nauseating sense of shame he felt for other reasons, Harry wanted to stop living all that for a while. He wanted to get outside. A nocturnal walk: to digest all he'd heard that day. It was the only way. He would sit by the lake, and think. So much needed thinking about...

He was getting itchy now. Come on, Ron, he thought. What time had he written in the note? Had he put a time at all? It must be past midnight now. Ron wouldn't leave it too late; he would want to get his usual ten hours' sleep in somehow. Ten hours! That was luxury Harry couldn't imagine.

Harry paced the room, and then decided to dress quickly. As he shed his pyjamas and scrambled into his jeans and a sweater, he felt like he had energy again. He looked out of the window: good, he thought, in fact, fantastic. A clear moonlit night, the soft light glinting on the fields of snow. Just like the night...

He looked over at Draco, whose hair, in the dim gloom of the room, seemed to glow like the snow outside. That night in the rose garden...how amazing to think of it now. Their lives had changed, forever, in that one moment. That one kiss. Nothing would ever be the same again. But would it be better, or worse? Better, prayed Harry. Although, had he any right to hope for something even better than the love that Ron and Hermione had given him unconditionally for years? And which they still gave, even now, after he had treated them so badly?

Harry went back to the bed and sat down next to Draco. Was his whole future really wrapped up with this sleeping angel? This son of a Death Eater, his enemy for four years? I hope so, thought Harry. He gently ran his hand over Draco's cheek. Maybe it was luck, maybe it was fate, maybe it was Harry's presence, but at that moment Harry felt Draco pass from enchanted sleep into an uneasy natural slumber. He moved agitatedly, turning several times, unconsciously reaching out to find Harry.

'I'm here,' whispered Harry, as he touched Draco's shoulder.

Draco opened his eyes and smiled. Harry looked in on his thoughts at the very moment Draco emerged into wakefulness.

'Hello, Malfoy,' said Harry.

'Hello, Potter. I was worried. You weren't here.'

'You were asleep. How can you have been worried?' smiled Harry.

'I don't know,' replied Draco shyly. 'Because I can feel where you are all the time, I guess. Wherever you are, even if I'm asleep.' Draco suddenly looked upset.

'What is it?' asked Harry gently.

'I...er...'

'What?'

'Nothing.'

'What is it? Come on Malfoy, I'm not going to be upset.'

'It's just...I'm a bit frightened by all this. How am I ever going to cope when we leave here? I get uneasy if you're even outside touching distance. That's...not healthy, is it?'

'Shhh.' Harry hugged him as he sat up, brushing his lips against Draco's neck. 'Shhh. Everything is going to be fine.'

'How?'

'It just is. It's meant to be. The Crimson Cloud, remember? We'll find a way.'

'You really mean that?'

'Yes.'

'Even though...even after all the things I've done?'

'Yes.'

'And...'

'And what?'

'All the things my father's done?' finished Draco, almost inaudibly.

'Malfoy, one step at a time. That's tomorrow's task.'

Draco smiled. 'Hey. That's my line, Potter.'

'Not any more, it seems.'

They hugged for a little while longer, then parted. Draco's eyes had now adjusted to the lack of light.

'Why are you dressed?' he asked, concerned.

'Er...'

'What are you doing? Are you going out?' There was mounting urgency in Draco's voice.

'Hey! Calm down! I'm not running away. I just wanted a walk, that's all.'

'You can't! You--'

But Draco's voice died suddenly as the door opened.

Then closed again.

'What the hell was that?' wondered Draco.

But Harry knew. He bounded over to the door, flaying his arms wide, giggling.

'Ron!' he laughed, as his arm connected with a Ron-sized lump standing in front of the door. He was eager to see his friend again.

'Ta-daah!' cried Ron dramatically, flinging the cloak off.

'Lumos!' intoned Hermione, brandishing her wand.

'And Hermione!' Harry laughed. 'Wow! It's so good to see you both!' He hugged them both in turn, Draco temporarily forgotten.

'How are you, Harry?' asked Hermione warmly.

'Great, thanks. Sleepy of course. And you! I can't believe you're here! Did you sneak here all the way under the cloak together?'

'Herm insisted on coming,' laughed Ron. 'Wouldn't let me out alone! Good thing too, as I was being so hasty, we practically walked into Filch. Harry! You look so much better! You're even laughing!'

'Yeah, I feel a lot better,' answered Harry. 'Today's been a difficult but good day. Ron, I have so much I need to say to you.'

'It can wait, Harry,' said Ron, kindly. 'There's no rush.'

'How are things going then?' asked Hermione warmly. 'Eating well? You look more relaxed than you have for ages, that's for sure.'

'Well, not much eating, to be honest, but lots of sleep, yeah.'

'That's an understatement,' said Draco.

Ron and Hermione swung round, noticing Draco for the first time.

'Hello Granger, Weasley', he said, genuinely pleasantly. Harry recognised Draco's efforts at civility, and felt another rush of affection for him.

'Oh>, hello Malfoy,' sniffed Ron. 'I'd hoped you would be asleep.'

Draco did not react.

'Well, I'm not,' he replied, without malice. 'I'm sorry to disappoint you, Weasley.'

'Blimey. Malfoy issues an apology. Your presence must be doing some good, Harry,'

'Ron,' urged Harry, 'drop it. There's no problem here.'

'His presence is doing the world of good, Weasley,' said Draco simply. 'I envy you for having enjoyed it all these years.'

Ron was speechless.

'What is this anyway?' asked Draco. 'Is this what you used that time at the Shrieking Shack? An Invisibility Cloak? Wow!'

'Cool, isn't it?' said Harry. 'It was my dad's. It's...the only thing I have of his.'

'Then...it must be very precious to you?'

'Yes,' said Harry softly.

Ron and Hermione suddenly felt awkward. Hermione tried to lighten the mood slightly.

'What do you want it for, anyway, Harry?' she asked.

'Er...I need some fresh air. I must get out for a little while, you know, lots of thinking to do. And I needed the cloak, because, well, I can't really let Dumbledore down by getting caught, can I?'

'Oh,' said Hermione.

'What's the problem, Herm? Please don't tell me what I can and can't do. I am going out. Final.'

'It's not that - it's Filch. We can't go back without it. We'll have to wait till you return.'

Draco was alarmed. 'Potter? Are you really going out?'

'Yes,' Harry answered quickly.

Draco didn't know what to do. In the end he decided he didn't care what Ron and Hermione thought. 'Please don't go,' he begged, softly. 'Please don't leave me here.'

Ron snorted. 'We won't bite, Malfoy.'

'It's nothing to do with you!' snapped Draco, then immediately regretted his harsh tone. 'Potter, I couldn't, I can't...if you're not here...'

Harry nearly kissed him in front of his friends, but just stopped himself.

'Don't be worried, Malfoy', he soothed. 'You're coming too.' He'd not planned on taking Draco with him - indeed, that kind of defeated the whole reason for going - but he just couldn't leave him.

Draco smiled in relief.

Harry melted.

'Come on,' he urged, 'get some clothes on. Let's go.'

'Turn your backs, you two?' requested Draco, unbuttoning his pyjama top.

'Why doesn't Harry have to turn his back?' whispered Ron to Hermione.

'Shhh!' hissed Hermione, digging him in the ribs.

'You sure you two don't mind waiting here?' asked Harry. 'I'm sorry to go out so soon, I know we've got loads to talk about, but, you know, I've just got to get out.'

'S'OK, Harry,' said Hermione. 'Don't worry about us. Just don't be hours.'

'I promise. Just some real air and some time outside.'

And then he and Draco donned their black winter cloaks. Ron winced as he saw Harry slip his arm round Draco's waist to pull them closer together, and then with one big swirl of the invisibility cloak they were gone.

'Well,' Ron sighed. 'What do we do now?'

***

As Draco and Harry sat in the rose garden some time later, the resonance with their previous time out at night was almost tangible. That night, as well as this, Harry had intended to go to the lake, but settled for the rose garden. Also the weather was practically a carbon copy. And they sat on the same bench, just as closely.

But the conversation had distinctly more direction. Or, at least, more energy.

'...but I don't understand how you can make it this easy', persisted Draco. 'I have done so many things.'

'Malfoy, this is supposed to be tomorrow's task'.

'It is tomorrow. It's well after midnight. We're going to do this now; if not I'm going to burst with anxiety. I tried to get you expelled in our first week...'

'But I didn't get expelled--'

'I faked the injury from the Hippogriff and engineered his execution...'

'But he escaped--'

'I tried to get Hagrid sacked...'

'But he kept his job--'

'I betrayed you to Rita Skeeter...'

'But we got the better of her in the end--'

'I pretended to be a Dementor to get you to faint on your broom!'

'But I didn't fall! And I forgive you!'

'I have made your life hell in so many ways! I tricked you by not turning up for that duel...'

'I forgive you!'

'I sabotaged your work in Potions!'

'I forgive you!'

'And I made those awful POTTER STINKS badges!' wailed Draco.

'I forgive you, Malfoy!'

'How can you forgive me so easily?'

'Malfoy, stop, please! This was supposed to be a quiet time away from that room. All we've done is brought the room outside!'

'You're too good, Potter. This is supposed to be difficult! How can you forgive me for abusing Weasley and Granger for so many years? Or what about...'

***

'Do you remember, Albus, the day of James and Lily's wedding?' Sirius asked, as he sat chatting with the Headmaster late that night.

'Of course,' smiled Dumbledore. 'A happy day in the midst of so much darkness. You, I recall, were rather the worse for drink. As was Remus.'

'As were you,' grinned Sirius. 'You and Minerva dancing the fandango has remained for me one of the most extraordinary memories a man could have.'

Dumbledore smiled. 'Yes. Well, I was a bit younger then, Sirius. And Minerva was quite the showgirl.'

They reflected for a while.

'Why do you bring that up now, Sirius?'

'Well, it may be nothing. But something Draco said to me this morning has got me thinking, and I want to ask you, in case I've remembered wrongly, what did you buy them as a wedding present?'

'Ah, yes,' remembered Dumbledore, and became sad. 'How poignant that seems now. A scrap-book. Well, it was intended as an album of some kind, I don't know what they used it as, if they ever got to use it at all. Just a small blue book with blank pages that I had, er...well, you know, enhanced with a little charm of my own, enabling them to record whatever they wanted just by leaving the book open on a new page each time, a little like a Pensieve I suppose.'

'Yes,' Sirius sighed, 'that's what I remember too. A much better present than the case of champagne that I bought them. Which I think they only had one bottle of before...' he trailed off. 'We had that bottle at Harry's christening,' he finished, finding the recollection too painful to look at directly.

Sirius had had so many years to think over memories of James and Lily, but even so they were still as difficult to consider now as they were at the time. He tried to snap himself out of it.

'They did use your scrap-book,' he affirmed. 'I remember it at Harry's Christening, and on other times we met for dinner, picnics, Quidditch matches, anything really. And I hadn't recalled it at all, until today, when Draco said something.'

Dumbledore said nothing, allowing Sirius to piece together whatever it was he was trying to say.

'He remembers a book from the library at Malfoy Manor,' continued Sirius, 'containing what he called memories of a magical baby boy. But that boy was not him, it was another baby.'

'What makes Draco think that the book in his father's library might be the same scrap-book of James and Lily's?' asked Dumbledore, perturbed.

'Nothing. I don't even know that he does think they might be the same. His reminiscence was triggered by the fact that it concerned a magical baby, not the fact that it might have been Harry. And he doesn't know anything about the scrap-book in the first place. But I'm left wondering why he told me. It had obviously been on his mind, troubling him somehow, and the crucial thing is that he only tried to dredge this memory up after a conversation we had about the night...you know, that night...'

Dumbledore sat perfectly still, thinking hard. Sirius ventured another thought.

'If, as I have always imagined, it was the Death Eaters who destroyed the house at Godric's Hollow...that would have placed Lucius Malfoy at the house before it was ruined. He could have picked up anything. Especially something he thought might be useful to his master, or even to him I suppose, at some future point.'

Dumbledore remained as unmoving as a statue. Then he spoke, very softly.

'We have no proof that this book of Lucius Malfoy's is the same scrap-book. It could belong to any member of the Malfoy family, from any point in time. But it would be utterly like Lucius to display such a trophy to his son, even if he didn't go into details. The question is...if it is the same book, could it ever be used against Harry? Could it ever be a danger to him? I can't see how. Even destroying the book would not harm Harry in any way. But in that case, why would Lucius have taken it from the house?'

Now it was Sirius who remained silent.

'Whatever the facts, I do not want Draco to be troubled by this,' said Dumbledore. 'If he speaks of it again, I want you to tell him somehow to forget it. And Harry must know absolutely nothing.'

'My thoughts exactly, Albus.'

'I think, on reflection, it is too dangerous to assume that it is not a threat,' said the Headmaster. 'There may be dark methods in which the magic in the book could be turned in some way. And we know of at least one scheme of Lucius Malfoy's in which he used an enchanted book, a diary, in fact, to unthinkable ends. We must recover it.'

'How exactly?' asked Sirius. 'Nobody just walks into Malfoy Manor and browses through the library. And it is rumoured that the magical protection around the house makes it into some kind of fortress.'

'You are right,' smiled Dumbledore. 'We cannot walk into the Manor. But we know someone who can.'

***

'He put his arm round him, Herm. He watched him get dressed. It's just not Harry.'

'Oh Ron. Wake up. The Crimson Cloud, remember? Get over it; they obviously have. And look how much better Harry looks.'

'Yeah, I know. But. It's difficult.'

'How difficult it is for you is not an issue, in fact--'

Hermione stopped talking suddenly.

'What--'

'Shhh!'

'What--'

'Shhh! I can hear something. Oh my God, it's Madam Pomfrey talking!' she said in a desperate whisper.

'Don't be silly, Herm, she'll be--'

'How many patients were there on the main ward?'

'Herm, I don't remember, you were there as--'

'How many?'

'Two perhaps. Three maybe, or--'

'Only three? That's not going to give us enough time! There's no time! And she's going to come in here! I can feel it!'

'Herm, stop panicking. Let's just go in the bathroom.'

'No! Then she'll see that they're not here! And then she'll be bound to look in the bathroom!'

'Herm, calm it. Just accept that we might get caught. There are extenuating circum--'

'In bed, quick!' she urged.

'OK,' said Ron, seeing the sense in the idea. He threw back the covers on the bed nearest the door.

'No!' hissed Hermione. 'This one!'

'But you're in that one.'

'Ron, this one quick, I think she's coming!'

Ron looked totally bemused.

'Ron, there's no time to explain, just trust me! They sleep in the same bed!'

'They...they what?'

'They sleep in the same bed! QUICK!' Hermione looked like she was about to burst with agitation.

Unable to take in this extraordinary fact, Ron stood stock still. Madam Pomfrey's footsteps could be heard just outside the door.

Hermione moved with lightening speed. She grabbed Harry and Draco's discarded pyjamas then seized Ron and hauled him to Harry's bed, pushing him down. Then she jumped in next to him, crammed herself up close and threw the covers over their heads.

The door opened.

'Settle down you two,' came Madam Pomfrey's voice. 'Stop talking and go to sleep. Do you want any sleeping potion, or do you want try to sleep without it?'

Hermione poked Ron in the ribs.

'No...I'm...we're fine thanks,' said Ron weirdly, in a sort of choking impersonation of Harry.

'Very well. But if you're still awake in an hour I want you to come and get some more potion.'

'Yes, OK, thanks,' croaked Ron as neutrally as possible.

After a pause of unbearable length, they heard the door close.

'They sleep in the same bed?' boggled Ron.